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The Valehart lineage prided itself on transparency in strength, yet too much had been left unsaid. His grandmother—Asterielle Valehart—was spoken of in reverent tones, her past cloaked not by disgrace, but by deliberate silence. Even the Emperor treated her with unusual respect.
And his mother's words echoed now, sharper than ever.
Always wear Lunaris Astra. Never part from it.
"How could it leave me," he thought bitterly, fingers brushing the necklace beneath his clothes, "when it's bound by blood already?"
He had once accepted that silence as care.
Now, it felt like neglect.
Why was he never told? Why entrust him with something so significant—without answers?
Had they been protecting him… or testing him?
Either possibility carried its own weight.
What troubled him most was that he hesitated.
A Marquis should not waver. A Commander should not doubt his inheritance.
