Chapter 535: A House Divided

The drawing room smelled of freshly brewed tea, and everything looked perfectly peaceful. It was a rather convincing illusion, considering the conversation happening around the glass-topped table. Outside, the breeze drifted past the tall windows, while inside, several nobles were busy discussing matters that could probably ruin someone’s entire bloodline before lunch.

Zarius lounged in his seat, his shoulders deliberately slumped as he continued playing the part of a Duke whose health was supposedly hanging by a thread. He was getting rather good at it, unfortunately. Beside him, Cherion sat with his porcelain teacup in hand, looking perfectly composed as he listened to Marquess Avery speak.

Across the table, Marquess Avery rested his hands over his knees, his expression solemn. "Heinrich Bramwell’s reckless stunt at the grand theater was the final nail in his coffin, Your Grace. But the truth is... House Bramwell was already teetering on the precipice of absolute ruin long before he ever pulled that blade in the washroom."

Derrick leaned in slightly, his golden-retriever-like enthusiasm dimming into a look of genuine disbelief. "Father told me about it, Cherion. It turns out Heinrich’s whole family is in complete shambles."

Cherion tilted his head, setting his teacup back down onto its silver saucer with a tiny clink. "Shambles? I knew Heinrich was volatile and bitter, but I assumed the Bramwell family still held enough land and title to keep him afloat in high society."

"He was heavily pampered by his mother," Marquess Avery explained with a heavy sigh, shaking his head in mild disgust. "Viscountess Bramwell coddled the boy to a scandalous degree. For years, whenever Heinrich racked up losses in the capital’s underground gambling dens, his mother would quietly draw from her personal dowry or quietly liquidate family heirlooms to cover his financial disasters before the Viscount ever found out."

Derrick chimed in, leaning his chin against his hand. "He was gambling away fortunes in the lower district quarter every single week. But covering those debts wasn’t enough."

"Indeed," Marquess Avery continued, his expression growing stern. "Only a few days ago, several prominent creditors in the capital received an anonymous collection of documents detailing Heinrich’s financial misconduct. It revealed that he had been secretly stealing from his own father’s real estate business, forging property deeds and diverting the firm’s money to settle the ever-growing debts he owed to some rather unsavory moneylenders."

Cherion’s eyes flickered, a sudden, subtle realization dawning in his mind.

He didn’t need to ask where those anonymous tips had come from.

Beside him, Zarius raised his silk handkerchief to his mouth and let out a rough cough. Anyone looking his way might have mistaken him for a man struggling through another bout of illness. His eyes, however, told an entirely different story.

Zarius still remembered that little incident quite clearly. Heinrich Bramwell, apparently unable to keep his petty rage to himself, had once tried to dump a cup of scalding tea over Cherion. Thankfully, Cherion had dodged it without so much as breaking a sweat. He’d even laughed the whole thing off as a ridiculous little episode. Zarius, unfortunately, hadn’t found it nearly as amusing.

Zarius had never been particularly forgiving toward anyone who dared to hurt his mate. After hearing what Heinrich had done, he’d simply instructed Flio to have House Valtrane’s intelligence network look into the man’s affairs. It hadn’t taken long to uncover a rather impressive collection of gambling debts, forged property deeds, and stolen funds.

A few anonymous documents later, House Bramwell’s troubles had only just begun. His attack at the theater hadn’t come out of nowhere. By then, the man had already been pushed into a corner, with Zarius being the very reason he had nowhere left to turn.

Cherion stole a glance at Zarius and immediately recognized that look. Oh, he knew that look. His mate was sitting there looking like a stiff breeze might send him straight to his deathbed, yet somehow, an entire noble family had ended up in financial ruin. Cherion felt a little warmth spread through his chest. It was rather sweet, really. Terrifying, but sweet.

"What a pathetic way to collapse," Cherion remarked aloud, his voice smooth and devoid of fake pity. "He had every advantage of noble birth, yet he chose to embezzle from his own father and throw his family into ruin over gambling debts and petty pride."

"It’s tragic for his parents," Derrick admitted softly, shaking his head. "Viscount Bramwell had no idea his son was stealing from him. One foolish son completely erased a noble bloodline."

"Actions carry consequences, Derrick," Marquess Avery stated firmly, looking at his son. "House Bramwell brought this upon themselves through neglect and indulgence."

