Once the children had fallen quiet—at least outwardly—the mood shifted.
Lady Fontaine was the first to speak, folding her hands elegantly across her lap. "It's been far too long, Lelyah. Though your estate remains as sharp as ever."
Lelyah smiled faintly. "Only because it needs to be."
Lady Albrecht chuckled once, her tone low and dry. "That's not flattery—it's survival. You've always known the cost better than most."
"It's still a cost," Lelyah replied, her eyes never leaving theirs. "But we don't bend. Not here."
"Nor do we," Lady Fontaine agreed. "Which is why we've come."
There was no fanfare in that sentence. No pretense. Just truth spoken plainly between women who didn't need to posture.
Lelyah didn't nod. She didn't have to.
"This generation will face more than inheritance," Lady Albrecht said, glancing briefly toward Edric. "They will face legacy. The difference is subtle, but sharp."
"And not everyone is ready for it," Lelyah murmured. Her tone wasn't judgmental. Just firm.
Lady Fontaine leaned forward just slightly, like a hawk preparing to glide. "We're not here to barter, Lelyah. We're here because there are only three Houses left in this region we trust."
"And because you heard the rumors," Lelyah said coolly. "About my daughter."
A beat of silence.
Celeste blinked, eyes flicking toward her mother.
Edric stiffened, just slightly.
[Notice: Social atmosphere shift. Tone: Guarded.]
Lady Albrecht met Lelyah's gaze without flinching. "We did."
"And?" Lelyah asked.
Lady Fontaine exhaled softly. "And we're still here."
A long moment passed.
Then Lady Fontaine added, "I've seen how power changes a child. I've also seen how it reveals who they already are. The question we've always asked ourselves is whether we're building heirs… or weapons."
Lady Albrecht nodded. "And we're tired of building them alone."
Lelyah finally relaxed—not entirely, but enough to shift her weight back in her seat.
"The Tomaszewski name hasn't always made for easy alliances," she said. "But Chiori is not her father."
"Nor is she her mother," Lady Albrecht added, her eyes narrowing. "She is herself. And that's rare enough."
"I'd like to see how she carries that," Lady Fontaine said softly.
Lelyah tilted her head. "Then you'll stay a few days?"
"Three," Lady Fontaine confirmed. "We'll observe. Speak. Let the heirs interact naturally."
"We brought no contracts," Lady Albrecht added. "Only intentions."
"And witnesses," Lelyah said quietly.
Lady Fontaine smirked. "Always."
[Analysis: Strategic trust test underway. Alliances contingent on heir behavior and perceived control.]
I didn't speak.
Before anyone could speak further—before the tension could crystallize into expectation—
The great doors of the hall slammed open.
A gust of wind curled through the chamber, catching loose banners and sleeves alike.
"I hope I'm not late."
The voice was smooth. Dry. Laced with irony and absolute control.
Hinata Saegusa stepped through the threshold like he owned the room.
Because he did.
Flanked by two silent retainers, the Feudal Lord of the region carried no formal regalia—just the unmistakable air of someone who knew precisely where power sat and wasn't afraid to remind others.
And trailing two steps behind him, looking like he'd run to keep up but refused to show it—
Asmodeus.
He smoothed his cloak, trying to look dignified and failing spectacularly.
Lady Fontaine stood first. "Lord Saegusa."
Lady Albrecht followed with a bow of her head. "Your timing is as punctual as ever."
"Coincidences are often fate in drag," Hinata replied. His gaze swept the room—pausing on Chiori longer than she expected—then moving to the three noblewomen.
He didn't bow. He nodded.
It meant more.
"My apologies for the door," he added lazily, "but I heard something about heirs being measured and I thought—well, what's a political summit without the occasional feudal interruption?"
Lelyah arched a brow, but her expression didn't shift. "You're not exactly subtle."
"I never claimed to be," Hinata said.
He took his place near the Tomaszewski side of the chamber without invitation.
Asmodeus, meanwhile, beamed as he plopped down beside me again—utterly unbothered by the stares.
"You look terrifying," he whispered.
"You're late," I muttered.
"Worth it."
[Observation: Power dynamic shift. Feudal ally present. Hostile political intent unlikely within current context.]
Lady Fontaine cleared her throat. "I take it this means House Saegusa is still aligned with Tomaszewski?"
Hinata's eyes glinted. "It never wasn't."
The tension in the room cracked—but didn't break.
Lady Albrecht leaned back slightly, thoughtful.
Lady Fontaine nodded, once. "Then we proceed."
Hinata smirked faintly. "Good. I'd hate to waste an entrance."
