Jacob didn't really know how long he had been sitting there, laughing like a madman while tears rolled silently down his cheeks. It couldn't have been that long, after all, the carriage would be departing for the prince's banquet soon, but time had blurred for a while, melting into something soft and sad.

He hadn't even realized he was crying until the first drop hit the page of the book beside him. And the laughter... well, it had come without warning. Deep, strange bursts from his chest that he couldn't control. Even now, his breath shuddered in quiet remnants of it, like the aftershock of something that had shaken him from inside.

He didn't quite understand why Isaac's words had struck him like that, why something so simple could make him cry and laugh in the same breath. But somewhere between those lines of awkward kindness and blunt sincerity, something had cracked open inside him.

He was laughing because he was grateful, genuinely, achingly grateful that the one sibling he had always assumed resented him most had taken the time to try and lift him up. And he was crying because even after those kind words, even after being reminded that he wasn't completely alone, the feeling of inadequacy still loomed over him like a shadow. He still felt useless. Still weak. Still inferior.

But... maybe that could change.

Isaac was right. He could get better. He could train harder, fight smarter, learn faster. Yes, he had no true rune. Yes, Lazarus might cast him aside the moment he saw Jacob hadn't and couldn't learn a spell. But none of that had to define him.

If it took him years, hell, if it took him centuries he would figure out how to create his own path. A path that wasn't built on borrowed power or blood-soaked guilt, but on effort, resilience, and something that was truly his.

Wiping his face roughly with the sleeve of his robe, he exhaled and whispered under his breath, "If I'm going to improve… by how much should I aim?"

He didn't know exactly what had shifted in him, only that something finally had. Maybe it was the overwhelming pressure that cracked the shell of his despair. Or maybe he'd just finally grown tired, tired of grieving, tired of wallowing, tired of making Lucas' memory into a cage for himself. He had spent so long punishing himself, wearing his guilt like armour, that he had forgotten Lucas wouldn't have wanted this. Lucas had always pushed him to stand tall, not sink into the ground.

"Been a fucking idiot, haven't I, Lucas?" he muttered.

A voice drifted from outside the carriage. "Talking to the dead now, are we?"

Jacob glanced up and spotted Alex standing just outside the window. Gone was the usual armour he always seemed to wear like a second skin. In its place was a crisp formal suit, white with accents of deep blue and subtle silver patterns curling across the sleeves. His jet-black hair was slicked back and gelled until it shone, and though the suit looked almost too tight for his muscled frame, it was tailored to draw attention to his physique in exactly the way Jacob suspected Alex intended. Clean-shaven and grinning in his usual smug but friendly way, he looked more like a model than a soldier today.

"While I'll admit that the occasional mental breakdown can help take the edge off," Alex said, leaning casually against the side of the carriage, "talking to the dead is one step too far, even for you."

His voice was light, a touch amused, but Jacob caught the slight strain beneath it, like someone trying a little too hard to sound relaxed.

Alex stepped forward and peered through the open window, then retreated a little and held up the book Isaac had thrown out with a faint smile. "Don't need to be a genius to recognize Isaac's handiwork," he added, slipping it through the window. "But seriously, are you alright?"

Jacob took the book without a word and glanced at Alex's face. The smile was there, familiar, oddly stoic yet warm, still as confident as ever, but behind it, Jacob could see the hesitation, the uncertainty that never used to be there.

It was nervous and forced in the smallest ways, like Alex wasn't sure whether his presence was wanted. And honestly, Jacob couldn't blame him. Every time Alex had tried to speak with him these past two years, Jacob had shut him out, distant, cold, unreachable. Now here he was, suddenly acting like nothing had happened. Of course, Alex was unsure.

But Jacob had decided. He wasn't going to keep hiding in guilt and grief, pretending he was beyond repair. Change wasn't going to come from waiting around. It had to be effort, conscious, intentional. And maybe that started with acting a little more like the brother he used to be.

He let out a small sigh, trying to recall the exact way Lucas used to smile. There had been something effortless about it, open, sincere, a little mischievous but always warm. Jacob mimicked the memory as best he could, tugging the corner of his mouth upward in what he hoped passed for genuine.

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"Guess I'm back to imitating," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Alex asked, brows raised.

Jacob turned back to him with a smile, a proper one this time, soft and practiced, and apparently real enough to make Alex stumble back a half-step like he'd been struck. "Nothing important. And I'm fine, actually. Better than I've been in a long time," Jacob said, his voice steady. "Isaac really helped. He's blunt as hell, but sometimes you need someone to knock sense into you."

Leaning forward slightly, Jacob added, "I was just thinking about Lucas, that's all. I'm alright now. Sorry about the… earlier thing. And, uh, about our morning training, if it's still on, I'd like to keep going. I think I need the workout, honestly. We could even ask Jessica and Arthur to join us. Might be more fun that way."

