"A full investigation into Young Master Lias, understood, Your Highness. Shall I have a private agent handle this, or a detachment of the Ducal Guard's intelligence branch?"
"Private, Captain," I clarified, my gaze fixed on him, chilling him with the intensity of my cold, green eyes.
"I require discretion. I want reports directly and only to me. This is not for the Grand Duke's eyes."
The instruction was a clear sign of my intent to operate independently.
"Understood, Your Highness. Full discretion. I will see to it myself once our duties are finished in the capital," Sir Kael confirmed, his posture rigid.
I dismissed him with a subtle motion of my hand, leaning back into the cushions.
The Silent Dominion was a tool of fear, but my title and my cold authority were equally effective tools of command.
I had less than an hour before facing my family, yet my mind was already moving toward external objectives.
A weak body required powerful intelligence.
Lias Aldus was my first target.
After hours of tiring travel, we finally arrived at Astram, the heart of the Western Lands.
The carriage slowed as we approached the city's perimeter.
Wow, the wall and gates...
The defensive structure surrounding the city was immense, built of dark, hewn stone that rose impossibly high, easily triple the height of the walls of Veridian.
The main gate was a colossal arch of metal and stone, large enough for multiple carriages to pass abreast, and it was flanked by towers bristling with guards and what looked like arcane weaponry.
We easily got through because of the identity inside the carriage.
The moment the Morvaine banner was spotted, the massive gates began to grind open with a deep rumble, and the guards snapped to a salute that was far sharper than anything I had witnessed at the Baron's residence.
My title was a universal key.
The city was also awe-striking.
Once inside, I found myself staring.
The streets were wide, cleaner than any city I remembered, and lined with towering buildings made of beautifully carved pale stone.
The grandeur and developed infrastructure were undeniable.
This wasn't just a city; it was the capital of a kingdom-sized domain, perfectly maintained and clearly enriched by massive wealth.
It was still giving ancient vibe, maybe because of the nature of this world.
There were no sleek glass and steel towers.
Instead, the high buildings were adorned with gargoyles, carved sigils, and intricate ironwork, and the air held a faint, residual tang of Mana.
Every structure radiated history and power, marrying the feeling of a medieval metropolis with advanced fantasy technology.
'This is the center of everything,' I thought, my cold calculation spiking.
I maintained my impassive expression, determined to show no wonder or fear, even as the carriage navigated the bustling, powerful heart of the Astravian Empire's western domain.
We passed two more circular massive walls before reaching the center.
The city was a masterpiece of concentric defense.
The massive outer wall, which we had entered first, gave way to a second, equally imposing fortification, then a third.
The guards at each checkpoint were more numerous and higher-ranked, their uniforms becoming more elaborate with each layer.
I bet it would be really hard to siege the city.
The multiple, overlapping lines of defense—an outer, middle, and inner massive walls ready—meant that even getting past the outer perimeter was only the start of the battle.
This city was not built to be conquered.
It was built to endure.
Soon, as we got even more closer, the main palace was at sight.
It dominated the landscape, sitting at the absolute center of the city, higher than any other structure.
It was a sprawling complex, less like a single building and more like a collection of integrated castles, all built from the same pale, shining stone.
It was massive compared to my estate.
My Western Retreat, for all its luxury, was a comfortable mansion; this was a fortress-city designed to house thousands and govern millions.
It was beautiful, a perfect fusion of martial strength and ancient, majestic artistry, with towers reaching impossibly high into the sky, their tips adorned with crystalline structures that seemed to hum faintly with latent Mana.
The carriage finally rolled under a vast archway and into the main courtyard, a space so large it could host a small army.
The air here was thicker, charged with the concentrated power of the Morvaine family.
'This is it,' I thought, my heart remaining stubbornly steady, thanks to my practiced indifference. 'The Morvaine's Grand Ducal Palace. Time to face the family.'
The carriage door opened silently, and I stepped out onto the polished marble of the courtyard, immediately exposed to the weight of the main palace's authority.
I was received by numerous servants and knights.
A regiment of the Ducal Guard, armored and standing at attention, lined the perimeter of the courtyard, and a score of palace servants, all dressed in the pristine black and gold livery of House Morvaine, were lined up in two perfect rows leading toward the palace entrance.
The center of it all was the Head Butler of the Morvaine Palace.
He was an elderly man, his silver hair impeccably neat, his demeanor utterly calm and radiating a quiet authority that was more intimidating than the entire line of guards.
He approached me with a smooth, silent grace.
"Welcome back to the Grand Ducal Palace, Your Highness Draeven," Elara, the Head Butler greeted me, performing a deep, precise bow.
His voice was rich and perfectly modulated, entirely devoid of the fear I had become accustomed to from the staff at the Western Retreat.
"I am always here, at your service."
"Elara," I acknowledged, using the name, my tone clipped and cool.
The fact that he showed no visible fear was a stark contrast to my own staff.
He was either far too powerful to be affected by my passive Silent Dominion, or he was simply a master of composure.
"I trust your journey was comfortable, Your Highness?" he inquired, his eyes meeting mine for a brief, assessing moment.
"It was sufficient," I confirmed.
I then immediately moved to the necessary command. "Lead me my quarters I may prepare for the evening. I require privacy and silence until the dinner is announced."
"Of course, Your Highness. Your room have been prepared—the same quarters you occupy during your visits to Astram. They are perfectly situated to allow for your complete solitude," Elara replied smoothly, a faint, knowing understanding in his tone.
He knew the drill.
The fragile, aloof Prince needed silence.
He gestured toward the entrance.
"Please follow me. I shall have a chambermaid attend to your garments and ensure any necessary provisions are brought up immediately. Dinner will be served precisely at the ninth bell."
I gave him a final, silent nod of acceptance and began my march toward the palace entrance.
Every step was a commitment to the role of the aloof Morvaine prince.
I was marveling again.
The sheer majesty of the palace continued to unfold around me as Elara led me deeper inside.
The outside was already impressive enough, but the inside?
We moved through vast reception halls where the polished marble floor reflected the high, vaulted ceilings like a dark mirror.
Sunlight streamed through towering, stained-glass windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air and casting pools of jewel-toned light onto ancient tapestries that depicted the heroic history of House Morvaine.
The scale of the place felt less like a building and more like a work of monumental geological art.
Everywhere I looked, there was wealth and history.
Statues of long-dead dukes and duchesses stood in alcoves, their eyes seeming to follow my procession.
The air was cool, scented with dry incense and old power.
The silence was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic, soft tread of Elara's footsteps and the almost silent padding of my own high-quality leather boots.
Even the subtle, constant whir of my uncontrolled Silent Dominion felt diminished here, perhaps muffled by the density of the powerful, old stone and the latent Mana built into the structure itself.
'My small estate is a country cottage compared to this,' I thought, my detached mind making the necessary calculation.
This palace was the physical embodiment of the power I had inherited, and the stage for my performance tonight.
I kept my face utterly neutral, my eyes sweeping over the detail without betraying a hint of wonder.
I was Draeven Vaelir de Morvaine, and this level of opulence was merely my background.