The atmosphere in the study changed instantly.
The silence between the two men became sharp, almost physically tangible — like an invisible string stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment.
Livius looked at his father and could not believe his eyes. It seemed to him that this was just a mirage.
No, really, what could his father be doing here?!
But with each passing second, Livius believed less in the illusion. The Duke stood in the middle of the study as if the room belonged to him. Although, in truth, it did. As if everything around had always been his, and Livius was merely a temporary guest allowed to stay here by misunderstanding.
"F-father... What... what are you..." the young man's voice trembled, betraying his confusion.
"Do you want to know why I returned right now?" The Duke slowly stepped forward. "Disappointed to see me?"
He glanced briefly around his own study and stopped in front of the portrait hanging above the fireplace. The portrait depicted the former Duke — Livius's grandfather, a stern man with the same amethyst eyes. The Duke looked intently at the familiar features, and something like nostalgia flickered across his face — a warm but bitter shadow of memories.
"The Astrological Order has fallen," he said without turning around. "Do you know what that means?"
Livius frowned, trying to gather his thoughts.
"...Father, I don't know how you got here, but I am more than certain that you escaped from prison illegally!"
"So what? Are you going to turn me in now?"
"I... I..."
"Do you even have the right to do that?" Michael Carter sighed, and weariness could be heard in that sigh. "Since, as I already said, the Astrological Order has fallen."
"....."
"As I understand it, this was the trick you were going to use to overthrow me? A fake natal chart. Well... I suppose, since this organization no longer exists in the empire, that no longer matters either."
Livius flushed with indignation.
"You... how can you say that?!"
"Am I wrong?" The Duke spun around sharply, cold fire flaring in his eyes. "Now that all the dignitaries of the Astrological Order, including their head, are dead at the will of the Lord of the North, who would dare to judge us?"
The young man was momentarily taken aback. He didn't immediately find an answer.
"Even... even if that is so, it still doesn't change the fact that you deceived the entire empire!" Livius retorted sharply. "You committed a crime!"
"Did I?" Duke Carter smirked, but there was not a trace of amusement in the smirk. "Have I truly done something wrong? For some time, you managed to rule this family, and you may have grown accustomed to power... You consider it yours by right. But let's face the truth."
He took a step forward, and Livius involuntarily tensed, feeling the oncoming weight with his whole body.
"You illegally appropriated my place," the Duke said, and each of his words fell like a stone into still water. "I did not pass the title to you. You simply took it. Because you decided you had the right to."
Livius paled, turning white to his very lips.
"I... I only did it with the consent of the Inspectorate!" he said, uncertainty sounding in his voice for the first time. "Don't talk as if I just took your place. Everything was done according to the law."
"Oh, really?" the Duke replied coldly. "Do you think the temporary authority they gave you means a full transfer of the title?" he shook his head, and almost disappointment seemed to show in this gesture. "You were too naive, Livius. It's just a temporary position. You still don't possess real power."
Livius gritted his teeth.
"That's not true."
"It is true," the Duke cut him off. "You wanted power. You've always wanted it. Do you think I never saw through you? Your ambitions..." he took another step; now they stood opposite each other at arm's length. "I don't condemn you for that. Desiring power is natural for a Carter. But at least don't lie to yourself."
It grew cold in the study. Not from a draft — from the words, from the looks, from everything that hung in the air.
Morris, who had been standing by the door all this time, froze, afraid to move. He felt like an extra — a tiny, insignificant witness to what was happening between these two people.
"Now the Order has fallen," the Duke continued, returning to his interrupted thought. "That means the deception you could rely on is gone."
He smirked, but the smirk came out bitter.
"Soon everyone will learn the truth. And then," he looked directly into Livius's eyes, "the question will arise: who really is the legitimate Duke Carter?"
Livius was silent. His face was pale, but his expression was stony. Only in his eyes, in those amethyst eyes, did something resembling fear flicker. The very fear he had not allowed himself to feel for years.
"I have ruled this family for decades," the Duke said finally. "I made alliances. I suppressed rebellions. I strengthened the borders. People know me and trust me."
"....."
"People know the one who sat in that chair," he continued. "Will they be as loyal to you when they find out you are a usurper?"
"I am not a usurper!"
"By law, you are a usurper," the Duke cut him off. "You can't change that. The fact remains: you took a place that didn't belong to you."
