Ever since early on, the Imperial Family of Dravenor had been aware of a quiet but persistent truth that if the Silvaris Household were to exist alongside them within the same empire, the balance of influence would never fully favor the throne alone.
No matter how secure the Dravenor name appeared, there was always an underlying weight attached to Silvaris, a lineage tied to the dragon said to have founded Draconia itself.
In contrast, House Dravenor, despite holding imperial authority, would always be regarded as coming after that origin, second in legacy if not in power.
For Socris Dravenor, the sole heir and prince of the empire, that reality shaped his entire upbringing.
From childhood, he was not only raised to inherit the throne but to surpass what the Silvaris name represented. Every aspect of him was shaped with strict discipline. His speech was refined until it carried authority without hesitation. His conduct was corrected until imperfection was unacceptable. Even his combat training and swordsmanship were pushed beyond standard expectations, all with one unspoken purpose, to ensure he could stand above the Silvaris legacy.
Nothing in his life was allowed to fall short of excellence.
Perfection was not an aspiration.
It was a requirement yet over time, that constant pressure began to shift something within him.
What started as dedication slowly turned into resistance. Socris began to recognize the pattern behind every expectation placed upon him. He was always being measured against Silvaris, always pushed to prove superiority over a name that existed outside his control and that comparison eventually became something he rejected.
He was a prince of Dravenor, the rightful heir to the Draconia Empire.
In his mind, it made no sense that he should spend his entire life striving to surpass a legacy that, by right, should not even stand on equal ground with his future rule.
Why should his worth be defined by competition with something he believed should already be beneath imperial authority?
From that realization, a quiet form of defiance took root, not openly rebellious but firm in belief.
To Socris, he was not meant to chase the shadow of dragons.
He was meant to rule beyond them.
He wanted to believe that, as a noble by birth, he should be the standard others aspired to, not someone constantly forced to measure himself against another. It was a conviction he reinforced repeatedly, as though repetition alone could make it absolute.
But even so, Socris could never fully silence the discomfort beneath that belief. No matter how firmly he held onto his pride, there remained a persistent sense of inferiority whenever he thought of the man who stood on equal footing with the imperial family or perhaps even beyond it.
He knew the Silvaris Household controlled and influenced nearly every corner of the empire's governance and their authority was deeply embedded in its structure. And more than that, he understood an unspoken truth that if the Duke of Silvaris ever chose to pursue the throne, nothing in the empire would truly be able to stop him.
That knowledge deepened everything Socris felt toward Draen.
His hostility was not simple dislike.
It was rooted in insecurity, pride and the constant pressure of being overshadowed by someone he could not easily surpass. It was a burden Draen himself likely never perceived, even as it quietly unsettled the prince from within.
Facing the man he had considered his rival since childhood, Socris felt his emotions intensify into something far less stable. Fear, anger, hostility and resentment all entangled together. It was made worse by the fact that Draen had refused to allow him to bring any knights into the Silvaris Dukedom, forcing him to arrive alone.
And now, he sat there without any support.
"What do I owe this visit, Your Highness?" Draen asked calmly after setting his teacup back onto its saucer. His gaze lifted, landing evenly on Socris' visibly tense expression.
Despite his calm demeanor, Draen immediately registered the prince's quickened heartbeat, rigid posture and the discomfort that came simply from being in his presence.
Socris exhaled slowly before speaking with a carefully polite but edged with irritation tone. "Your Grace, Duke Silvaris… I came to extend my welcome to your bride. However, it appears your bride lacks etiquette. Is it not expected for them to appear when someone of higher status requests their presence?"
At that, Draen's expression subtly shifted.
Barely noticeable but Socris' words had clearly struck a nerve, aimed directly at Lewis.
Before Draen could respond, Socris continued his provocation.
"And I heard your bride is of common birth… and, of all things, a man?" He let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. "Really? Not a woman but a man? How is that even possible, Duke Silvaris?"
"And with the manifestation already having occurred… it seems you've already consummated the bond as well. Is it not considered inappropriate? Disgusting, even, to do such a thing with a man?"
The air in the room tightened instantly.
Draen's expression cooled further, his patience visibly narrowing.
"May I remind you to be careful with your words, Your Highness?"
Socris tilted his head slightly, amused rather than deterred.
"Oh my," he replied lightly, though his eyes remained cold. "Did I strike a nerve? That wasn't my intention, Your Grace. I meant no insult." A faint, mocking curve touched his lips. "In fact, I merely came to offer my blessings to both of you."
Given how long Draen had waited and finally finding Lewis, his happiness was now being disturbed by insults he had been aware of. Worse, those words were spoken as if they were harmless, almost polite on the surface yet clearly laced with intent.
"Is this the reason for your visit, Your Highness? If it is only because of my bride, then I have nothing more to say. I will have my trusted butler show you the way out."
Draen stood and turned as if to end the matter there but Socris spoke again, refusing to let it end so easily.
"Don't tell me, Your Grace, that you intentionally hid your bride from me. What is wrong with me, a prince, giving you both my blessings? Am I not qualified to wish you and your bride a happy and joyous life?"
For a moment, Draen did not respond.
He simply looked at Socris.
"Let's stop making a fool of ourselves, Your Highness," Draen said at last as his patience gone. "Since when did the Imperial Family wish the Silvaris Household a happy and joyous life? Let's be real here."
Draen then fully faced him and stepped forward and leaned in, placing both hands on the table.
"Your Highness," Draen continued, "as early as it is, refrain from setting your eyes on my bride. This is not a warning but a threat. I know exactly what you're doing, believe me."
A brief silence followed, heavy and suffocating. Then, without changing tone, he finished:
"Now, if you're done sipping your tea, be gone and never come back."
Draen left without looking back.
The only thing he registered was Socris' strained expression but it no longer mattered.
Whatever frustration remained was no longer his concern.
Outside, Alon waited. A single glance was enough for understanding and Alon adjusted immediately without a word.
Draen continued forward, allowing his presence to spread subtly across the estate. Not forcefu but controlled, like a quiet sweep of awareness.
He was searching.
Lewis.
His focus narrowed slightly as he moved through the estate's atmosphere, filtering everything else away. The tension from earlier lingered faintly but it no longer mattered.
What mattered was finding him.
He exhaled softly, easing the last edge of irritation.
"Haa… where is he now," Draen murmured. "I hope he's not bored."