Chapter 006: The Decision
Preparations were carried out swiftly for the journey to the capital. The Galina family, used to a life of self-reliance, understood their roles with silent precision. With Ash and Ay departing, the burden left behind doubled in weight. Without the family's two strongest hands, those who remained had to work faster, more efficiently. If all went smoothly, Ash and Ay were expected to return in two weeks, after the round trip and the completion of their trade. Until then, the rest had to shoulder the missing strength—working harder than usual.
Whenever they traded in the capital, the desert folk always traveled in convoys for safety. Ash typically joined residents from neighboring villages, whether to trade or purchase supplies in Nauruan's capital. The threat of bandits lurking at the forest borders was all too real, demanding constant vigilance. These desert dwellers had long mastered the rhythm of timing their departures, ensuring they traveled in large, organized groups. The convoy included traders from eight other villages—each settled around the nine oases of the Caihina desert and savannah, all part of Nauruan territory.
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Nauruan Capital
Ash and Ay arrived in the capital city of Nauruan after a long journey with their convoy. As always, the city was bustling—merchants calling to customers, the occasional toll of bells from the square, and the steady hum of people wrapped up in their affairs. The scent of spice and dust clung to the air, creating the distinct atmosphere of a city driven by trade. But for Ash, this trip was not just about selling goods—he carried a far heavier burden on his mind.
Since early morning, he and Ay had scattered across the market to gather information about Grand Duke Griffith—the man who might soon become part of their family. Yet, the more they heard, the darker the image of that man became.
"Grand Duke Griffith? Don't joke about him," muttered one merchant in a hushed voice, glancing around as if afraid to be overheard. "He's a man of iron. His heart froze over long ago. He shows no mercy to those who stand in his way."
"They say," added an old woman selling fabrics, "he took Alpen by blood. No one dares challenge him—not even the royal family. They'd rather align with him than oppose his will."
Rumors poured in like venom, poisoning their ears. Ay, standing beside Ash, listened with a face that grew more grim with every word. He clenched his fists tightly, fighting the urge to lash out.
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When they finally stopped to rest at a small tavern tucked away in a corner of the city, Ay could no longer hold back the turmoil in his heart. He slammed his cup down on the table, voice trembling with emotion.
"Father, is it true? That cruel old man is going to be my brother-in-law?"
Ash let out a long sigh. He had known this conversation was inevitable. "Those are just rumors, Ay. We don't know what kind of man he truly is."
"Rumors? Father, you don't believe that either!" Ay struck the table with his fist, drawing glances from nearby patrons. "My sister isn't some bargaining chip! She's a person—not something to be traded for titles or reputation!"
"Watch your tongue, Ay!" Ash's voice cracked like a whip, halting his son's fury for a moment. "Do you think I don't feel the same? She was your sister, but before that, she was my daughter. Do you honestly believe I'd hand Atthy over to a man like that without a second thought?!"
The two locked eyes—anger in both their gazes, but also a shared unease neither could deny. Ay was young, fiery and passionate. Ash, having weathered more storms in life, was trying to find a path forward without letting anger cloud his judgment.
Ay drew a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "I don't care about his title. Even if he were a king, I wouldn't accept it. I won't let my sister be sacrificed for some filthy noble's ambition." His voice was steadier now, but the resolve in his words was like carved stone. "Reject the proposal, Father. I'm begging you."
Ash looked into his son's eyes. Pride stirred in his chest at the boy's courage, but he also knew the world didn't work so simply. Every decision carried weight—and this wasn't a battle won by refusal alone.
After a long pause, Ash laid a hand on Ay's shoulder and said, "Listen to me, Ay. We're treading a world built on schemes and shadows. I'm not just your father—I'm head of this family. Every choice I make must be carefully weighed, not just for Atthy, but for all of you. Never think I'd surrender my daughter without a fight."
Ay fell silent, his eyes still smoldering, but now tempered by deeper understanding. With a voice full of regret, he murmured, "I'm sorry, Father. I let my emotions get the better of me. I know you only want what's best for us."
Ash gave a faint smile, reaching out to gently ruffle his son's hair. "I'm proud of you, Ay. You're still young, but your courage to stand for your family—most grown men don't even have that. Your grandfather would be proud of the man you're becoming."
Ay lowered his head, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Thank you, Father."
But beneath the surface of that conversation, Ash knew—Grand Duke Griffith was not a threat that could be dismissed. Whatever happened, he had to make sure Atthy would not become a pawn in this political game.
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Several Days Later
Ash stood in their modest sitting room, his gaze drifting through the dew-fogged window. The morning was quiet, the only sound the gentle crackle of firewood from the hearth. He had just finished laying out his calculations to Rowt, voicing the unease that had haunted him since receiving word of the envoy from Alpen.
"Father, this doesn't make sense." Ash turned to face Rowt, who sat relaxed in a creaky wooden chair. "Based on distance, couriers, and travel time, there's no way their envoy could've arrived this early. But they're twelve days ahead of schedule."
Rowt looked up, scratching at his graying beard. "You're right. But why the rush?"
"That's what I've been asking myself!" Ash's voice rose in frustration. "It feels like a trap—like everything was planned from the start."
