Enric made his way to the chapel. Upon entering, he was immediately greeted by Father Leofwin’s calm voice.

  “Welcome, Master Enric. You seem in high spirits. What happened?”

  “Greetings, Father. Today has been full of adventure, you see...”

  And so, their usual chat and gossip began.

  “Hm... another ‘rebellion,’ another important experience. Your work in the kitchen is something most nobles would look down upon. For all the risks you took, did you learn something from it?”

  Enric took a moment to formute his answer. “I think I’ve come to know the family’s servants a little better. I also think I finally understand what a noble should aspire to.”

  “And what is that?” Leofwin asked.

  “Father always talks about serving the family and noble discipline being our duty. He expects perfection from everyone, but without the people of Goldfield, our family wouldn’t exist. That’s why I think a noble should serve, not command. A noble’s duty is to ensure their people are well-fed. But I feel Father has forgotten that. For all his lessons, he talked about how to rule, but not how to serve.”

  Leofwin looked at the boy with wide eyes. He had not expected such a detailed—and personal—response.

  “If you’re able to notice these things at your age...” the priest began, “then your future is truly bright. With each passing day, I’m more thankful you agreed to the pn of joining the Church.” his smile grew wider and wider, but suddenly he turned serious. “You still have to be careful. Just because your father is away on business doesn’t mean he won’t receive reports about what you do. You mustn’t provoke him.”

  The boy looked at Leofwin with confusion. “I understand, Father, but how did you know Alfred was away?”

  The question seemed to catch the priest off guard, but he quickly scrambled for an answer.

  “Ah, you see... your father passed by in a carriage today, so I assumed he’s out on some business.”

  Enric wanted to say something, but the priest cut him off.

  “Now, enough chit-chat. Let’s waste no more time and start the lesson.”

  After both were comfortably seated, Father Leofwin began today’s lecture.

  “Today, I wish to cover more information about the kingdom itself. As you know, both the Crown and the Church are closely tied together. Our glorious kingdom—Pyralis—derives its name from the Sacred Pyre, which the King and high priests are tasked with guarding. The primary focus of our kingdom, much like our faith, is to unite the people by any means necessary. That’s why both soldiers and diplomats are highly valued.”

  After hearing that, Enric raised his hand. “In many history books, it’s written that soldiers and militia worked side by side with the Holy Inquisition on many occasions. Is that true?”

  “Yes, indeed.” Father Leofwin responded. “Holy w is more or less the same as state w, you see. That’s why common criminals are treated the same way as heretics. A just punishment—they rebel and hinder the progress of a nation that came to be with God’s blessing.”

  Enric had little time to mentally note that information before the lecture continued.

  “Usually, heretics and criminals who don’t warrant the death penalty are branded with heated iron, stripped of their names, and sent to work on construction sites or other manual bor. It’s a way to earn God’s forgiveness. There are rare cases where nobles mimic some form of punishment.”

  As he said this, a slight smile appeared on Leofwin’s face, though Enric, focused on the lecture, didn’t notice.

  “Some nobles’ servants, after failing in their duties, are also stripped of their names. This practice is, in theory, illegal. But to tell the truth, state w has a loophole in the noble privilege section that allows it.”

  After hearing that, Enric lost all focus. His head began to ache, as if the information was something he felt he should have known.

  “Butler...” he muttered.

  Leofwin, hearing this, spoke again.

  “The butler? Young master, perhaps you don’t truly know his name?”

  Enric looked at the priest with wide eyes. At that moment, Leofwin understood everything—yet he gave off the impression that he had already known.

  “Ah... So that’s why you’ve never spoken of him by his name. Yes, knowing your father’s strictness, it’s possible he received that punishment in the past. Perhaps when you were too young to remember.”

  The boy's head was spinning, he couldn't utter the word. He was feeling immense guilt, he never really thought about it. He knew the butler since his youngest days, so for him he simply 'was'. But all the guilt and confusion were turned into determination, Enric swore he will ask the butler for his name, once he sees him.

  "I see you are lost in thought." Leofwin excimed, "Let's wrap up todays lecture early, I would recommend you take a stroll around the vilge to clear your head."

  The boy was already emotional, so without a word but with a slight bow, he gestured goodbye and left the chapel early.

  His stroll around the vilge went uneventful, eventually it started getting dark, so it was time to come back, and read the books the butler got for him. As he said this morning, they should be already delivered to his room.

