"This is the Lawrence clan's council chamber.
Not your Knights of Favonius. Don't think that just because you became the Knights' vice grand master you can do as you please.
In House Lawrence, you're still just a commoner."
Schubert Lawrence lounged on the clan head's seat that should have been Eula's, arrogant and overbearing.
Clearly, he hadn't realized Eula had come with steel in her eyes. He still imagined she was the green, pliable girl from years ago—easy to bamboozle with a few grand words. In his spring-and-autumn daydream, the Knights' new vice grand master standing at Eula's side would lead House Lawrence to greatness, restoring the clan's past glory.
He was still lost in the old mirage, not knowing Eula came to bring despair.
Anyone invited to this "council" was no good sort. Those who truly cared for the clan would never crawl into bed with snakes and rats like these. They knew Schubert's rhetoric was wishful nonsense; following him would only hurry House Lawrence to ruin—forgotten by Mondstadt or wiped out outright.
At the familiar voice, Eula's brows knit. Her sharp gaze swept the hall.
Plenty of people had shown up—but most were over forty. A few were visibly past sixty.
Not a young face among them. Which fit the clan's current state perfectly.
The young no longer bought the old men's bluster. Fine words were cheap; reality had exposed them. "Restore the old nobles' glory." "The proud Lawrence name brooks no insult."
Yet look at the present Lawrences: near zero contact with outsiders. Eula, at least, still had people who spoke of her. The others? No one spoke to them—few even spared them a glance.
Though the clan numbered in the tens of thousands, you never saw them outside. They could only hole up in their compound. If not for the estate's size and its self-sufficiency, they'd have starved long ago.
House Lawrence had turned into a little closed world within Mondstadt—self-contained, refusing to speak or trade with the outside. And yes, no one wanted to trade with them either.
It didn't have to be this way. They could have dealt with the other two great houses. The common folk might not know this branch of Lawrence had been dragged down by past sins, but the other nobles surely did. If the Lawrences would just bow their proud heads and ask, those houses wouldn't sit on their hands.
But Schubert was a fool. How else do you run a house into the ground like this?
Eula finished her circuit of the room and set her eyes on Schubert in the clan head's chair.
That look raised gooseflesh down his arms—a gaze that dismissed him as air, that promised he could be erased in the very next breath. Panic spiked—then he remembered who he claimed to be: clan head of House Lawrence.
His spine stiffened. He slammed the table and jabbed a finger at Eula.
"What are you staring at, Eula!
Get out of here at once—this isn't a place for you to run wild.
You're not qualified to attend the council!"
"Qualified?" Eula's laugh was cold. She didn't turn to go—she stepped forward, taking the place directly opposite Schubert, and swept the elders with a frost-edged look.
"You—who stole the clan head's seat from me—dare talk to me about qualifications?"
"Y-you're spouting nonsense!" Schubert faltered, then snapped back. "I am the legitimate clan head of House Lawrence!"
"Is that so?"
"Then answer me this: what do you need to be clan head?
By our laws since antiquity, to inherit the position you must awaken the Glacial Seal and be recognized by the sacred arm, Song of Broken Pines.
Tell me, 'Clan Head' Schubert—do you have either?"
Eula tore the fig leaf away without mercy.
Why wouldn't he recruit young blood into the council? Did he not understand that the future belongs to the young?
He did. And he knew young eyes would see through the farce—would see he possessed none of the qualifications to lead.
So he packed the council with old men who would support him—so long as the bribes flowed. With them, his seat would be safe.
Because of that, after a moment of rattled silence, Schubert smoothed himself out and sneered.
"And what of it? I've already changed that law.
The new rule is simple: as long as half the elders present approve, one can take the clan head's seat—even without the Glacial Seal or Song of Broken Pines.
Sorry, Eula—you're too late!
And as a criminal of the clan, you're not welcome here. Get out."
Eula chuckled. The chuckle swelled into laughter.
"Heh… hahaha!"
"How amusing. How very amusing."
"Schubert, why don't you understand?
Why do those laws exist?
Because the Lawrence who awakens the Glacial Seal and earns the sacred arm's recognition is the strongest of the clan.
And rules are made by the strong. Without strength, what right do you have to be clan head?"
Her words fell—and the greatsword Schubert coveted most, Song of Broken Pines, appeared in her hand.
She drove the blade point-first into the stone before her. Behind her, the sigil of the Glacial Seal unfurled, and the air grew steadily colder.
"I—Eula Lawrence—
Awakened bearer of the Glacial Seal, acknowledged by Song of Broken Pines—
From this day forward, I assume the position of clan head of House Lawrence.
All in favor? Against?"
(End of Chapter)
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