Chapter 43: The Grand Duke Fears His Mother (1)

My parents were coming here. To the Capital.

That is the real catastrophe.

You see, there were many dangerous things in this world.

The Lorillis Desert, with its sandstorms capable of scraping flesh from bone and its aura beasts that considered armored caravans a crunchy pastime.

Jinns, whose sense of consent apparently got dissolved when they decided to acquire unwilling siblings.

The imperial palace, with its polished halls, smiling vipers, hidden vaults, suspicious relics, and a Crown Prince who somehow became more interesting after I failed to poison him.

Charitable institutions with holier-than-thou names and locked basements.

Then there were temples smelling of expensive incense and concealed doors.

And then there was my mother, who was a whole category of danger all on her own.

"Your face has the look of someone who has been sentenced to marriage," Abi said, still laughing.

I slowly folded the letters. Very slowly.

A lesser man would have crumpled them while a more dramatic man might have thrown them into the fireplace and declared he had never received anything.

Unfortunately, I was neither lesser nor foolish enough to think my mother could be avoided by something as trivial as setting a letter on fire.

The Honorable Lady Konstantin had likely already anticipated my possible reactions before sealing the envelope.

She might have written the letter in duplicate.

Triplicate, just for good measure.

Perhaps she had even sent one to William as another back-up.

I turned my head toward the old butler in doubt. But William’s expression remained neutral that I couldn’t be sure.

"William."

"Yes, Your Excellency?"

"Did my mother send you a letter as well?"

The old butler noticeably paused. It was barely a pause but a pause nonetheless.

"Yes, Your Excellency."

See? I was right.

Abi’s laughter grew worse. I could only close my eyes briefly and inhale.

Patience.

Patience.

Pa—

No. Absolutely not. I had used too much patience recently. It was becoming a public resource, a scarce one at that.

I refuse to be patient anymore.

"What did she say?"

William bowed his head with the perfect dignity of a man about to reveal a crime.

"The Old Lady instructed me to ensure that the Young Master is well-fed, properly clothed, emotionally secure, and not overwhelmed by your occasional emotional constipation."

Silence.

Abi stopped laughing for a good minute and then bent over as if he got stabbed. I wished he really was.

Maybe I should stab him. To make it authentic.

Spiro, who had entered the hall at some point during this tragedy, blinked.

I turned toward him.

He was holding a picture book in his hands. His amber eyes moved from me, to Abi who was now wheezing like an asthmatic camel, to William who looked like a statue with his stubborn stoicism.

"Father," Spiro said carefully, "what is emotional constipation?"

I looked at William who voluntarily lowered his eyes to the floor.

I then turned to Abi who had both his hands pressed over his mouth, shoulders shaking violently.

I looked at the ceiling.

Why?

Why had fate arranged this exact moment?

Why did my innocent son have to hear such slander?

Why was my mother like this?

"Nothing a child needs to concern himself with," I said at last, with the dignity of a man standing over the grave of his peace.

Spiro nodded, but his expression remained thoughtful.

I had a bad feeling about it.

If that child asked Bernard later, I would reduce Bernard’s salary. Not because it would be fair, but because someone had to suffer with me.

Abi finally managed to speak. "Your mother seems like a magnificent woman."

"Do not praise the enemy."

"Enemy? She is your mother."

"Exactly."

Spiro’s eyes widened. "Grandmother is coming?"

The word struck the hall oddly.

Grandmother.

Who would have thought that my mother, the elegant tyrant who had once forced me to practice ceremonial greetings while balancing a cup of tea on my head, would ever become someone’s grandmother?

It would have been such a terrifying thought.

Also charming but mostly terrifying

"Yes," I answered.

Spiro looked down at his book. "Will she... like me?"

The question extinguished Abi’s obnoxious laughter and softened William’s expression.

I felt something in my chest twist again, that same irritating sensation that had become increasingly frequent since I acquired this child. It was like being stabbed by a feather.

It was not deadly, but deeply offensive.

"She will adore you," I said.

Spiro looked up quickly.

"Truly, Father?"

"Yes. I’m sure she will."

The boy’s fingers tightened around the book.

"But what if she thinks I am strange? Or troublesome?"

"That would be impossible. She’s already fussing over you and calling me out."

His expression did not ease.

I walked toward him and crouched slightly, though my knees did protest because I had been doing this far too often lately.

Fatherhood, it seems, required unnecessary bending. No one warned me about that.

"Spiro," I said, meeting his eyes. "My mother raised me. Do you understand?"

He blinked.

I heard Abi make a small sound behind me.

I continued solemnly. "After that, nothing in this world could be considered too strange or troublesome for her."

Spiro stared. Then, slowly, his lips twitched.

"Father."

"What? I am only telling the truth."

"That sounds rude."

"It is our personal brand of affection as mother and son."

"Does Grandmother know about it?"

"Your grandmother knows everything. Even more than me."

At that, his small smile finally appeared.

Good. The crisis was delayed. Not solved yet just delayed.

It was becoming a familiar state of being in this household.

I stood and turned toward William. "When will they arrive?"

"The letter was sent through an accelerated courier array. Based on the Lady’s wording and travel habits, they may already be en route."

"That does not answer the question."

"Most likely tomorrow evening or the day after."

I stared.

"It’s that soon?"

"Yes, Your Excellency."

Of course my parents, who had apparently been cruising the West Seas and sending seafood as if parenthood were a subscription service, could travel halfway across the empire in a couple of days when sufficiently motivated by gossip, family additions, and the chance to bully their only son.

Love was frightening. Especially theirs.

"Prepare the estate," I said.

"It is already underway, sire."

"Prepare Spiro, as well."

"I’m afraid that is your responsibility, Your Excellency."

I looked at him. William looked back calmly.

Bold.