  The manor was cloaked in shadows when Enric returned. A sliver of moonlight spilled through the arched windows, casting silver streaks across the wooden floors. His mind still churned with Leofwin’s words—stripped of their names—and the guilt of never questioning the butler’s past gnawed at him. As he was about to walk ap the stairs quietly, the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders, he heard a noise, simir to muffed shouting coming from the Edmunds office. Enric decided to move closer to the door to figure out why would his brother make so much noise at this hour. What he was surprised about was hearing other familiar voice: Victor's voice.

  “You think you’re so noble, don’t you? Pying the perfect heir while the rest of us rot under Alfred’s thumb. I'm done pying his game, I'm going to volunteer into next expedition into savage nds, then I will become a lord of my own territory and be free of him!”

  "I can see that Military Academy doesn't teach it's recruits common sense. There will be no new expedition because there are no more worthy nds to conquer! All that's left are lesser nations and savages! So, no... You will not be free of Goldfield name."

  Enric peaked through the door, to see and hear better. By that time, Victor spoke once more.

  "Honestly, what would Lenore say if she saw you like this? Fathers shadow, no will of his own, and yet used to rebel so valiantly when that commoner entered our li-"

  "Stop."

  The word hung in the air like a bde. Edmund’s face, usually so composed, was now a mask of barely restrained anger. His hands trembled slightly as he leaned forward, his voice low and venomous.

  "And what better are you? Acting like you know all the answers, yet you are still a sve. Just like the rest of us."

  "Ha! Then you admit it! You admit that you just suck it up like a good boy, when all you really want is to strangle him!

  Something in Edmund snapped. His face turned white, then red, then settled back to its usual pallor. But his composure was gone. With a sudden, violent motion, he swept everything off his desk—papers, inkwells, books—sending them crashing to the floor.

  "Yes! I do hate him! He sves us away, he drove our mother out. And when I wanted to leave, he turned my life into living hell."

  “Then why do you stay? Why do you py his game?” Victor asked, already tired.

  "Because if I don't, everything Lenore tried to keep will be gone."

  Victor stayed silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if searching for the right words. Finally, he let out a bitter ugh.

  “You call me a fool... And yet... we are both fools, it seems. I guess it’s good that Mother left. Now she doesn’t have to listen to our bickering.”

  With that, Victor turned and strode toward the door. Enric, still hidden in the shadows, was too paralyzed by what he had just heard to move. As Victor yanked the door open, it swung wide and struck Enric squarely on the forehead.

  “Ow!” Enric said stumbling back.

  Victor froze, his hand still on the door. For a moment, the two brothers stared at each other—Victor’s expression unreadable, Enric’s a mix of guilt and panic. Enric opened his mouth to respond, but Victor didn’t give him the chance. Without another word, he turned and walked away, his boots echoing down the hallway.

  Enric stood there, rubbing his forehead, his mind racing. The weight of what he had overheard pressed down on him like a stone. He gnced back into the study, where Edmund still sat amidst the wreckage of his desk, his face buried in his hands.

  "I take it you have questions..."

  "A couple..." Enric replied.

  "Shoot."

  Enric didn't knew where to start, but eventually, he spoke.

  "I know the story with Victor, and Mother... But did I hear that right? You also rebelled?"

  "It was not 'rebellion' per say, if you want my take on it, it was... love I guess..."

  Enric's curiosity peaked after hearing that. He gestured to his brother to keep talking.

  “There used to be this girl I liked when I was your age. Her name was Cra. She was... kind. Clever. She didn’t care about titles or crests or any of the nonsense Father obsesses over. She cared about people. About me.”

  Enric’s heart ached as he listened. He had never seen Edmund like this—vulnerable, raw, and filled with a pain that seemed to echo his own.

  “What happened to her?”

  Edmund’s expression darkened, and for a moment, Enric thought he might shut down again. But then Edmund leaned forward, his voice low and measured.

  “She was a commoner. I knew Alfred would never allow it. But I didn’t care. I thought... I thought I could protect her. That I could keep her safe from him.”

  “But you couldn’t?” Enric asked, his voice barely above whisper.

  Edmund shook his head, his eyes distant.

  “No. He found out. And he made sure she was gone before I could even say goodbye.”

  Enric felt a chill run down his spine.

  “What did he do?”

  Edmund looked at Enric, his expression sad and tired.

  “He sent her family away. To another province. And he made it clear that if I ever tried to see her again, he would ruin them completely.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Enric felt a mix of anger and sadness welling up inside him.

