Then, the chortle rose into a chuckle for a few seconds before exploding into hysterical laughter. Vastor laughed so hard that huge tears rolled down his cheeks as he gasped for air. The old Professor needed Filia's and Frey's help to keep standing and not roll on the floor in hilarity. The younger Vastors were as worried as the older Vastors were stunned by their father's reaction. "Gods, I haven't laughed so much in years." Vastor half-snorted and half-talked as he tried to catch his breath. "Thank you, kids. I needed this." "This is no laughing matter!" Quifar flushed, and his voice quivered. "It sure is!" Vastor didn't raise his voice, but it had become as sharp as a blade. "You dare come here to argue about your inheritance while I'm still alive. To take what's rightfully mine and do with it as you please. "Expressing your past grievances was nothing but a ruse to put your beggar foot in my door and hope that guilt forced it open for you. Well, you were wrong." "That wasn't our intention, Father." Zesor lied through his teeth. "We only want a peaceful resolution to this matter." "What matter? That you are two ungrateful brats whose mother is so dumb that she forgot assets don't change hands in a divorce?" Vastor scoffed. Lands or annuities couldn't be split without literally rewriting the maps of the Kingdom and affecting the entire bureaucratic machine. Only the Royals could revoke a noble title or reassign lands, but special circumstances were required for this to happen, while divorces were relatively common. The weaker party would be granted alimony only if they were poor and had gained no benefit from the marriage. Vastor's ex-wife came from a wealthy noble family, and he had shared his authority with her during their time together. The Royal Court had awarded her nothing but her own family assets. If she wanted more, she could develop her lands like Vastor had done. On top of that, her inability to increase her fortune despite the years spent as Essagor's Duchess was considered her fault, not Vastor's. "Stop lying to my face." The Professor said. "I admit I wasn't a good father, but you had the best tutors, schools, and all the opportunities anyone can dream of. Yet what have you done with it? "What have you achieved in over a decade as adults that you haven't gotten solely thanks to the name you carry? My name!" "We could say the same about you." Quifar retorted curtly. "If not for the Vastor's name and your magical talent, you would be no one." "Really?" Vastor scoffed. "How many of our relatives have become Archmages? How many have joined the Queen's Corps? How many became Spellbreakers? I built what I have through hard work first and talent second. "And the proof of it is that the Vastors have been Marquises for centuries before I elevated Essagor to a Duchy and now to an Archduchy. I bet that's the real reason you have come to visit me today. "You don't envy Filia and Frey for the attentions you never got, you're just afraid they'll enjoy the fruits of my success and you won't!" Quifar and Zesor opened their mouths to deny such vile yet accurate accusations, yet Vastor's glare brooked no argument. At least none that involved appealing to their father's feelings, and they had nothing but that. On the other side of the room, Filia and Frey stared at their step-brothers in stunned silence. Vastor waited for any retort or possible alternative explanation to his sons' visit, but received none. "I'm sorry for being an incompetent father, but you are the ones who have crossed the line." He said. "I'm going to make your worst fears come true. From now on, you are Vastors only in name, and only because disowning you would create a pointless scandal. "I'll cut you off from my will and leave everything to my brother. He's a Vastor too, and his children have a modest talent for magic. They'll bring more honor than two scumbags like you ever could." "You can't do that!" Zesor went so pale that his brother feared he might faint at any time. "We are your children. We are the main Vastor bloodline. Our children might carry your gift for magic and inherit your talent." "Please!" Vastor scoffed. "I am the main Vastor bloodline. I inherited the title instead of one of my siblings because of my talent and exemplary service to the Kingdom. You two are nothing. "As for the grandchildren I've never met, they should be of the right age to join an academy, if they had the talent. Where have they been enrolled? One of the six great academies? One of the many pay-per-graduate small academies?" Quifar and Zesor remained silent. Their children were as gifted in magic as their parents. Not even one of the minor academies would accept them. "So they are nothing as well." Vastor shook his head in disappointment. "Don't worry, though. My new wife can still give me a child. It would allow her to retain the Vastor Household, and you two could at least brag about carrying half the blood of my heir." The hereditary law of the Griffon Kingdom was clear. Only someone carrying the blood of the founder could inherit the title and the lands associated with it. All noble households had been founded by a powerful mage, and talent was often carried over. Those who failed to produce a magically gifted heir for three or more generations were demoted, unless their political or military skill served the country no less than a powerful mage would. It was the reason Zinya, Filia, and Frey could never obtain the Vastor estate in case Vastor died of old age or in the line of duty, and the reason he had asked the Royals to make Zinya a Baroness. The title had requirements low enough not to require further contributions to the Kingdom while still providing her everything she needed for a comfortable life. Yet Vastor had prepared that contingency only to protect Zinya if he failed to give her a child or his identity as the Master was exposed. If Zinya gave him an heir, even if the newborn didn't show signs of magical talent, no one would care. Once the baby grew up, they could have children of their own and one of them might carry the old Professor's talent, if not be even more talented. The two brothers didn't know whether to pray for or against such an event. They didn't want another sibling, but since they were going to get nothing anyway, they could always hope to enter the baby's good graces after their father's demise. "That's true!" Frey said. "Mom can make another baby. Maybe twins like Aunt Quylla and triplets like Aunt Rena. Why didn't she do it already, big sis?" "Shut up, Frey." Filia blushed. "Let the grown-ups speak." She was old enough to know how babies were conceived but had no intention of being the one to give her little brother "the talk". "You can't do that, Dad." Quifar said. "We will present our motion today, and if that fails, we'll appeal the will when the time comes. The scandal will bury you. Please, don't force our hand."