A young man stood before the tall, polished mirror, his reflection a striking image of his mother as she might have been in her youth. His fiery red hair, cut neatly but rebelliously short, framed a face that was both sharp and delicate—beauty tempered with a hint of steel. His crimson eyes, piercing yet melancholic, seemed to hold a depth far beyond his years.

Nathanael Greinthsion ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he adjusted the collar of his plain, formal tunic. "A summon from the noble court?" he murmured to himself, his voice low and contemplative. "They finally making a move to dispose of me."

His fingers brushed the silver chain around his neck—a pendant he'd carried for as long as he could remember, engraved with the emblem of a heart wreathed in flames. "What should I do, Mother?" he asked softly, his words fading into the stillness of the room.

A gentle knock interrupted his musings. Before he could respond, the door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped in.

Lila, the woman who had accompanied him all those years ago, entered with a warm yet firm presence. Her once-ebony hair was streaked with silver now, tied back in a practical bun, and her once-youthful features bore the marks of time and hardship. Yet her emerald eyes still gleamed with unwavering loyalty and strength. She carried a carefully folded outfit in her arms.

"You'll wear this," Lila announced without preamble, her tone both motherly and authoritative. She placed the garments on a nearby chair before turning to him with a faint smile. "You've grown so much, young master. It feels like just yesterday you were a baby in my arms."

Nathan turned to her, his lips quirking into a small smile. "And yet you still call me 'young master,' Lila. I'm not a child anymore."

"Perhaps not," Lila replied, her smile widening. "But you'll always be that little boy who clung to my sleeve when he was frightened. The one who demanded I tell him stories about his mother every night."

At the mention of his mother, Nathan's smile faded slightly. He glanced at the pendant around his neck, his expression becoming wistful. "You think she'd approve of this?"

Lila's gaze softened, and she reached out to touch his shoulder. "Your mother would be proud of you, Nathan. She always believed you were destined for great things. Being summoned by the court... it's a step toward the future she fought so hard for."

Nathan nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'll do my best," he said quietly.

Lila gave him an encouraging squeeze before stepping back. "You'd better. Now, get dressed. The carriage is waiting, and them nobles doesn't like to wait—not even the son of a duke."

With a small chuckle, she excused herself, leaving Nathan alone with the outfit. He unfolded it carefully, revealing a meticulously tailored ensemble: a deep navy tunic embroidered with subtle silver accents, matching trousers, and a black cloak lined with crimson—House Greinthsion's colors.

*****

A short time later, Nathan appeared from the mansion, completely attired and exuding a subtle assurance. The ensemble suited him flawlessly, highlighting his slender physique and dignified presence.

The crisp morning air held a faint tension as Nathan approached the gleaming carriage. The rhythmic stamping of the horses punctuated the courtyard's silence, while the sun cast its first golden rays over the slumbering gardens. His thoughts, weighed down by the day's challenges, were interrupted by hurried footsteps behind him, each step echoing eagerness.

"Leaving without a proper farewell, little brother?" The teasing lilt of Marcus's voice sliced through the morning air.

Nathan turned slowly, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of annoyance dancing within their depths. Standing before him was Marcus, the eldest son of the Duke and the product of the Duke's first marriage, a union that had bestowed upon him privileges and expectations alike. Beside Marcus stood Seraphina, their younger half-sister, her delicate features adorned with a sly smile that didn't quite reach her icy blue eyes, a haunting reflection of the chill that often accompanied her presence.

"Marcus. Seraphina." Nathan's tone was neutral, bordering on disinterested, yet there lay an undercurrent of tension that hinted at the unspoken history between them.

Marcus's lips curled into a smirk, a façade of congeniality that belied the sharpness of his intentions, but his eyes glinted with a sharper edge that suggested a deeper rivalry. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his neatly trimmed black hair framing a visage that exuded both confidence and arrogance, as if he carried himself with the conviction that the world already belonged to him. His attire was immaculate, an embroidered coat of House Greinthsion's colors emphasizing his status and the weight of expectations that came with it, a vivid contrast to Nathan's more understated elegance. The interplay of their appearances spoke volumes, a silent battle of wills unfolding in the soft morning light.

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"Father has finally summoned you, has he?" Marcus inquired, his tone laced with feigned politeness. "It's quite entertaining. Do you honestly think that showing up will elevate your status, Nathan? That it will transform you into anything beyond the son of the second lady?"

Seraphina let out a quiet laugh, her arms folded as she leaned a little closer to her brother's shadow. "Oh, Marcus, be gentle. He's still so... inexperienced. So gullible."

Nathan's gaze remained steady, unfazed by their words. He had heard it all before—whispers in the halls, murmurs among the servants, and cutting remarks disguised as banter. At some point, the sting of it had dulled into a distant ache, replaced by a cold apathy.

"I didn't know you were so interested in my future," Nathan said dryly, his lips quirking into a faint smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "If you're here to see me off, I'm flattered. Truly."

