Chapter 153: Julian shall be responsible for his pupils crime

The standoff broke with a rough and ugly tension.

Aurelian let out a sharp, frustrated breath, his fingers digging into the marble railing until his knuckles turned white. His plan for a ’legal’ execution had been derailed by his own children, and the sight of Alaric—bloodthirsty and unyielding—was a pressure he couldn’t ignore.

"Rowan!" the Emperor snapped, his voice echoing with a cold irritation, and Rowan, appearing behind him like he had been there the whole time.

Aurelian looked at his aide for a fleeting second, his eyes narrowed as if he suspected something, but he couldn’t grasp any reason for Rowan to go against him. "Bring Julian Von Astrea down. Since the Duke is so... eager for a reunion, let us not keep him waiting."

In the Jade Wing, the heavy bolt slammed back, and the doors flew open. Rowan appeared, looking like a man who had just escaped his own funeral. He didn’t say a word; he simply gestured for Julian to move.

Julian looked at Rowan, having a feeling he had something to do with it, but he could not make it obvious for fear of the Emperor’s wrath falling on this man.

Julian scooped Lucius up into his arms, the boy wrapping his small arms around his neck, and Julian strode past the guards. His [Mental Stability] was a flickering, dangerous 35%, but the sight of the courtyard gave him a surge of adrenaline that overrode the lethargy in his system.

As Julian stepped out onto the grand staircase, the entire courtyard went silent.

Alaric didn’t wait for him to reach the bottom. He dismounted his horse in one fluid, violent motion, his boots slamming against the marble floor. He marched past the Golden Guards, who stood frozen, their halberds lowered as they no longer had orders to apprehend the Duke.

The Duke reached the base of the stairs just as Julian descended the final step. He didn’t care for protocol, the Emperor’s gaze, or the hundreds of witnesses. He reached out, his large hands nearly crushing Julian’s shoulders as he pulled him in, his eyes frantically scanning Julian’s face until they landed on the bruised, bitten swell of his lip.

A low, guttural growl vibrated in Alaric’s chest—a sound of unrestrained possessiveness that made the nearby guards flinch.

"He touched you," Alaric hissed, his thumb grazing the cut on Julian’s lip, his blue eyes darkening into an abyssal black.

Julian leaned into the touch, his own hands trembling as they gripped Alaric’s leather pauldrons. "Lucien... please. Let’s just go."

Though he said that, he knew it wasn’t that easy. The Emperor had already come this far; he wouldn’t let him go that easily.

High above, Aurelian watched them, his face a mask of cold, silent fury. He had lost the skirmish, but the [Golden Cage] quest was still ticking in Julian’s vision. Seven days remained. There was no single change or even a flicker to the quest.

The Emperor hadn’t conceded; he had simply moved the pieces on his chessboard for a more subtle execution.

"I’m afraid you can’t go anywhere," The Emperor finally spoke, and the Duke frowned.

"He is coming home," Alaric stated, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "Now."

Aurelian’s expression shifted, his cold, fox-like amusement sharpening into something more calculating.

"Fine," the Emperor conceded, his voice airy and deceptively light. "I shall not hold the Royal tutor against his will. If he wishes to rest in the Duke’s manor, he may go. I am not a tyrant who keeps a sick man from his own bed."

A wave of relief threatened to wash over Julian, but it was cut short by the predatory glint in Aurelian’s eyes. He knew that look. It was the look of a man who had already laid a second trap beneath the first.

"However," Aurelian continued, his tone dropping dangerously low as he began tapping the marble of the balcony railing. "That was merely regarding the Tutor’s health. That aside, someone must take responsibility for an assault on the Crown."

The Emperor leaned forward, his gaze boring into the small, trembling boy at Julian’s side. "Lucius... who taught you that it was fine to hit the Emperor however you liked?"

Lucius flinched violently, his small hands clutching Julian’s coat tightly, and Julian instinctively pulled the boy closer, shielding him with his own body, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Was he going to go after the child now?

"But I cannot hold you responsible for this," Aurelian purred, his voice dripping with mock-affection. "You are so adorable, and certainly not at fault since you are so young. It would be cruel to punish a child who doesn’t know any better."

And then, the Emperor’s gaze snapped to Julian, the warmth vanishing instantly.

"So, I shall hold the person who failed to teach you properly. Julian Von Astrea, you must take responsibility for your student’s grave error in conduct and etiquette. A tutor who cannot instill respect for the throne in his pupil is a tutor who has failed his primary duty."

"That is absurd!" Alaric’s voice boomed right away. "He has been with the boy for barely a season! If the boy lacks etiquette, the blame lies with me, his father, who neglected him all his life!"

"Nonsense, Brother," Aurelian interrupted, his smile widening. "The North is wide and has too many responsibilities, so of course you were far too busy," he spoke like he did not know of Alaric’s neglect towards his child for seven years, just to give logic to his own statement. "Ranked nobles are far too busy to oversee their child’s every gesture. That is precisely why we employ experts. If the fruit is sour, we do not blame the soil; we blame the gardener. Julian will remain in the Jade Wing to ’reflect’ on his failure to educate the Young Lord."

Beside Julian, Lucius began to shake, a soft, quiet, choked sob escaping him. The boy realized with a crushing weight that his attempt to protect Julian earlier had just handed the Emperor the perfect legal shackle to detain his tutor.

Alaric felt his blood boil, his vision tunneling into a red haze of pure, unrestrained fury. He looked ready to climb up the balcony and tear the Emperor apart with his bare hands. But more than the rage, it was the

fear

that paralyzed him.

Just this morning, he had discovered Julian’s rare ’illness’—the one that left him gasping for air, clutching his chest as if his heart were being crushed by an invisible hand, and breaking out in cold sweat. Alaric had promised to stay by his side, to be the anchor when the madness tried to pull Julian under. Now, they were to be apart?

Who will hold him when he can’t breathe?

Alaric thought, his heart hammering against his ribs in a mirror of Julian’s own distress.

Who will be there when the darkness comes back?

He couldn’t accept it. He opened his mouth to roar his protest, to declare that he would burn the Palace down before he let Julian stay a single night in this den of vipers—but then, a hand gripped his.

Julian’s fingers were cold, but his grip was firm. He looked at Alaric, his eyes pleading, and slowly shook his head. He mouthed the words silently, his gaze never wavering:

"Don’t, Lucien. I will be fine."