16.The Weight of Recognition

It had been five days since Jack returned to the capital.

Five days, and not a single word from Elsa's family.

Not a letter. Not a glance. Not even a servant sent in courtesy.

He lived in the same estate—but it might as well have been another world. Meals were quiet. The halls felt wider than before. The children were kept away from him by silent, unspoken orders. The warmth he'd once tasted—fragile and fleeting—was gone.

And Jack… didn't fight it.

Because a part of him understood. He hadn't told them he was returning. He'd used a royal favor without consulting them. And worse, no matter what he'd built in Merriton, it didn't erase the past Jack—the man who nearly cost them Elsa and the triplets.

So he remained silent.

Let them decide when they were ready.

---

The sun climbed higher as Jack prepared for the morning court. Damon helped tighten his belt and fasten the robe.

"You don't have to stay in that wing," Damon muttered. "The guest quarters are less suffocating."

Jack shook his head. "That'd only prove I've given up."

"You haven't?"

Jack didn't reply. His eyes drifted toward the nursery hall, where faint laughter of children rang behind closed doors.

---

At the court, the tension was no less suffocating.

As Jack entered the council chamber, the whispers began immediately.

"Is that him? The Merriton upstart?"

"The one who fed potatoes to bandits?"

"Reckless. Unrefined. A disgrace to nobility."

Jack ignored them all.

He was already used to being alone.

---

Today's session had been called to address the sudden change in trade patterns following the Merriton harvest. Grain prices had stabilized, but the abundance of potatoes had disrupted traditional trade routes.

The Prime Minister sat poised, eyes cold. The Trade Minister, Lord Harvon, spoke first.

"Your Majesty," he began, "this… experiment… conducted by Lord Jack may have fed one village, but it has introduced instability. Merchants are losing revenue. Nobility is panicked. The man bypassed protocol."

The King didn't blink. "He acted within the authority granted to him."

"But without oversight," Lord Harvon insisted. "And now, every small-town official thinks they can alter food markets. It must be addressed!"

Jack raised a hand.

"May I?"

The King nodded.

Jack stood slowly. "Merriton was dying. The people were starved, desperate, and exploited. The merchants in that town were frauds. I didn't grow potatoes to make a fortune. I did it to make sure children didn't die."

The chamber fell quiet.

Jack continued, "But if you want to treat this as a scandal—then investigate me. I kept records. Every transaction. Every sack of grain. But if your fear is that people now hope for change—then maybe the system needs changing."

The Prime Minister narrowed his eyes. "You speak boldly, Lord Jack."

"I've lived with nothing. I've been hated by my own household. I have nothing left to fear."

That got their attention.

Even the King leaned forward slightly.

After a long silence, the King spoke, "Form a committee. Let Jack submit his full report. Until then, no further action will be taken."

---

As Jack exited the hall, no one offered him congratulations. Only Lord Harvon waited outside.

"You're bleeding in the mouth of sharks," Lord Harvon muttered.

"I've bled before," Jack said. "This time, at least it's for something."

---

Back at the estate, he crossed the courtyard and paused at the central garden.

A place once filled with warm afternoons, chasing Caelum, or listening to Laina recite poems she half-remembered. Now, silence.

From the second floor balcony, he saw Lady Mireya—Elsa's mother—standing behind the glass.

She saw him.

He bowed his head slightly.

She turned away.

Jack straightened and walked back toward his wing.

He wouldn't beg.

Not this time.

---

That evening, as he sat alone in his room, a servant arrived.

"A letter from the palace, my lord."

Jack opened it—recognizing the handwriting immediately. The King.

"You speak with courage. That is rare. Continue your work. There are few I trust to act without ambition."

Jack folded the letter and stared at the wall.

The palace trusted him.

The people of Merriton trusted him.

But in this house, he remained a stranger.