With Hinata present, the tone became sharper. Focused. No longer just cordial introductions between allies, but the measured tension of nobles adjusting for a new piece on the board.
Lady Fontaine folded her hands, eyes flicking from Lelyah to Hinata. "The Tomaszewski name has always been one we supported, even when others faltered. But recent... circumstances have changed the climate."
Lelyah's voice was even. "If you're referring to the incident involving my daughter's collapse, it's been handled."
Lady Albrecht leaned forward, her voice smooth. "The fact that it occurred at all is what raises concern. Power surfacing that early... even in children born with noble bloodlines, it's rare."
My hands tensed slightly against the armrest. Revy's presence beside me didn't waver—silent, ready.
Hinata raised a brow. "So you're here to probe, not question?"
Lady Fontaine smiled politely. "We're here to confirm alignment."
Lady Albrecht added, "To see if the heir is someone worth standing behind. Or someone who might crumble beneath the weight of what she's expected to carry."
They weren't being cruel.
They were being cautious.
Deliberate.
I inhaled slowly, keeping my face neutral.
Lelyah didn't waver. "She's a Summoner. Aligned with Earth magic. Her form manifested early, yes—but it's stabilized. Her restraint is proven."
Lady Fontaine's eyes flicked to me again. "Power means very little without the will to wield it."
Hinata chuckled dryly. "What you mean is: you're hoping she's strong enough to be valuable, but not strong enough to become inconvenient."
Neither Lady denied it.
That silence was answer enough.
Across the hall, Lady Albrecht folded her arms. "We've supported House Tomaszewski before. We remember what came of that. And we survived."
The statement hung there—half history, half warning.
Lelyah's tone dropped a degree colder. "You survived because you were never our enemy."
Lady Albrecht smiled. "Let's keep it that way."
Then, Lady Fontaine leaned back, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. "Then let us speak plainly. We're not here to unravel the past. We came to see the present. The heir. As she is."
Lelyah turned to me. Just slightly.
And all eyes followed.
[Notice: Social spotlight detected]
I met her gaze.
Calm. Unmoving.
I let the silence stretch.
Just enough.
Just long enough to remind them I wasn't here to dance for them.
Then I rose.
Not abruptly. Not timidly.
Deliberately.
I kept my shoulders even. Chin steady. The mantle shimmered faintly with every movement, catching the light in quiet defiance.
"I'm not here to prove a bloodline, or defend a rumor. I'm here because this house still stands. Because my mother chose to rebuild it, not let it rot in silence."
My eyes found Lady Fontaine. Then Lady Albrecht.
"I don't need validation to exist. I don't need approval to grow. And I won't apologize for being watched."
A pause.
"I was born into a legacy. But I'm not repeating it."
Another pause.
Then, slowly, I added, "And if the world is waiting to see what kind of heir I become…"
I let the words hang in the air, not sharp—just heavy.
"…Then let them keep waiting. I'm not done becoming her yet."
[Notice: External mana threads fluctuating. Multiple heart rates elevated. Political impression score: High.]
Lady Fontaine's eyes narrowed—thoughtfully.
Lady Albrecht leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled, but not unkind.
Lelyah didn't speak.
She didn't have to.
She just watched me.
Proud.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then—
"Whoa," Asmodeus muttered under his breath. "Okay, dramatic monologue girl. I see you."
I shot him a sideways glance, but his grin was anything but mocking. He was proud. Maybe even a little smug that he got to say he knew me first.
Celeste tilted her head thoughtfully. "You don't talk like a kid at all."
Her ears twitched slightly, golden eyes narrowing in something closer to curiosity than suspicion.
"You talk like someone with a secret," she added.
"Or a sword," Edric said.
He hadn't spoken much before now—quiet, calculating. His posture was disciplined, far more so than most seven-year-olds. But now, his sharp green gaze met mine.
"You didn't flinch once," he added. "Even when they questioned your name."
I didn't answer.
Not because I was rattled.
But because I didn't have to.
They weren't testing me to challenge me.
They were measuring me because they understood what the adults in the room already knew—
The room had shifted.
Not around power.
But around presence.
Celeste stepped forward slightly, her silver-tipped tails swaying in interest. "You're not really just Earth-aligned, are you?"
My eyes flicked to her—calm, unreadable.
"I'm a Tomaszewski," I said simply.
Asmodeus snorted into his sleeve.
"That's her 'shut up and stop digging' voice," he told Celeste with a smirk.
"I like it," she replied. "It makes things more interesting."
Edric's gaze didn't leave me. "I'd like to spar with you sometime."
It wasn't said as a challenge.
More like an offer.
A recognition.
