Consideration

The Duke's study was a sanctuary of quiet contemplation, a room lined with towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and records of Blackthorn's storied legacy. The glow of a single lantern bathed the room in soft, amber light, illuminating the maps and reports spread across the Duke's imposing mahogany desk. The faint crackle of the fireplace was the only sound as Parker stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

Duke Harrison leaned forward in his chair, his fingers steepled as he stared at the document in front of him. It bore the official seal of the Demiri School of Prodigy, an institution his family had always viewed as beneath their status. Yet now, the parchment symbolized a crossroads, not just for Speed, but for the Duke himself.

"Do you believe this is the right choice, Parker?" the Duke asked, his voice low, his tone betraying the conflict he so often hid. "Sending him to Demiri—it feels like an admission of failure."

Parker turned to face the Duke, his expression calm but his eyes sharp with thought. "It is not failure, Your Grace. It is opportunity. Master Speed may lack magic, but he has shown qualities that cannot be taught—resilience, resourcefulness, and a hunger to prove his worth. These are traits that even the most powerful mage cannot always claim."

The Duke's brow furrowed as he mulled over the butler's words. "You saw the way he carried that stag into the courtyard," he murmured, his voice tinged with both frustration and reluctant admiration. "He was proud. Determined. As if he thought it would make a difference."

"And perhaps it will," Parker replied, stepping closer to the desk. "Consider this: the world does not only need those born with power. It needs those who can adapt, who can think beyond what they are given. Master Speed has lived his entire life in the shadow of magic, and yet he persists. That speaks to a strength worth cultivating."

Harrison leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. His gaze shifted to the fire, its flickering flames dancing in the reflection of his steely blue eyes. "You make him sound like some kind of prodigy," he said, a faint trace of sarcasm in his tone.

"No, Your Grace," Parker said evenly. "I make him sound like a young man who deserves a chance. And if he fails? The eyes of the world will be on Demiri not St. Fatheremere . The Blackthorn name will remain untarnished."

The Duke was silent for a long moment, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his shoulders. Finally, he nodded, his expression one of reluctant resolve. "Very well. Let the arrangements be made. But this is his only chance, Parker. If he falters..."

"Understood, Your Grace," Parker said with a bow. But as he straightened, there was a glimmer of something in his eyes—hope, perhaps, or belief in a boy who had spent his life being overlooked.