“No, Lady Valerius. My position is absolute. Kaelen, the honor of the Thorne lineage is not a coin to be bartered.” The words hang heavy in the air of the Thornehold grand hall, a pronouncement Kaelen Thorne has repeated until the edges of Elias’s patience fray. After all the venom, all the accusations, all the public shame, this. This unyielding pride. Elias watches Kaelen, incredulity a cold spark in his gut. His father’s face, etched with the granite of old Veridian honor, remains unyielding. Beside him, Lady Adeline, Elias’s stepmother, offers a gaze that gleams with something akin to mockery. Other members of the household, a silent chorus of agreement, nod subtly, their eyes fixed on Elias. A dizzying hum of Aetherium, agitated by the collective scrutiny, pulses at the edge of Elias’s awareness. Each piercing stare feels like a needleprick. His chest tightens, a slow, grinding frustration coiling beneath his ribs. He knows the societal currents of Veridia. Forgoing profit for honor isn’t an unheard-of tradition among the ancient noble houses. But this is not an ordinary situation. *That decision should be tempered by circumstances. How does refusing millions of Veridian Crowns make any strategic sense, given our family’s precarious holdings and dwindling Aetherium reserves?* Elias grinds his teeth, the taste of stale iron in his mouth. Yet, Kaelen’s stance remains firm, rooted in a past era of perceived grandeur. The problem, Elias realizes, extends beyond his father's stubbornness. “Why does he persist?” a servant whispers, a low murmur cutting through the polished silence. “It seems he’s merely lashing out, wounded by the rejection.” The reply, equally hushed, carries a dismissive tone. “Is that worth defying the Baronet’s express wishes?” “The heir has always been… a bit much.” The servants' whispers, a current of criticism, flow directly toward him. They see only a spoiled Thorne, not the man haunted by a thousand grim futures. Seraphina Valerius, her face artfully composed in sham regret, seems to glow with the soft luminescence of victory. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays at the corner of her lips, a testament to a situation perfectly anticipated, perfectly orchestrated. Only then, as these bitter realizations crystallize, does Elias truly understand. He had been too complacent, too naive in his assessment. *I was wrong. To think I could mend this family, this fracturing house, by slowly earning their recognition?* Show a changed demeanor, slowly, over time? *Everyone would be dead by then. The Aetherium Claim Dispute would consume us.* An icy wind seems to blow straight through his chest, a chill that has nothing to do with the Veridian winter outside. Only nine months. Nine months until the Thornehold falls, nine months until the future he has glimpsed in his temporal echoes becomes their grim reality. *Let go of what needs to be released.* His reputation, the family’s antiquated honor codes—these are luxuries he cannot afford. The only thing that truly matters now is to save the Thorne lineage, by any means necessary. For now, he must gain strength, independently, a silent engine of defiance within this crumbling structure. His jaw clenches, a muscle throbbing at his temple. Then, his voice rings out, cutting through the heavy silence, raw Aetherium thrumming beneath each syllable. “Lady Valerius, in that case, I, Elias Thorne, as a party to this broken engagement, make my demand. Regardless of my family’s wishes, I will personally accept the compensation.” The booming resonance of Kaelen Thorne’s disapproval shakes the hall, a tumultuous wave of controlled Aetherium surging behind him, a palpable force pushing against Elias. The raw Aetherium flowing within Elias, though still untamed, responds. It pumps strength throughout his body, straightening knees that had threatened to buckle under the oppressive pressure. His connection to the volatile energies of Veridia is still immature, unstable, a nascent power compared to the seasoned control of the Barons and Archons. Yet, it is his to wield, an intrinsic current that allows him to fend off such crushing, non-physical pressures. He feels the phantom weight of a future, the responsibility of a burden only he perceives. “I will not be satisfied with mere verbal apologies!” Elias’s voice rises, unyielding, his eyes locked on Seraphina. “If the honor of the Thorne name can be compensated with a few fleeting words, then I consider its value to be just as trivial.” Shock, perhaps even anger, contorts Kaelen’s features. He looks at Elias with a complex, unreadable