Surviving A Novel I Don't Remember: A Tutor's Guide To Staying Alive

In the past, when the Marquisette had refused to accept the child into their household, the Marquis had refused to listen since he knew it was just his wife being mad at his affair and jealous at the same time. But he felt it would work out and took the child in.

But as a way to atone for his affair, he did not meddle in the things they did to Julian. He knew how cruel they were to him, but turned a blind eye.

He felt that just taking him into their household and giving him his last name was already a good grace. But now he regrets it.

"This is why you should’ve never taken him in. He should’ve stayed with his mother and starved alongside her."

The marquis was thinking of that too. If he hadn’t taken in his illegitimate son, this ill fate would have never befell his son. That wicked and conniving child... He felt spiteful and wished he could undo his mistake. The mistake of feeling a shred of pity for the child his commoner lover had shamelessly brought to his doorstep.

"I will take care of this," he said and turned to leave.

He said he would take care of it, but how? Who would support him in the fight against the Grand Duke of the North? No one would want to make an enemy out of such a force.

The study, once a wreckage of splintered wood and broken glass, had been cleared of the most obvious signs of violence.

The Marquis sat at his desk, his hands still trembling as he stared at the empty space where his door used to be. The twins stood by the hearth, their faces reflecting the flickering orange light of the fire, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and newfound spite.

"He thinks he can just... walk in here," Castor muttered, kicking at a stray splinter of wood. "He thinks he’s the King of the North in the middle of the Capital. We’ll show him."

The Marquis didn’t answer. He was staring at the bruise on his own palm where he’d gripped his son’s hand while the bone was being forced back into place. His mind was a toxic loop of Alaric’s growl and Julian’s silent defiance.

He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand that he could not do anything, even with the power he possessed, simply because his opponent was the Duke of the North.

Should he go back to the Emperor and report this? He wondered, but felt it might be a bad idea.

Everyone knows how fond the Emperor was of his brother. So there was no way he would do something to harm his own brother’s reputation.

Or so he thought.

He had no idea that the Emperor was a madman of a different breed, and he would do anything to get what want as well as get rid of what bothers him.

A sharp, rhythmic knock sounded against the door frame of the study.

The Marquis flinched, his heart leaping into his throat. The terror still lingering in his heart made him half-expect the Duke to have come back to finish the job. But as he looked up, he saw the crisp, golden livery of an Imperial Messenger.

The man stood with a neutral, almost bored expression, holding a thick envelope sealed with the crimson wax of the Emperor’s private signet.

The messenger didn’t ask why the study door was missing, and didn’t ask about the muffled groans from one of the rooms as he made his way here. He simply stepped forward and placed the letter on the desk.

"From His Imperial Majesty," the messenger said, bowing just enough to be polite before turning on his heel and heading back the way he came.

"From... the Emperor." The Marquis could not believe his ear but he quickly reached for the letter, his fingers fumbling with the seal.

It was definitely from the Emperor.

He gulped.

Had he already heard about the bruise he left on his nephew’s shoulder? Or that he had failed his mission?

But it wasn’t his fault. His children were there, and there was no way he could disobey the prince and princess.

He felt weary, worried, and his sons watched him with no proper understanding of the situation.

"Father, aren’t you going to open it?" they asked, and he nodded.

The Marquis expected a reprimand—a warning of sorts, but instead, it was an invitation?

His eyes moved across the sharp, elegant script, his breathing slowed as a cold, dark clarity settled over him.

"To Our Loyal Marquis Astrea,

Reports of the ’unfortunate encounter’ at your estate have reached Our ears. It is truly distressing to hear that a father’s natural concern for his son was met with such... brutality. To have your heir maimed within your own walls is an affront We cannot ignore.

The Grand Duke’s temper has clearly made it clear that he lacks benevolence when dealing with matters of his household, and We fear your son may be dragged into his moodswings during his stay there. It is Our wish that Julian be returned to a ’stable’ environment as soon as the proper legalities are met. We shall speak soon of how to rectify this ’kidnapping’ by the North.

The Sun does not forget his loyal subject."

The Marquis let out a long, shuddering breath. The Emperor wasn’t angry; instead, he was feeding the fire.

"This is great," the Marquis whispered, his voice gaining a sudden, jagged edge. "The Emperor knew exactly what the Duke did and does not plan to let that beast loose for long. And it seems I have given him a reason to chain him."

He looked at his twins, a grotesque, thin smile spreading across his face.

"Father?" the more daring twin asked, looking at the letter. "What does the Sun want?"

"He wants me to bring your brother back," the Marquis hissed, the name Julian sounding like a curse.

"But why? They were not happy with this setting.

"It’s actually a good thing. The Duke is in trouble for what he did."

He stood up, the pain in his hip forgotten, and a new light shone in his eyes.

"As for that useless, ungrateful brat," the Marquis spat, his eyes gleaming with a fresh, venomous intent. "He thinks he’s found a savior. He doesn’t realize he’s just the bait the Emperor is using to trap a wolf. And when Julian is back under this roof... I will make sure he pays for every second of this humiliation and is inflicted with far more pain than what happened to his brother today. I will break him until there is nothing left for the Duke to recognize."

"I heard he’s a cripple now," Pollux sneered. "We might as well take out his second leg."

He laughed, and Castor laughed as well, as they began plotting despicably.

"That’s great. He thinks he’s something just because the Duke favors him for now. Just wait until he gets back under this roof. We’ll definitely teach him a lesson."

The Marquis looked at the twins, feeling as if the deed had already been done and Julian had begun to suffer.

"Prepare the carriage for tomorrow morning. I am going to the Palace. If the Emperor wants a ’distressed father’ to play the victim, I will give him a performance that will strip the North of its titles."