Chapter 29: The Northern Grand Duke
"Hey."
Just as Ilya reached for the door handle, Anastasiya’s voice stopped him.
He turned around, meeting her gaze with his usual blank expression, while Anastasiya remained standing several paces away, her arms crossed as though she had been debating whether or not to call out to him in the first place.
"Yes?"
"...How are your injuries?"
The question left her mouth with noticeable reluctance, almost as though she regretted asking it.
Ilya looked at her for a few seconds before speaking.
"...Are you worried about me, Anastasiya?"
"What?" A faint crease formed between her brows. "Don’t be ridiculous. It’s because of that Distortion—"
"You’re worried I might suffer lasting trauma because a Distortion was also responsible for Mother’s death? That if it affects my performance, it’ll reflect poorly on House Belozersky, and that would only damage our family’s reputation further—"
"Don’t start acting so confident just because Mother happens to be here." Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down. "Did you suddenly grow a spine just because you survived an incident that claimed the lives of people far more capable than you?"
Most siblings would have offered words of comfort after an experience like that. Anastasiya, however, had never been the sort to express concern in ways anyone would readily recognize.
"Mother may smile and indulge you, but don’t mistake that for approval. Even she isn’t pleased with your decision to transfer to the Magic Department. You’re fortunate she’s willing to tolerate all your impulsive decisions, but that’s only because... that’s the kind of person Mother is."
"Anastasiya."
Ilya stepped forward.
Anastasiya straightened unconsciously, but before she could react, Ilya reached out and loosened the knot at her neck, smoothing the fabric as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Your tie is crooked."
"...."
"It’s unlike the heir of House Belozersky to present herself so carelessly."
For a moment, Anastasiya forgot what she had been about to say. Then, without a second thought, she slapped his hand away.
"Don’t touch me."
Her voice regained its usual sharpness as she adjusted her tie herself, as though erasing any trace of what he had just done.
"As I said, your transfer hasn’t been approved yet, so you’d better keep your head down for the time being. Father will be coming from the North soon because of the Crown Prince’s death, and you know better than anyone how much he despises leaving home."
She fixed him with a stern look before continuing.
"If you have any intention of avoiding his displeasure, keep this little ambition of yours to yourself until then."
At those words, Ilya’s eyes gradually widened.
"You..." There was a rare trace of disbelief in his voice. "Are you... actually willing to let me transfer to the Magic Department?"
Anastasiya let out a sigh.
"There were witnesses," she replied. "The de Beaumont girl, among others. She testified that you used magic during the incident."
Her gaze remained fixed on him for a moment before she looked away.
"It seems you weren’t simply talking out of desperation after all."
"Elise... how is she?"
"She survived."
"Ah."
"However, a fallen tree crushed her legs during the incident. Fortunately, the damage wasn’t permanent, so she’s currently undergoing rehabilitation, both physically and mentally."
She paused before looking back at him.
"In any case... you understand what it means if you choose to pursue magic, don’t you?"
There was no need for her to elaborate.
For a son of House Belozersky to abandon the sword in favor of magic was little short of an insult to the family’s bloodline. His father would undoubtedly be furious, and the elders would have even less reason than before to acknowledge his existence.
Ilya, however, found himself strangely unmoved.
His father had long since abandoned him, leaving him to fade into the background of the family, while the elders had always acted as though he didn’t exist at all.
Whether they approved or condemned his decision now made little difference when neither his father nor the elders had ever truly accepted him in the first place.
"It doesn’t matter."
Anastasiya gave a dry, almost humorless laugh.
"That’s so like you."
"But what do you think?"
For a moment, Anastasiya seemed almost caught off guard by the question.
"...I’m surprised you care enough to ask for my opinion."
She crossed her arms and fixed him with a glare.
"I’m not on board with it," she said bluntly. "But judging by that stubborn look on your face, I doubt there’s anything I could say that would stop you."
Her lips curled into a faint, mocking smile.
