The door burst open without warning, and six guards filed into the small laboratory, their boots striking the stone floor in unison. They wore breastplates that bore the Thornwald crest and fanned out with military discipline, forming a crescent around the entrance.

  Then, he appeared.

  Lord Thornwald stepped through the doorway. His midnight blue coat fit without a wrinkle, and the signet ring on his right hand caught the laboratory's lamplight; a ship carved into gold. Every guard in the room straightened their posture when he appeared .

  "Father..." Lucia's voice was barely audible as she lowered her gaze.

  "I've been looking for you. Why have you not heeded my summons, Lucia?"

  "I was going to," Lucia replied, her fingers twisting nervously in her apron.

  "I gave you years of freedom to pursue your passion, and what has come of it? Nothing." Lord Thornwald's eyes swept dismissively over the laboratory equipment. "While you play with your little concoctions, our family's reputation hangs in the balance."

  "My work has value, Father," Lucia said, lifting her chin slightly. "I've been developing new formulations that could—"

  "Could what?" Lord Thornwald interrupted. "Save us from the curse? I know about your little project. It’s a fantasy. The Saintess herself has tried, Lucia. What makes you think your little hobby can succeed where divine powers have failed?"

  Lucia's shoulders slumped, but her eyes flashed defiance. “I can do it father, trust me. I beg you, for once, just trust me.”

  Lord Thornwald's expression hardened. He walked toward Lucia's workbench, stopping before her meticulously labeled soil samples. He studied them with narrowed eyes.

  "Soil," he hissed. His fingers tightened around his ornate walking cane. "This is how you have been spending your time? While the other nobles expand their influence, my daughter digs in the dirt like a common gardener."

  He swept the cane across the workbench. Glass vials shattered, spilling earth samples that Lucia had spent weeks collecting and cataloging.

  "Useless," he pronounced, watching the soil scatter across the floor. "All of this. Playing with soil while our family falls further behind the great houses."

  Lucia stood frozen as months of research scattered at her feet. A single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek.

  Lord Thornwald's expression didn't change. He turned back to Lucia. "Your presence is required at the manor tonight. This is not optional."

  "Father, please. I’m close to a breakthrough—"

  "The Gallantine family arrives from Ironhaven this evening. Their son Markus has expressed interest in meeting you again. The shipping routes through Ironhaven could secure our family's future, Lucia. These connections matter, especially now."

  "You have one hour to make yourself presentable," Lord Thornwald said. He gestured to one of the guards. "Escort her to the manor when she's ready." With that, he turned around and headed to the entrance.

  "Father, please," Lucia rushed forward, her fingers desperately clutching at the embroidered edge of his robes. "I don't want to. Not now. Not yet. My work here is too important."

  "Enough!" Lord Thornwald's shout rattled the glass vials on their shelves. He violently wrenched away from her grip, as if her touch sullied him. His face flushed with anger. "I gave you everything you ever wanted. Your education, this building, your ridiculous experiments—all paid for with my coin. And what good has come of it? Nothing. Absolutely, nothing at all."

  His gaze swept contemptuously across the laboratory. "Your little potion game was an utter waste of time. You're an embarrassment to our name. The least of the Thornwalds."

  The guards at the door shifted uncomfortably, their eyes firmly on the floor, unwilling to witness this family's fracturing.

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  Lucia's hands curled into fists at her sides. She inhaled sharply, struggling to maintain composure before finally stepping forward, looking directly into her father’s eyes despite her trembling lips. "That's not true!" she shouted, her voice rising to match her father's. "I will find it. I swear it. A cure to the stone curse. I will save this town when your gold and your connections can't!"

  She stepped forward, looking directly into her father’s eye despite her trembling lips. "I will bring mother back!"

  Lord Thornwald's mask of contempt faltered for a heartbeat. Something shifted in his expression. His mouth tightened, then his face flushed red.

  "Silence!" he roared, swinging his ornate cane towards Lucia's face.

  The movement activated Clive's [Artist's Eyes]. He lunged forward, positioning himself between father and daughter.

  The cane connected with brutal force against his temple. A sickening crack echoed through the room, followed by stunned silence.

