Chapter 194: The Marquis of Rose

Despite the shattered relationship between Lyra and the Shedd family, people still clung to the notion that family ties were something that couldn’t be undone, no matter how deep the rift.

Even with everything that had gone down, there were still those who found it hard to believe that the connection between them could be completely severed.

For starters, her parents’ past made things delicate, especially in military circles. And then there was Ansel—a vice admiral with serious clout.

Nobody in their right mind would cross him just to side with Lyra, no matter how talented she was.

At the end of the day, she was fresh out of the academy, still green in the eyes of most, and didn’t have nearly enough pull to challenge someone with Ansel’s power.

Maybe if she looked for a spot in a smaller corps, one that was hurting for talent and less wrapped up in political games, she could have a shot.

But with the Shedd family’s infamy spreading like wildfire, even that felt like a long shot. The list of accusations against them—abusing authority, embezzling funds, and bleeding dry the resources in their control—just kept growing.

Even Jorath, long dead, couldn’t escape the dirt being dug up. Disturbing claims surfaced about his abuse of underage students, with victims stepping forward to tell their stories.

One after another, these scandals dragged the Shedd family back into the unforgiving spotlight, putting them on a knife’s edge.

At the Shedd family’s mansion, Ansel sat at the head of the meeting room, his expression cold as he scanned the faces of his trembling family members. They looked like a flock of terrified birds, hunched in their seats.

"This is the situation. Deal with it yourselves." His voice was final, like a judge handing down a sentence.

Every head jerked up in shock, eyes wide with fear.

"You’re leaving us to fend for ourselves?" one of them gasped.

"Where’s Frenna? Why isn’t her curse working anymore?!"

"Yeah, who’s behind this?"

Ansel’s gaze locked onto his eldest son, who had gone pale as a ghost. His words were sharp as ice. "Frenna’s gone."

Teagan winced, guilt pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. He didn’t dare meet the accusing eyes of his family. It was his fault—he had brought this disaster down on Frenna.

The wave of rebellion against the Shedds had grown too big to stop. Even Ansel couldn’t hold it back anymore.

After sending the rest of the family away, Teagan slumped into a chair, his face drawn with hopelessness.

"Dad... what do we do now?"

Ansel’s eyes gleamed with a cold, dangerous light as he straightened in his seat. "What do we do? You and Frenna should’ve seen this coming the minute you set foot in that courtroom."

He had bent over backward to keep Frenna hidden, and this idiot had ruined everything by leading her straight to Lyra.

If Teagan wasn’t his son, Ansel might’ve already ended him. Still, even he hadn’t expected someone like Lyra to have the power to bring them to their knees.

But it was too late for regrets now. Teagan’s voice broke through the silence, bitter and desperate. "So, are we just going to let Lyra tear us apart?"

"Not while I’m still breathing," Ansel growled, his words dripping with deadly resolve.

After Teagan stormed off, Ansel’s adjutant quietly approached him, his face tense with concern. "Sir, with the curse broken... if Lyra reveals the truth about Soul Spike—"

That would be the final nail in their family’s coffin.

But Ansel didn’t flinch. He sneered. "She won’t dare. If she was planning to expose us, she would’ve done it the second she pulled out that first spike."

His granddaughter was clever enough to know when to keep her cards close to her chest.

Ansel tightened his grip on the handle of his cane, deep in thought. "Send an invitation to her. And make sure the word gets out."

Once that news hit the streets, any chance of others recruiting Lyra would go up in smoke.

Meanwhile, Lyra sat in her office, staring at the invitation displayed on her opticomputer, her hand tightening around her pen.

Mandy’s soft knock broke the silence as she stepped into the room. "The ship to Voidstar No. 2 has already departed. Freon’s on board and behaving himself. Oh, and here are the supply lists for Wyrmtrace. Can you take a look?"

Mandy hadn’t joined the Rose like most had predicted. Instead, she had been selected for the elite Legion Glory, under the command of the legendary Admiral Whyte, with Cohen there too. That was a post that most could only dream of.

