Royal House of Orlean - II

Elijah shifted to the fourth prince, Prince Andrew, his tone taking on a sharper edge. "Andrew," he began, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Explain to me why the reports from your barony suggest inefficiency in the collection of taxes. Your region is one of the wealthiest in the empire, yet its contributions have fallen below expectations."

Andrew's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. "Father, the recent droughts have impacted agricultural yields, and the merchants are struggling to recover. I've implemented measures to—"

"Spare me excuses," Elijah interrupted, his tone cold. "It is your responsibility to adapt and overcome. The droughts are no excuse for negligence. I expect to see improvements immediately. Do not make me regret assigning you to such a prosperous region."

Andrew lowered his gaze, bowing his head slightly. "Yes, Father. I will ensure the barony meets its obligations."

Without another word, Elijah turned his attention to the next in line. His tone neutral as he addressed Prince Malcolm, the fifth prince. "Malcolm, your reports are — satisfactory. Continue ensuring your trade routes remain secure. Any sign of weakness will invite trouble."

Malcolm gave a small nod, his expression calm. "Of course, Father. I've already increased patrols along the key trade routes."

Elijah gave a curt nod and moved on to the sixth and seventh princes, who both received similar treatment. His questions were direct but without much emotion, their responses met with perfunctory approval.

When he reached Prince Rowan, the eighth prince, his tone shifted, carrying a hint of dissatisfaction. "Rowan, I had higher hopes for your barony. The infrastructure projects you proposed remain incomplete, and the labor disputes persist. Why is that?"

Rowan's face flushed slightly, and he straightened in his seat. "The workers have been resistant to the new policies, Father, but I've been working to mediate—"

"Working to mediate?" Elijah interrupted sharply. "That is not enough. Resolve the disputes decisively, or your projects will continue to falter. You are capable of more, Rowan. Show it."

Rowan nodded, his voice subdued. "Yes, Father."

The king's sharp gaze moved to the ninth and tenth princes, his tone equally firm. "You both have stable regions, yet I see no innovation, no ambition in your reports. Are you content to merely maintain what was handed to you?"

The ninth prince, Prince Gareth, responded first, his tone defensive. "I believed my priority was to ensure stability, Father. I didn't want to risk—"

"Risk is necessary for progress, Gareth," Elijah snapped. "Do not mistake stability for success. Learn to balance both."

The tenth prince, Prince Elgar, nodded in agreement, his response quick. "Understood, Father. I'll ensure my next report includes actionable plans for growth."

Elijah's attention shifted to Prince Caleb, a brief flicker of approval crossing his features. "Caleb," he said, his tone slightly softer, "you've managed your barony adequately, and I can see that you are taking it seriously."

Elgar met his father's eyes with unwavering confidence. "Thank you, Father. I will continue to put in the effort required."

Finally, Elijah's gaze landed on the twelfth prince, Prince Harry, his expression growing colder. "Harry, your performance has been lackluster at best. I gave you a barony that required little effort to govern, yet I see no signs of initiative or improvement. What excuse do you have?"

Harry fumbled for a moment, his voice uneven. "Father, I—I believed the existing systems were functioning adequately, and I did not want to interfere—"

"Interference is your duty when systems stagnate," Elijah cut him off, his voice like a whip. "I expect more from you, Harry. Do not waste the opportunities given to you."

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of Elijah's words hanging over the table. After addressing Liam first and hearing his reluctance to govern a barony, it seemed Elijah's temper had only increased. His sharp inquiries grew more biting, his patience thinner with each son he addressed. Liam's unwillingness to embrace the responsibility had clearly struck a nerve, setting a tone of rising tension for the rest of the meal.

Elijah's sharp inquiries had momentarily diverted his attention, but as the meal continued, his focus returned to Liam. He sat in silence for a while, his fork moving absently through his food.

"Liam," he said, his tone quieter but no less firm. "You should think more seriously about running the barony. It's not just a responsibility—it's an opportunity. You would learn a great deal about leadership, about the empire itself. It's time you started preparing for the future."

Liam hesitated but kept his expression neutral. "I understand, Father. I'll think about it," he said simply, nodding once.

Elijah studied him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. But it was clear his mind was elsewhere. He exhaled deeply, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. The room fell silent as the king stood, the weight of his presence stilling all conversation.

"I have matters to attend to," he said abruptly, his voice flat. Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the dining hall, his cloak sweeping behind him.

As soon as he exited, Elijah called for Edwin. Edwin appeared promptly, bowing deeply as he approached.

"Follow me," Elijah said curtly, leading Edwin to a private study down the hall.

The room grew livelier after King Elijah's departure, though the weight of his words still lingered. The royal children resumed their meals, speaking in hushed tones. Eventually, Prince Adrian, the eldest, set down his goblet and fixed his gaze on Liam.

"What are you doing, Liam?" Adrian asked, his voice calm but laced with disappointment. "Do you realize how unusual it is to refuse a barony? Father already has doubts, and you're making things worse for yourself."

Liam glanced up from his plate, his calm exterior masking the turmoil inside. Before he could respond, Malcolm, the fifth prince, cut in.

"Adrian, let him be. "

Adrian gave Malcolm a pointed look. "This isn't even about being ready, Malcolm. It's about responsibility. He's thirteen now; Father expects him to step up."

