As Dennis walked toward his parents' tent, he found his mother exactly where he expected her to be.
Annemiek sat beneath a lantern's warm glow, reading a book she had brought from the heartland. It rested elegantly in her hands, and she turned each page with calm patience. Dennis was fairly certain she had already read that same book at least three times. He was also intelligent enough not to mention it. Dennis stopped outside the entrance, wiped his feet carefully, then stepped in with the posture of a guilty teenager reporting a broken window."Mother," he said cautiously, "Teun needs your help with something." Annemiek looked up from her book and smiled warmly. "Oh?" she said. "And what is it, dear? I was enjoying a perfectly pleasant evening." The smile was loving. Gentle. Kind. Every alarm bell in Dennis's mind began ringing at once. Run.
He ignored the instinct and pressed on. "Well… Father insisted on taking Arin to the meeting with the trade families. Without informing Arin beforehand." The smile remained. Dennis swallowed. "So Arin returned from his mission exhausted, only to learn—two hours before departure—that he was expected to attend. They are now arguing like schoolchildren."
He coughed lightly. "And we had to post guards outside the tent." Her smile vanished. "Guards?" she asked softly.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"So Arin wouldn't escape."
Silence.
Heavy, dangerous silence. Annemiek slowly closed the book and placed it beside her. "Very well," she said. "And what exactly do I gain from assisting in Teun's little scheme?"
Dennis froze.
Her tone was calm, but every word carried weight.
"He should handle his own problems," she continued. "Instead of disturbing the little relaxation I receive each day."
She folded her hands in her lap.
"So. Convince me."
Dennis did not dare hold anything back.
He immediately explained everything.
The meeting.
Karl's decision.
Teun's involvement.
The argument.
The guards.
Arin's outrage.
The threats.
The fact that no one had informed her.
When he finished, Annemiek rose smoothly to her feet.
"Good," she said. "That will do."
Her voice had become dangerously pleasant.
"It seems some fool forgot to tell me about an important family matter."
Dennis silently began praying for his father.
His mother had mellowed with age—or so many had believed. As the years passed, her body had weakened, and Karl had gradually taken over more of the clan's affairs while she withdrew into the background. She still held authority, but the sharp drive of her younger years had seemed to fade.
Then mana entered the world. Breathing methods spread. Bodies rejuvenated. Lifespans lengthened. Old injuries lessened.
And Annemiek, restored to the vitality of middle age, had quietly become herself again.
Karl, apparently, had forgotten this.
He was about to remember.
Dennis quickly followed after her.
There was no chance he would miss what came next.
Outside the main tent, Teun saw his mother approaching from a distance.
The way she walked brought back memories he would have preferred to remain buried.
Steady steps.
Straight back.
Absolute purpose.
The expression of a woman heading toward a problem that would soon stop existing.
"I'm doomed," he thought instantly.
Then, a moment later, a brighter thought replaced it.
"No," he corrected himself. "I may be doomed… but Father is finished."
And Arin?
Arin would probably be fine.
He was Annemiek's favorite grandson, though she denied this whenever asked.
She reached him without slowing.
"The next time you throw a problem at me, Teun," she said, "you will think very carefully first. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mother."
He bowed his head immediately.
"It will not happen again. I apologize."
Relief flooded him when no further punishment followed.
"Good."
She glanced at the gathered elders loitering nearby.
"You may all return to your tents," she said. "It is late."
Everyone understood what that meant.
Whatever she was about to do to Karl was not meant for public viewing. Too many witnesses would damage the dignity of the patriarchal seat.
Naturally, everyone desperately wanted to watch.
Naturally, no one was foolish enough to disobey.
The elders scattered at once, moving with the speed of men who valued survival over entertainment.
Dennis sighed wistfully.
"So close."
Teun smirked.
"You're still staying nearby, aren't you?"
"Obviously."
Inside the tent, Karl and Arin were still threatening one another.
Neither had noticed the shifting atmosphere outside.
Arin was explaining in great detail how future cooperation depended entirely on Karl forgetting the phrase daily meetings.
Karl was countering with increasingly inventive uses of maternal disappointment.
Then both men heard footsteps.
Many footsteps.
Walking away.
Arin's eyes lit up.
His guards were leaving.
Opportunity.
Without a second thought, he slipped sideways, gliding toward the far corner of the tent where fabric met earth. If he angled right, loosened the stakes, and crawled beneath
Freedom.
Karl, however, went pale.
He knew those elders.
Nothing short of mortal danger would make them willingly leave gossip this valuable.
There was only one person who inspired that level of fear.
The tent flap opened.
Annemiek entered.
Arin froze mid-crouch like a deer caught in lantern light.
For one absurd second, he remained half-folded near the wall, one hand already reaching for the lower seam of the tent.
"Arin," she said.
He straightened instantly.
"Sit back down. You are not going anywhere."
He obeyed without hesitation.
Then she turned to Karl.
"And you," she said pleasantly, "have much to explain."
Karl's back dampened immediately.
"I heard nothing of this meeting."
Karl coughed.
"Well, dear, you see—"
"No," she said. "I do not. That is why I am asking."
Arin had never seen his grandfather look uncertain before.
It was fascinating.
"I did not wish to bother you," Karl said quickly. "Everything came together on short notice. I intended to tell you afterward, once I had more information."
He even managed a weak smile.
Arin stared.
Was this really the same man who had threatened to drag him to meetings for a year?
Annemiek gave Karl a look that clearly said she didn't believe any of it.
"Since time is short," she said, "explain your plans."
Karl obeyed.
He outlined the meeting, the trade families attending, the purpose of presenting the younger generation, the need to strengthen alliances, the opportunity created by Arin's successful mission, and the topics he intended to negotiate.
Annemiek dismantled each weak point with ruthless precision.
"You overlooked hospitality."
"You underestimated how they will test Arin."
"That phrasing sounds defensive."
"Why would you discuss terms before hearing theirs?"
"No, that is foolish."
"Try again."
Arin sat quietly and enjoyed every second.
He felt deeply vindicated.
Each correction landed like a clean arrow shot.
He nearly smiled when Karl had to restart one explanation entirely.
Then Annemiek turned toward him.
His satisfaction vanished instantly.
"Arin."
"Yes, Grandma."
"You will accompany Karl to the meeting."
His soul dimmed.
"You will be polite."
Pain.
"You will be sociable."
Suffering.
"You will not sulk."
Cruelty.
"They will notice immediately."
He opened his mouth.
She raised one eyebrow.
"…Understood."
"Good."
She picked up the kettle and began brewing herself a fresh cup of tea, already dismissing them.
"Now go. You are nearly out of time."
Karl rose slowly.
Arin rose more slowly.
They both looked like condemned men.
As they reached the exit, Annemiek spoke once more.
"Oh—and Karl."
He stopped.
"This conversation is not over."
He visibly aged several years.
Then she added, almost casually—
"I also found your hidden tea stash."
Karl made a strangled sound of genuine despair.
Arin nearly laughed.
Neither man spoke again as they stepped outside.
Grandson and grandfather walked into the night side by side, both with hollow eyes and the posture of zombies who had lost the will to live.