Chapter 27: The Grand Gala (3) The Unveiling

Eldrin made it halfway down the corridor before his legs gave out.

He caught himself against the wall.

His fingers dug into the stone.

He tried to breathe.

Nothing.

His chest tightened harder, he slid down until he was sitting on the floor, one hand pressed against his mouth.

Then the first tear fell.

He stared at it.

For a moment, he almost laughed.

I’m crying?

He wiped it away, Another came, Then another.

Soon he couldn’t stop them.

His shoulders began to shake, he lowered his head between his knees and covered his face.

The memories wouldn’t stop.

His father’s voice.

His Brother’s voice.

The way his father used to look at him whenever Eldrin complained about training.

The stupid arguments.

The meals.

Things he hadn’t thought about in weeks.

Things he had deliberately buried.

They were all coming back now.

And with them came the image from the hall.

That face.

His father’s face, displayed like a trophy.

Eldrin clenched his teeth.

"No..."

His voice broke.

He pressed his palms against his eyes.

"That’s not how..."

He couldn’t finish, his father had died.

He knew that.

He had known it since the night Novaryn fell, but knowing someone was dead was different from seeing what had been done to them.

He had spent the past month surviving.

That was all.

He had let himself become smaller.

Quieter.

He had followed orders.

Taken punishments.

Carried books.

Cleaned floors.

Accepted chains around his wrists as if they were simply another part of his life.

Because his father had told or ordered him to forget.

Forget us.

Eldrin slowly lowered his hands.

His face was wet, his breathing gradually steadied.

He looked back toward the ballroom.

He could still hear the celebration.

Music.

Laughter.

Cheers.

His father’s death meant nothing to these people.

It was a victory.

A story they would tell over wine.

A trophy they could display.

Eldrin’s expression slowly changed.

The grief remained.

But something else began forming underneath it.

He wiped his face with his sleeve.

"I’ll come back."

The words were barely audible.

He swallowed.

"I don’t know how."

His hands tightened into fists.

"I don’t know when."

He looked toward the ballroom.

"But I’ll come back."

His voice steadied.

"I’ll take what’s mine."

The words felt strange coming from him.

But they felt right.

"My father’s name."

"My house."

"His body."

He took a shaky breath.

"I’ll give him a proper burial."

A tear slipped down his cheek.

This time, he didn’t wipe it away.

"And I’ll take back everything that belongs to us."

He stared into the darkness of the corridor.

For the first time since Novaryn fell, Eldrin didn’t think about forgetting.

He thought about returning.

And then....

He thought about the people who had done this.

The people who had turned his father’s death into entertainment.

His fingers slowly curled into a fist.

"I’ll destroy them."

Not today.

But someday.

He would become strong enough that nobody could take anything from him again.

Eldrin stood.

His legs were still shaking.

He looked toward the ballroom one last time.

His eyes were red.

His face was still wet with tears.

But he wasn’t running anymore.

He turned away from the celebration.

And began walking.

.....

[POV: Cassian Korrandis]

Cassian remained silent for several moments after the cheers began.

Around him, the hall had returned to its celebration.

Cassian looked toward the place where his father had stood.

Even as a son of House Korrandis, he couldn’t bring himself to share their enthusiasm.

This was unnecessary.

Victory was one thing.

Displaying a dead man’s head before half the continent was another.

It wasn’t strength, it was provocation.

Cassian exhaled quietly, "Father didn’t need to do that."

Ennessa stood beside him.

She gave a small nod.

Ender, who had been standing on Cassian’s other side, overheard them.

He scoffed.

"Perhaps both of you have become too soft."

Cassian looked at him.

Ender gestured toward the front of the hall.

"That man was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of our soldiers."

"And?" Cassian asked.

"And you’re worried about whether displaying his head was appropriate?"

Cassian’s expression remained calm, "Yes."

"If someone attacks my household, I will defend it with my life. If I have to kill hundreds of enemies to protect my family, I will."

Ender continued, "But if we defeat them, why should we care what happens to them afterward?"

Cassian finally turned toward him.

"Because there is a difference between defeating an enemy and humiliating the dead."

Ender’s eyes narrowed.

"You really are too soft." Ender replied.

Ennessa remained silent.

There was no point arguing with Ender.

Arguing with a fool rarely made the fool reconsider.

It usually only gave him more confidence.

Cassian looked back toward the empty space where the display had been.

"Let me ask you something."

"What?" Ender asked while raising an eyebrow.

"Imagine someone attacked our household, they defeated us."

Cassian’s voice became quieter.

"They killed our people. Looted our home. Destroyed everything we had built."

"And after all of that..."

Cassian looked directly at him.

"...they took Father’s body and displayed his head in front of their entire kingdom."

A brief silence followed.

"What would you call that?"

Ender didn’t answer immediately.

His eyes shifted toward the celebration.

Then he said,

"It’s not the same."

Cassian frowned slightly.

"What?" Cassian asked.

"The situation."

Cassian studied him.

"You really believe that?" Cassian asked.

"Yes." Ender replied.

Cassian straightened his coat.

"Anyway, I’m leaving."

"Where?"

"I have other matters to attend to." Cassian said.

"Of course you do."

Cassian gave him a knowing smile.

Ennessa watched both Cassian and Ender leave.

She already knew what Cassian’s "other matter" was.

Her eyes shifted toward her brother.

Elira Aravelle.

Ennessa almost smiled.

Apparently, even tonight, her eldest brother couldn’t keep his attention away from her.