[Notice: Peer-level alignment shift detected. Tactical interest: Moderate. Social threat: Low. Recommended action: Maintain neutral posture.]
"Maybe," I said, shrugging just slightly. "If you can keep up."
Asmodeus grinned again. "Oooooh, burn."
Celeste laughed softly.
Edric smiled—not insulted, but intrigued.
And just like that, the heirs weren't strangers anymore.
They were contenders.
Lady Fontaine arched a brow, ears twitching ever so slightly as she folded her hands once more.
"Well," she murmured, "that's certainly not the response of a girl who hides behind her House name."
Her tone was approving—but edged. She hadn't missed a word.
Lady Albrecht let out a low, amused exhale. "Confident. Controlled. And not afraid to return pressure in kind." Her gaze lingered on me. "Tomaszewski or not, you have your own spine."
She didn't smile.
But she didn't need to.
Lelyah, standing with that quiet composure only she could weaponize, offered a single nod. Her voice was smooth as silk drawn tight.
"She's not trained to bow."
"She's trained to survive," Hinata said simply, arms folded from his place near the edge of the room. His arrival had shifted the tone earlier, but now he sounded... neutral. Observing. Calculating.
He looked between the children with sharp, unreadable eyes.
"The four heirs," he added. "All bright. All watching each other more than they realize."
He tilted his head slightly toward Asmodeus. "Even the loud one."
Asmodeus stuck his tongue out, unfazed. "You're just mad I'm cooler than you were at my age."
Hinata's expression didn't shift. "You're lucky I'm patient in public."
Lady Fontaine sighed gently. "The heirs are strong. Stronger than I expected."
Lady Albrecht added, "But strength must be guided."
Hinata gave a noncommittal shrug. "Guidance is a fragile word when ambition is in the room."
The air turned heavier, but not hostile.
Just... sharper. As if every word had an echo waiting in the wings.
Then Lady Fontaine glanced at Celeste—who straightened slightly, her tails swaying with contained energy. Lady Albrecht nodded toward Edric, who mirrored her posture with dutiful precision.
"We've seen what we needed to," Lady Fontaine said, voice level.
"But we'll be watching what comes next," Albrecht followed, eyes cool.
Lelyah's voice cut through like tempered steel. "Then watch closely."
The hall slowly emptied, the heavy air trailing behind the departing nobles like smoke from an extinguished flame. Revy gave me a knowing glance before stepping back to give us space.
I didn't move until Hinata nodded toward the far door.
"This way. You've earned a breath," he said.
The room he led us to was quiet and spare—no grand furniture, no ceremony. Just a long table, two wide chairs, and a small alcove of tea already prepared. It was the kind of space people used when they wanted truth without the velvet trappings.
Lelyah took one of the chairs. Asmodeus flopped into another without asking. I stayed standing, only moving when Hinata nudged me gently toward the edge of the table.
"You held your own," he said, eyes sharp but not unkind.
"They were measuring me," I replied.
"And you didn't flinch." He turned his gaze to Lelyah. "Your heir understands tempo. Most adults can't say the same."
"She's not most," Lelyah said. Her voice was tired, but proud.
Asmodeus popped a small sweet into his mouth, chewing loudly enough to cut through the tension. "You should've seen their faces. They didn't expect her to speak. Let alone speak like that."
I gave him a look. "You looked like you were holding back laughter."
"I was. Your delivery was so sharp, I think one of them almost dropped their fan."
Hinata chuckled. "You didn't just answer them. You unsettled them."
Lelyah leaned forward. "But unsettling them is not the same as winning them."
"I know," I said quietly. "But I didn't want to give them nothing."
For a moment, no one said anything.
Then Hinata stood, crossing his arms. "Do you know what I saw back there, Chiori?"
I met his gaze.
"A girl not asking for the spotlight but refusing to shrink from it. That's the kind of heir people remember."
He turned away as if that closed the matter.
Asmodeus looked sideways at me. "...You okay?"
"Not really," I muttered.
"Good," he said. "Means you're still human."
That, somehow, made me feel better.
Lelyah stood, brushing down the folds of her robe. "This isn't over. They'll test you again."
"I know."
"But now they'll hesitate before underestimating you," Hinata added.
Asmodeus grinned. "Let them. Makes it more fun."
I exhaled slowly, tension starting to ease out of my shoulders. Just a little.
Just as the silence began to settle, Hinata glanced over his shoulder—too casually.
"You know," he said, "I've been patient. I didn't ask when I arrived. I didn't ask during the exchange. But now that we're alone…"
His gaze sharpened.
"Is no one going to bring up the fact that Satoshi tried to kill his own daughter?"
The room stilled again. Completely.