There was utter silence at the dining table, the clinking of utensils the only sound echoing through the vast hall. Though they were family, no one exchanged a single word.

At the head of the table sat a blond man, his sharp eyes fixed on his meal. Every movement was precise and efficient, his posture straight, his focus unwavering. He wasn't one to waste time — especially when work occupied his mind.

This man was none other than Carter Delimore, head of the Delimore family.

On his left sat his wife, Aleda Delimore. Her long, wavy violet hair framed a composed face and a pair of calm green eyes. She shifted slightly in her seat, but said nothing, glancing briefly at her husband before lowering her gaze again.

On Carter's right sat their two children — a boy and a girl.

The boy, Erwin Delimore, bore the same golden hair and sharp eyes as his father. The little girl beside him had inherited her mother's soft violet locks. Though only twelve, she carried herself with the grace and poise of nobility, quietly eating her food with elegant movements that mirrored her mother's.

The silence lingered — heavy and disciplined — until Erwin finally broke it.

"Father," he began, setting down his fork with a deliberate calm, "I would like to go to the neighbouring nation, Lostedn, to cheer for my friend during the contest."

Carter's fork paused mid-air. He lifted his gaze, frowning. "You want to cheer for someone else when your brother is also participating in that contest?"

Erwin nearly let out a scoff, but a sharp look from his mother froze the expression before it surfaced. Clearing his throat, he forced a more respectful tone.

"With all due respect to my elder brother," he began carefully, "as much as he admires me, it is a fact that ever since joining the Academy, William has been… slacking off. His grades have been steadily falling."

He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "So, Father, there is only a very slight chance that William will even be considered for that contest, let alone be selected."

His tone was measured, polite — but beneath it, there lingered a faint edge of pride he couldn't quite conceal.

Fiona, the youngest at the table, rolled her eyes at her brother's words but chose to remain silent, keeping her spoon gently poised over the plate.

The Patriarch's lips curved into a faint grin as he looked up. "So," Carter said, his tone deceptively casual, "you believe William wouldn't be a part of the team, huh?"

Erwin blinked, unsure of where his father's tone was leading, before nodding slowly. "Given the complaints you've received re—"

"No." Carter's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Don't go in circles about it. Just tell me plainly — do you believe William doesn't have what it takes to be a part of that contest?"

Erwin's posture stiffened under his father's piercing gaze. It wasn't that Carter was trying to intimidate him; this was simply how the man spoke — direct, challenging and sometimes commanding. Unfortunately, his younger children hadn't yet learned to withstand that kind of presence.

After a brief hesitation, Erwin finally nodded. "Yes. I don't believe Brother William will be selected as a contestant."

Before Carter could respond, the tall doors of the dining hall creaked open.

"My Lord," a voice called out as a man dressed in a black suit entered, bowing low.

Aleda's frown deepened the instant she saw him. "Christopher? Haven't I told you not to disturb us during breakfast?"

The man, the family's head butler, kept his head bowed low in respect. Normally, he would never dare to interrupt, but this time, he had no choice.

"My sincerest apologies, my lady," Christopher said smoothly, his voice calm but urgent. "However, my Lord instructed me to inform him immediately if any letter arrived from the Great Hall."

An excited glint flashed in Carter's eyes as he nodded and instructed the man, "Yes, hand it to me."

Everyone else, except for Aleda, seemed interested in the letter as Fiona also leaned slightly towards her father to see what was inside the envelope.

Carter, being impatient, tore the seal using the table knife and pulled out the letter.

His smile only widened as he read the letter.

Since the other two couldn't see it, Carter extended it towards his son and let him read it.

As Erwin took the letter, Fiona leaned in and both of them read,

[The Council of Ardentia hereby conveys its esteemed regards to the honorable House of Delimore.

It is with great pleasure that we announce your ward, William Delimore, has been selected to represent the Academy as one of the official contestants in the Goblet of Honor, a prestigious intercontinental contest to be held on the final day of the Harvest Month.

The Council extends its sincere congratulations to the Delimore family for this distinguished achievement and cordially invites your presence at the Opening Ceremony, should you wish to show support for your son and the students of Ardentia Academy.

May the honor of your house and the spirit of our academy shine brightly in the trials to come.

With highest regards,

Council of Ardentia]

Erwin could only stare at the letter in disbelief.

Who could have imagined that the one everyone mocked as a failure—the one whose name had become a source of laughter in noble gatherings—would now stand as a chosen contestant for the most prestigious contest in the realm?

It was completely beyond comprehension.

"This calls for a celebration!" Carter's booming voice shattered the silence, pulling Erwin from his daze. "Christopher, distribute a hundred gold coins to every family in the capital!"

The butler bowed deeply, "As you command, my lord."

The Patriarch turned to his wife, joy blazing in his eyes. "Aleda… I am very happy today. Let us mark this day—when my son silenced every doubt and proved them all wrong."

Aleda's lips curved into a gentle smile. "Then I shall bake a cake, my lord," she replied softly, her tone warm and full of pride.

Erwin glared at his mother, but as always, she was too lost in her husband to notice what has shifted.

Gritting his fist under the table, Erwin muttered, 'I need to supress that bastard before father changes his mind about succession.'

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