At Cross Manor of House Cross, not far from the Imperial Palace, the air felt entirely different.
Arceus Silver sat alone in the garden pavilion, fingers loosely wrapped around a porcelain cup that had long gone cold. The wind stirred the hanging silks overhead, and sunlight filtered through maple leaves, casting trembling shadows across the stone path.
He exhaled softly.
"Sigh…"
Three weeks ago, his life had structure.
Now it felt hollowed out.
His father, Wester Silver, had fallen into a coma. House Vale had begun withdrawing like cautious merchants distancing themselves from a sinking ship. Francis Vale had delivered the message with strained politeness: the elders were reconsidering his engagement with Sienna. Formal annulment might follow.
Since that conversation, he had not returned.