"So go ahead. Embarrass yourself in an entirely different department if that’s what you’ve decided."
She turned away.
"Just don’t come crying when you discover you no longer have a place left to return to."
* * *
It did not take long, for only three days later, the Belozersky estate fell into complete upheaval as the Northern Grand Duke, Valentin Petrovich Belozersky, finally arrived in the Imperial Capital.
Servants hurried through the halls without pause. Every member of the household understood that even the smallest mistake could invite severe consequences while the master of the North was present.
Naturally, he did not return alone.
Accompanied by the elders of House Belozersky, senior officials of the Northern Grand Duchy, and an entourage befitting one of the Empire’s most powerful rulers, Valentin’s arrival immediately transformed the estate into the center of political attention.
Every corridor was filled with retainers and attendants carrying out orders, while messengers came and went without rest as preparations continued around the clock.
The occasion itself left no room for celebration.
The death of the Crown Prince had shaken the Empire to its very foundation, forcing the rulers of every Grand Duchy to leave their respective dominions and journey to the Imperial Capital to attend the imperial funeral procession and the ceremonies that would follow.
"Father."
"Father."
The moment Valentin Petrovich Belozersky stepped into the reception hall, both Ilya and Anastasiya bowed in greeting.
The room fell silent as every servant and retainer lowered their heads as well, not a single soul daring to meet the Northern Grand Duke’s gaze unless spoken to.
Valentin acknowledged neither of his children immediately.
His cold eyes slowly swept over Anastasiya first before settling on Ilya, lingering for no more than a second before moving away altogether.
Having satisfied himself with the sight before him, he calmly glanced around the hall.
"Where is Mariya?"
Anastasiya was the first to stand.
"Mother is currently meeting with members of her family, Father. They arrived yesterday to attend the Crown Prince’s funeral procession, and she is receiving them at her family’s estate. She should be returning shortly if you wish for me to summon her."
Valentin remained silent for a moment.
"...No. That means she already knows I’ve arrived."
"...Yes."
Anastasiya lowered her head once more.
She understood the nature of their family better than anyone.
"...."
With that, Valentin offered no further comment.
His gaze slowly drifted away from Anastasiya before coming to rest upon Ilya, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. For the first time since entering the room, the Northern Grand Duke studied his youngest child properly.
"...."
After only a moment, his attention returned to Anastasiya.
"Where is my room?"
A nearby maid immediately stepped forward before the young heiress had the chance to answer, lowering herself into a respectful bow.
"Your Grace, if you’ll allow me, I shall esco—"
"I asked my daughter."
"A-Ah... yes..."
The maid hurriedly lowered her head even further, not daring to utter another word.
Anastasiya stepped forward, respectfully gesturing toward the grand staircase.
"Yes, Father. Please follow me. Your chambers have already been prepared, and everything has been arranged according to your usual preferences."
Without waiting for a response, she led the way through the estate, fully aware that Valentin expected nothing less than absolute competence from the heir of House Belozersky.
Only after they had disappeared down the corridor did Ilya slowly rise.
The reception hall gradually regained its composure as the servants resumed their duties.
Amidst the movement, one of the Northern Knights who had accompanied the Grand Duke stepped away before bowing respectfully to Ilya.
"It’s been a long time, Young Lord. You’ve grown remarkably well since the last time I saw you."
"Yes." Ilya returned the greeting with a slight nod. "It’s nothing worth mentioning."
The knight chuckled.
"Nothing worth mentioning?" He looked Ilya up and down with admiration before shaking his head. "Young Lord, you’re already taller and broader than many of the knights currently serving in the North. Give it another few years, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you tower over half the Order."
He crossed his arms with an amused grin.
"When I last saw you, you barely reached my shoulder. Now you’re standing nearly eye to eye with me. And it’s only been three months since we last met. I’ve heard of boys growing quickly at your age, but this... this is something else..."
"Thank you."
A little while later, Ilya left the estate and headed toward Mariya’s family residence.
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