They descended to the formal dining room together. Lord Thorne sat at the head of table, organizational materials already spread before him reports, correspondence, analytical notes compiled during the three days of Gareth's absence. His methodical preparation was simultaneously comforting and slightly oppressive.

Gareth's older brother, Julian, had arrived from his position in royal treasury department. Twenty-five, showing early signs of the same silver-threading hair that marked their father, bearing the confident competence of someone who'd navigated palace politics successfully for seven years.

"Gareth." Julian's greeting carried genuine warmth alongside analytical assessment. "Glad you made it home intact. We've been following Academy situation through administrative channels, but direct testimony will be valuable."

"I imagine Father has extensive questions."

"Comprehensive list," his brother confirmed with slight smile. "Organized by priority and topic. You know how he operates."

Dinner was served with efficient precision locally sourced ingredients prepared with skill that balanced tradition and innovation. The Thorne household believed competent cuisine served both aesthetic and practical purposes, maintaining staff morale while demonstrating proper stewardship of resources.

Lord Thorne began without preamble, his fork and knife moving with mechanical precision as he spoke. "The Academy disaster represents unprecedented security failure with significant political ramifications. One hundred forty-eight casualties including children from multiple noble houses. The King's investigation is comprehensive but complicated by gaps in understanding dimensional mechanics."

"Master Vex's preliminary assessment suggests the white rift phenomenon shouldn't have been possible within Academy protective wards," Gareth replied, falling into familiar analytical discussion rhythm. "The dimensional breach characteristics didn't match documented patterns. External interference is suspected but unconfirmed."

"External interference implies hostile action by entity capable of bypassing kingdom's most sophisticated defensive arrays." Lord Thorne's tone remained neutral despite the disturbing implications. "Which raises questions about intelligence failures, border security adequacy, and potential vulnerabilities in other protected locations."

"Or represents genuinely novel phenomenon that existing theoretical frameworks can't yet explain," Gareth offered the alternative hypothesis. "The rift's behavior was anomalous across multiple parameters. Assuming it fits existing threat categories may be analytical error."

His father nodded approvingly. "Your assessment aligns with division within palace advisory council. Security failure faction versus unknown phenomenon faction. Both perspectives have merit but lead to different resource allocation priorities."

Julian interjected from his position. "Treasury perspective favors unknown phenomenon theory because security failure explanation would require massive infrastructure investment across all protected facilities. Budget implications are severe if we're redesigning defensive ward systems throughout the kingdom."

"Budget considerations shouldn't override security necessity," Gareth observed.

"Agreed in principle," his brother replied diplomatically. "But practical governance requires balancing ideal security against finite resources and competing priorities. If the rift was truly unprecedented phenomenon rather than exploitable vulnerability, then incremental ward improvements may be more cost-effective than comprehensive redesign."

Lady Elaine spoke quietly, her voice carrying concern that the men's analytical discussion was overriding. "Gareth survived traumatic experience that killed one hundred forty-eight of his peers. Perhaps we should prioritize his wellbeing over budget analysis."

Lord Thorne paused, his fork lowering with careful precision. "You're correct. I apologize for treating institutional crisis as primarily analytical problem when it represents personal trauma for you." He met Gareth's eyes directly. "How are you managing?"

The question caught Gareth slightly off-guard despite anticipating it. His father rarely asked about emotional states directly, preferring to infer psychological condition through behavioral observation.

"Processing," Gareth replied honestly. "The rift required constant tactical decision-making under extreme pressure. Petra and I coordinated survival groups, made real-time strategic choices about resource allocation and movement patterns. The immediate crisis demanded analytical focus that delayed emotional processing."

"And now that you're safe?" his mother prompted gently.

"Now the delayed processing is occurring," Gareth admitted. "I spent three days cataloging corpses, identifying deceased classmates, coordinating living students who were traumatized and terrified. The analytical detachment that served me during crisis feels inadequate for integrating what those experiences meant."

Julian nodded with understanding born from different context. "Palace work involves similar tension. Administrative efficiency requires emotional distance from human cost of policy decisions. But that distance creates moral hazard if maintained permanently. Finding balance between necessary detachment and genuine empathy is ongoing challenge."

"Have you sought formal trauma counseling?" Lord Thorne asked with administrative practicality.

"Academy offered services before suspension. I declined initially, prioritizing physical recovery and immediate logistics. But I'm reconsidering that decision as delayed emotional responses surface."

"Wise reconsideration," his mother said firmly. "Trauma doesn't disappear through analysis. It requires dedicated processing with appropriate professional support."

"I'll arrange consultation with trauma specialist who serves palace staff," his father offered. "Discrete, competent, experienced with crisis survivors who have analytical personality tendencies that complicate emotional processing."

The offer was characteristically practicalidentifying problem, proposing solution, implementing through administrative channels. But it also represented genuine paternal concern expressed through methodology Lord Thorne was most comfortable deploying.

"Thank you, Father. That would be helpful."

