The morning sun at the Valerius estate did not struggle to enter the windows as it did in the Minister's dusty library. Here, the light poured into the grand dining hall like liquid gold, reflecting off the polished armor of the ancestors' statues that lined the walls.
In House Valerius, there was an unwritten rule: No matter how busy everyone was, the family has at least one meal together.
When Lucius entered the hall, the heavy oak doors groaning on their hinges, the room was already filled with the clinking of silver and the smell of fresh bread. His mother, Lady Marcella, sat at the head of the table. Her eyes were sharp—she could spot a lie or a hidden emotion from a mile away.
"You look like a man who hasn't slept, but is somehow very satisfied," Marcella said, a small smile playing on her lips. "How was your meeting yesterday? I hear you stayed quite late."
