Alaric didn't return to the Academy right away.
Instead, he stayed in the Veyron manor.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he had to.
The Royal Decree had already been delivered. His name was now written into law—Acting Head of House Veyron.
The estate was his.
The servants bowed when he passed. The guards watched him with uneasy eyes. And the halls he used to walk as a silent child were now his to command.
It didn't feel like victory.
It felt like cleaning up a battlefield that hadn't stopped bleeding.
---
The manor was quiet now.
Most of the guests had gone. The nobles who once called themselves family had vanished like smoke. Only a few remained, tucked away in back rooms, waiting to see what kind of leader Alaric would be.
He didn't care about ceremony.
He walked the halls without escort, without fanfare.
Every step echoed a little too loud.
Every corridor remembered what happened.
---
He paused outside the chamber that used to belong to Vestra.