Rowt snorted, unimpressed by his son's anxiety. "Of course it was planned. It's a marriage proposal, you fool. Did you think they'd just do it on a whim?"
"Father!" Ash barked, face flushed. "This is serious! Don't mock me! We're talking about my daughter's future—Atthy's life!"
But Rowt wasn't fazed. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and gave a small smirk. "And you think I don't take it seriously? Spare me the theatrics, Ashton Galina. Your temper's like a blunt sword—it only makes you look weak."
Ash clenched his fists, struggling to contain his anger. "You seem to enjoy this, Father. But I'm not in the mood for games. We need to plan our next move."
Rowt exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "Plan what? You already said we can't stop the envoy en route. Are you going to challenge Grand Duke Griffith himself? We're a nobody family—barely even noticed by nobility. There's only one option: face them when they arrive."
Ash exhaled slowly, calming himself. "I know. But doesn't this feel wrong to you? Why force this proposal? We have no wealth, no influence. What could they possibly want from us?"
Rowt shrugged. "Maybe they want heirs."
Ash rolled his eyes, his face a picture of disbelief. "Father, the man has four sons and three grandchildren. If he wanted more heirs, there are plenty of noblewomen who would line up to marry him—even if he smells like death warmed over."
Rowt remained unfazed by the insult, simply smirking. "True. But what if there's another reason?"
"Another reason?" Ash narrowed his eyes, trying to read his father's intent.
"Yes," Rowt replied, leaning forward. "You sure there's nothing in your past that could come back to haunt us? No enemies who might want to target the family? Or… anything you've kept hidden from me?"
Ash snorted, voice laced with sarcasm. "Of course I've got enemies. Bandits who stalk the borders, market thugs who leer at my daughter, or women who didn't take rejection well. You know, I am quite the catch."
Rowt rolled his eyes, clearly unamused. "Ashton Galina! Enough of your nonsense. I didn't ask for a comedy show."
"You're the one who asked," Ash replied dryly, though his expression turned serious. "And to answer you truthfully—I don't know. I don't have any enemies foolish enough to set something like this in motion. Besides, wouldn't this marriage benefit them more than hurt us? If Atthy actually becomes the Grand Duke's wife and secures a position, wouldn't that put them at a disadvantage?"
Rowt fell quiet, chewing over his son's words. After a long pause, he sighed. "You're right. But that still doesn't explain why this is happening. And now the real problem is how we'll deal with their envoy—arriving in ten days."
Ash nodded slowly. "There's no choice. We welcome them with respect. Even if I know… this will only bring more trouble."
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Ash and Rowt eventually decided they had no choice but to tell Atthy and Ay everything. They knew the two would sense something was wrong sooner or later—and they wouldn't stay quiet about it. Only Gafy and Dimi were left out of the conversation, their ages still too tender to bear such burdens.
That night, Atthy found Ay sitting alone on the rooftop. He was lying back in a relaxed posture, his eyes fixed on the starlit sky above.
"Atthy, what are you doing up here?" Ay muttered without turning, sensing his sister's presence.
Atthy ignored the question and quietly took a seat beside him. She followed his gaze upward, looking at the peaceful expanse of the night sky—a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside them.
"What are you thinking about, Ay?" she asked gently.
"Nothing," he replied curtly. His voice was flat, but there was no mistaking the storm behind it. "Just admiring how endless the sky looks..."
Atthy sighed softly. She knew Ay far too well to be fooled by such a hollow answer. "Ay, I've been raising you since you were little. Don't even try to hide anything from me," she said, flicking his forehead playfully.
Ay grumbled and rubbed the spot she'd flicked. "Sis… The biggest reason you agreed to this proposal is because of Gafy, isn't it?" he asked suddenly, turning to stare at her sharply. "Do you really intend to marry that old bastard?"
"Ay! Watch your language," Atthy snapped, her voice firm and eyes stern. "Father would be furious if he heard you speak like that."
But Ay didn't back down. He turned his gaze back to the stars, his face etched with deep uncertainty. "I just don't understand, Sis… Why us? Why do you have to go through this?"
Atthy fell silent, not answering right away. The cool night wind brushed past them, deepening the stillness that wrapped around the rooftop.
Finally, Atthy turned to Ay with a sharp yet gentle look in her eyes. She reached out and softly ran her fingers through his hair, calming the storm within her brother with a touch that had soothed him since childhood.
"Ay, as nobles, we were taught to mind our words and behavior," Atthy said in a low but firm voice. "Even if we didn't receive formal education, our parents—Ash and Laura—raised us well. Crude language has no place in our mouths, especially not before those of high rank. One careless word could bring consequences if overheard by the wrong people."
Ay lowered his head and let out a long sigh. "Sorry, Sis," he said with a small smile. "I'm just frustrated. We already made it clear we refused, but why did they still send envoys to fetch you?"
Atthy gave him a teasing look. "So… you're worried about me?"
Ay rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Are you seriously asking that?" he replied, voice rising. "You're Athaleyah Galina, my sister. How could I—Aydan Galina—not be worried about you?"
