'Exactly what I expected. The sooner we have this talk, the better. It never made sense to hand me Euclid this quickly, not before I've even finished at the academy.'
Trafalgar stood inside the study, the morning light cutting through the tall windows and spilling across bare stone walls. The room wasn't lavish like the Morgain main castle chambers—no gold trim, no extravagant trophies—yet the weight of what would be said here was heavier than any ornament.
At the wide desk sat Valttair du Morgain, his long platinum hair loose over his shoulders, gray eyes sharp and commanding. Beside him stood Armand du Morgain, silver-haired, his presence quieter but no less firm, like steel tempered over decades.
The silence stretched only a moment before Valttair spoke, his voice crisp. "Trafalgar. I summoned you to discuss Euclid—why I placed it under your command, and why you must govern it well."
The words landed with the gravity of a verdict.
