Chapter 189: My Older Sister Can’t Be This Scary [2]

"...."

Oleg fell silent.

Anastasiya didn’t give him much time to answer.

"If you’re here to ask me to withdraw my recommendation, save your breath. I won’t."

She rested one arm against the table, her fingers tapping once against the wood.

"If you’re here to tell me Mikhail has learned his lesson, I don’t care. If you’re here to remind me that Volnograd has served the main house faithfully for generations, I already know, and if you intend to use that service as an excuse for your son’s behavior, I’ll happily include that in my next letter to the Council."

"I came here because he is my son."

Anastasiya’s fingers stopped.

Oleg looked directly at her now, whatever careful restraint he had maintained beginning to crack under the contempt in her voice.

"You may despise him. Young Belozersky may despise him. The Council may decide that he has disgraced our branch beyond repair, and perhaps every one of you will be justified in doing so, but none of that changes the fact that he is my son."

Anastasiya stared at him.

"And?"

Ilya slowly lowered his cup.

Even Oleg appeared momentarily taken aback.

"And I will not simply stand aside while everything is taken from him."

"Then perhaps you should have taught him that actions have consequences before he became old enough to make them everyone else’s problem."

Oleg’s face hardened.

Anastasiya didn’t care.

"Mikhail knew exactly who Ilya was when he started this. He knew whose son he was, he knew which family he was insulting, and most importantly, he knew that Ilya had no intention of retaliating against him at the time."

Her expression grew colder with every sentence.

"Your son saw someone he considered weak, Margrave, and decided that weakness gave him permission to do whatever he wanted."

Ilya remained silent. There wasn’t much for him to add.

"He made a mistake."

"No." Anastasiya immediately shook her head. "Putting the wrong figure in a ledger is a mistake. Forgetting an appointment is a mistake. What Mikhail did required him to make the same decision over and over again, every single time he opened his mouth and every single time he encouraged someone else to do the same."

Oleg’s hands slowly clenched against his knees.

"So what do you want from me?"

"Nothing."

That answer came immediately.

Oleg frowned. "Nothing?"

"I don’t want your money. I don’t want your land. I don’t want another apology from Mikhail, and I certainly don’t want to sit here listening to you explain how difficult this has been for your family."

Anastasiya leaned forward, her eyes never leaving his.

"I want the Council to review what happened, and I want them to decide whether your son deserves to continue carrying the privileges that come with belonging to this family."

Oleg’s expression hardened.

"...You’re making a grave mistake, Lady Anastasiya."

Anastasiya narrowed her eyes. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"I am telling you to consider the consequences...."

"No, you’re telling me that Volnograd might become troublesome if I refuse to give you what you want."

Anastasiya leaned farther back into her chair, looking almost amused now.

"So go ahead, Margrave. What are you going to do about it?"

Anastasiya spread her arms slightly.

"Draw your sword, perhaps? That’s how we Belozerskys traditionally settle things when words stop being useful, isn’t it?"

Her smile widened as she tilted her head toward him.

"Go on, then. I’m willing to entertain you."

"I did not come here to fight you."

"Then don’t threaten me in my own home."

"I threatened no one."

"Then perhaps you should choose your words more carefully."

Oleg stared at her, and Anastasiya stared right back, neither appearing particularly interested in giving the other an easy way out of the confrontation.

Whatever attempt at negotiation he had arrived with was quickly collapsing beneath the mutual hostility, and even Ilya was beginning to wonder whether he should intervene before one of them actually decided to reach for a weapon.

Oleg was the first to lose patience.

"You speak very boldly for someone who has not yet inherited the Grand Duchy."

Ilya’s eyes immediately shifted toward him.

For a brief moment, he almost felt sorry for the man.

Anastasiya’s smile vanished.

"Would you like to repeat that?"

Oleg seemed to realize his mistake immediately, but whatever pride had pushed the words out of his mouth prevented him from taking them back.

He straightened in his seat instead, meeting Anastasiya’s increasingly hostile stare despite the tension that had suddenly filled the room.

"I said that the Council has not decided anything yet, Lady Anastasiya. You are the heir to the Northern Grand Duchy, but you are not its head, and your recommendation remains exactly that. A recommendation."

Anastasiya stared at him for several long seconds.

Then she smiled again.

