The walk to the Duke's study was longer than Vane expected. The hallways of the Sol estate were not just corridors but galleries of power. Every twenty paces, Vane noticed a knight stationed in a recessed alcove. These were not the academy guards who spent their days breaking up student squabbles. These men were Sentinels and Sentries. Their mana was disciplined and tucked tightly into their marrow, but their focus was absolute. They did not blink as he passed. They stood like statues of iron and gold, their presence a reminder that this house was a fortress before it was a home.

Valerica walked with a rigid, practiced gait. Her violet hair caught the light of the mana-sconces as she moved. She did not look at the guards. To her, they were part of the furniture, but Vane could feel her pulse through the slight vibration in the floor. She was on edge. He could tell by the way her shoulders remained square, never dipping even an inch.

They reached a pair of dark wood doors that looked old enough to have seen the founding of the capital. The attendant who had summoned them bowed and stepped aside. He did not say a word. He simply gestured for them to enter.

The Duke's study was a room defined by weight. It was not just the obsidian desk or the thousands of leather-bound volumes lining the walls. It was the man himself. Duke Alistair Sol was standing by a massive window that looked out over the jagged peaks of the Ignis Range. Even from behind, his presence was overwhelming. It was the quiet, crushing gravity of a Rank 8 Grandmaster.

"Sit," Alistair said. His voice was not loud, but it had a resonant quality that seemed to hum in Vane's very bones.

They sat in two high-backed chairs across from the desk. Vane kept his posture relaxed but alert. He was not intimidated by the rank, but he was curious. He had seen the Duke at the Gala, a man surrounded by the chaos of Imperial politics. Here, he looked like the mountain itself.

The Duke turned around. His eyes were a sharp, metallic yellow that contrasted with the violet eyes of his daughter. He sat down and looked at Vane. It was a long, silent evaluation. He was not looking for a reason to insult him. He was looking for the reality of the boy who had caused so much noise in the capital.

"Rank 3," Alistair said finally. "And you reached it in Oakhaven. Without a tutor. Without a legacy. And certainly without the refined catalysts the academy provides."

"I used what was available," Vane replied.

"What was available in Oakhaven was filth and stagnation," Alistair said. He leaned forward, his hands clasped on the obsidian surface. "To reach the peak of Rank 3 in those conditions is not just motivation. It is a biological anomaly. It means your soul possesses a density that should not exist in a commoner. You are a genius, Vane. Even the Emperor's advisors have noted the speed of your climb."

Vane did not smile. He knew that in this room, praise was just another way of measuring a tool. "I am simply trying to reach the next step, Your Grace."

"The next step is the Sentinel rank," Alistair said. "Most geniuses fail there because they lack the discipline to stabilize the crystallization. They think their talent will carry them through the Gate. It will not. In this house, talent is the bare minimum. I expect you to be more than a curiosity. I expect you to be a benchmark for my daughter."

He turned his gaze to Valerica. "You brought him here to push you. I expect to see the results by the end of the break. Get out. We will speak at dinner."

The dismissal was surgical. Valerica stood up and gestured for Vane to follow. They walked out of the study and into the cooler air of the hallway. Vane noticed Valerica's hands were steady, but her eyes were bright with a silent, simmering frustration.

"He does not believe in wasting breath on pleasantries," she said as they walked toward the guest wing.

"He is observant," Vane noted. "He did not look at my clothes or my manners. He looked at my mana channels. Most people at the academy still do not realize how close I am to the Gate."

Valerica stopped in front of a heavy door in the west wing. "That is because my father does not see people. He sees potentials and liabilities. This is your room."

The guest suite was a masterpiece of luxury that felt entirely too quiet. The bed was draped in dark velvet, and the furniture was carved from a deep, fragrant cedar. A group of three maids stood by the window, bowing low as they entered.

"This is Elena, Mara, and Sara," Valerica said. "They are assigned to you. Anything you need, from laundry to specialized meals, you tell them."

