The wrong truth

Chapter 1
"A man’s duty to his family is his greatest honour. A family’s honour is its history, and that history is all that endures."
— The Chronicles of Khumaint.


Three months before the boys' welcoming into manhood, a message arrived at the Khumaint House. Delivered through many hands, the stone-carved cylinder bore an air of unmistakable authority. Only its intended recipient could open it—a testament to the Emperor’s unmatched wealth and power.
Akhalilel turned the cylinder in his hands, his thumb finding the small opening at its base. A sharp prick followed as it sampled his blood to authenticate his identity. The lid clicked open, revealing a tightly rolled parchment. The Duke unrolled it carefully, his eyes scanning its terse, direct contents.
What could the Emperor possibly be planning? Should I tread cautiously or prepare for a storm? He wondered, his brow furrowed. Without hesitation, he cast the parchment into the open fireplace, watching as the flames devoured the message. Sinking into his seat, he brooded over the letter’s implications.
A knock broke his thoughts. Three measured raps, followed by the entry of Kail, his most trusted advisor.
“My lord,” Kail began, stepping into the room and taking the chair opposite Akhalilel. “I’ve spoken with the servants. They estimate their work will be done in five hours.”
“Good,” the Duke replied, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “Our guests must feel welcomed in this house.” He glanced at Kail, noting the unease in his expression. “What’s troubling you, my friend?”
Kail hesitated, pouring himself a drink. He took a sip, as if to steady himself, before speaking. “My lord, I—”
Akhalilel raised a hand to interrupt. “How many times must I tell you, Kail? You may call me ‘friend.’”
“I apologize, my lord,” Kail said, lowering his gaze. “But even though I see you as a friend in my heart, I cannot bring myself to speak it aloud.”
The Duke gestured for him to continue.
“My lord,” Kail began again, his voice quieter now, “I fear for the future and for the security of your bloodline.”
Akhalilel studied Kail for a moment, then nodded. “I understand, my friend. Truly, I do. But to win this upcoming war, I must take risks that unsettle even myself.”
The Duke paused, then leaned forward. He trusted Kail more than anyone else save his wife, and he felt the weight of his words as he spoke. “If I fall—whether by the hands of my enemies or through treachery—I ask only one thing of you: do not avenge me. Protect my bloodline above all else. That is my only wish.”
Kail’s throat tightened at the sentiment. “Your children will be my first and utmost priority, sire,” he said solemnly. Then, as if to change the subject, he added, “Regarding the Fillakel’s stay, I suggest we house them in the left wing. Their men can remain in the city, where they can be monitored closely.”
“I don’t believe they’ll attack us just yet,” Akhalilel said.
“Oh?” Kail asked, curious.
“Before you entered, a royal seal was delivered,” the Duke explained. “The Emperor is sending a Tribune to administer our house.”
Kail frowned. “It seems the Emperor wishes to protect his image.”
“Perhaps,” Akhalilel replied, his tone contemplative. “Which is why I want three-thirds of our military hidden. They must remain unseen—by both the Emperor’s Tribune and the Fillakel.”
“A sound plan,” Kail said, standing. “I’ll begin preparations immediately.”
As Kail left, the Duke remained seated, his drink untouched. His thoughts swirled like the embers in the fireplace. The weaker we appear, the better. The other houses would never stand with mine in times such as these, surely they see it too—do they not? Surely they see the strings pulling the puppets, guiding their every move. Akhalilel’s thoughts swirled as he sat, fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest of his chair.
And yet, without House Khumaint, their earnings would rise. Greed—how it twists even the honorable men. How it reshapes principles into tools of self-service. It should be studied. It must be understood.
He leaned back, his gaze fixed on the dying embers of the fireplace. The rain outside drummed against the windows, a soothing rhythm at odds with the storm in his mind.
“You seem further away each time I see you,” a voice broke through his reverie, soft and familiar, a balm to his strained thoughts.
He turned to meet her gaze, a flicker of warmth breaking through the weight of his burdens. “And your voice, like the melody of the heavens, draws me back each time I hear it,” he replied.
Lady Cornwright smiled, a shy curve of her lips that softened the edges of the room. “You give me too much credit, my Duke,” she said as she approached him.
“And here I was thinking I don’t give my wife enough credit,” Akhalilel countered with a faint smile, standing and moving toward the rain-streaked window. He gazed out, his hands clasped behind his back.
She joined him, slipping her hand around his arm. He turned and kissed her forehead gently, a gesture of quiet affection.
“How are my children?” Akhalilel asked, his voice softening as his thoughts shifted from rain-soaked reflections to his family.
“Your daughter is doing well,” Lady Cornwright replied. “But I suggest you spend time with your sons before their journey, my Duke. They’ll need your guidance now more than ever.”
“I’ll send Ander to spend more time with them,” the Duke said, glancing back at her.
“It would be better if you spent time with them instead of your servant,” she countered gently. “They’re boys—you know how they feel about fathers.”
Akhalilel sighed, turning his gaze back to the rain. “I understand that, and I wish to spend time with them too. But circumstances command me otherwise, and you know it.”
Lady Cornwright stepped closer, her voice quiet but insistent. “All I’m saying is, spend time with them. Even if it’s just for a little while—please.” Her eyes searched his, trying to draw out the father beneath the Duke.
Akhalilel brushed her cheek lightly with his thumb. “I promise I’ll make time for them. Today, even.”
She leaned into his touch, her head resting against his chest as his arms wrapped around her. The rain outside painted silver streaks on the window, a quiet contrast to the storm of responsibilities weighing on her husband.
How the stress of holding and keeping his house has changed him, she thought, watching the raindrops trace paths down the glass. Once, his mind had been a steady anchor, focused on a single course. Now it drifted, always wandering, always searching for solutions—even in times of stability.
Lady Cornwright sighed, holding him tighter as though she could still the currents that pulled him in every direction.