expression, his own son daring to defy him so openly, so unequivocally. “As a party to this broken engagement,” Elias continues, pressing his advantage, “I believe I have the right to make such a claim.” His gaze then shifts back to Seraphina. “The Valerius house typically follows the wishes of their Head. What is your decision, Lord Kaelen Thorne?” Seraphina interjects smoothly, her tone a delicate balance of deference and subtly veiled authority, as the situation threatens to slip from her calculated grasp. “Indeed. We stand ready to honor the pronouncements of Baronet Kaelen Thorne, the esteemed head of your family. What is your decision, Baronet Thorne?” Though she appears willing to accept Elias’s point, her words ultimately uphold the traditional authority of the head of the family. *Essentially, she’s telling me to save his face, even as I tear it down.* Elias’s fierce gaze hardens, boring into Seraphina once more. Then, after a moment of heavy contemplation, Kaelen Thorne opens his mouth, his expression a storm cloud. “…As the head of the Thorne family, I am satisfied with a sincere apology. However, as for how the affected party, Elias, perceives the sincerity of that apology, I’ll leave it to him.” “The Head of the House?!” A shocked murmur ripples through the hall. An unexpected answer indeed. Seraphina’s face, still displaying that hint of regret, contorts momentarily, a flicker of genuine surprise finally breaking through her composed facade. As the commotion among the household members subsides, Kaelen continues, his voice low and firm. “Think carefully, Elias. If you accept Veridian Crowns for this insult to our honor, you are suggesting that your honor is always for sale in the future.” Kaelen believes that if Elias had truly changed, had truly absorbed the lessons of their lineage, he would make the ‘right’ choice at this juncture. That is why he gave his son this final chance, even at the cost of his own authority as the head of the family. Yet, Elias’s resolve does not waver. The grim future he carries in his mind, a temporal echo of ruin and destitution, silences any lingering doubt. He has seen the true cost of honor when it is measured against starvation and collapse. “I, Elias Thorne, as the party to the broken engagement, will accept the compensation from the Valerius family.” At his declaration, Kaelen Thorne’s face contorts, a mask of bitter disappointment. A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across Lady Adeline’s lips. *** Astonishingly, Seraphina Valerius pays the immense sum of three million Veridian Crowns, not through a subtle Aether-transfer at the High Bank of Veridia, but in heavy, gleaming Aetherium ingots, right then and there. A large, ornate chest, almost reaching Elias’s waist, is hauled in by two burly Valerius retainers. It spills over with the concentrated, shimmering material, a raw power given solid form. The sight, the sheer, audacious display of wealth, inevitably shakes Elias’s composure, if only for a fleeting second. “By this act,” Seraphina declares, her voice regaining its smooth cadence, “I declare the dissolution of the engagement between the Grand Duke Valerius family and Baronet Thorne’s family effective.” She turns to leave after a lingering glance at the chest of Aetherium ingots, her expression ever so slightly distorted, a flicker of genuine vexation finally visible. Elias watches her go, a cold conviction settling in his gut: his choice is correct, whatever the immediate cost. His father, however, seems to think differently. “I thought you had changed, a glimmer of the man you were meant to be. But instead, you’ve gotten worse.” Kaelen’s voice is devoid of warmth, filled instead with a profound, weary disappointment. *All I did was for the family.* The silent thought is a shield against the accusation. “My fault, then, for failing to properly instruct you on the true value of honor.” Kaelen’s sigh, despite the largest pile of wealth Elias has ever seen before him, carries nothing but bitterness. As Kaelen Thorne turns and strides from the hall, the faces of the personal retainers following him bear smirks of ridicule. Lady Adeline follows, her own face beaming as if she had gained something substantial, a stark, painful reminder of how his decision is received by those closest to him. Elias watches them, an expressionless mask on his face, reaffirming his grim resolve. *I will not concern myself with my reputation within the family. First, I shall focus on winning the Aetherium Claim Dispute.