While the conversation flowed around the table, Zarius quietly leaned back into the shadows of his high-backed armchair, his mind shifting gears. While Cherion kept Marquess Avery and Derrick engaged, Zarius took the opportunity to observe the Marquess with silent, methodical scrutiny.

Before this meeting, Flio had provided Zarius with a comprehensive intelligence dossier on Marquess Avery. The Avery family was uniquely positioned in the empire, they held massive holdings in the capital’s central merchant guilds, controlled secondary shipping routes along the eastern river, and maintained a squeaky-clean reputation in high court affairs.

However, Flio’s report had highlighted a fascinating piece of internal family history.

Marquess Avery was a strict pragmatist who had inherited a deeply divided house twenty years ago. His elder half-brother had attempted a silent internal coup for the marquessate title, backed by conservative capital factions. Marquess Avery hadn’t defeated his brother with violence or loud public scandals. Instead, he had quietly maneuvered his brother into giving over his inheritance rights in exchange for settling massive personal debts, cleanly severing the branch family without leaving a single drop of blood on the Avery crest.

Zarius studied the Marquess’s calm expression. A man like him valued stability above almost everything else. He wasn’t the sort to pledge himself to a noble faction out of sentiment or personal loyalty. He stood with whoever offered strength, security, and a reliable foundation for his family’s business. Bringing Derrick here today was more than a simple gesture of gratitude toward Cherion. He wanted to see for himself whether House Valtrane was still a dependable ally.

Zarius cleared his throat, allowing a faint, strained cough to draw the room’s attention back to him. "A tragic downfall indeed, Marquess... but Heinrich’s financial ruin does not explain everything."

Marquess Avery turned his full attention back to Zarius, his posture straightening. "What do you mean, Your Grace?"

Cherion seamlessly picked up Zarius’s train of thought, setting his hands neatly in his lap. "What Zarius means, Marquess, is the breach of security at the grand theater. Heinrich was a ruined, desperate man, yes. But the grand theater is one of the most heavily guarded cultural venues in the district. "How did a noble who was already under surveillance manage to pass through the venue’s security with a concealed blade and sleep powder?"

Marquess Avery’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw tightening. "That is the very question that has been troubling my mind since yesterday. The security detail at the theater is managed by the central capital guard detachment."

"Precisely," Cherion said, his eyes narrowing with sharp precision. "Either the venue guards were astonishingly incompetent and let him bypass screening because he still carried a noble surname... or someone inside the venue explicitly opened a side door for him."

Derrick gasped slightly, looking between Cherion and his father. "You think someone helped him get inside?!"

"It is a strong possibility," Zarius rasped out, his low voice carrying heavy authority despite his acted weakness. "A desperate rat like Heinrich is easy to manipulate. If someone handed him the weapon and pointed him toward Cherion and Lord Derrick... they could attempt to strike a blow against our houses without ever showing their own face."

Marquess Avery leaned forward over the glass table, resting his elbows on his knees. "If there is a breach within the capital guard’s screening protocols or the theater’s management staff, it poses a threat to every high-society family in the realm. My household will not tolerate such vulnerability."

"Nor will House Valtrane," Cherion declared smoothly, offering a firm, confident smile to Marquess Avery. "Which is why we must ensure the upcoming Ministry of Justice trial doesn’t just focus on punishing Heinrich’s foolishness... but thoroughly investigates the venue staff who allowed him through those doors."

A flicker of genuine admiration crossed Marquess Avery’s sharp eyes as he looked at Cherion. He remembered him as a spoiled young noble who had been more interested in causing trouble than minding his manners. Seeing him now, however, was an entirely different experience.

Cherion had a sharp grasp of the situation, knew exactly what needed to be said, and showed a level of confidence the Marquess hadn’t expected from the young man he’d known years ago. House Antel had certainly underestimated what it had raised.

"You speak with immense wisdom, Lord Cherion," Marquess Avery said warmly. "House Avery will stand firmly beside you in this matter. I will personally see to it that the grand theater’s security personnel are thoroughly investigated before the trial begins."

Cherion smiled brightly, his eyes shining with quiet satisfaction. "Thank you, Marquess Avery. Working together, I am certain we can ensure the capital remains safe for everyone."