A few days passed. Mornings started early, nights ended late.
Today… was the day.
Voices echoed from the courtyard.
Downstairs, the kitchen was alive with chaos.
Servants rushed to set tables, raise banners, and stretch out canopies across the garden.
The spring sun hadn't fully risen, yet the entire mansion was already buzzing with activity.
Because today was the celebration of Henry Evan Godfrey's first hunt.
And this time, it wasn't just family, guests were coming, too.
As I dressed, I glanced out the window. Everything in the garden looked ready.
Colorful tents, heavy oak tables, polished goblets, smoke rising from the stone oven...
Mnex must have sensed my tension because he whispered just one line:
"Keep your shoulders straight. This isn't a celebration… it's a performance."
I didn't reply. I just kept dressing.
I slipped into my family's ceremonial tunic.
Centered on my chest was our crest, which I adjusted with care: three hawks perched on a mountain.
One held a scroll, one a sword, and the last a ring.
I fastened the clasp of my short cloak.
I was ready.
I walked to the door, descended the wooden stairs, and stepped out into the courtyard.
The sun was slowly climbing.
Today would be my first day walking into ceremony.
The first to arrive was Remy the Fugger, hauling barrels of wine in his cart.
He rushed over with arms wide open.
"Oh, young lord!" he exclaimed. "When I heard you'd gone hunting, I was beside myself! I didn't sleep for days, worrying something might happen to you!"
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. This man deserved an award, he wasn't just dramatic, he was gifted.
"No need to worry, Remy. I came back in one piece," I said. "Please, go on inside. I'll visit you shortly."
He placed his hands over his heart and bowed. "Of course."
After Remy, the next guests were a little more reserved.
At least, until Baron Thorn and his family stepped into the courtyard.
The very air seemed to shift around him.
He had long black hair, a sharp, pointed nose, and well-defined but not handsome features.
As he slowly approached, Gareth quietly leaned in beside me.
"That's Baron Vincent Thorn, your father's vassal," he murmured. "With him are his son Carlsen, three years your senior and his daughter Diane, one year older than you."
I nodded.
The boy was handsome. The girl... ordinary. Not ugly, not stunning.
"Scouting for a potential bride already?" Mnex teased.
Cut it out. I was just describing what I saw.
As the Baron approached, I offered a polite bow.
"It's an honor to finally meet you," I said.
Mnex had coached me on that line, a phrase that, delivered with the right tone, could multiply its impact.
Baron Thorn gave a curt nod. "The honor is mine. According to Count, you returned from your first hunt as something of a legend. A bear and ten wolves, he says. Hard to believe."
I chuckled and gave a modest shrug.
"The hunt got messy… but the numbers are right."
The Baron glanced at his children and nodded.
"I hope we'll share more memories soon."
"So do I," I replied.
The family headed inside.
Right behind them, a mounted knight arrived, dismounting with practiced ease.
Gareth stepped forward again.
"That's Sir Jofrey, one of Marquess Vance's vassals," he said. "Warm-hearted fellow. Rarely misses a celebration."
Sir Jofrey approached with a friendly grin, extending his hand.
"I hear you took down a giant bear," he said. "Doing that at seven… remarkable."
I shook his hand. His fingers were calloused.
"When you grow a bit more," he added, "I'd love to have a friendly duel with you."
I smiled. "Deal. But I warn you… I don't settle for anything less than a bear."
He laughed and headed inside.
Then the courtyard gates opened one last time, and the crowd roared. Women, children, and the elderly poured in with excited steps. Colorful lanterns, elegant floral decorations, and steaming food on wooden tables awaited them. Even the sound of ale flowing from barrels felt festive. Today wasn't just for nobles, it was a holiday for the whole town.
There was only one rule: anyone who caused trouble was thrown out… literally. Which ensured everyone had a good time.
With slow, steady steps, I entered the great hall.
