A tall woman in slate-gray robes stepped forward to greet Asthia. Her head was shaved on one side, the other plaited into tight braids that ran down her back. Her expression was neutral—just like everyone else's.
"Lady Asthia," she said, bowing faintly. "The Patriarch awaits you in the Hall."
Asthia gave the barest nod. "And my retainer?"
The woman's eyes flicked to Reth.
"Expected."
That was all.
She turned and led them through the gates.
The interior of House Virex was cold stone and discipline. Soldiers sparred in open courtyards. Weapon racks lined the walls. No paintings. No color. Just steel and silence.
And everywhere Reth looked—eyes.
Some curious.
Some cold.
One or two looked like they wanted to test him right there in the hall.
[Threat Perception Lv. 0.6 – Passive Scan: Moderate Hostile Intent]
[Body Language Detected: Controlled Aggression]
[System Tip: Maintain Composure – Provocation Possible]
Asthia walked like she didn't notice.
Like none of it mattered.
Reth kept two steps behind, his hand near the hilt of his sword but not touching it.The silence of the halls was louder than speech.
They stopped at a wide chamber flanked by two black-plate guards.
The woman stepped aside. "You may enter."
Asthia didn't look back. "Stay close. Say nothing."
Then she stepped through the doors.
Reth followed, stepping into the lion's den.
A long room lined with trophies, weapons, shields — all used, all bloodstained. A single elevated platform sat at the far end. Upon it, surrounded by silent knights and elder family members, sat a man with silver eyes and hands folded over his knees.
His presence hit like cold iron.
The Patriarch of House Virex.
And his eyes locked on Reth.
The Patriarch didn't speak.
He simply studied Reth for a long, silent moment.
It wasn't anger.It wasn't grief.
It was measurement.
Asthia bowed her head slightly — not low, not submissive. Just enough to honor the setting.
"Patriarch Virex," she said. "I thank you for the audience."
The man's voice, when it came, was low and rough like grinding stone.
"You bring the one who killed my son."
"I bring the one who obeyed," Asthia said, her tone even.
Another silence stretched.
Reth didn't move. The system pulsed faintly at the back of his mind, waiting for a trigger.
The eyes in the room were all on him now — knights, elders, cousins. None looked kind.
One older knight standing near the dais stepped forward. His eyes burned with quiet fury.
"We trained Varen from the age of six. He fought beasts by twelve. Defended three border zones. And he dies at the hands of a… thrall?"
Reth said nothing.
Asthia stepped forward. "Varen attempted to kill a royal."
The knight's jaw clenched. "He was provoked. Cornered. You humiliated him."
Asthia didn't flinch. "He drew steel on the blood of the Ninth Flame. That is treason."
A murmur rippled through the hall, barely restrained.
The Patriarch raised a hand again, silencing the room.
But Asthia wasn't finished.
She took another step forward, her tone sharpening just enough to cut.
"You call him trained. Disciplined. Loyal. Then you admit his emotions overruled his duty. That he drew on a member of the imperial bloodline in public. That he failed."
Her gaze swept the room now — not just at the Patriarch, but at every heir, knight, and elder watching.
"If he was truly worthy of the House Virex name… he would have died with control. Not tantrum."
Gasps. A few sharp inhales.
One younger man gripped the hilt of his sword, knuckles white. But he didn't move.
Asthia smiled, but there was nothing kind in it.
"If you seek someone to blame, do not look at my retainer. Look at your training."
[System Notification: Threat Level Shifted – Respect: Reluctant][Social Weight Registered: Dominance Asserted][Loyalty Sync: +1%]
Reth didn't move. He didn't have to.
Because in that moment, it was clear:Asthia didn't need to yell. She didn't need guards.She was the weapon.
And no one in the room could stop her.
The Patriarch finally stood again, slowly descending the platform. His eyes hadn't left her since the first word.
"You speak like your mother," he said, voice cold. "Proud. Dangerous."
Asthia tilted her head. "She taught me well."
They stared at each other in silence.
Then he looked once more at Reth.
"I do not forgive him."
Asthia answered without hesitation. "I didn't ask you to."
More silence. Then the Patriarch turned, walking back up the steps.
"You've said your piece. You may leave."
Asthia bowed again — just enough to satisfy protocol.
As she turned to go, her voice dropped low — barely above a whisper — meant only for Reth.
"Walk slow. Make sure they all get a good look at you."
Reth obeyed.
Every eye in the room followed him as they left.
[Visit Complete: House Virex – Political Status: Stable][EXP Gained: +25][Current EXP: 37 / 200][Loyalty Sync: 16%]
The cold air outside hit like a slap.
Reth followed Asthia down the stone path, the Virex gates shutting behind them with a heavy clunk. No escort. No words.
He glanced back once.
The carriage door clicked shut behind them.
Asthia leaned back into her seat, exhaling softly. Not tired. Just… settled.
Reth could feel it in the air: she was satisfied.
"You handled yourself well," she said eventually, gaze still fixed on the window.
Reth glanced over. "I didn't do anything."
She turned to him then — not with surprise, but with a faint smirk, like a teacher amused by a clever student.
"Exactly. And sometimes that's the hardest thing to do."
The city passed beyond the glass. Stone roads. Guard towers. Lanterns flickering against gray skies.
"You've now stood in front of the Virex Patriarch and left intact," she said. "That alone puts you in rare company."
Reth didn't answer.
The carriage slowed as they entered the palace gates.
Asthia stepped out first. No fanfare. No guards announced her return.
Yet the moment her boots touched stone, the air shifted. Servants straightened. Eyes lowered.
Reth followed, his steps quiet behind hers.
But people looked at him differently now.
Just before her chamber doors, Asthia paused.
"You've done enough for today," she said, without looking back. "Rest."
Then she walked inside.
The door sealed behind her with a soft hiss.
Back in his own quarters, Reth peeled off the formal coat, hanging it carefully. His body ached again — not from training, but from being watched.