The servants moved with unusual precision.
No clatter. No whispered exchanges. Just the soft glide of plates and cutlery aligned to perfection as though even the slightest mistake would be remembered.
He didn't visit often.
And tonight, that mattered.
The low hum of an engine cut through the silence outside.
Then
Boots.
Measured. Heavy. Unhurried.
Each step echoed through the corridor leading to the dining hall, firm enough to be heard, controlled enough to signal intention.
The doors were opened before he reached them.
Aetos stepped in.
The shift was subtle but noticeable.
The air felt colder. Tighter.
Every servant straightened at once, their movements instinctive rather than instructed.
At the head of the table, his father was already seated.
Waiting.
Aetos didn't hesitate. He walked forward, pulled out the chair to his father's left, and sat.
"Welcome son" Alexander said with a warm smile.
"Thanks, Dad," he replied, exhaling lightly as if this were just another evening.
It wasn't.
"I was wondering when you would come visit your old man," his father said, leaning back slightly in his chair.
Aetos sat calmly, posture steady.
"The military hasn't exactly been kind with free time," he replied.
His voice was even, matter-of-fact, without apology or tension.
A brief silence settled between them.
Not heavy. Not tense.
Just familiar in the way distance becomes familiar over time.
Aetos rested his forearm lightly on the table, posture relaxed but controlled like someone used to command, not conversation.
His father watched him for a moment, then exhaled through his nose.
"You've been away for a while," he said.
Aetos gave a slight nod. "Duty doesn't leave much room for visits."
"I figured," his father replied, though his tone suggested he didn't approve of the reason.
He reached for his glass, taking a slow sip before setting it down.
"The military suits discipline," he added, "but not much else."
Aetos didn't react immediately.
"It suits what I do," he said simply.
A faint silence followed.
His father leaned back slightly, studying him, not as a son to be corrected, but as a path he still hadn't accepted.
"You say that like it's permanent."
Aetos met his gaze. Calm.
"It is."
The servants continued their quiet work in the background, the sound of movement deliberately softened.
The room remained composed.
But the direction of the conversation had shifted.
Not into conflict.
Into difference.
His father's fingers tapped once against the glass before he spoke again.
"You're still young enough to step away from all that."
Aetos didn't respond immediately.
His gaze stayed steady, unreadable.
"I'm not stepping away," he said finally.
His father exhaled slowly, as though he had expected the answer but still didn't accept it.
"The military takes more than it gives," he replied. "You know that."
"It gives structure," Aetos said. "And results."
Silence followed.
Then his father leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table.
"I've built something that doesn't rely on war or orders," he said. "A company. Stable. Expanding. Something that will outlast both of us if it's handled properly."
Aetos looked at him.
"I know what you want."
His father didn't deny it.
"You're my son," he said simply. "It should be you running it."
The words settled between them.
Aetos leaned back slightly.
"I'm not leaving the military."
Calm. Final.
No anger. No hesitation.
Just refusal.
A brief pause followed.
Then his father spoke again, steadier now.
"Then you will find a way to manage both the military and the company."
A short pause.
"I will be stepping down," he added. "And I will be handing it over to you."
He leaned back as though the matter was already decided.
"Whether you like it or not."
The words landed cleanly in the space between them.
Aetos didn't react immediately.
Not shocked.
Not angry.
Just still.
For a moment, the only movement in the room came from the servants continuing their work, carefully pretending nothing had changed.
Aetos exhaled slowly.
"You're making a decision without me," he said at last.
His tone was even, observation more than protest.
"I'm making a decision for what's already inevitable," his father replied.
Aetos looked at him fully now.
Calm. Controlled.
"I won't leave my post. I contribute in the company when I can and there has been a major improvement" he said simply.
No escalation.
No emotion.
Just refusal.
"You wouldn't know when this old man would leave your side and life," his father said after a brief pause. His tone was quieter now, less formal.
Then, as if it followed naturally in his mind, he added,
"And with that being said… when do you plan on getting married?"
Aetos didn't react.
Not visibly.
He had heard it before. Many times.
He rested back slightly in his chair, gaze steady but distant, as though the question had passed through him rather than reached him.
"I've told you already," he said. "That's not something I'm focused on."
His father gave a small exhale, like he expected that answer too.
"You always say that," he replied.
Aetos didn't argue.
There was nothing new in the conversation. Nothing to extract from it. Just another familiar loop they occasionally returned to when time allowed.
The servants continued their quiet work in the background, untouched by the topic.
Aetos picked up his glass briefly, then set it down again.
"I have responsibilities," he said simply.
His father watched him for a moment, then leaned back slightly.
"Yes," he said. "You always do."
A brief silence settled between them again.
Not uncomfortable.
Just habitual.
His father studied him for a moment, then spoke again, as if the thought had simply shifted in his mind.
"The party last week," he said. "Did you see anyone of interest there?"
Aetos didn't react immediately.
His expression stayed the same—calm, unreadable.
"I was there for the meeting," he said. "Not for that."
His father gave a faint exhale, like the answer confirmed something he already knew.
"Still," he said, "you must have noticed someone."
Aetos's tone didn't change.
"No."
A brief pause followed.
Then his father leaned back slightly, tapping his fingers once against the table as though recalling something casually.
"Not even the Vixen's daughter?" he asked.
Aetos looked at him briefly.
"I saw her," he said.
Nothing more.
His father watched him for a moment longer.
"And?"
Aetos remained calm.
"I didn't have reason to engage beyond that."
A brief pause settled between them.
"Although she seemed interesting." He finalized calmly.