The steady rattle of the carriage wheels filled the silence, broken only by the occasional creak of wood as it shifted over uneven ground. Noel sat with his arms loosely crossed, his gaze fixed on the blur of trees and hills beyond the window. Across from him, Albrecht Thorne remained as he always did—upright and unshaken.
Minutes stretched before the patriarch finally spoke. His voice was low, even, carrying the weight of command without needing to rise.
"You've grown."
Noel shifted his gaze back toward him, meeting those piercing eyes.
Albrecht continued, his expression unreadable. "Not just taller. Stronger. Your presence is different. It will serve the family well."
Noel held his stare, his own voice calm. "I didn't grow for the family. I did it to survive."
For the first time, something flickered across Albrecht's face—not amusement, but a faint glimmer of approval, quickly hidden beneath his iron mask.