  "Of course, it was before he publicly flogged her. Alfred doesn't like to let go of the offender, before 'recompensating'.

  Enric was almost completely stunned.

  “He... he flogged her? In public? And you just... let him send her away?”

  Edmund’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Enric thought he might snap again. But then Edmund sighed, his shoulders slumping.

  “I didn’t have a choice, Enric. If I had fought him, he would have destroyed her. And I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t...”

  After that there was dead silence between the two brothers. Everyone in the room was lost in their thoughts. Eventually, Enric was the one who spoke first.

  "I'm also rebelling."

  "You what?!" Edmund's eyes got wide open. Enric expined everything he has done all this time. He talked about cleaning, cooking, about the butler, and Father Leofwin. For the first time he told his brother truly about himself. Edmund stayed silent through it all, listening attentively. His face was a mix of fatigue, fear but also respect.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re risking? If Father finds out that he is raising 'The noblest of servants'?”

  “I used to have an idea, but now I have a very good idea.”

  “You’re braver than I was at your age.” Edmund’s voice softened, a hint of nostalgia in his tone. “Maybe unruly children are Father’s curse.” He smiled for a moment, but the expression soon faded, repced by a more serious demeanor.

  “But your actions will have consequences, you know. The fact that you’re even in the position to tell me this means Alfred hasn’t made his move yet. Trust me... once he finds out, he will do something about it.”

  Enric straightened his back. If he weren’t just a kid, he might have actually looked threatening.

  “Let him try. I pn to be long gone before he finds out.”

  Edmund smiled, though he was visibly on the verge of falling asleep after the long day.

  “So be it. I’ll support you, brother.”

  Enric and Edmund shook hands in a gesture of camaraderie. It was the deepest bond Enric had ever experienced. He felt happy, rewarded, as if all his hard work had finally paid off in some way. But that bittersweet moment was fleeting. Neither brother noticed the father’s personal maid enter the room.

  “Young Master Enric?” she began, her expression neutral yet stern, like stone. “Your Father is summoning you to his study.”

  At her words, the color drained from the brothers’ faces.

  “But Father was supposed to be away on business...” Enric's voice was shaky at best, as if he had a knife in his throat.

  “It seems he returned early,” the maid replied coolly. Her face remained impassive, but a faint glimmer of satisfaction betrayed her true feelings. “And now he wishes to speak with you.”

  She paused, her tone dripping with thinly veiled amusement. “You should rejoice, Young Master. Isn’t your birthday approaching? Perhaps, starting tomorrow, you’ll have an official role and a share of the estate.”

  Enric looked toward his brother, but it was no use. Edmund had endured too much for one day; he had completely broken down. The older brother muttered frantic nonsense, only a few words like “Mother” or “Again” audible through his distress.

  Then, a realization struck Enric—one that shook him even more.

  “Why are you telling me this instead of my butler? Where is he?”

  The maid remained silent.

  “Enric.”

  The boy turned to Edmund, who was experiencing something only describable as a fleeting moment of crity.

  “It seems that... there’s nothing left for us to do... Go to Father. Please... the more you think about it, the more it will hurt...”

  The maid led Enric down the dimly lit corridor, her footsteps echoing like a death march. The manor, usually alive with the hum of servants, felt eerily silent. Enric’s throat tightened with every step. He gnced back once, but Edmund’s study door had already closed, sealing away his brother’s broken murmurs.

  Alfred’s study loomed ahead; its heavy oak door slightly ajar. A sliver of candlelight spilled into the hall, casting long, jagged shadows. The maid bowed coldly and vanished, leaving Enric alone. He hesitated, then pushed the door open.

  Alfred stood by the firepce, his back to the room, silhouetted against the fmes. The air smelled of ash and iron.

  “Come in, Enric. I’ve heard you’ve been busy.”

  Enric stepped forward, his boots sinking into the plush rug. The door clicked shut behind him.

  Desperate, the young noble decided pying the fool was his only option.

  "It’s true, I’ve been busy with my lessons, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Alfred sat behind his desk and smmed his fist onto a stack of papers.

  “Enric.” He remained silent for a moment, his voice low and dangerous. “So, you take me for a fool...”

  "Not in the slightest! How could I eve-"

  "Enric."

  The boy realized there indeed was no chance.

  "Where is the butler? He is the one who usually delivers those kinds of messages."

  Without second thought Alfred spoke.

  "He overstepped his bounds by trying to rile you up against me, so I sold him to another province."