The conversation shifted to safer topics estate business, regional politics, Julian's work in treasury department. But Gareth noticed his father periodically studying him with analytical gaze that suggested ongoing assessment of psychological condition despite surface topic changes.

After dinner, Lord Thorne requested private conversation in his study. Gareth followed with mixture of anticipation and wariness.

The study was exactly as he remembered walls lined with organized bookshelves, desk positioned for optimal natural light, charts and maps displaying regional administrative data with meticulous precision. It was command center for coordinating estate management and Lord Thorne's palace administrative work.

"Sit," his father said, gesturing to comfortable chair positioned across from his desk. "I want to discuss several matters without family audience."

Gareth settled into the chair, his analytical mind already preparing for questions he anticipated and dreaded.

Lord Thorne organized papers with characteristic precision before speaking. "The palace is compiling detailed intelligence profiles on rift survivors who demonstrated exceptional capability during crisis. Your analytical perspective would be valuable for those assessments."

"I anticipated that request," Gareth replied carefully. "And I need to establish boundaries around what information I'm willing to provide."

His father's eyebrows rose fractionally surprise at preemptive boundary-setting from son who typically cooperated with administrative requests. "Explain your reservations."

"Classmates trusted me with personal information and vulnerability during extreme circumstances," Gareth said, meeting his father's gaze directly. "Compiling intelligence profiles that could be used for institutional monitoring or political leverage would constitute betrayal of that trust regardless of how I rationalize it as serving kingdom interests."

"Even when those classmates include SS-rank awakened who represent strategic national assets?"

"Especially then," Gareth replied firmly. "Kael Ashford survived circumstances that killed one hundred forty-eight others. He's processing severe trauma while being observed by multiple authority structures. Baron Millbrook's daughter was mutilated preventing her own corruption. These aren't strategic assets they're traumatized students who deserve recovery space without pervasive surveillance."

Lord Thorne leaned back in his chair, studying his son with calculating expression that suggested significant mental recalibration. "You've developed ethical principles that override institutional loyalty."

"I've developed understanding that institutional effectiveness depends on maintaining genuine trust rather than treating every relationship as intelligence-gathering opportunity," Gareth corrected. "Systematic betrayal of personal trust creates surveillance culture that ultimately produces less reliable information than voluntary cooperation."

"Your mother made similar argument," his father observed. "I'm beginning to recognize pattern in how Academy experience has influenced your perspective."

"The rift taught me that pure analytical frameworks have limits," Gareth acknowledged. "Survival required collaboration, trust, emotional intelligence alongside tactical reasoning. Those lessons apply beyond immediate crisis."

Silence stretched between them not hostile, but weighted with recognition that father-son dynamic was shifting in fundamental ways.

Finally, Lord Thorne nodded slowly. "Your position is noted. I won't request personal intelligence profiles on your classmates. But I do want comprehensive tactical analysis of survival strategies, observable threat patterns, institutional response failures. That information serves legitimate security interests without betraying personal relationships."

"Agreed. I'll provide detailed institutional analysis while protecting personal confidences."

"Good." His father's expression softened fractionally. "I'm proud of you, Gareth. Not just for surviving, but for developing ethical framework sophisticated enough to navigate complex loyalty tensions. That's difficult achievement for anyone, particularly those of us who naturally think in purely analytical terms."

The praise was rare and genuine enough to create uncomfortable warmth in Gareth's chest. "Thank you, Father."

"Now get some rest. Tomorrow we'll begin formal debriefing sessions, but tonight you should simply be home and safe."

Gareth returned to his quarters, finding evening meditation routine more challenging than usual. His analytical mind wanted to catalog everything compile lists, organize data, create frameworks for processing three days of dimensional hell.

But his mother's earlier comment resonated: trauma didn't disappear through analysis alone.

He needed to feel. To grieve. To acknowledge that one hundred forty-eight classmates who'd been alive three days ago were now permanently gone.

To recognize that he'd survived through combination of analytical skill, collaborative trust, and sheer probability rather than superior capability alone.

To accept that his worldview had fundamentally shifted in ways that would continue revealing themselves for months or years.

Gareth sat at his desk and began writing not analytical report, but personal journal. Recording memories. Describing faces of deceased classmates. Acknowledging fear and grief and survivor's guilt that he'd suppressed through three days of necessary tactical focus.

The words came slowly, awkwardly. Emotional processing felt foreign compared to analytical frameworks.

But it felt necessary. Real. Human in ways that pure analysis couldn't capture.

Outside his window the Thorne estate continued its ordered existence guards patrolling with mathematical precision, servants maintaining schedules with clockwork regularity, everything functioning according to established protocols.

Comfortable. Familiar. Safe.

And somehow insufficient after three days that had shattered comfortable assumptions about security, institutional competence, and the neat analytical frameworks he'd relied on to make sense of the world.

Gareth wrote until exhaustion claimed him. Then slept in precisely arranged quarters, dreaming of dimensional rifts and dead classmates and the slowly growing recognition that becoming truly capable required more than analytical excellence alone.

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