The entire household had become bold.

I blame Abi. It was the most convenient and likely accurate course of action.

"What about Abi?" I asked.

William’s gaze shifted toward the Jinn. Abi straightened, suddenly cheerful again. "Yes, what about me?"

"My mother will want to meet you."

"Excellent. I want to meet her too."

"I advise you not to."

"Why is that?"

"Because she will like you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Very."

Abi looked pleased. "Oh? Now, I am intrigued."

I massaged my forehead.

This was exactly the problem. Abi and my mother in the same room would either become allies or enemies. Both outcomes were on catastrophic levels. Maybe.

If they become nemies, the estate might not survive. If they become allies, I might not survive.

My father, poor man, would be of no help. He would admire my mother’s brilliance, weep over Spiro, try to bond with Abi, and then somehow encourage the disaster all the more by accident.

I needed contingency plans. Several of them, preferrably. Perhaps even vacuation routes.

"Father," Spiro said softly.

I turned back to him. "Yes?"

"Should I prepare a greeting?"

Oh no.

The child had gone back into survival mode.

There was a new authority figure arriving in our estate where he has just recently felt comfortable in. Suddenly, there were unknown expectations, the need to perform correctly, and the need to avoid displeasure.

I truly wanted to know who taught him this. Preferably while holding them by the throat.

"You do not need to perform," I said.

His brows furrowed faintly. "But she is your mother."

"Exactly. She is my mother not an imperial examiner."

"Still..."

"Fine. You may learn a greeting. But only because proper manners matter, and not because you need to earn anything."

He nodded carefully.

"Yes, Father."

I looked at William. "Teach him the familial greeting, not the formal noble one."

William’s eyes warmed faintly. "Understood."

Spiro blinked. "Familial greeting?"

"Yes," I said. "You are not greeting Lady Konstantin as an outsider. You are greeting her as her grandson."

The word made him freeze.

Grandson.

Again, something shifted in his eyes. Something too fragile for anyone to touch directly.

Then he nodded.

"I understand."

No, I’m pretty sure he did not. Not fully, at least.

But he wanted to. That was enough for now.

After sending Spiro with William for his greeting lesson, I retreated to my study with Abi following behind me like an bad omen in violet. The moment the door closed, I placed my mother’s letter on the desk and stared at it.

It had the audacity to stare back. Maliciously at that.

"Why are you glaring at paper again?" Abi asked.

"Because this paper has unsavory consequences."

"All paper has consequences. You said that to me yesterday."

"And I was correct yesterday too."

Abi sprawled across the sofa. "Your parents coming is good, is it not? Family should gather when new family appears."

"That is exactly the kind of statement that sounds harmless until one understands the kind family I have."

"I have met you. I dare say I have an idea, already."

"You do not."

"I am excited to learn."

"You should be terrified instead."

"Nothing has ever really terrified me in my centuries of existence. I am sufficiently powerful too. Isn’t that fine?"

"My mother does not care whether you’ve lived for centuries and is powerful enough to raze a kingdom."

That made him laugh, though less loudly than before.

I sat behind my desk and pulled out a clean sheet of paper. Since my mother was coming, there was no point in pretending I could hide the recent developments. In fact, it would be safer to summarize them before she arrived and extracted the information herself in person.

That would be worse. Although, I am pretty sure her little birdies have already informed her of everything.

My mother also had a way of asking questions that made silence feel like the epitome of discourtesy and lies feel like childish rebellion.

It can be quite horrifying to the uninitiated.

I dipped the pen in ink and began writing.

Mother,

Since you have already decided to return despite the strain of travel, I assume dissuasion would be useless.

Abi leaned over the desk. "That sounds resigned."

"It is."

"Try being warmer."

"How about no?"

"She is your mother."

"Exactly. She will detect false warmth at the syllable."

I continued.

There are several matters requiring caution upon your arrival. First, Spiro’s origins are not as simple as they appear. He was found in a caravan carrying northern goods, including Boleoti crystals.

Investigation has since connected the route permit to a steward tied to the Boleoti second duchess’s estate office. There is also a Capital intermediary connected to the House of Gentle Mercy, a charity patronized by House Rouvier and certain temple circles.

Abi whistled. "That is quite a lot for a grandmother’s welcome letter."

"This is not a welcome letter. It is a type of damage control."

"Warm damage control?"

"Be quiet. You’re not helping."

I resumed.

Second, the Crown Prince appears to suffer from a hidden affliction involving suppressed life force and possibly spiritual contamination.

His residence contains black salt formations uncommon outside Sonomi and older temple branches. He reacted visibly to a relic in the imperial lower vault.

Third, the lower vault contains pre-imperial records referencing Lorillis as keeper or witness, and several hostile entities called dusk-born in fragmented accounts.

A sealed relic recovered from beneath the palace foundation triggered visions in both Abi and myself. Abi claims not to recall clearly. He is likely lying or avoiding the matter, possibly both.

Abi looked offended. "Must you include that?"

"It’s necessary."

"Your mother will scold me."

"I’ll pray for you."

"I thought you did not want us to become enemies."

"It’s a risk I’m willing to take."

He crossed his arms with a pout while I added another line.

Do not trust Lord Keeper Marcellus.

Then paused.

After a moment, I added:

Approach the empress with caution. She knows more than she says, but she may not be our enemy. The Crown Prince is useful and currently more endangered than he realizes.

The final part was harder.

I looked at the blank space beneath the ink. Then wrote:

Spiro fears being taken back. That child has a lot of secrets, and I suspect he knows more about his origins than he has said. Please do not corner him.

He responds well to gentleness, routine, and food. He asks intelligent questions and has begun studying maps. He still eats too little unless prompted. He usually pretends to be fine when he is not.

I stopped. The words sat there, far too revealing.