  Clive didn't stagger. He didn't flinch. He stood immobile as blood oozed down the contour of his face. His eyes remained locked with Lord Thornwald's, unblinking and unwavering.

  Lord Thornwald took a step back, his grip loosening on the cane. "And who are you?" he demanded, attempting to recover his composure.

  "It's not my place to meddle in your family affairs, my lord. But there comes a time when a man must intervene. And that is when the dreams of his friends are being trampled on.”

  Blood continued to stream from the gash, but Clive remained still. The wound should have hurt, yet he showed no sign of pain, only absolute certainty.

  "Absurd," Lord Thornwald muttered, but his voice had lost its commanding edge. The uncertainty in his eyes hardened back into cold authority as he turned to Lucia. "I will see you tonight. Dressed appropriately. This is not a request."

  He straightened his tailcoat with a sharp tug, and with a dismissive glance at Clive's bleeding temple, he strode from the room. His guards fell in behind him. Only one guard remained, standing awkwardly by the door

  When the echoing footsteps faded into silence, Lucia slid down against the cold laboratory wall until she reached the floor, drawing her knees tight against her chest. The proud defiance that had animated her moments ago evaporated, leaving behind a vulnerable young woman.

  Her first sob was silent. The second broke through her control, and then the tears came freely.

  Clive sat beside her, leaving enough space that his presence wouldn't feel invasive. The stone floor was cold and uncomfortable beneath him, but he endured it.

  He withdrew a simple handkerchief, offering it silently to Lucia. In times like this, he knew not to offer hollow reassurances or platitudes. His experience with Jill had taught him that sometimes, the greatest gift was a solitude that asked for nothing in return.

  After a long while, Lucia's breathing steadied. She wiped her eyes with the borrowed handkerchief. "I'm sorry you had to witness that," she said to Clive.

  "No apology needed," Clive replied. "Family is... complicated."

  "My father is such a typical noble. He only sees value in what can be measured in gold or status. Potions, art, these mean nothing to him unless they can be leveraged for profit or position."

  "And this... gathering?" Clive asked.

  Lucia grimaced. "Another marriage prospect disguised as a business meeting. Markus Gallantine is the heir to Ironhaven's largest shipyard. My father has been trying to arrange a match for years." She slammed a nearby mortar and pestle down forcefully. "As if I'm just another commodity to be traded."

  "What will you do?" he asked.

  Lucia paused. "Go, I suppose. Smile and curtsy and pretend to be the dutiful daughter." She sighed. "What choice do I have? In the end, I am the eldest daughter of the Thornwald family. It is my duty.”

  “Even after the way he treated you?”

  "Don't judge him too harshly, Clive." She reached for a cloth and dampened it in a basin, then approached and gently pressed it to his bleeding temple. "Despite his protestations, he has supported my endeavors all these years. Financially, at least."

  "I think deep inside, he does care... in his own flawed way." Lucia's voice softened as she looked toward the window. "He used to be different, you know. More understanding."

  Her fingers absently traced the rim of an empty vial. "But after the curse claimed my mother, something broke in him. I watched him kneel beside her stone form for three days, refusing food or sleep, just... whispering to her as though she might still hear." She swallowed hard. "When he finally stood, it was like his heart turned to stone."

  “And after that, he had to watch as three trading partners abandoned Marblehaven. I don’t blame him. The Gallantines represent perhaps our last chance at maintaining the shipping routes that have sustained our family for generations."

  The guard by the door cleared his throat uncomfortably.

  "You should get ready, my lady," he said softly. "I can escort you through the back streets to avoid... attention."

  Lucia pushed herself up from the floor, brushing dust from her skirt. "Thank you, Tomas."

  She looked at the scattered soil samples, then at Clive's bloodied temple. “Clive, when I’m back, let's find it, shall we? The cure to the devil’s curse."

  Clive studied her face. The tears were gone, replaced by determination. "There’s a cure?"

  Lucia nodded. "My father thinks I'm playing with dirt." She picked up one of the unbroken vials, holding it up to the light. "Let's prove him wrong."

  There is a difference between paying for someone's dreams and believing in them—the first costs only money, the second demands faith. In my army, only the faithful shall serve.

  -From the Personal Letters of Grand General Louis