Marcus's expression darkened, his smirk twisting into a sneer. "Don't misunderstand me, little brother. I came to remind you of your place. You're nothing more than a shadow, a leftover piece on the board. You'll never be anything more than a footnote in this family's history."

Nathan tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming with a detached amusement. "If that's the case, why do you seem so... preoccupied with me?"

Marcus took a step forward, his fists clenching at his sides. Seraphina placed a hand on his arm, a delicate gesture that seemed to calm him—or at least restrain him.

"You'll regret crossing me, Nathan," Marcus said through gritted teeth. "Mark my words."

Nathan shrugged, turning away as if the confrontation had already bored him. "I'll keep that in mind," he said over his shoulder.

He approached the carriage, where Lila stood waiting. Her sharp eyes flicked between the siblings, her lips pressing into a thin line. As Nathan climbed into the carriage, Lila turned to Marcus and Seraphina, bowing deeply.

"My apologies for the young master's... abruptness," she said, her tone carefully measured. "He's merely focused on the task ahead."

Marcus scoffed, moving past her with a dismissive demeanor. "You should consider instilling some respect in your charge, Lila. It's unseemly for him to act so disrespectfully in the presence of those superior to him."

Lila's bow deepened, but there was a flicker of defiance in her eyes. "Of course, Lord Marcus."

Seraphina giggled, her voice light and saccharine. "Don't be too hard on them, Marcus. They're just doing what they can to stay relevant."

The pair turned and began to walk away, their laughter fading as they disappeared into the estate.

Inside the carriage, Nathan watched through the window as Lila approached, her expression unreadable. When she climbed in and settled across from him, she let out a quiet sigh.

"You didn't have to provoke him," she said gently.

Nathan leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed. "I didn't provoke him, Lila. I just didn't entertain him. There's a difference."

Her lips twitched into a faint smile, but she quickly suppressed it. "They'll try to make things difficult for you, you know. Especially Marcus."

"They already do," Nathan replied. He stared out the window as the carriage began to move, the estate shrinking into the distance. "But I've stopped caring about what they think. If Marcus wants to play the role of the heir, he's welcome to it. I'm not interested in the scraps of this family."

Lila studied him carefully, her expression softening. "You may not be interested in the scraps, Nathan, but the world is more than this family. Don't forget that."

Nathan's hand drifted to the pendant around his neck, his thumb tracing the engraved lion. His mother's voice seemed to echo faintly in his mind, a memory of a time when the world had felt larger, brighter.

"I haven't forgotten," he said softly, almost to himself.

The carriage moved steadily along the cobbled streets, the rhythmic clatter of hooves blending with the lively hum of the city. Nathanael Greinthsion—Nathan to those who dared familiarity—sat composed inside, his crimson eyes idly tracing the scenery outside.

*****

Everywhere he looked, there were stares. Commoners paused mid-step, their eyes catching the intricately engraved crest on the carriage—a lion poised mid-roar, surrounded by a crown of ivy. Some bowed instinctively, while others whispered behind cupped hands, their gazes filled with a mix of awe and unease.

Nathan's expression didn't falter. He had grown used to this—the weight of being both seen and unseen, of existing as a curiosity rather than an heir.

The carriage rolled to a stop at a checkpoint, where a cluster of guards, clad in uniforms that bore the weight of authority, meticulously examined the steady stream of travelers passing through. Merchants, their faces a canvas of weariness and determination, unloaded their wares for inspection, their voices rising in a cacophony of protest or laughter, as they engaged in the age-old dance of negotiation and scrutiny. Travelers, a motley assortment of vibrant characters, produced documents with varying degrees of confidence—some wore eager smiles that betrayed their excitement for the journey ahead, while others cast nervous glances, their brows furrowed with the weight of uncertainty. The air buzzed with the tension of expectation, a palpable reminder of the delicate balance between freedom and regulation that governed their passage.

A guard approached Nathan's carriage, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. But the moment his eyes fell upon the crest, his demeanor shifted. He straightened, offered a sharp salute, and stepped back.

"Pass through!" the guard barked, his voice cutting above the noise.

The carriage jolted ahead once more, putting the checkpoint in its wake. Nathan inclined his head slightly, observing as the vast grasslands took the place of the city's turmoil. The path teemed with wanderers: some on foot, others in carts or more modest carriages. Vendors bore their wares, children raced after one another, and wandering entertainers showcased their talents to those who passed by.

Nathan noted it all with quiet interest, but his face betrayed nothing.

The journey stretched on interminably, the minutes blurring into hours as the road wound its way through verdant meadows and gently rolling hills, each turn revealing a tapestry of nature's vibrant hues. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow that danced upon the grass, while the distant horizon beckoned with a promise of adventure yet to unfold. When the towering gates of the royal city came into view, even Nathan found himself sitting up a little straighter.