The grand halls of the Varnhart estate echoed with the soft sounds of footsteps as the Duke's family gathered for dinner. The massive chandeliers above cast a warm, golden glow over the long dining table, which was draped in fine silver and lace. The atmosphere was formal, yet thick with an underlying tension—an air that had become all too familiar in the presence of Duke Casimir Varnhart.
Sitting at the head of the table, Duke Casimir Varnhart himself was a sight to behold. Tall and imposing, his long silver hair fell smoothly past his shoulders, his striking ocean-blue eyes fixed with an unwavering gaze. Known throughout the Astrion Empire as the "War Saint," his reputation for prowess in battle and unyielding authority in both military and political affairs was legendary. His commanding presence made the entire room hush as he took his seat, the rustling of his coat almost imperceptible. His children, all seated around the table, followed his every movement with respect and careful observation.
At his right side was Princess Isolde, his wife—though their marriage was anything but one of love. A union forged for political reasons, Princess Isolde was the sister of the Emperor. With her regal posture and beauty, she held herself as a true noblewoman, always poised and composed, though there was an air of coldness to her presence. Her hair, as blonde as the finest wheat, flowed down her back, and her piercing golden eyes spoke volumes of her unspoken thoughts. She had little care for her husband's affair with Liora, the maid who had birthed Orion, the illegitimate child. To Isolde, Casimir's actions were nothing but a stain on their family's reputation, but she was willing to turn a blind eye to it as long as her own status remained untarnished.
The children gathered around the table were a reflection of Casimir's might and ambition, his legacy laid out before him. The eldest, Cassian, a boy of prodigious talent, was fourteen years old. Silver-haired like his father, his golden eyes gleamed with intelligence far beyond his years. Cassian was already a master of the sword and an heir with potential to carry on the family's powerful name. His calm demeanor and sharp wit had earned him the respect of both his family and the other nobles in the empire. His eyes rarely strayed from his father's face, his silent admiration for his father's strength and wisdom palpable.
To Cassian's left sat his younger siblings. There were seven children in total, each bearing the same silver hair and strong features indicative of the Varnhart bloodline. Their names, each marked by the cold, noble expectations of the Duke, were as follows:
Aurelia, the second eldest at thirteen, a poised and calculating girl with sharp, steel-gray eyes. She had already begun learning the ways of diplomacy, studying the art of politics, and had inherited her mother's ruthless nature.
Felix, eleven, a boy with the same silver hair and a quiet demeanor. He was a skilled strategist and already tutored in military tactics, though he rarely spoke at the table.
Selene, a nine-year-old girl with a quick wit and a mischievous smile. Her curiosity often led her to trouble, though she was clever enough to avoid the consequences. Her violet eyes were always alert, watching the dynamics of the family with interest.
Damien, seven, a quiet child who preferred to observe rather than speak. His pale silver hair fell neatly around his face, and though he spoke little, he was highly perceptive.
Seraphine, six, a soft-spoken girl with a heart-shaped face and golden eyes. She was sweet, but there was a fierceness that lurked behind her calm exterior, something that would make her dangerous when she grew older.
Valen, the youngest at four, was a boy whose silver hair was still soft and baby-like, and his bright blue eyes reflected his innocence. He clung to his older siblings, though the growing power dynamics of the family would soon shape him.
All of them, each in their own way, were heirs to the Varnhart name—powerful, cold, and ruthless. They were all bound by the same expectations: to maintain the family's legacy and further its dominance within the empire. They were carefully molded by their father, Casimir, into perfect extensions of his will, trained in both the physical arts of war and the political games of nobility. However, despite their unity in appearance and shared purpose, the siblings were far from being close-knit. There was an unspoken competition between them, an ever-present understanding that only one of them could carry the name of Varnhart to the next generation.
As the meal began, the children carried on their conversations with casual chatter, their voices careful and measured. Cassian led the discussions, speaking with the poise of someone who was already training to lead. But despite the calm, there was an undeniable tension in the air—one that had lingered since their father's announcement the night before.
Casimir had made it clear: Orion was nothing more than a mistake.
Cassian, though quiet, had been the first to process his father's words. His golden eyes flickered over to his siblings as they ate, but there was a certain coldness in them that hadn't been there before. They were all acutely aware that their family's reputation was built on strict ideals of purity, strength, and bloodline. And Orion, the child of a mere servant, could never be part of that equation.
As for the rest of the children, they continued to behave as they always had—calm and collected, but inwardly struggling to understand how this revelation would affect their lives. They knew Orion's existence was something to be erased from memory, a blemish that their father would see wiped away.
But beneath it all, a quiet question lingered: What would happen if Orion were ever to be seen by the world? What would happen to them, to the family, if the truth were ever revealed?
For now, however, those questions were left unspoken. The children continued to eat, their voices hushed and their minds far away.
And for the Duke, there was only the future—one where his family remained unbroken and his power remained unchallenged. Anything, or anyone, who threatened that future would be erased without hesitation.
But in the quiet shadows, the unspoken truth remained: Orion, the mistake, was still very much a part of the Varnhart legacy.