Dukenam, Basil's Manor.
2:23.
The breeze whispered through the open-air structure, making the ornate drapes sway and sending a faint rustling through the neatly arranged documents on the table. A set of eight sharp gazes bore into the small figure before them—a boy no older than thirteen, standing calmly under the scrutiny of seasoned generals. His silver hair shimmered under the soft light, and his violet eyes held an uncanny composure.
Luscious spoke with an air of practiced ease, his words flowing like a gentle melody. Yet, each syllable carried a weight that made the men pause, their expressions subtly shifting between curiosity and something else—something close to unease.
As he concluded his sermon, the silence that followed was not one of dismissal but of careful consideration. General Lonto sat back slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes remained sharp, studying the boy.
"You speak well for a thirteen-year-old," Lonto remarked, his voice holding a mix of approval and intrigue. "What academy did you attend?"
Luscious tilted his head slightly, as if the answer required deep thought. His violet eyes flicked to the ceiling for a brief moment before returning to meet Lonto's gaze.
"I didn't attend one," he said simply. "I was lectured a lot by my father."
A quiet murmur passed between the generals. Basil, seated beside Lonto, raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing slightly. Lonto, however, let out a soft hum, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden table.
"Then your father taught you well," he said, though there was a trace of something unreadable in his voice. "Had you received formal education instead of homeschooling, you would undoubtedly be a philosopher."
Luscious inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "I… appreciate that," he said, though his voice faltered just slightly at the beginning, an almost imperceptible hesitation.
General Denovon Brauss straightened in his seat, the rigid posture of a soldier ingrained in him even outside of the battlefield. His expression remained unreadable, but his piercing gaze locked onto Luscious with renewed interest.
"Do you believe in true peace, young one?"
The boy's soft gaze didn't waver, nor did his faint smile fade.
"I don't believe in such."
Denovon's brows furrowed slightly. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he pressed further. "And why is that?"
The shift in Luscious's demeanor was subtle, but undeniable. The softness in his gaze evaporated, replaced by something sharper, more calculating. His violet eyes darkened, and for the first time, a cold glint surfaced within them.
"I don't believe in it," he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge, "because we are human. Humans do not truly strive for peace. One way or another, we all break morals for the sake of an ideal. We wear civility like a mask, but beneath it—" his eyes swept across the generals, watching their reactions carefully, "—there is a lurking, honest evil. We reveal it when it serves us. We commit it when it is convenient."
A weight settled over the table. The air that once carried the gentle breeze now felt thick, dense with the weight of his words. The generals' expressions ranged from contemplative to subtly uncomfortable. Lonto's smile had vanished, replaced by a more serious gaze, as if reevaluating the boy before him. Basil's fingers drummed against the table, his gaze unreadable but focused.
Luscious continued, his voice unshaken. "True peace, while a noble aspiration, is nothing more than a mirage. A dream that exists only in the minds of those who refuse to see human nature for what it truly is. If I were given the choice between so-called true peace and the world as it is now—" his expression remained impassive, but his eyes flickered with certainty, "—I would choose to remain as we are."
A long silence stretched between them. Some of the generals exchanged brief glances, silent conversations passing in the flicker of their eyes. General Lener Fiscal, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke, his voice measured.
"I do believe achieving peace is difficult… but not impossible, boy." His expression, though composed, carried the slight furrow of someone considering the weight of his own words. "You are right that we contradict ourselves in our pursuit of it, but that does not mean it cannot be achieved."
Luscious turned his gaze toward Lener. Unlike before, his expression softened—not in hesitation, but in something more deliberate. His sharpness was still present, but there was now a glint of curiosity.
"How so?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "I disagree with your point. Even if a group shares the same goal, they will have different ambitions, methods, and interpretations of that goal. Disagreements will arise. Conflict will follow."
Lener glanced around the table before letting out a quiet sigh, spreading his hands in a gesture of concession. "Every fortress has an opening—an entrance and an exit. There is always a way."
Luscious remained silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. The breeze picked up again, catching the strands of his silver hair as he shifted his gaze past the garden, into the distance. His violet eyes, now tinged with a subtle blue reflection, gave him an almost dreamlike appearance.
"Even if a band of people had the same goal of achieving peace," he murmured, "their ambitions and their methods will differ. And in the end, it is those differences that will drive them to conflict."
He turned back toward the generals, his gaze once again sharp. "I believe you gentlemen also have different views on peace. You may all seek it, but your interpretations—and your methods—will never be the same."
A heavy silence followed. Basil's faint smile returned, but there was something more in it now—amusement, perhaps, or the quiet acknowledgment of an unspoken truth. The other generals, though silent, seemed to be absorbing his words, their gazes thoughtful.
Finally, Luscious bowed slightly. "I shall take my leave now. Please allow me to assist the house master in his endeavors."
Basil gave him a slow nod. "Indeed, you have spoken well."
As the boy's figure disappeared from sight, Basil let out a low chuckle, drawing the attention of his subordinates. Lonto, ever the keen observer, narrowed his gaze slightly.
"Something amusing, Basil?"
Basil exhaled through his nose, a ghost of a smirk still playing at his lips.
"No, nothing of interest."
And yet, as his eyes lingered on the space where the boy had stood, there was a glint of something else—something unreadable, lingering just beneath the surface.