- Alfons POV -
Alfons followed the servant through the corridors of the Eightfold Hold.
The man kept two steps ahead, quiet the way every Vaelion servant was drilled into being quiet. No wasted movement, no curious glance, nothing on his face to suggest that walking the fifth heir through the inner halls meant a thing beyond one more line written into his day.
Alfons hated that more than he had any right to.
His mind had not stopped turning since he climbed out of the carriage. His father had called him home under the excuse of family affairs, and because the summons carried the Vaelion seal, the Academy waved him off without a single question. A few days away from his work, a few days back inside this place, and either one alone was enough to sour a week.
'What does the old man want?'
The thought kept circling, never closing, never giving him room to breathe.
