Gael raised his gaze from the pile of paper on his desk.

"…Curious," he said.

In front of the desk, with his head bowed, Nathan nodded.

"It is as you said would happen, Father," the man replied. "But…"

"It's too soon," Gael completed, standing up and fixing his dress shirt.

Rylan's arrival was something he had fully expected. Given the situation with Jason and what had happened in the Academy, it was only obvious that Rylan would come and talk to Elizabeth. Still, Gael hadn't expected him to act so quickly.

It hasn't even been a day.

Gael narrowed his eyes as he picked up his robe and threw it over his shoulder. There was an opportunity here; his decades of experience were almost screaming at him. But he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Was his grandson simply afraid of backlash, therefore deciding to keep Elizabeth close?

No, he's not such a simple man.

It was an almost desperate move. The Astassier estate was the third safest place in the entire kingdom, after the royal palace and the depths of the Royal Magic Academy, especially the area around Damian's Mage Tower. Even if the Cousteau house were several times more powerful and influential, they still wouldn't dare to attack a direct descendant of the Astassier family in the heart of their estate, regardless of whatever connections to the Empire they had. After all, the Astassiers had connections of their own. Rylan likely knew this. If anything, the young man should be worried about Gerard instead. So why was he acting like this?

To top it all off, he wasn't alone. Something else was at play. Either way, he would find out soon, as he always did.

"And Elizabeth?" Gael asked.

"I haven't told her anything," Nathan replied, still bowing. "But if Rylan is here for her, she'll hear about it soon. Some of the servants are sympathetic to her. The fact that all her children are here will only make her react faster."

Gael nodded with a calm expression.

"Let's go, then. There's much to talk about."

He left the study with Nathan in tow. This would be the first time he would talk to his most outstanding grandson face to face. If he managed to bring over the others, even better.

All he needed was for Rylan to join him, for the sake of the Astassier house.

***

Rylan looked around with a furrowed brow. He stood in the middle of the manor's main hall. Naturally, it was exceptionally lavish. Gold and silver decorated the railings and engravings that crawled up the large columns that held up the concave ceiling, which was adorned by a beautiful painting of the starry night sky. Chandeliers hung from it, their magical flames adding the finishing touch to the images of the stars.

The furniture looked expensive even at first glance, made up of different types of wood that all matched the manor's color palette of white and grey, clearly a cut above the Flameheart manor's comparatively humbler structure. A few bookcases delineated the walls, each filled with thick books that gave the entire room the light scent of paper and ink, but not so much that it was uncomfortable.

As a whole, the entire room, large as it was, was a true work of art. However, that wasn't what had caught Rylan's attention.

…The mana levels here are higher than even in most of the Academy.

Truthfully, he didn't understand what he was managing to perceive. He only knew that it reminded him of the sensation he felt when inside Damian's Mage Tower, but to a much, much smaller degree.

What kind of magic is this?

It was something he had neglected to ask, and that Damian hadn't told him about. Making a mental note to get to the bottom of this, he turned around to look at his siblings. Regis, Lillia, and Aelfric sat side by side on the grey plush sofa, their eyes darting around unceasingly. Next to Rylan, Sarah stood in her usual, perfect stance. She had refused to sit down in their presence. Finally, he looked to the left, where three Mages in black robes stared at him. Workers in the Astassier estate. He narrowed his eyes at them.

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They're all in the Third Circle.

Of course, he hadn't expected anything less than that from the kingdom's most prominent noble house. The one on the left was a beautiful, purple-haired woman who seemed to be in her late twenties. The one in the middle was a tall, burly man with short brown hair and a matching beard. Finally, the one on the right was a lanky, pale young man. Disregarding them, Rylan looked back at his family.

"Mom's going to be here soon," he started, making the others look at him. "But Gael will certainly arrive before that."

The three black-robed Mages flinched and shifted uncomfortably in place, but he paid them no heed.

"Are you prepared?" Regis asked before he could continue, giving the Mages a glance.

Rylan immediately nodded.

"Yeah. Just follow my lead."

Regis hesitantly nodded, as did Lillia. Aelfric and Sarah smiled at him, as if even if the world were to crumble around them, they knew they would be safe. Rylan smiled back at them, shaking his head helplessly.

"You," a voice suddenly came from the side, making Rylan look at where it had come from.

The woman and lanky man were staring at the burly man in the middle, making Rylan easily realize who the voice had belonged to.