"Good."

"...."

"Then go convince them."

"...."

"Go back to Volnograd, gather every favor your family has accumulated over the years, write to every elder willing to tolerate you, and beg every last one of them to save your son."

Anastasiya settled back into her chair, her voice becoming almost dismissively calm despite the hostility in her eyes.

"That’s your right, Margrave. I won’t stop you, and I certainly won’t complain if you somehow manage to convince the Council that Mikhail deserves their mercy."

Oleg’s expression darkened.

"But don’t come into my home and ask me to do it for you."

"...."

Silence filled the room until Oleg finally broke it.

"With an attitude like that, perhaps Mikhail isn’t the one I should be worried about."

Anastasiya’s eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

Oleg slowly rose from his seat, apparently having accepted that there was nothing left for him to accomplish here.

The restraint he had shown upon entering the mansion was gone, and although he still maintained enough composure not to raise his voice, the contempt in his expression was no longer hidden.

"You sit there speaking of Volnograd as though we’re some infestation you’ve been forced to tolerate, and perhaps that’s all the branch families are to you."

Oleg looked directly at Anastasiya.

"You speak of loyalty while treating those beneath you with contempt, you threaten to tear families apart without the slightest hesitation, and the moment anyone dares question you, your first instinct is to invite them to draw their sword."

Anastasiya’s expression remained cold. "And?"

Oleg let out a bitter laugh. "And you intend to lead the North one day."

"Is there a problem with that?"

"Yes."

Anastasiya’s brows scrunched.

Oleg continued.

"You think strength means never yielding. You think authority means everyone beneath you should lower their heads and accept whatever judgment you hand them, and because you’re the future Grand Duchess, you’ve convinced yourself that anyone who opposes you must simply be too foolish to understand what’s best for them."

Anastasiya’s smile disappeared.

Ilya remained silent, although his attention was now entirely on Oleg. The Margrave had already crossed several lines during this conversation, but there was something different about his tone now, because he no longer sounded like a father desperately bargaining for his son.

He sounded like a vassal condemning his future liege.

"You want to know what I think, Lady Anastasiya?" Oleg continued. "Mikhail will face the consequences of what he’s done, whether I like them or not. Perhaps the Council will agree with you, perhaps they’ll show him mercy, or perhaps I’ll return home having accomplished absolutely nothing today."

"...."

"But one day, you will inherit the North."

Anastasiya stared at him.

"And if this is the kind of ruler you intend to become, then Mikhail will be the least of House Belozersky’s problems."

The room fell silent..

Ilya’s eyes shifted toward his sister.

Anastasiya didn’t move.

Oleg looked at her with an expression that had gone beyond anger.

"A Grand Duchess cannot rule by treating every disagreement as defiance and every subordinate as something beneath her contempt. You may be strong enough to silence everyone who challenges you, Lady Anastasiya."

He paused.

"But if you continue down that path, eventually there will be nobody left standing beside you who actually wants to be there."

"...."

"You’re so concerned about protecting the North from people like my son that you haven’t once considered whether the greatest danger to it might eventually be you."

Anastasiya slowly rose. "Choose your next words very carefully, Margrave."

Oleg didn’t back down. "No. I think I’ve spent enough time doing that."

"...."

Ilya’s eyebrow rose.

Oleg’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but he made no movement toward the sword hanging from his waist.

"With an attitude like yours, you won’t need enemies to bring ruin upon the North."

"...."

"You’ll do it yourself."

"...."

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then Anastasiya laughed.

"Are you finished?"

Oleg stared at her for another moment.

"Yes."

"Good."

Anastasiya gestured toward the door.

"Then get out."

Oleg remained standing for several seconds, his eyes fixed on Anastasiya as though waiting for even the slightest indication that she might reconsider what she had said.

None came, and if anything, the silence only seemed to make her dismissal clearer as she remained standing beside her chair with one hand still gesturing toward the door.

"Very well."

The Margrave reached for the coat he had placed beside his chair and pulled it over his shoulders, taking his time as he adjusted it before turning toward the entrance.

He stopped after only a few steps, however, and glanced back at Anastasiya one final time.

"For what it’s worth, Lady Anastasiya, I sincerely hope I’m wrong about you."

Anastasiya’s expression didn’t change.

"Don’t worry. You are."