Chapter 118: Why Him?

Chapter 118: Chapter 118: Why Him?

The question lingered in the room.

"Then tell me about Cassian."

The Emperor’s gaze remained fixed upon the city beyond the window.

The Duke studied him for a moment.

Carefully.

Because this was not a simple question.

Nor was it the question the Emperor had actually asked.

Not really.

After a long silence, Duke Valmort spoke.

"What would Your Majesty like to know?"

The Emperor’s reflection stared back from the glass.

Older.

Thoughtful.

Tired.

After a moment, he answered.

"Why him?"

The Duke said nothing.

The Emperor finally turned.

Their eyes met.

"Of all people."

The question was calm.

Measured.

But beneath it lay something deeper.

Not anger.

Not confusion.

Something closer to genuine curiosity.

"Why Cassian?"

The room fell silent.

The Duke considered the question.

Not because he lacked an answer.

Because he lacked a complete one.

And pretending otherwise would be dishonest.

Finally, he exhaled.

"I don’t know."

The Emperor’s eyebrow rose.

The Duke smiled faintly.

Without humor.

"Not completely."

The Emperor waited.

The Duke appreciated that.

Most people rushed to fill silence.

The Emperor never had.

"I know when he began appearing more often."

The Duke folded his hands behind his back.

"I know when my daughter started speaking about him."

A pause.

"I know when she started smiling differently."

The Emperor remained silent.

Listening.

"I know she is happier."

Another pause.

"I know she chose him."

The Duke’s gaze remained steady.

"But if Your Majesty is asking me why one person falls in love with another..."

He shook his head slightly.

"I’m afraid I cannot answer that."

The Emperor studied him carefully.

The Duke continued.

"I don’t believe love is a court case."

A flicker of amusement appeared in the Emperor’s eyes.

Unexpected.

Brief.

"A court case?"

The Duke nodded.

"Yes."

The Emperor folded his arms.

"Explain."

The Duke’s expression remained thoughtful.

"If love were a matter of evidence, qualifications, or merit..."

His voice softened.

"Adrian would win."

The room grew still.

The Emperor said nothing.

Because he understood immediately.

The Duke continued.

"Your son is intelligent."

True.

"He is capable."

True.

"Handsome."

Also true.

The Emperor almost smiled.

Almost.

"He is respected."

The Duke’s gaze remained calm.

"He will one day inherit an empire."

A silence followed.

Then:

"If love were rational, Adrian would be impossible to compete with."

The words settled heavily between them.

Because they were true.

Painfully true.

The Emperor looked away.

Toward the window.

Toward the city.

Toward the problem he had spent the last three days trying to solve.

The Duke’s voice broke the silence.

"But that isn’t how it works."

No triumph.

No satisfaction.

Only quiet resignation.

The Emperor closed his eyes briefly.

Because he disliked how much he agreed.

Not as Emperor.

As a man.

As a father.

The Duke watched him.

Then continued.

"Your Majesty asked me about Cassian."

The Emperor opened his eyes.

"I did."

The Duke nodded.

And for the first time, a genuine smile touched his face.

Small.

Almost fond.

"He listens."

The Emperor stared at him.

The Duke met his gaze.

Completely serious.

The silence that followed was almost comical.

Finally:

"That is your answer?"

The Duke’s smile widened slightly.

"I warned Your Majesty."

The Emperor shook his head.

Once.

Slowly.

"That hardly seems sufficient."

"No."

The Duke agreed.

"It doesn’t."

A pause.

"Yet it remains true."

The Emperor leaned back against the edge of his desk.

Studying him.

Waiting.

The Duke understood.

The explanation wasn’t finished.

"He listens."

The Duke repeated quietly.

"Not because he has to."

Not because etiquette demanded it.

Not because courtesy required it.

Not because Marian happened to be speaking.

The distinction mattered.

The Duke’s gaze drifted briefly toward the window.

Toward memories.

"When Marian speaks..."

His expression softened.

"Cassian listens as though the rest of the world can wait."

The room fell silent.

The Emperor said nothing.

But something shifted behind his eyes.

Understanding.

Perhaps.

Recognition.

The Duke continued.

"Most people hear her."

A faint smile appeared.

"My daughter makes that difficult to avoid."

The Emperor’s mouth twitched.

Very slightly.

An achievement few men could claim.

The Duke’s smile faded.

"But Cassian pays attention."

The words hung in the air.

Simple.

Almost disappointingly simple.

Yet somehow important.

The Emperor found himself remembering Adrian.

Not the Crown Prince.

The young man who had stood in this very room.

Angry.

Frustrated.

Hurt.

The young man who had said:

Father, look at what they’ve done.

The memory lingered.

Uncomfortable.

The Duke spoke again.

"Your Majesty."

The Emperor looked up.

The Duke’s expression had become serious once more.

"I am not claiming Adrian is a bad man."

The statement arrived immediately.

Without hesitation.

Without reservation.

The Emperor believed him.

"Nor am I claiming Cassian is better."

Another truth.

The Duke folded his hands behind his back.

Carefully.

Measured.

"I am saying only that my daughter loves one of them."

Silence.

The Emperor looked away.

Because that, ultimately, was the entire problem.

Not status.

Not politics.

Not propriety.

Love.

A remarkably inconvenient thing.

The Duke exhaled slowly.

"I suspect that answer is unsatisfactory."

The Emperor laughed.

The sound surprised both of them.

Brief.

Dry.

Without humor.

"Extremely."

The Duke nodded.

"As I feared."

The Emperor moved away from the window.

Slowly.

Thoughtfully.

The room seemed smaller now.

The distance between them shorter.

The conversation more dangerous.

He stopped beside his desk.

Then asked the question he had been avoiding.

The question beneath every other question.

The possibility neither man wished to examine.

His voice was calm.

Measured.

Not threatening.

Merely honest.

"And if I refuse?"

The room went still.

The Duke’s expression did not change.

Not immediately.

For the first time since the audience began, no answer arrived.

No argument.

No prepared response.

Nothing.

Because this was the question.

The nightmare hidden beneath every conversation.

The reason he had requested the audience.

The reason he stood here now.

The Emperor watched him.

Waiting.

The silence stretched.

Long.

Heavy.

Meaningful.

And for the first time since entering the room, Duke Valmort found himself without words.

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Tbc