Lyra glanced over the list quickly, signed it, and handed it back to Mandy.

"Once you’re officially on board, you won’t have to mess with caravan logistics anymore," she said, her voice steady as her gaze settled on the younger woman, who still seemed to carry a trace of doubt about her future. "Mandy, just keep climbing. Push yourself to the top."

It was a bit funny, though, considering that Lyra hadn’t even locked down a corps invite herself.

"Thank you," Mandy replied, though the concern was still etched in her features. After a brief pause, she blurted out, "So, what’s your plan now?"

"Graduates don’t HAVE to join a corps, you know," Lyra said, brushing off the question like it was no big deal.

"Are you aiming for the Alliance Military Council’s direct forces? Or maybe even the Royal Guard?"

The direct forces were the grunt work of the military, reporting straight to the top brass—the Alliance Military Council.

But the reality wasn’t glamorous. Conscription filled their ranks, which meant talent was hit or miss, and advancement was a nightmare.

They were often sent into the most dangerous assignments, essentially treated as disposable.

On the flip side, the Royal Guard had cushier conditions, but their separation from military command made it just as tough to climb the ladder.

Without hesitation, Lyra responded, "I’ll go with the direct forces."

Mandy was stunned. The idea that the NMA’s top graduate, Lyra Shedd, would have to grind her way up through the same path as conscripts? It left her speechless.

Suddenly, Mandy realized how lucky she was in comparison.

And so, Lyra set off once more, this time bound for Elden Prime.

As she walked through the gates of the company, she spotted Anton lounging in a beach chair, soaking up the sun without a care in the world.

A small table beside him held a glass of juice and a plate of cookies, giving him the appearance of someone enjoying an early retirement.

Now the head of security for the local branch, Anton was pulling in more money than his military pension and instructor job combined.

"Still jobless, BOSS?" Anton called out with a smirk, raising his glass in a teasing salute.

Lyra didn’t bite back at his jab. Instead, she shot him a firm response, "Enjoy your lazy days while they last. You’re getting paid that much for a reason—don’t start thinking of it as a permanent vacation."

To her, both people and resources needed to be fully utilized. Anything less was a waste.

Anton chuckled, sipping his juice as he watched her leave. "I’ll be waiting," he called after her, clearly enjoying his moment of leisure.

After several days of travel, Lyra finally stepped off the ship, greeted by an elderly man with slicked-back silver hair, dressed in an immaculate tailcoat.

"Miss Shedd, I am Albert, butler of the Calvin family. The marquis has sent me to escort you."

Lyra raised an eyebrow but nodded, masking her surprise. "Lead on."

In truth, she couldn’t quite figure out her grandfather’s game. He acted indifferent most of the time, yet here he was, stepping in when she least expected it.

Years ago, when she and Kail had been on the verge of collapse, not a single Calvin had come to their aid.

Her memories of the Calvin household were distant and tinged with discomfort. Even when her mother was alive, she never felt like she truly belonged there.

Her parents’ marriage had been a source of contention, never receiving the approval of either family. The one exception had been Old Calvin, who used to sit her on his knee in their rose-filled garden, telling her stories.

There was one tale he repeated so often she could almost recite it in her sleep. It always began the same way: "Once upon a time..."

It was a story about a prince, and it became such a staple that it was etched into her mind, word for word.

Lyra didn’t harbor any hatred or anger toward the Calvins. By now, she had seen enough betrayals and cold shoulders to understand that people’s loyalties were fickle.

Their distant attitude toward her was nothing shocking. It was simply the way things worked in her world.

She still hadn’t uncovered what role, if any, the Calvin family had played in her mother’s death. And a part of her wasn’t sure she even wanted to know.

As she brooded over these thoughts, the Lev wound down a long, shaded lane.

The walls were draped in climbing roses, stretching on for what seemed like miles, until finally, they passed through an ornate bronze gate.

The car rolled through the perfectly landscaped grounds, passing an elegant fountain before pulling up in front of a grand castle that looked like it belonged in a storybook.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay Read