"Are you as strong as people say you are?" the burly man continued, staring straight at Rylan.

Rylan raised an eyebrow.

"Here he fucking goes again," the purple-haired woman cursed under her breath, shaking her head. The lanky man only stared at the burly one with a deadpan expression.

"Who wants to know?" Rylan asked in reply.

"I'm Dylan," the tall man replied simply. "And I've heard enough about you to make my ears bleed. I'm just wondering if you're really all that."

Rylan stared at the man in disbelief. Where was this coming from? A provocation out of nowhere? As he looked into Dylan's eyes for a few more seconds, however, he understood what this was about.

Competitiveness, huh?

It was a glow he'd often seen in Hayden and Jasmine's gazes. The desire not to lose. Was this Dylan hailed as a genius? Maybe in his hometown or among his family? It was also possible that the Astassier house itself considered him talented.

The moment when Rylan was about to reply, a wave of mana flooded the room. It hummed with power, resonating with the atmosphere around them like a physical force. Rylan didn't need to think about who this mana belonged to. He snapped toward the hallway at the western edge of the room, where two figures he recognized were approaching the hall, still in the far end.

Here he is.

He stared at Gael. The man was dressed in a black dress shirt and simple leather pants, his black robe slung over his shoulder. In his right hand, he held an intricate staff. It was the artifact that Rylan had recognized during the tournament.

The trio of black-robed Mages snapped to attention, even breathing slower. Dylan said nothing else, only bowing at Gael and Nathan. The woman and the other man followed suit.

Gael slowly made his way to the hall. As he walked, the pressure he gave off only increased. Rylan frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the others. Regis was a bit paler, and Lillia was sweating. Aelfric still looked confident, but his back was a bit bent. As for Sarah, she was only calmly staring at him, as if expecting him to do something, but her breathing had become hurried. Rylan nodded at her and released his own mana, covering his group with it by pushing his Circles to their limits. Of course, he didn't circulate it.

He shifted his mana to create a veritable shield around the others, who let out deep breaths. Aelfric and Sarah smiled at him, Lillia nodded at him, and Regis only stared at him with a complicated expression.

At the same time, a mere glance at the black-robed Mages was enough to tell Rylan that Gael was targeting him specifically. All three of them looked fine.

Finally, Gael and Nathan arrived. The pressure disappeared as if it had been a lie, alongside the wave of mana. Gael looked at Dylan.

"Dylan," he started in a calm tone. "You would have died in less than five seconds. My grandson is by no means someone you can even dream of fighting."

Dylan blinked in surprise, as did the other two, who flinched.

"…I'm sorry for my arrogance, Family Head," Dylan finally eked out after a few seconds.

"Leave."

Without any further words, the three black-robed Mages bowed again and left the room, almost looking like they were running away. Once the door closed, Gael looked back at Rylan.

"So, we finally meet face to face," he said.

Rylan tilted his head with a deadpan expression.

"Call my mother, Gael. I didn't come here to see you."

Behind Gael, Nathan immediately frowned. Before he could say anything, Gael raised his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"I only wanted to talk to you for a bit. My daughter will arrive soon."

Gael gestured to the nearest plush chair, but Rylan didn't even move. He only stared at his grandfather, who stared back. After a few seconds, Gael looked at the others behind Rylan, then back at him.

"I'm sure you're aware of the situation this kingdom is in, grandson," Gael stated.

Rylan narrowed his eyes.

Getting straight to it, I see.

Not that he was surprised. It was the conversation he'd expected from the moment he'd decided to come here to fetch his mother himself.

"You're the apprentice of the kingdom's strongest Mage, who has strong ties to the royal family, and you've now clashed against someone with connections to the Gaidar Empire," Gael continued.

Rylan scoffed, perfectly understanding what picture Gael was trying to draw.

"Are you going to tell me to abandon the kingdom and save myself, just like Jason did?"

His tone contained an edge he wasn't trying to hide. Nathan's frown became deeper, but Gael didn't even blink.

"This war only ends one way. It's obvious. Not even this entire kingdom put together would be able to stop an Eighth Circle Mage. As such, to protect your family, there is only one choice, as well."

Rylan frowned, but waited for Gael to finish.

"Surrender. Convince Damian and Henry to accept this conquest. No blood will be shed," Gael finished.

The air in the room seemed to have become heavier.

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