 
Chapter 2
"Children are the living extension of their parents—the son, the father; the daughter, the mother. Yet in the history of Khumaint, this bond has often been shattered, for duty and honor demand more than blood alone."
— Writings of Lesly Khumaint.

The young lady sat in the shadowed corner of the palace library, a place few sought but one she had claimed as her own. The vast shelves towered around her, filled with centuries of wisdom, but her gaze was fixed solely on the ancient text in her hands. The delicate pages of the book, worn with age, whispered the thoughts of those who had come before her. The title, faint but still legible, read The Recollection of the Thoughts of Lesly Khumaint III.
Her fingers traced the faded ink, and for a moment, it felt as though time had collapsed, drawing her into the world of the long-dead ancestor whose words had shaped her lineage. At those times, men fought for gain, greed and gluttony. It was when great houses where recently formed, Lesly with no great name of his own or even an army used his genius to lay the foundation of the House and his generations to come. A great shift is to come, one that will decide the future of my House. Father and mother think I do not see it but I can tell She thought as she read her book. What message did the Emperor send to father, father must be careful and aware of everything, Her thoughts continued to swam her mind, worrying about her father and her house. “I knew I’d find you here” a voice lets out and khika’s oily face appears, “Still reading I see” he continues. Thanduzovu closes her book giving the attention “There are a lot of interesting reads in this place, pity that nobody hardly enters these chambers” she says. “Yeah well I assume it’s because there is no need to, no one has read books made of paper for a hundred years at least around the planet, thanks to advancements to technology.” The man says. “I suppose that is so” Thanduzovu replies to him. “Though I do enjoy our chats princess, I came looking for you to remind you of the schedule ,something is wrong with your beeper I could not beep you” Khikha says to the young lady. “Thank you for the reminder Khikha, I believe might have left my beeper in my sleeping chambers. I’ll prepare for practice”