Clyde knew better than to speak.
His father's gaze bore into him—hard, scrutinizing, as if waiting for Clyde to either admit to his guilt or provide an excuse worth acknowledging.
The weight of expectation pressed against Clyde's chest, a familiar suffocating sensation.
He had spent his short life under this gaze, yet it never failed to make him feel small.
And around them, the whispers had already begun.
"Did he do this on purpose?"
"Perhaps he was jealous of his new siblings…"
"A desperate cry for attention, maybe?"
The murmurs slithered through the air like venomous snakes, hissing words that dug deep into his skin.
Clyde's stomach twisted, but he kept his expression blank.
They always assumed the worst of him.
Why should this time be any different?
He wanted to protest—to say something, anything—but before he could even draw breath, another voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"This was my fault."
A ripple of silence spread through the crowd.
All heads turned toward the speaker.
The cloaked man from earlier—now standing fully visible—lowered himself into a deep, formal bow before the Duke.
Clyde's eyes flickered in surprise.
The whispers that had condemned him now stilled, waiting.
"Duke Mewdew, your son is not to blame for what happened here. I was the one who engaged him in a magical resonance. He merely followed my lead."
The man spoke, his voice carrying a quiet authority.
Clyde's father's brows furrowed, his expression darkening like a storm cloud before rainfall.
"Wilhelm Collins, the hero chosen by the Magic Tower."
Clyde stiffened.
Hero?
His father's tone was cold, edged with irritation.
"You would do well not to insert yourself into a private family matter."
Wilhelm, however, remained unfazed.
Instead, he straightened, his gaze steady.
"Forgive my intrusion, but I must."
The weight in his voice silenced any murmurs that might have resumed.
"I see something special in this child."
A ripple of shock coursed through the gathered audience.
Wilhelm's expression was resolute, his presence unshaken.
"He has the potential to be more than what you believe him to be. And I would like to help him bloom."
Clyde barely had time to process those words before his father's expression darkened further, the corners of his mouth tightening in displeasure.
The Duke's fingers drummed against the wooden armrest of his chair—a slow, deliberate rhythm that barely concealed his frustration.
"Enough. You overstep, Wilhelm. This is my son. My family. You do not have the right to dictate his future"
He said, voice sharp as a blade.
Wilhelm did not flinch.
If anything, his gaze only grew firmer.
"And yet, you refuse to see what is right in front of you.""
He countered, causing the air in the room to grow heavy, thick with unspoken tension.
Clyde's heart pounded in his chest, though he kept his face carefully blank.
No one had ever defended him like this before.
It was… unsettling.
The Duke exhaled sharply, his patience visibly thinning.
"Nanny. Take Clyde back to his room."
Clyde flinched.
His nanny, who had been standing nearby, immediately stepped forward, her hand reaching for his wrist.
But before she could take hold of him—
"No."
Wilhelm's voice rang clear.
A stunned silence fell over the room.
Even Clyde's mother, who had remained silent until now, widened her eyes slightly in surprise.
Wilhelm turned toward the Duke, his expression unwavering.
"If this concerns Clyde, he has the right to be here. You may not value his presence, but I do."
His words carried a weight that could not be ignored.
The Duke's gaze darkened further, his knuckles whitening against the armrest.
"You challenge my authority in my own home?"
Wilhelm did not look away.
"I challenge nothing but your judgment."
Another beat of tense silence.
Then—
"Enough, husband."
The Duke's wife placed a gentle hand on his arm, her expression calm yet firm.
"At least hear him out."
She rarely raised her voice in matters of discipline, but when she did, even the Duke had to pause.
A slow exhale from the Duke.
Then, finally, a reluctant nod.
"Very well."
His eyes flickered toward Clyde.
"You will come as well."
Clyde blinked.
He had expected to be dismissed.
To be cast aside like always.
Instead—
He was included.
His fingers curled into small fists.
This was unfamiliar territory.
But he would not waste it.
______
The chamber doors groaned as they shut behind them.
The council room was an imposing space—walls lined with bookshelves, filled with old tomes and records of past wars. A long table stretched across the center of the room, heavy and polished, its surface reflecting the dim candlelight.
Wilhelm stepped forward.
He raised his hand, and a shimmering dome of blue light expanded around the room, sealing them in a magical barrier.
Clyde immediately felt the shift in air—like the room had been isolated from the world outside.
His father's irritation was immediate.
"You dare use magic in my house without permission?"
His tone was ice-cold, his patience dangerously thin.
Wilhelm, however, remained composed.
"Calm yourself, Duke Everhart. What I am about to say is not meant for outside ears."
He turned his gaze to Clyde before addressing the Duke.
The Duke's expression remained unreadable, but he did not counter Wilhelm's claim.
Wilhelm took a slow, measured breath before he spoke again.
"Your son has immense potential."
Clyde stiffened.
The room grew quiet.
Wilhelm let the words settle before he continued.
"But not in the way you expect."
His gaze flickered toward Clyde, then back to the Duke.
"Clyde is not meant to be a swordsman. Nor is he meant to be a conventional magic user."
He gestured slightly.
"What he demonstrated today—his ability to resonate with my magic without formal training—is not something ordinary children can do. His body did not simply react. It understood."
Clyde's breath hitched.
"That kind of talent is not just raw power. It is intelligence. It is comprehension."
Wilhelm went on.
He met the Duke's gaze.
"He has the potential to become something rare. Something invaluable."
A pause.
Then, Wilhelm said the words that would change everything.
"A Magical Engineer."
Clyde's mind reeled.
His father's fingers tightened against the armrest.
Wilhelm pressed on.
"Clyde may never wield a sword like his siblings. He may never follow in the footsteps of your legacy. But he could create the very weapons that shape history."
He leaned forward slightly.
Silence.
Clyde felt his heart pounding.
For the first time—
Someone had given him a future.
A path.
A choice.
And now, it all depended on his father's next words. Not that Clyde was going to let it stop him.