From further down the table, Third Prince Edgar, known for his sharp tongue, chimed in with a smirk. "Honestly, it was a good call. If Liam isn't up to the task, why embarrass himself trying to run a barony? Better to leave it to those of us who can handle it."

Sixth Prince Victor chuckled, adding, "At least it's not another failed project. Better safe than sorry, right?"

The Seventh Prince, Callan, leaned back in his chair, his tone light but needling. "Don't get worked up, Adrian. Not everyone's cut out for leadership."

Adrian's expression darkened, his voice cold and cutting. "You should keep your opinions to yourself. Liam is my brother, and this is my family's matter, not yours."

The table fell silent as Adrian's words hung heavily in the air. Before anyone could respond, Queen Isabella cleared her throat, her sharp gaze falling on Adrian.

"Adrian," she said, her tone firm but controlled. "Is this how you speak to your brothers? You're the eldest; I expect better from you. Apologize at once."

Adrian stiffened, but he inclined his head slightly. "I am sorry," he said evenly.

Liam, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke. "It's fine, Adrian," he said softly, his tone neutral but resolute. "The truth is, I really am not fit to run a barony. I have no experience, no breakthrough in the Adept realm , and I don't want to fail Father's expectations more than I already have."

He paused, glancing around the table before continuing. "I wish to learn first. To study and grow—perhaps not in the ways all of you have—but in ways that could help the empire. The library holds knowledge that could be invaluable, especially in arcane matters. Maybe one day, I'll be able to contribute something meaningful."

The room fell silent again, the weight of Liam's words settling over the gathered royals. Some exchanged uncertain glances, while others avoided his gaze entirely. Queen Isabella studied him carefully, her expression softening as she reached for her goblet.

"Liam," she said quietly, "do not think you have failed anyone. The path you choose is your own, but remember—every choice carries its own responsibilities. Be sure you are ready to face them."

Liam nodded, grateful for her words, but the lingering tension in the room made it clear that his decision would not be so easily accepted.

The meal concluded with a subdued atmosphere, the earlier tension still lingering among the royal children. One by one, they rose from their seats, offering polite bows or murmured goodbyes to Queen Isabella before departing.

As Liam prepared to leave, Adrian, Cassandra, and Malcolm approached him. They gestured for him to step aside, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. The group moved to a quieter corner of the dining hall, their voices low as they engaged in an earnest discussion with Liam.

After a few minutes, Liam nodded at them, offering a faint smile, though his demeanor remained reserved. The three siblings eventually parted ways, leaving him standing alone in the now-empty dining hall.

Liam straightened his tunic and made his way through the dimly lit corridors of the palace. He stopped in front of the heavy oak doors of King Elijah's study, his heart beating steadily as he stood in silence, waiting. 

He clasped his hands behind his back, bracing himself for the inevitable conversation.

The doors creaked open, and Edwin emerged, his expression calm as ever. He paused upon seeing Liam and gave a slight bow.

"Master Liam," Edwin said smoothly, "His Majesty has been waiting for you."

Liam nodded, straightened his posture, and stepped inside as Edwin quietly closed the doors behind him.

The king stood by the large window, his back to the door, his hands clasped behind him.

"Father," Liam began, his voice steady though quiet, "I've come to speak with you. I truly want to focus on learning."

Elijah turned, he raised a hand to interrupt, his tone sharp yet restrained. "Liam, enough. We can discuss this in a month. Perhaps time will give you clarity."

But Liam didn't falter. He took a step forward, his resolve firm. "Father, my answer won't change. I've already thought about this carefully. I know what I want to do, and it's not running a barony. I want to dedicate myself to studying—truly studying. The knowledge I gain could serve the empire in ways no barony ever could."

For a long moment, Elijah said nothing, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken tension, as he studied his son. Finally, he exhaled deeply, the faintest hint of reluctance flickering across his features.

"Very well," Elijah said, his voice low but resolute. "If this is the path you've chosen, I won't force you to govern. But you must prove that your studies are not a waste. The empire needs results, Liam, not idle pursuits."

He moved to the large desk at the center of the room, pulling open a drawer. From it, he retrieved a small, ornately carved wooden box. Opening it, he removed a golden pass, engraved with the royal seal of Ironhelm and intricate arcane symbols.

"This," Elijah said, holding the pass out to Liam, "grants you access to the restricted sections of the royal library. Use it wisely. Within those walls lies knowledge not meant for the careless or unworthy."

Liam stepped forward, his eyes widening as he carefully took the pass. "Thank you, Father," he said, bowing his head deeply.

Elijah's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, his expression softening just slightly. "Don't squander this opportunity, Liam. If you wish to devote yourself to learning, then do so with purpose. Show me that your choice was the right one."

"I will, Father," Liam replied, his voice resolute.

With a curt nod, Elijah turned back toward the window, signaling the end of their conversation. Liam quietly left the study, clutching the pass tightly in his hand, the weight of his father's words—and expectations—heavy on his shoulders.

As Liam stepped out of the study, the golden pass , a single thought echoed in his mind:

This is it. No more hesitation, no more doubt. If I want to prove that my choice matters, I have to show resolve now. Father may have given his reluctant approval, but I know he still questions me. I can't afford to fail—not with this chance.