Within the ancestral estate of Duke Arthal Von Magnus:
Bang!
Marquis Hogarth, a man with a face like a hatchet and eyes of flint, slammed his fist onto the mahogany table.
Beside him, Duke Alfred sat calmly in a velvet chair, but his silence far more terrifying than the Marquis's rage.
Both men had spent the morning looking at the medical reports of their sons.
Shattered kneecaps, internal hemorrhaging, and a trauma so deep that Marcus and Alfred had woken up screaming at the mere sight of a violet robe.
"That bastard!" Hogarth roared, "A low-born, illegitimate stain from the Kingsbane gutter has crippled my heir! This is not just a schoolyard scuffle, Duke. This is an act of war against our bloodlines."
Duke Alfred narrowed his eyes coldly.
"The Royal Academy has long enjoyed its autonomy, but it exists because we allow it to. If the Dean thinks he can shield a common-blooded dog after such an atrocity, he is mistaken."