  Enric felt as though he’d been gut-punched, but Alfred wasn’t finished yet.

  “Helping servants clean, cook, delivering meals for them? Boy... you are a noble, yet you act like a common yoke. This house does not raise servants—it raises nobles.”

  “How did y—”

  “How did I know?” Alfred smiled, a cold glint in his eyes. “I’ve had reports on you from the very start. You seemed like you wanted to keep secrets, so I decided to humor you... for a while.”

  “What are you pnning now?” Enric asked, his voice trembling.

  “That’s what I want to figure out,” Alfred said, leaning back in his chair. “Edmund has grown into a good administrator, if not a tool. Victor, despite his temper, has become a great soldier. He will bring pride to the family on the battlefield.”

  The Goldfield patriarch paused, his gaze sharpening as it settled on Enric.

  "But you? Your brothers have noble skills, but the best you can do right now is cook me dinner. I have no real use for you. The only way you’ll contribute is if I secure a marriage for you, so the family gains more allies... Yes... that’s what I’ll do...”

  Enric was terrified beyond compare, yet he managed to utter a few defiant words.

  “I... won’t let you...”

  “Oh? You won’t?” Alfred looked at his son with a curious, almost amused expression. “Does that mean you already know how you’ll end up?”

  In Enric’s mind, the memory of Father Leofwin fshed. For a long time, the priest had been his sole ally. Enric already had a destiny in mind—if he were ever to choose his legacy, he wanted it to be the priest’s.

  “I want to join the Church! I will aim to become an Emberweaver and walk all over the world!”

  Alfred sat in silence for a moment, clearly losing his composure.

  “So that good-for-nothing priest is in on it too...” With each word, his anger grew. “The Church is a parasite, Enric! A leech on the nobility! They take our gold, our nd, and our children, all while pretending to serve the Fme. And you—you would throw away your birthright to become one of their puppets?”

  Enric opened his mouth to respond, but Alfred smmed his fist on the desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

  “You are a Goldfield! Your blood is worth more than their prayers, your name more than their sermons! And you would spit on that legacy to py pretend as a missionary?”

  Enric cut off his father’s frantic speech, his frustration and fear fueling his resolve.

  “It’s a better fate than being chained to a broken family and a broken home. Have you ever, even for once, considered that you became a ruthless tyrant after driving my mother—Lenore—away? And yes, I know her name. Despite your efforts to keep me in the dark, you aren’t as omnipotent as you think!”

  Alfred’s voice was icy, each word deliberate.

  “I. Am. Not. Trying to be. And yet, I seem to be the only one in this entire house who truly understands what drive and duty mean. Do you think overseeing the nd your country has conquered is an easy task? Before us, they were savages! Sometimes a hard hand is necessary. That’s why we were given this nd—to beat those beasts into shape!”

  After hearing all that, Enric felt a surge of pure disgust.

  “Oh, really? The st time I looked, there were no savages needing to be beaten into shape—only servants who smiled as I helped them clean, cook, and do all those things you look down upon. Even if some drastic decisions were needed, those days are long past. You’ve forgotten that nobles are bound to serve their king and the nd they oversee. That means by antagonizing your family you also failed your task!”

  Alfred’s eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with disdain.

  “You really have a death wish... Who are you to teach me anything about duty? A rebellious boy? A noble turned cleaner? Please... Why can’t all of you understand? I’m doing all of this, so we won’t end up in ruin!”

  "We already are, Alfred"

  The words hung in the air, sharp and unyielding. For a moment, it seemed as though they had struck Alfred like a physical blow. His jaw tightened, and the firelight flickered across his face, revealing a flicker of something raw, regret, perhaps, or grief. But just as quickly, it was gone, buried beneath the mask of the stern patriarch.

  “You sound like her, boy... exactly like her.”

  Enric wanted to say something but was cut off.

  "Leave. I need to think..."

  "Fath-"

  "Leave."

  Enric hesitated, his heart pounding. For the first time, he saw not the tyrant who ruled the Goldfield estate, but a man burdened by regrets. He turned and walked to the door; his steps heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

  Once upstairs, he retreated to his room, though he couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that it might become his cell by tomorrow. The full weight of what he’d done hit him as he y on his bed. He had just shouted at Alfred Goldfield—the patriarch of the family, the tyrant of the Goldfield province. The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. The only good outcome, if it could even be called that, was that he was still alive to see another day.

  Exhausted but too anxious to sleep, Enric stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. The night stretched endlessly before him...

  Gbro