Vane looked at the girls. They were young, and unlike the knights, their mana was suppressed to the point of being nearly invisible. They did not look up. They stood with a fearful, practiced submissiveness that made Vane's stomach turn.

"I can handle my own gear, Valerica," Vane said.

"Not here you cannot," she replied, stepping into the room. She started pointing at the various cabinets. "Put your training leathers here. Your formal wear there. Elena, go to the kitchens and inform the chef that Master Vane requires the high-protein intake of a combat mage. Do not deviate from the list."

The maid hurried away, and the other two began unpacking Vane's single, rugged pack. Valerica helped him sort through his practice spear and the resonance crystal Isole had given him. Her movements were fluid and comfortable. She moved through the room with a familiarity that suggested she had spent much of her childhood hiding in these guest wings.

"You are surprisingly good at organizing a room," Vane said, watching her.

"I have lived in this house my whole life, Vane," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper so the maids would not hear. "I know how to navigate the cracks. Just stay close to me when we are in the main halls. The knights here are loyal to the Duke first. They do not care about student rankings."

Vane walked to the window. From here, he could see the entire valley. It was a stunning view, but it felt like looking out from a cage. "Everyone is scared of him, Valerica. I saw the way the Duchess looked at the study door."

"They are not scared of the man," she said, coming to stand beside him. "They are scared of the Sun. In this house, if he stops shining on you, you stop existing. It is that simple."

Dinner was an exercise in suffocating elegance. The dining hall was a cavern of white stone, illuminated by a chandelier of floating sun-crystals. Alistair sat at the head of the long table. The Duchess, her violet eyes fixed on her plate, sat to his right.

The twins, Leo and Mia, sat across from Vane and Valerica. They were five years old, but they did not act like children. They did not fidget. They did not whisper. They ate with a mechanical precision that was heartbreaking. When Leo's sleeve accidentally brushed a water glass, the sound of the glass sliding an inch was enough to make the boy flinch. He cast a terrified glance toward his father, his face going pale.

The Duke did not look up. He did not have to. The mere possibility of his attention was enough to maintain an absolute, frozen order.

"The training hall is prepared," Alistair said, his voice breaking the silence like a hammer on ice. "Valerica, you will begin at dawn. Vane, you are expected to maintain the pace. I have seen many geniuses from the slums reach Rank 3. They hit a wall because their souls lack the density to handle the crystallization. They become stagnant. I want to see if Oakhaven produced a Sentinel or just a very fast runner."

"I will be there," Vane said. He was watching the Duchess, who had spent the entire meal trying to catch Valerica's eye. When she finally did, a look of profound, silent relief passed between them. It was a mother's love, hidden behind a wall of noble decorum. Vane felt a surge of respect for the woman. She was maintaining a home in the middle of a storm.

The meal ended as abruptly as it had begun. Alistair stood up, and the entire room stood with him as if pulled by a single string. He turned and walked away without a word. As soon as the doors closed behind him, the Duchess let out a long, shuddering breath. She rushed around the table and pulled Leo and Mia into a sudden, fierce hug.

"Go to the nursery, darlings," she whispered. "Go on. I will be there in a moment."

The twins hurried away, and the Duchess turned to Valerica, her face a mask of exhaustion and love. "He is in a difficult mood tonight. Please, Valerica, be careful in the hall tomorrow. He has adjusted the gravity wards."

"I know, Mother," Valerica said, touching the woman's hand. "I have Vane. We will be fine."

Vane watched them, feeling the weight of the family's dynamic. He saw the power of the Sol lineage, but he also saw the cost. As he walked back to his room, he looked out at the lights of the capital in the distance. He was in the lion's den now. He was a guest of the Sun, but he was still a wolf from the slums.

He had just reached his room when a soft knock sounded at the door. One of the older attendants stood there, bowing low.

"Master Vane, Lady Valerica," the man said. "The Duke has requested your presence in the private sparring garden. He wishes to speak with you both immediately."

Valerica looked at Vane, her violet eyes narrowing. The peace of the evening was over.

"He does not wait for dawn," Vane said.

"No," Valerica replied, her voice hardening. "He never does."

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