15: A Conversation Between Dukes

The cold northern winds whistled against the manor walls, but within the grand hall of House Ravenshade, warmth flickered from the golden glow of the fireplace. The room exuded an air of quiet authority—a place where only the most significant discussions took place.

And tonight, two of the most powerful men in Aetherion sat facing each other.

One, a man of frost and steel—Duke Aldric Ravenshade, Lord of the North.

The other, a man of earth and wisdom—Duke Alastair Verdantia, ruler of the verdant South.

Between them, a crystal decanter of aged northern whiskey rested on the table, its amber liquid untouched. The atmosphere was neither hostile nor friendly—merely charged, as if the very air acknowledged the presence of two immovable forces.

Aldric was the first to break the silence.

"You arrived earlier than expected." His voice was calm, measured—a voice accustomed to giving orders and having them followed.

Alastair leaned back in his chair, his crimson eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "I had business in the East and decided to come directly here instead of returning to Verdantia."

A pause.

"…Or perhaps I simply wanted to see my daughter and grandson sooner."

Aldric's gaze sharpened slightly, but he remained silent.

Alastair let out a slow exhale, his fingers tapping idly against the wooden armrest. "I must say, Aldric, you've done well."

"…In what regard?"

"My daughter." Alastair's gaze bore into him. "She is happy."

Aldric's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes softened, almost imperceptibly.

"I would be a fool not to treasure her."

Alastair studied him for a long moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied.

"Good." He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. "Because if you ever fail her, even once… I may be old, but I am not weak."

Aldric's lips twitched, as if amused by the barely veiled threat. "Your concern is unnecessary."

Alastair exhaled, his earlier tension easing slightly. "Yes, I suppose so."

A brief silence settled between them, filled only by the occasional crackle of burning wood.

Then—

"…Averis," Alastair murmured, swirling the untouched whiskey in his glass. "He is different."

Aldric's gaze darkened.

"…You noticed."

"How could I not?" The older duke let out a soft chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "His presence alone speaks volumes."

Aldric leaned back, his fingers interlocked in thought. "He is more than we anticipated."

Alastair hummed. "His mana is unstable."

"…Yes."

"And his spirit energy?"

Aldric's crimson eyes narrowed. "Stronger than it should be."

The Southern Duke's brows furrowed. "How strong?"

Aldric was silent for a moment before speaking, his voice low.

"Higher than a seasoned Spirit Contractor."

A sharp intake of breath.

Alastair leaned forward, his usually composed face betraying a flicker of disbelief. "Impossible."

"He was born with it," Aldric continued, his voice unwavering. "Even before he could walk, his presence alone disturbed the natural flow of mana."

Alastair exhaled slowly, processing this information. His fingers tightened around his glass.

"…This is beyond rare."

Aldric nodded. "It is unprecedented."

A heavy silence followed.

Then—

"…What of his condition?" Alastair finally asked.

Aldric's jaw tightened. "He is afflicted by Mana Overload Syndrome."

The moment those words were spoken, the air grew heavier.

Alastair's expression turned grim. "A child with unparalleled potential, yet cursed with a condition that could kill him before he reaches adulthood." He let out a bitter chuckle. "The world is cruel."

Aldric remained silent, his crimson eyes flickering with something dark.

Alastair studied him carefully before speaking again.

"You've been searching for solutions."

Aldric nodded. "So has Seraphina."

"…Have you found anything?"

A brief pause.

Then, Aldric's voice dropped to an almost dangerous quiet.

"There are treatments. Rituals. Seals. Forbidden methods." He exhaled. "But nothing without risk."

Alastair's expression darkened. "Aldric."

"I will not let him die," Aldric said, his voice firm. Unyielding. "I will not lose my son."

For a long moment, Alastair simply stared at him.

Then—

"…Good."

Aldric raised a brow.

The older duke leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Because I will not lose my grandson either."

Their eyes met, and in that moment, an unspoken agreement settled between them.

Not as noblemen.

Not as rulers of vast territories.

But as fathers.

As men who would do anything to protect their family.

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Later That Night…

As the conversation settled, Alastair finally reached for the whiskey glass he had ignored until now.

He lifted it slightly, nodding towards Aldric.

"…To our son."

Aldric, for the first time that evening, allowed a faint smirk to form. He lifted his own glass.

"To our family."

The crystal clinked softly in the quiet room.

And for a brief moment—despite all the looming threats and uncertainties—the two dukes simply drank in silence, as fathers who understood one another.

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The First Steps Toward Power

The crisp morning air carried the faint scent of pine and frost as the training courtyard of House Ravenshade stood bathed in soft golden sunlight. Snowflakes from the night before still clung to the edges of the stone pathways, glistening under the early rays.

Averis stood beside Lucian, both boys wrapped in warm coats, their breaths visible in the cold air.

Today marked the beginning of something new.

Their first training session.

Or rather—the first step toward understanding their own power.

---

A Mother's Guidance

"Mana is like a river," Seraphina's gentle voice echoed through the courtyard as she knelt before the two children, her golden-blonde hair shimmering under the sun. "It flows through you, shaping itself according to your will. But if left uncontrolled, it can flood, overwhelming your body."