* Yet, even as he mentally begins to calculate how best to spend the funds for the upcoming territorial battle, a heavy knot tightens in his chest. The victory is hollow, the prize tainted by familial scorn. *** A loud clang reverberates from inside a luxurious, armored Aether-carriage, its chassis humming with contained energy. “Are you quite alright, Lady Valerius?” Captain Roric, a stoic Veridian Guard officer in Valerius employ, inquires from the driver’s bench. Silence stretches within the plush interior for a long moment, broken only by the carriage’s steady hum. Then, Seraphina’s voice, sharp with controlled fury, cuts through. “I thought if I mentioned a ridiculous sum, the Baronet would surely refuse out of sheer, antiquated pride. My prediction was right. But…” Another clang, sharper this time. “I didn’t expect the heir, Elias Thorne, to react like that.” Captain Roric refrains from prying into the interior of the carriage, instead initiating a new topic. “The heir, Elias Thorne, seems quite different from the rumors we’ve cultivated.” “Has his greed outweighed the rumors, or is it that he simply doesn’t comprehend honor?” Seraphina muses, a dangerous edge to her voice. “I can’t speak to his emotional factors. However, it’s certain that he is a powerful Aether-channeler.” “…He’s capable of such raw energy? Of direct confrontation?” Seraphina’s voice carries a note of genuine surprise now. Captain Roric’s response is unequivocal. “Yes. Considering his age, it’s quite an accomplishment. A powerful, if unrefined, connection.” “…So he’s not just a spoiled rascal as the rumors suggest.” If he had merely kept up his roguish behavior and not dedicated himself to mastering the volatile energies of Veridia, even a natural genius wouldn’t have reached the level of a powerful Aether-channeler, particularly at the young age of nineteen. “Indeed, Lady Valerius. It seems the rumors might be baseless, or at least strategically incomplete.” Roric emphasizes that Elias is not as simple an opponent as they had anticipated, attempting to console Seraphina, but she is not so easily placated. “…But still, it doesn’t change the fact that I was bested. Humiliated, even.” Her voice is a low snarl. “It couldn’t be helped, Lady Valerius. We had to bow before them, we were in enemy territory, within the Thornehold itself.” “Enough. Don’t try to comfort me, Roric. Just drive.” Seraphina pauses, then her voice hardens, promising retribution. “You won’t have to worry anymore, will you? Now that the obstacle is gone, you’ll surely make connections with another noble house, and compared to…” “Hmph! That’s obvious. But I will certainly get my revenge for this frustration. For this affront.” “As you wish, Lady Valerius. It will come to pass.” The luxurious Aether-carriage departs swiftly from Thornehold, its gleaming facade disappearing into the shadowed, gaslamp-lit streets of Veridia. *** The day after Seraphina Valerius left, the Thornehold is abuzz with the shocking news of the broken engagement. Whispers of the dissolute heir, Elias Thorne, pulling off an immense sum from the ethereal Lady Valerius by defying his lord father’s wishes, ripple through the servants' quarters and the lower ranks of the retainers. Although Elias is the party to the broken engagement, he isn’t met with sympathy. Instead, a chorus of criticism mounts, condemning his harsh, mercenary decision. However, Elias himself can’t help but allow a small, grim smile to touch his lips despite the finger-pointing and the venomous whispers. No matter how others saw it, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. A troubling, immediate time has passed safely. Since his return, the invisible shackles weighing down on his soul, the echoes of a future he strove to prevent, have momentarily loosened, giving him a fleeting sense of liberation. If his heart had its way, he could spend the entire day basking in this small, hard-won triumph. But he cannot afford to be overly elated. The chilling truth of the impending Aetherium Claim Dispute, the weight of the future he carries, swiftly disperses his fleeting mirth. His original plan to strengthen the family slowly, to overcome the crisis from within, had shifted. Now, it is a hard resolution: he will tackle the crisis head-on, with every resource he can muster. *This is the beginning.* The immediate tasks before him are numerous, daunting. He has decided not to worry about his reputation within the family, but he must avoid giving Kaelen Thorne a legitimate, undeniable reason to intervene directly and strip him of his newfound resources and autonomy. The stakes have never been higher.

A Crown's Price