Chapter 206: The Weight of the Name

The thick oaken doors creaked shut behind him as Albrecht Thorne stepped into his private study. His boots left faint prints of dust and sweat on the marble floor, and his shirt clung to his chest. His broad shoulders rose and fell with each breath, but his expression remained unreadable.

Behind him, a soft but firm tapping of polished shoes announced the arrival of his ever-faithful butler.

Frederick moved like a ghost of discipline: thin, slightly hunched from age, dressed in impeccable formalwear. His skin was pale and deeply lined, his pure white hair combed neatly back. Despite nearing ninety, his eyes retained the sharpness of a hawk.

"I told you at Lady Livia's wedding," Frederick said, voice dry as parchment. "Sooner or later, it will kill you. You do know you have soldiers who could assist with this, don't you?"

Albrecht grunted, pouring himself a glass of chilled water from the crystal decanter by the desk. He didn't sit.