Lukas was still signing the last authorizations when a low, scornful voice spoke behind him:
— So this is what you call building a legacy, brother?
He slowly lifted his gaze and found Dariam standing there, arms crossed over his chest, eyes as cold as steel.
— Selling recipes? Writing cute letters for common merchants? — Dariam raised an eyebrow. — Maybe that’s all that can be expected from someone too weak to forge a real crest.
Some of the onlookers lowered their heads, uncomfortable. Lukas simply set the quill down on the table.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
— I didn’t ask for your opinion.
— But you’ll hear it anyway. — Dariam gave a half-smile, dripping with venom. — You know why you’re pathetic? Because you actually believe a warm meal and a few pretty words will make people follow you when it’s time to fight.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a whisper.
— I’ve seen soldiers die with full stomachs and empty hearts.
His eyes gleamed with cruelty.
— Maybe if you spent more time learning to wield a sword instead of stirring a pot… you wouldn’t be so useless.
Lukas bit back the urge to respond. Instead, he turned to the scribe beside him and handed over another signed parchment.
— If you’re done with your speech, I have real work to do.
Dariam chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound.
— That’s it… keep playing the generous little master. — He turned to leave. — But remember this, Lukas: when the war comes — and it will come — no one will want recipes from a failure. They’ll want strength. They’ll want blood.
For a moment, Lukas just stood there, feeling the heavy silence Dariam always left behind.
Morgana whispered in his mind: “He barks so loud… must be trying to hide something very small.”
César growled: “He reminds me of certain senators… full of titles, empty of virtue.”
Lukas exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. Someday, he would wipe that smirk off Dariam’s face — one way or another.
End of Chapter 26