He turned away and walked to the desk — his own desk, which until that moment had been temporarily occupied by Livius. Michael Carter casually sat down in the chair that was rightfully his, paying no attention to his son's withering gaze.
"I have far more influence and connections than you can imagine," he said. "I was the head of the family for thirty years. I know every important lord in this empire. I know their secrets, their weaknesses, and their debts. I know who can be pressured and who can be bought." he raised his gaze to Livius. "And what do you have? Besides the inflated pride of a temporary caretaker of this family?"
Livius clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"...You wouldn't dare," he whispered, but his voice no longer held its former confidence.
"Wouldn't dare?" Duke Carter stood up and approached his son closely — so close that Livius felt his breath on his face. "Don't you know me well? And do you think I would stop short of taking back what is rightfully mine?"
Livius remained silent.
Two feelings fought within him. Pride — the very same that had never allowed him to retreat, that had forced him to move forward. And fear — cold, sticky, nasty — the one that whispered: "He is stronger. He is more experienced. You will lose."
Pride screamed: "Fight!"
Fear whispered: "Run."
Livius slowly, very slowly lowered his gaze. It was difficult. More difficult than fighting with a sword. More difficult than making important decisions. To lower his gaze before the one who was his father and who had just tried to completely suppress him.
"What do you want?" he asked quietly, almost inaudibly.
Michael Carter looked at him intently. There was no triumph in his gaze — only cold, calculated calm.
"I want you to acknowledge your place," he said. "You are not the Duke. And you never were. You were a regent. A temporary steward. And your time has now expired."
Livius looked up.
"And now? Will you throw me out? Take everything away? Leave me destitute?"
"Leave you destitute?" The Duke shook his head. "You are my son, Livius. No matter how angry I am with you — you are my blood. I will not make you an outcast. I will not take away your inheritance."
The man chuckled shortly.
He fell silent, and there was something ominous, unspoken, in this pause.
"...But I will not allow you to stand in my way," he continued. "You are no longer part of this family. I am letting you go as a final favor — because once you were my son. Because your mother loved you."
Livius flinched, as if struck.
"You are exiling me?"
"I am giving you a chance," the Duke corrected him impassively.
Livius took a convulsive breath, as if the air around had suddenly become too thin.
Duke Carter turned away and walked to the window. Dusk was gathering outside the glass, and in its violet light, the Duke's figure appeared black, almost monumental.
"You can no longer come before my eyes," he said without turning around. "If I see you again — on my land — I will show no more leniency."
The silence became absolute.
Morris, standing by the door, felt his knees buckle. He looked at his master — and saw him burning from within.
Livius stood motionless. His face was white as paper. His eyes were empty. He clenched and unclenched his fists, as if trying to grasp something that was slipping away from him forever.
"And where am I to go?" he asked finally. His voice sounded even, but in this evenness lay such depth of despair that Livius involuntarily gritted his teeth.
"I don't care," the Duke replied. "From this moment on, that is only your concern."
Livius nodded slowly.
He took a step back. Then another. Then he turned and headed for the door.
Morris hastily stepped aside to let him pass.
But at the very door, Livius stopped.
"You are right about one thing, Father," he said without turning around. "I wanted power. All these years, I thought that power was what could give me strength."
He paused, gathering his thoughts.
"But now I understand. In your eyes, it seems I was never worthy of that strength. Just a defective son of the Carter family, isn't that right?" he smiled bitterly, and in that bitter smile lay so much pain that it was impossible to convey in words.
The Duke did not answer.
He stood by the window, and his silhouette did not waver.
Livius pushed the door and walked out into the corridor.
Morris, after hesitating for a second, threw a quick glance at Duke Carter — the man did not even turn his head — and slipped out after him.
The corridor was dark. Candles had not yet been lit, and only distant reflections of torches illuminated the walls, creating dancing shadows.
Livius walked quickly, almost ran. His boots thudded dully on the stone slabs, and this thud echoed — like the strokes of a funeral bell.
"My lord..." Morris barely kept up with him. "My lord, what are we to do now?"
"I am going north," Livius replied, not slowing his pace.
"What?!" the servant stared at him in bewilderment, not believing his ears.
"I said I am going north to my sister," Livius repeated sharply, gritting his teeth so hard the muscles in his jaw twitched. "I no longer have a home, nor a title. Only her."