Alex stared at him for a few seconds, mouth open as if he meant to respond, but no words came out. He closed it. Opened it again. Closed it once more. And finally, after a beat too long he stumbled through, "You're… alright. That's good. Uh, yeah. I wasn't gonna cancel the training or anything. It's still on for tomorrow. I'll ask Jessica and Arthur if they're interested."

And just like that, Alex spun on his heel and walked away, a little too quickly.

Watching him go, Jacob let out a quiet breath and muttered, "Was that too sudden? Or did I just butcher the whole thing?"

It had been a while since he'd tried to act like himself, or like a version of himself people remembered. The smile had felt close enough, the words natural enough, but something must've come off wrong. Still, even if he was rusty, he had to keep trying.

A few minutes later, the carriage door opened, and the others filed in, Arthur, Jessica, Belemir, and Mary. The air shifted immediately. Jacob felt it in the way they entered, in the silence that clung to the corners of their movements.

Jessica was the first to step in, her expression flickering with unease as her gaze swept over Jacob before quickly darting away. Arthur followed, looking vaguely uncomfortable, eyes lowered as if avoiding the risk of even glancing in Jacob's direction. Belemir walked in slowly, his posture straight but his face faintly strained, almost regretful. Mary, meanwhile, didn't bother to hide the glare she shot him, sharp, cold, and deeply unimpressed.

Jacob said nothing as the carriage door closed and the vehicle began to roll forward, wheels clattering softly beneath them. For a moment, he just stared down at the book Alex had returned to him, tempted to lose himself in its pages, to retreat behind the familiar wall of silence that had become so easy to rely on. But then he remembered why he was doing this, the decision he had made today.

He wanted to change.

He had to change.

But change wasn't just about speaking up or forcing smiles. It meant reconnecting, rebuilding, finding the courage to admit you needed others, even if it felt awkward, even if you didn't know what to say.

He looked around at the others, scanning their postures, their expressions, the quiet tension that lingered in the air like dust. It was hard. It felt hard. Too many things unsaid, too much distance built over time. He found himself wondering, 'How would Henry handle this?' His older brother was a master of social cues, a politician in everything but title, always knowing how to disarm a room, how to start a conversation, how to say exactly what needed to be said.

Thinking back on the many dinners, briefings, and palace events he'd watched Henry work through, Jacob tried to piece together something of a plan.

He turned to Jessica, who was seated across from him but glancing his way more often than she probably realized. Her eyes flicked to his face and, for once, didn't look away.

He smiled softly and patted the empty seat beside him. "Hey," he said, keeping his tone light, careful, inviting without pressure. "How about sitting next to me for a change?"

There was a pause, just a second before Jessica's face lit up with something that looked very close to relief. She stood and quickly crossed over to sit beside him.

"Been a while since we sat this close," she said, nudging him gently. "So… how's training going? Is Alex still working you into the ground?"

Jacob chuckled faintly. "Yeah. Still as brutal as ever."

He hesitated for a beat, then turned slightly to face her more directly. "But actually… I wanted to ask about you. How's your life been these past two years? I don't think I've really asked. Not once."

Jessica blinked, caught off guard, but then her eyes lit up, and she launched into a cascade of stories and updates, her voice animated as she told him about her daily training, the new friends she'd made, the little victories she was proud of and the annoyances she hadn't voiced to anyone else.

And Jacob listened.

He listened in a way he hadn't in years, really listened not just to the words but to the cadence of her voice, the things she didn't say, the excitement in her hands as she gestured, the way her smile became more genuine the longer he kept eye contact.

And as he listened, a slow, sinking realization began to form.

'I've been a terrible brother.'

He didn't know anything about her current life. Not really. And yet they used to be inseparable. They used to share everything. Somewhere along the line, that bond had frayed, and he had let it, he had caused it.

Even though reaching out felt right, even though he knew, deep down, this was what Lucas would have wanted he still couldn't shake the strange, hollow guilt that spread through his chest. Was he doing this for Lucas? Or was it just because he was tired? Tired of punishing himself. Tired of being alone. Tired of giving everything up to atone.

The carriage slowed, then came to a gradual stop. Jacob blinked and glanced out the window, expecting to see the Royal Palace gates, but instead, they had pulled up in front of a different estate. One of the Royal Family's holdings. Not that it mattered. It was probably just a matter of scheduling, some event at the palace, maybe. The location wasn't important.

The people were.

He stepped out of the carriage alongside the others and looked up at the elegant stone building ahead of them. The doors were already open, light spilling out in golden arcs across the cobbled path.

It was time for the prince's birthday banquet.

And maybe if he tried hard enough it could be the first real step toward fixing everything he'd broken.

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