"What is this about?" Vencian asked soon after Abnet left.

Hadethon did not answer.

Instead, he studied the terrace, the fountain, the line where water broke against stone.

"Do you remember the trial concerning your father?" the duke asked, as if he were asking after a shared acquaintance.

Vencian's posture tightened by a fraction.

"I remember it," he said. "And I remember who stood where. Without your involvement, and the General's, the verdict would not have favored House Vicorra. You have my thanks."

The words came out smooth, correct, and empty of warmth.

Hadethon acknowledged them with a nod that meant nothing.

Herrera inclined his head once and said nothing at all.

The pause that followed was deliberate.

Uncomfortable.

Hadethon moved to a small side table near the balustrade and gathered several parchments, stacked neatly, edges aligned. He returned and held them out.

"It will be simpler if you read these yourself."

Vencian took them.

The weight was wrong for correspondence. Thick parchment. Formal margins. Binding marks along one side. The kind used for records meant to endure, not letters meant to persuade.

His unease sharpened.

He lowered his gaze and began to read.

The language was precise. Legal. Every sentence trimmed of excess. Clauses nested inside clauses, contingencies layered without mercy. His attention narrowed, the noise of the night thinning until only the page remained.

His breath slowed.

Then tightened.

At the bottom of the first document, two seals pressed into darkened wax.

House Vicorra.

House Dawnforge.

The fountain seemed to hush.

Vencian looked up.

"What is this?" he asked, though the meaning was already taking shape in his mind. The question bought him a moment, nothing more.

Hadethon answered without ceremony.

"When your brother Moses Vicorra was in the capital during Caesor Vicorra's trial, he sought my support. In exchange, he made a formal pledge. One of your father's sons would marry my second daughter. Adorys Dawnforge."

The name landed heavier than the rest.

Vencian kept his expression intact. "I know of no such agreement."

The control in his voice held, but the shock did not vanish. Political bargaining was expected. This was not that. This was scale. This was finality. And Moses had carried it alone.

"Moses never lived long enough to inform your family," Hadethon said at once. "The pact was signed, sealed, and witnessed. Its validity does not depend on whether it was shared."

He shifted his gaze slightly toward Herrera.

"I was present," the General said. "I remember the terms clearly. It was not informal. It was recorded as part of the trial's negotiations."

Vencian rested the parchments on the table, carefully, as though haste might fracture something that could not be mended.

"What do you want?" he asked, looking at the duke.

The words were measured. Inside, his thoughts were anything but. The contents of the documents had landed without warning, and for a brief moment his mind lagged behind the implication. What the fuck is happening pressed at the edges of his control, sharp and instinctive, and he pushed it down as quickly as it rose.

He already understood the meaning.

What unsettled him was the timing.

This was not supposed to be part of tonight. Hadethon had not summoned him to reminisce about the trial.

As the initial shock settled, Vencian forced himself to slow his breathing. This was a negotiation, not an ambush, at least not a violent one. Hadethon would not reveal leverage without intent to use it.

Which meant there was a reason this was happening now, during an engagement event, after everything else had already stretched him thin.

That realization pulled him out of disbelief and into calculation.

Hadethon folded his hands behind his back.

"Nothing has changed," he said. "The agreement was never rescinded. It was left unfinished. In exchange for my intervention during Caesor Vicorra's trial, one of Caesor's sons would be bound in marriage to House Dawnforge. Moses Vicorra gave his word. His death does not void it."

The mention of Moses tightened something in Vencian's chest. He kept his face still, eyes steady, even as disbelief rose again. Not at the bargain itself, but at the fact that his brother had carried it alone and taken it to the grave.

"Moses never informed the family," Vencian said. There was no accusation in his voice, only confirmation sought.

"He never had the chance," Hadethon replied. "The matter ended with him. The obligation did not."

There was no apology. No concession. Only certainty.

Vencian stopped trying to reject the premise.

He lowered his gaze to the parchments and read them again. The seals. The language. The structure. The witnessing clauses. He did not search for an escape. He read to anchor himself, to bring his thoughts back under control.

When he looked up, his voice was level.

"Do you intend for the marriage to proceed immediately?"

"The pact does not concern when," Hadethon said. "It concerns who. Of Caesor Vicorra's sons, only you remain alive and present. That resolves the question of responsibility."

Herrera said nothing.

His silence weighed more than words could have. It told Vencian this was not a private demand, not a sudden pressure born of impulse. It was remembered. It was accepted.

Vencian exhaled slowly.

The shock had burned off, leaving something colder behind. If the pact could not be undone, then it could only be shaped.

"I do not dispute the existence of the agreement," he said. "Nor Moses's authority to have made it. I question the wisdom of forcing its fulfillment without consideration. A rushed marriage invites scrutiny. That scrutiny would not fall on House Vicorra alone."

Hadethon's expression tightened.

"Scrutiny already exists," he said. "Delay has never softened rumor. It prolongs it. The court has a habit of deciding matters for those who do not fit cleanly into expectation."

Vencian understood what was being said without it being named. He did not repeat the words, but their weight settled between them. Adorys Dawnforge. Whispers. Judgments spoken softly enough to pass as concern.

He did not recoil from the implication.

"That is precisely why consent matters," Vencian said. "A forced marriage would not erase those whispers. It would confirm them. It would make your daughter appear imposed rather than chosen."

The air shifted.

The discussion moved from obligation to dignity.

Hadethon's voice carried weariness now. "Marriage is shelter before it is affection. Alliances narrow with time. Daughters lose options long before they lose worth."

Vencian listened without interruption. When Hadethon finished, he asked one question, carefully placed.

"Does the pact bind me," he said, "or does it bind Adorys as well?"

The hesitation was brief.

It was enough.

"Moses pledged a son," Vencian continued. "Not a captive. Even honored, this pact binds two lives. House Vicorra has never forced its women into silence. Doing so now would dishonor the trust you claim to place in us."

Hadethon studied him.

"It is because I trust the Vicorras that I press this at all," he said. "Caesor's conduct. Moses's resolve. Your restraint here. I believe my daughter would be safer under your name than under the court's unchecked pity."

The words settled heavily.

Vencian did not answer at once. The situation had not improved, but it had shifted. Refusal would close doors. Blind acceptance would trap him. What remained was time.

"I acknowledge the trust you place in me," he said at last. "I will not bind another person's life without her voice being heard. I will meet Adorys. I will speak with her honestly. She will decide whether this pact becomes a marriage or remains unfulfilled."

Hadethon did not agree.

He did not refuse.

"The pact stands," he said. "The manner of its fulfillment may yet be decided. My patience is not infinite."

Herrera spoke then, briefly. "Such an approach would avoid unnecessary attention. The court is restless enough."

Hadethon inclined his head. "For now."

He looked to Vencian. "Adorys will remain in the capital. Arrangements can be made when you are prepared to proceed."

The meeting ended without resolution.

Vencian left with the obligation intact and the timeline, for now, unwritten.

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