Chapter 85: “You’re confident in your title, aren’t you, little man?”

The hallway was practically a sea of drawn steel and heavy breathing.

The Duke’s Northern knights looked like stone statues, their hands on the hilt of their blades, waiting for a single permission to paint the walls red.

Then, the door creaked open.

Lucius didn’t cower. The shy boy Julian had known had completely disappeared, replaced by a child who was afraid of nothing.

"L-Lucius," Julian called, his voice trembling. "Don’t... don’t do anything reckless."

But Lucius didn’t look back at Julian. He stepped into the threshold and planted his feet firmly on the floor, his small hands resting on his waist.

It was a posture one could regard as the effortless arrogance of a wolf staring at a scavenger. Or rather, the arrogance of a wolf cub.

Even at his height, the weight of the Grand Ducal blood seemed to fill the corridor, momentarily paralyzing the Marquis’s knights.

To touch the heir of the Grand Duke was to invite the extinction of their own houses.

So, they were reluctant to act further.

The Marquis, however, didn’t flinch. He saw not a prince, but an obstacle.

He smoothed his silk doublet, his eyes glittering with the toxic confidence of a man who had the Sun of the Empire whispering in his ear.

"Move, boy," the Marquis said, his voice dropping the frantic edge for something far more sinister—calm.

Lucius didn’t move an inch. His jaw was set, his gaze icy and unblinking. He was a silent wall of defiance, his very presence reminding everyone that this was Alaric’s domain.

And he, as the little Duke, would stand in place of his father to protect the man they both cared about.

The Marquis stepped closer, leaning down until he was eye-level with the child.

"I see what this is." He said. "You’re confident in your title, aren’t you, little man?"

Lucius did not respond.

"You think that title protects you? Your father is currently barking at shadows in the Palace, while the Emperor... Well, the Emperor finds your household’s hospitality toward my son to be quite ’burdensome.’ I am here on Royal Orders."

He reached out a gloved hand, not to strike, but to dismissively shove the boy’s shoulder. It was a calculated insult—a test of how much treason he could get away with.

"I said," the Marquis hissed, his fingers digging into the fine fabric of Lucius’s shirt, "...get out of my way."

Inside the room, Julian heard the shift in tone. He heard the Marquis’s hand make contact with Lucius.

"Let... him... go," Julian’s voice cracked through the tension.

He forced himself upward, his fingers clawing into the bedposts.

The Marquis looked past Lucius, a cruel smirk spreading across his face as he saw Julian struggling. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"Ah, have you come to your senses, Julian? You look pathetic, Julian. Truly. To think the Emperor still wants this broken thing."

Julian looked at his father, hate crawling over his face. He looked at the affection level of his father and the measly 14% affection that had dropped, dangerously so.

Now, he has just 4% affection. It was lethal.

The Marquis turned his attention back to Lucius, his grip tightening. "Now, little Duke, move before I decide that your ’accidental’ injury is a price the Emperor is willing to pay for my cooperation."

The Marquis’s fingers dug into Lucius’s shoulder, a silent declaration that he no longer feared the Duke or his shadow.

Authority given from above was all he needed to discard the fake respect.

"Just..." Julian’s voice was ragged and breathless. "Let... him... go. Please," he pleaded.

He was pale, his forehead beaded with sweat, but his eyes were fixed on the Marquis with a look of pure loathing.

Lucius, who didn’t flinch when the Marquis gripped him, did something far more unsettling.

He looked down at the hand on his shoulder, then back up at the Marquis, and his lips curled into a slow, chilling smile—the kind of look Alaric gave right before he destroyed an opponent.

Before the Marquis could react to the boy’s lack of fear, Lucius reached out and grabbed the Marquis’s wrist. He didn’t pull away; he squeezed back with surprising strength, his small fingers locking like iron bands.

"You dare?" the Marquis hissed, his face reddening as he tried to shake the boy off. "I am here on the Emperor’s authority! I will take what is mine!"

Inside the room, Julian’s panic spiked. He didn’t care about his own safety anymore, not when he saw that man laying his hands on a child. On Lucius.

"You’re here for me, Father. So let him go!" Julian’s voice cracked with desperation. "The boy has nothing to do with this!"

He tried to lunge forward, his fingers clawing into the silk sheets, dragging them off the bed as he fought the painful weight of his own body.

The pain in his leg was screaming at him to stay down, and if it didn’t, it would make him stay down anyway. This made him feel pathetically small... Useless.

He hated it. He hated the weakness, the way his breath came in ragged, useless gasps.

He could not protect his own self, and he could not protect little Lucius either.

"You’re here for me, Father," Julian panted, his face deathly pale as he forced his gaze to meet the Marquis’s. "Can you stop this unsightly behavior? Have you no shame?"

The Marquis stiffened, his lip curling in a sneer that mirrored the Emperor’s toxic arrogance.

"Julian, if you had not acted stubborn and hid behind the Duke, I wouldn’t have had to show such ’unsightly’ behavior," he countered, his voice dripping with false disappointment.

He winced again, finally looking down at the small force of nature still blocking his path. Lucius hadn’t moved.

The boy glared, and his glare was so intense, so devoid of the ’innocence’ a child of his age should have, that even the Marquis felt a flicker of genuine unease.

It felt like standing in front of a miniature executioner.

It was a look Lucius didn’t even realize he was capable of, a dormant part of his father’s tough soul waking up in his own small frame.

"Move, I said," the Marquis muttered, trying to shake off the chill he would never admit he got from this child.

He looked back at Julian, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"The Emperor has made it clear: you are a Royal Tutor. Whether you walk out of here or my knights carry your broken body, you are leaving this estate today." He announced and then signaled to his men, and the air in the hallway turned grim as the Northern knights gripped the hilts of their sword.

One more inch, and the guest wing would become a bloody tomb.

"Lucius, please..." Julian whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was scared. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t... But... "Let him... let him through." His voice fell lower than it already was. "Don’t let him hurt you."

But Lucius only tightened his stance, his small chest rising and falling in silent, rhythmic defiance.