Beside her, Evelynn nodded, her long black hair fluttering slightly in the cold breeze.

"That's why learning to control it is more important than learning to release it," she added, her crimson eyes warm yet firm.

Lucian puffed out his chest. "Then I'll control it better than anyone!"

Averis blinked at his cousin's confidence but did not react.

His mother's words had already sunk deep into his mind. Mana is like a river.

He knew firsthand what it felt like to have that river spiral out of control.

Seraphina smiled softly at them before extending her hand. "Close your eyes, both of you. Feel the mana inside you."

Averis inhaled slowly, letting his senses shift inward.

There it was—his core.

Unlike the smooth, flowing sensation his mother described, his mana felt dense, turbulent, constantly shifting between ice, wind, fire, and shadow. His incomplete core trembled slightly as if resisting balance.

Lucian, on the other hand, furrowed his brows. "I feel something warm," he muttered, his small fingers clenching. "Like… a tiny sun in my stomach."

Evelynn chuckled. "That's your affinity showing itself. You take after your father more than me, little one."

Seraphina turned to Averis. "And what do you feel, sweet one?"

Averis hesitated. How was he supposed to describe this?

"…A storm," he finally whispered.

His mother's eyes flickered with understanding.

The Frost Raven, perched invisibly atop a nearby tree, ruffled its feathers but said nothing.

Seraphina gently placed a hand over his heart. "Then we'll start with balance. Before you command mana, you must first let it breathe."

Averis looked up at her, crimson eyes reflecting quiet determination.

Let it breathe…

He would do his best.

---

A Small Competition

Lucian was the first to attempt guiding his mana outward.

A small flame flickered at his fingertips—unstable but warm. His face lit up with excitement.

"Did you see that?!" he exclaimed, looking at Averis triumphantly. "I did it first!"

Averis stared at the tiny flame.

It wasn't as if he doubted Lucian's talent, but something in his mind refused to accept losing.

…If he could do it, then so could I.

Averis raised his small hand, concentrating. He called upon his mana, willing it to form—

A sudden surge of power rushed forth.

The temperature around him plunged.

Frost spread from his fingertips, coating the air with glistening ice before cracking violently. The sheer pressure of his unstable mana made the wind tremble.

"Ah—!" Averis gasped, feeling the backlash at once.

The mana that had gathered suddenly rebounded, rushing back into his body with twice the force.

A sharp, suffocating pain spread through his chest.

"Sweet one!" Seraphina immediately caught him before he collapsed, pressing a warm hand to his back. A soothing wave of mana stabilized the turbulence within him.

Lucian's excitement faded into concern. "Averis?"

Averis clenched his small fists, frustration bubbling within.

Too much mana again…

Why?

Why couldn't he control it like Lucian?

As if hearing his thoughts, the Frost Raven finally spoke, its voice an icy whisper in his mind.

"Balance is not found in force, young one. It is found in patience."

Averis exhaled, pressing his lips together.

Patience…

Lucian awkwardly scratched his cheek. "Uh… you still did something cool, though."

Seraphina sighed softly before smiling. "Let's take a small break."

Averis nodded, quietly absorbing the lesson.

For now, he would wait.

But he would not give up.

---

The First Duel

By afternoon, their magic lesson had transitioned into something far simpler.

Wooden swords were placed in their small hands, and Evelynn chuckled at the sight. "They're almost too big for them," she mused.

Seraphina nodded in agreement. "Still, it will help them develop a sense of movement."

Lucian beamed, already bouncing on his feet. "Finally, something I'm good at!"

Averis eyed his wooden sword carefully.

It was small.

Light.

But the moment he held it—

Something deep inside him stirred.

His fingers curled around the hilt with a strange sense of familiarity.

Across from him, Lucian grinned. "Let's fight!"

Evelynn raised a brow. "It's called sparring, dear."

But Lucian wasn't listening—he was already charging.

Averis blinked, watching the way Lucian moved. His cousin's steps were quick but lacked refinement, his swing full of energy but predictable.

Before he could think, his body reacted.

He sidestepped.

Lucian's sword barely missed.

"Huh?" Lucian stumbled forward, caught off guard.

Averis didn't hesitate.

He shifted his stance, stepping forward without thinking. His wooden sword came up instinctively—

And for a brief moment, he saw something.

A memory? No, an instinct.

The flicker of steel clashing in battle.

A technique?

Before he could process it, his swing halted abruptly.

His mother's hand had stopped him.

Seraphina gazed down at him with a knowing yet unreadable expression. "That's enough, sweet one."

Averis blinked, snapping out of whatever that was.

Lucian huffed, rubbing his arm. "That was weird. You almost looked like you knew what you were doing."

Averis stared at his small hands.

That's what was strange.

Because for a moment—it felt like he did.

---

That Night…

As the household settled into quiet slumber, the Frost Raven perched itself by the window of Averis's room.

Its glowing blue eyes flickered as it watched the sleeping child.

A breath of frost curled in the air.

"You are remembering, little one."

A deep, ancient hum filled the silence.

"Soon… you will know."

And with that, the spirit faded into the shadows—watching.

Waiting.