Later that day, the four of them sat at the long dining table in the grand hall. The room was quiet except for the faint clink of cutlery against plates. The King sat at the head of the table, glancing occasionally at the Queen, who ate in silence, her face carefully blank. Kael, sitting to her right, shoveled food into his mouth lazily, looking like he couldn't care less about the tension in the room.
Lior sat across from Kael, eating calmly, though he felt the weight of the unspoken hostility. He had grown used to such atmospheres, but this one felt particularly suffocating.
The King finally broke the silence, setting his fork down with a soft clatter. He glanced at Lior, then at the Queen, before sighing deeply. "From today onward, Lior will be staying in the palace."
The Queen froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. Slowly, she set it down, her expression unchanged, though her grip on the utensil was tight. She glanced at the King, then at Lior, but said nothing. Instead, she picked up her glass of wine and sipped it slowly before resuming her meal.
Lior noticed her reaction but didn't say anything right away. He looked at the King, his tone calm but firm. "I think I'd prefer to go back to the old man," he said, pushing his plate aside slightly.
The King frowned. "This is your home now, Lior," he said firmly. "You're part of this family, and you'll stay here."
Lior met his father's gaze, unflinching. "It didn't feel like home before, and it doesn't now," he said simply. "I'm more comfortable where I was."
Kael chuckled softly, breaking the tension for a moment. "Guess he doesn't think the palace is all it's cracked up to be," he said, smirking.
The Queen shot Kael a sharp look, but he ignored her, leaning back in his chair and sipping from his goblet.
The King's expression hardened. "Enough, Kael," he said sternly. Turning back to Lior, he softened his tone slightly. "You're staying, Lior. That's final."
Lior didn't respond right away, his expression unreadable. Finally, he gave a small nod, though it was clear he wasn't entirely convinced.
The rest of the meal continued in silence, the tension lingering in the air like a storm waiting to break.
Kael finished his meal first, wiping his mouth with a napkin before standing up. He bowed slightly to the King and Queen. "I'm going back to my room," he said simply, not waiting for a response.
To everyone's surprise, Lior stood as well. "I'll join you," he said, his tone calm.
Kael raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. He shrugged and turned, walking out of the dining hall. Lior followed a few steps behind, ignoring the looks from the King and Queen as they left.
They ended up in the courtyard, the night air cool and quiet around them. Kael leaned against a low wall, his arms crossed, while Lior stood a few feet away, staring at the garden.
"I didn't ask to come here," Lior said after a long silence, his voice steady. "And I'm not here to take your place. Once I'm old enough, I'll leave. You won't have to worry about me."
Kael scoffed, shaking his head. "Why do you think I care?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why do all of you think I give a rat's ass about some shiny throne?"
Lior turned to face him, confused.
Kael smirked, his tone light but sincere. "You can have it, big brother. Go ahead and take the throne. All I want is peace. That's it."
For a moment, Lior didn't know what to say. He studied Kael, trying to gauge if he was serious.
"You really don't care?" Lior finally asked.
Kael shrugged. "Not even a little. Let them fight over it. I'm staying out of it."
Lior nodded slowly, unsure how to respond. "Alright," he said quietly. "Thanks for clearing that up."
Kael gave a lazy wave as he turned to leave. "Don't mention it. And don't make this more complicated than it needs to be."
Lior watched him go, his expression thoughtful. Maybe this palace wasn't going to be as hostile as he'd expected. But it was still far from feeling like home.
Kael lay sprawled on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows on the walls. The events of the day played through his mind like a bad replay, and he couldn't help but smirk to himself.
"Peace," he muttered, the word laced with quiet amusement. "Who am I kidding?"
He shifted, resting an arm over his eyes as he let out a small, dry chuckle. For all his talk of not caring about the throne or palace politics, he knew better. With the system bound to him and the power it granted, trouble wasn't something he could avoid.
It wasn't a matter of if—it was when.
Kael's smirk faded as his thoughts grew heavier. Being a Pathless wasn't just some fancy title or a unique identity but he would have lived a carefree life, but now with the System and the power he came to possess. It came with weight, expectations, and enemies he hadn't even met yet. He'd seen enough to know that his dreams of a quiet, uneventful life were just that—dreams.
The reality? Trouble would come, whether he wanted it or not. And when it did, the peace he pretended to crave would shatter into a million pieces.
Kael sighed, rubbing his temples before muttering to himself, "Guess I'll deal with it when it shows up."
For now, though, he closed his eyes and let himself sink into the quiet of the night. Whatever was coming, he'd face it when the time came. Until then, he'd grab what little peace he could.
The next morning, Kael was jolted awake by the sound of his door slamming open. He groaned, pulling the blanket over his head, but it didn't help much when a sharp voice cut through his half-asleep haze.
"Get up," Queen Selene ordered, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.
Kael peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at the bright light streaming into the room. "What's the deal?" he mumbled, his voice groggy. "It's too early for this."
The Queen walked over to the bed and yanked the blanket off him, ignoring his protests. "Get ready and meet me at the training grounds," she said firmly.
Kael sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Why?" he asked, still half-asleep.
"Your master is here," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Your training starts today."
Kael blinked at her, trying to process what she'd just said. "Wait, what master? What training?"
Selene didn't bother answering. She turned on her heel and headed for the door, calling over her shoulder, "You've got ten minutes. Don't make me come back."
Kael flopped back onto the bed with a groan. "This better be worth it," he muttered to himself. But he knew better than to push his luck with his mother, so he dragged himself out of bed and started getting ready.
Ten minutes later—well, more like fifteen—Kael shuffled into the training grounds, still looking half-asleep. The Queen stood there, her expression sharp and impatient. Next to her was a man Kael had never seen before, tall and broad-shouldered, with an air of authority that made it clear he wasn't someone to mess with.
"This is your master," Selene said, gesturing to the man. "He'll be overseeing your training from now on."
Kael looked the man up and down, then turned to his mother. "You sure about this? He doesn't look like the patient type."
The man let out a low chuckle. "You're not wrong, kid," he said, his voice deep and rough. "Name's Varian. And I don't do patience. So let's get started."
Kael sighed, already regretting whatever this was going to turn into. "Fine," he said, rolling his shoulders. "What's first?"
Varian grinned, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "First? You run. Ten laps around the grounds. Let's see if that lazy attitude of yours holds up."
Kael groaned but started jogging, muttering under his breath about how much he hated mornings.