After the commotion, all of them went inside the manor.
The room was too large for how tightly it held them.
Stone walls rose high, banners hanging in rigid silence, the long table between them polished to a mirror's sheen. Sunlight filtered through narrow windows, cutting the air into pale bars that never quite reached the corners.
Lucas stood at one end of the room.
Lady Maria sat rigidly near her father, hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed on the table as if it were safer than looking at him. Lord Ascirick remained standing—straight-backed, arms crossed behind him, every inch the lord of the manor.
Levanah and Yareach had been taken to a side chamber, guarded but unharmed. Lucas had insisted on that much—and for once, Ascirick had not refused.
Silence lingered.
Then Lucas spoke.
"I didn't come here to reopen old wounds," he said calmly. "I was asked to come. By a friend. I accepted out of respect."
Ascirick's jaw tightened, but Lucas continued before the lord could interrupt.
"I didn't bring soldiers. I didn't bring demands. I brought children who trust me with their lives." His voice lowered. "And for that, I was welcomed with suspicion… and the boy was punished."
Maria's fingers twitched.
"You speak as though we wronged you," she said, finally lifting her eyes. "You walked back into our lives without warning."
Lucas met her gaze. There was no anger there—only distance.
"I walked in because I was told you needed help," he replied. "If that was untrue, then say it plainly."
Maria swallowed.
Ascirick stepped forward. "You forget yourself," he said. "This is my house."
Lucas nodded once. "I know."
"And yet you question my authority."
"I question your judgment," Lucas said evenly. "There's a difference."
The air shifted—guards at the door stiffened, hands tightening on spear shafts.
Maria rose abruptly. "Enough—both of you."
She turned toward Lucas, emotion finally breaking through her composure.
"You left," she said. "Without explanation. Without farewell. And now you return with strangers—children—and expect everything to be… civil?"
Lucas' expression softened—but did not bend.
"I didn't leave to hurt you," he said. "I left because I chose a life that wasn't yours to give or take."
Her breath caught.
"And the boy?" Ascirick demanded. "Do you defend his insolence as well?"
Lucas did not hesitate.
"Yes."
The word fell heavy and final.
"He spoke truth without cruelty," Lucas said. "He didn't accuse. He didn't mock. He saw pain and named it. If that is a crime in this house, then this house has lost its way."
Ascirick's eyes flashed. "He humiliated my daughter."
"No," Lucas said. "He reminded her she was still human."
Maria flinched at that.
Silence followed—thick, uncomfortable, unavoidable.
Ascirick exhaled sharply. "You forget your place, Lucas Redsun. You stand here because I allow it."
Lucas took a single step forward.
"I stand here because you owe me that much," he said quietly. "I gave this house six years of loyalty. Blood. Silence. Obedience. And when I left, I took nothing with me—not even my name."
Maria's eyes widened.
"You gave it to me," Lucas continued, looking at Ascirick now. "You said I earned it. If that still means anything—then hear me."
Ascirick said nothing.
Lucas' voice steadied, firm as steel set in stone.
"If the boy is not released, right now. Immediately. You shall see the old me. And you know that the oath I made to you before means nothing to me anymore. So whatever your decision you gonna do that child you should decide now, or I will."
Maria's breath shook. "Lucas… you're challenged my father."
"I challenged fear," Lucas corrected gently. "There's a difference."
Ascirick's gaze hardened. "And if I refuse?"
Lucas did not raise his voice.
"Then you will leave me no choice but to answer you with all the power i have and," he said. "That power here matters and you know it."
A long pause followed.
Finally, Maria spoke—softly, but clear.
"Father… let him go."
Ascirick turned to her, stunned. "Maria—"
"I don't agree with what he said," she continued, tears welling but unfallen. "But punishing a child for speaking honestly will not heal me."
She looked at Lucas then—not with longing, not with bitterness.
Only understanding.
Ascirick closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, something had aged.
"Release the boy," he ordered.
The guards moved at once.
Lucas exhaled—not relief, but resolve.
"And know this," Lucas added, his voice calm but unyielding. "If Bereshith is harmed again under this roof, without me knowing you know what true meaning of defiance."
Ascirick met his gaze—and for the first time, did not speak.
Moments later, the door opened.
Bereshith stepped inside.
He looked smaller than before—but his eyes were steady.
Lucas crossed the room in three strides and knelt before him, hands firm on the boy's shoulders.
"Are you hurt?" Lucas asked.
Bereshith shook his head. "No."
Lucas pulled him into an embrace without hesitation.
Maria looked away, tears finally falling.
Ascirick watched in silence.
And in that quiet room, something irrevocable shifted.
Not reconciliation.
Not forgiveness.
But a line had been drawn.
And Lucas Redsun had chosen his side.