Lucen was once again called to his father's study. Unlike before, however, he stood before Duke Vardon without unease.
The man's presence, once a crushing weight that filled every inch of the study like iron in the air, felt less suffocating now.
The silence between them no longer carried the sharp tension of unspoken expectations but something calmer, mutual understanding forged through countless quiet conversations and unyielding stares that spoke more than words ever could.
"Do you remember what I said about the academy?"
"Yes, Father. The Academy Tournament, which they hold every two years. When you told me about it the time before the next tournament was one and a half years."
"That one and a half years has come to pass. The tournament will be happening a month from now."
Lucen straightened. "Then, when do I leave?"
"Tomorrow," Vardon said. "You'll head to the capital with a few from Thornefang. I'll also be sending Sir Thalos with you."