Atthy stifled a laugh, her heart warmed by Ay's blunt affection. "Hehehe… I know. You all love me very much. I understand…"
Ay bit his lip, still annoyed but unable to hide the affection in his voice. "Don't laugh like that—as if nothing's wrong!" he protested, though there was tenderness beneath his frustration. "Why do you act like Grandpa? Always calm no matter the situation." He looked at her with a pleading expression. "I'm really worried, Sis. We're just a minor noble family—practically unknown among the aristocracy. How are we supposed to stand against a Grand Duke backed by the Crown?"
Atthy smiled, trying once more to ease the tension with humor. "And who was it that declared, 'I don't care if he's a Grand Duke, I won't let him have my sister'?" she teased. "Wasn't that my sweet little brother, ready to shield me from marrying some old geezer knocking on death's door?"
Ay flushed, face turning red with embarrassment, but he still glared at her. "That was in the heat of the moment…" he grumbled, rubbing his nose awkwardly. "And you shouldn't say things like that—it's crude!"
Atthy grinned, clearly enjoying herself. "So… what now?" she asked, half-joking, half-serious as always.
Ay didn't answer immediately. His expression grew somber. "I still won't accept it," he said firmly, though his tone softened slightly. "But I'm not stupid, Sis. I know opposing someone of his status is reckless. This is about more than courage—it's about being realistic. We can't afford to be careless. Grandpa's still strong, but he's not young anymore. And Gafy—she's doing everything she can to avoid burdening us, even though her body is weak. Dimi… he's still a child, too innocent to understand any of this."
He looked straight at Atthy. "Do you really think we can go up against a Grand Duke respected even by the royal family?"
Atthy didn't answer right away. She looked at Ay in silence, letting his words sink in. Even though he admitted to being afraid, there was no fear in his eyes—only determination and courage. She knew he wouldn't back down. Not for her. Not for their family.
She gave him a gentle nod, a quiet smile forming on her lips. "I know, Ay… We'll face this together."
Her eyes were filled with warmth as she looked at him—pride and gravity in equal measure. "You've grown, Ay. I know how much you care about me. But remember—emotions won't solve anything. If things spiral out of control, you must stay calm and remember your duty as the man of our family."
Ay paused, taking in her words. But he couldn't stay quiet. "Sis… don't say things like that," he said, his voice trembling with anger. "Don't talk about marrying that old man like it's nothing! I can't accept it!"
Atthy's soft smile returned, filled with the quiet sorrow of an older sibling bearing a burden alone. "I know you're worried," she said gently. "But we have to look beyond today. Maybe… maybe this is a chance. If I marry him, Gafy and Dimi might have a better life. Better opportunities."
"Are you insane?!" Ay shouted, his face red with fury. "That's not a 'maybe'—it's awful, Sis! I don't care what your reasons are!"
Atthy nodded calmly, acknowledging his anger. "Yes, yes. Awful. Completely awful. Happy now?" she said with a teasing smile, even though she understood how deeply he meant it.
Ay rolled his eyes again, but the love in his heart hadn't faded. "Don't try to sway me with that tone," he said firmly. "I know you have your reasons—but I won't just accept them without question."
Atthy didn't argue. She looked at him with the same gentle gaze. "Let's set aside the negatives for a moment, Ay. Let's think about what we could gain." Her eyes turned upward to the dark sky above. "Maybe our father failed to restore this family's status in his time. But if I go through with this marriage… maybe Dimi could one day study at the academy. Just like Father dreamed. And Gafy—she could pursue her dreams, see more of the world."
Ay wanted to interrupt, but he could tell she was speaking from the heart. As much as it hurt, he knew he had no way to change the world right now. All he could do was listen.
"I'm sorry, Ay," Atthy continued gently. "I know you're talented, smart, and capable. But right now, we simply don't have the means to send you to the academy."
Ay's gaze burned with conviction. "Sis, I know you, Father, and Grandpa have done everything for us. I'm disappointed I can't receive a formal education… but just like you, I'll fight to make sure Dimi doesn't end up like me."
He looked at her with unwavering eyes. "So please, Sis. Don't think about marrying that man just for something like that."
Atthy fell silent, her expression still solemn. "Education for Dimi, a better life for Gafy—those aren't small things, Ay."
"They are, Sis!" Ay's voice rose again, fierce and unwavering. "It's too steep a price if it costs you your future! I hate this, Sis—I hate it!" he shouted. "Don't you trust us? Don't you believe I can fight beside you?"
Atthy looked at him with deep regret. "Ay…"
"If that's the case," Ay said firmly, "then wait. Don't rush. We'll figure something out—together. We still have three years before Dimi's old enough to take the Royal Academy's entrance exam."
Atthy offered a faint smile, though uncertainty still lingered in her heart. "Yes… three years. We'll do our best together," she murmured, nodding slowly.
Ay looked up at the dark sky, holding on to the fragile hope that their future would somehow be brighter. "At the very least… let Grandpa's title be more than ink on parchment. I want Dimi to make it real someday."
"Let's hope so," Atthy replied, a small smile returning to her lips—though the weight in her chest never lifted.
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