Chapter 676: Meeting the duke

Still nothing.

After searching for about five minutes, Julian finally stopped.

The deeper he pushed into Kraven’s memories, the more frustrating it became. The older memories were intact but useless, while the newer ones were fractured.

Julian exhaled slowly.

A dead end... for now.

There was no point in forcing it further.

He opened Kraven’s eyes and followed the stone pathway that led toward the castle entrance.

Two maids stood waiting at the entrance doors. As Julian drew closer, his focus sharpened automatically — and he noticed what Kraven’s body apparently always noticed. Both women were mature, well-curved, and perfectly milfy.

Julian smiled to himself.

Kraven sure had a specific type.

He approached without slowing.

"Young lord, you have returned," the taller of the two said, bowing her head quickly. The second followed a half-step behind.

Julian said nothing. He simply walked through the doors.

Apparently, this was how Kraven behaved. And they confirmed it—both maids fell into step behind him without hesitation as if they were used to being ignored.

The interior of the castle opened up around him.

It was lavish as expected. Pale stone walls hung with expensive paintings. Chandeliers burning with flame mana. Luxurious, imported furniture at every corner.

It was the home of a man with too much money, too much time, and no one meaningful to spend either on.

But the interior wasn’t what occupied Julian’s attention.

His mind was elsewhere.

Should I meet the Duke tonight—or postpone?

He thought about the question carefully as he walked.

Meeting Duke Astran unprepared carried obvious risks. The Duke knew his son. Was familiar with his mannerisms, his silences, and how Kraven behaved in his presence. Two hours of walking around a room did not make Julian fluent in being Kraven. A father’s eye was not the same as a guard’s eye. It saw differently. It noticed things no amount of memory could fully anticipate.

Postponing, on the other hand, carried its own problem. The Duke had traveled here unannounced and declared he would wait. A man like that was not here for a casual visit.

Ignoring him would raise questions.

Julian slowed slightly as he reached the corridor that branched toward the main hall.

He could feel the body’s anger. Even without Kraven present, something in the muscle memory reacted in the direction of his father.

Julian exhaled once.

Then we meet him tonight.

He turned toward the main hall and kept walking, the two maids following silently behind.

The walk to the hall took roughly four minutes.

And in every corner of it, there were maids—each a mature, alluring woman; not a single younger girl was present. The fetish of Kraven ran deeper than a mere infatuation. Several of them looked up as Julian passed. A few bowed their heads.

Julian’s smile widened slightly with each one he noticed.

Kraven,

he thought again, with something close to genuine appreciation,

had good choices.

**

Finally, the doors to the eastern hall came into view.

Two guards stood outside. They straightened the moment they saw him, stepping aside without a word.

Julian pushed the doors open himself and stepped inside.

The hall was moderately sized. It was not as lavish as the throne room, nor as spacious as the noble dining hall—just a simple space for receiving guests. A single, massive chandelier hung at the center, and below it, rows of ordinary chairs were arranged in neat lines. Further back, on a raised platform, three cushioned sofas were positioned.

Julian’s eyes moved to the platform immediately.

A man sat in one of the raised chairs.

He looked up at the same moment.

For a breath, neither of them moved.

Duke Astran was a formidable man. That much was apparent without Kraven’s memories to confirm it. His presence filled the room the moment Julian entered, and his magical aura settled at the level of a mid-tier grand mage. Yet the most striking part about the man was that his aura didn’t fluctuate. Not once. Not even now, as he was looking at his exiled son for the first time in months.

His hair was more heavily streaked with white than the memories had shown. The wrinkles in his face had deepened. Whatever the last several months had carried, they had not been light.

Julian walked forward without hesitating.

He moved past the ordinary chairs without acknowledging them and stepped up onto the platform. He chose the chair across from his father and sat down.

He didn’t greet him.

He didn’t speak at all.

He simply settled back and waited.

And as if accepting the challenge, the Duke studied him. A lifetime spent reading rooms and people now fell entirely upon his own son. Every movement, every subtle shift in posture or expression was measured. In that silent appraisal, the old Duke compared the boy before him to the one he had once exiled, weighing how much had changed—and how much had stayed the same.

The silence stretched.

Julian sat silently, letting the old man judge him as he wished.

Finally, the Duke spoke.

"You seem changed."

Julian let a small smile settle on Kraven’s mouth.

"That was the whole point of isolating me here, wasn’t it?" He held his father’s gaze easily. "Father."

The Duke’s expression didn’t shift.

He said nothing immediately.

Julian waited, genuinely curious about what had brought a man like this to his exiled son.

Whatever it was, it was significant.

The Duke’s expression remained unreadable for a moment longer.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, "How have you been?"

It was a simple question. The kind that carried weight precisely because a man like the Duke rarely asked it.

Julian leaned back slightly in the chair.

"Good," he said. "Better than good, actually. I’ve been working on new techniques. Refining things I didn’t have the patience for before." He paused just long enough. "I’ll be aiming for Grand Mage soon."

The silence that followed was different from any that had come before.

The Duke’s eyes sharpened, and for a fleeting moment, his otherwise unshakable aura wavered. He was genuinely shocked.

Julian allowed himself a small, inward smile.

So that’s what moves him.

Not bonds or loyalty.

Power.

Power had found the crack.