I didn't smile. Didn't wave. Let them project whatever legend they needed.
My ceremonial tunic bore the family crest, paired with a short cloak. Three hawks and a mountain, each a piece of our lineage. And now, I was part of it too.
The hall was lit with soft, ambient light.
Instead of chandeliers, pine branches arranged into wreaths hung from the ceiling.
Long tables stretched across the room, already filled with guests.
A gentle murmur and whisper followed me as I walked in.
At the front of the room stood Count Richard Frederick Godfrey. Father.
He raised a hand. The hall fell silent.
"My friends," he began. "Today we gather to honor one of the oldest traditions of House Godfrey. When our children turn seven, they face their first trial in nature. We call it the 'first hunt.' But it is more than a hunt… it is a test of character, courage, and instinct."
Mnex muttered under his breath.
"Your dad sure loves to talk. Where's the popcorn?"
I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway.
Father continued. "Today, my son Henry returned from that trial with pride and with stories."
He gestured to the curtains behind him. Two servants moved quickly.
With a single pull, the fabric dropped.
Glass cases shimmered beneath.
Inside were trophies: the massive pelt of a bear, its claws still menacing; next to it, five large direwolf pelts, neatly arranged.
For a moment, the room was silent.
Then came the whispers, followed by a wave of applause and awe.
Father raised his hand again to speak.
"But this is only part of the story. My son didn't just hunt."
The hall quieted once more. Father took a breath.
"On the way back, Henry encountered a group of bandits involved in illegal slave trade. These criminals had captured some of villagers. Without hesitation, Henry, alongside his guard freed them."
An old villager sitting in the corner rose to his feet. Tears shimmered in his eyes.
He said nothing, but placed a hand over his heart and bowed.
Father went on. "During this, my son faced thirty bandits. And all of them… met justice."
Applause thundered through the hall. This time, there was more than admiration, there was gratitude.
The nobles looked stunned.
I bowed my head slightly. Not quite a smile, not shame either… just the expression it deserved.
Father spoke one last time. "Today, we don't just celebrate a hunt, we honor a stand. And everyone here has become a part of this moment. Thank you."
Applause rose again.
As I stepped down from the stage, Mnex whispered once more.
"So… do we eat now, or is someone else giving a speech?"
After the speech, the hall buzzed back to life. Soon, everyone had taken their seats at the long tables, the clink of cutlery and the low hum of voices filling the air. Servants glided between guests with trays of steaming dishes, pouring wine as the scent of roasted game and fresh bread drowned out the echoes of applause.
The air softened, but only on the surface.
Baron Thorn sat two seats to my right, Sir Jofrey across from him, and Remy, somehow, had secured the place beside me, grinning like a man who'd just been crowned king of merchants… not that it was far from the truth. Some said he was richer than a few kings put together.
"Young lord," Remy said, raising his goblet. "Your hunt will be the talk of the markets for months. Why, even on the far side of the continent, they'll speak of the boy who made a bear and five wolves tear each other apart."
Baron Thorn's brow arched slightly. "Strange… I heard it was ten wolves. But perhaps that was just an exaggeration."
I let the faintest smile tug at my lips. "It was actually more… a few slipped away. Perhaps next time I'll hunt them down and leave them at your doorstep."
I turned back to Remy with the same faint smile. Remy's grin widened at that, clearly enjoying the exchange. "I wouldn't say I made them tear each other apart. I just introduced them… and let nature do what it does best."
That earned a low chuckle from Sir Jofrey. "Practical. I like that."
Baron Thorn sipped his wine slowly, eyes never leaving me. "Practical, perhaps. But risky. Some might say reckless."
"Some might," I replied, matching his tone. "But the risk saved lives."
"Lives that should have been rescued by the city guard," Thorn countered, his voice smooth but cold. "Taking matters into your own hands can… unsettle the balance of things."
Mnex's voice whispered in my head. "Translation: 'Please stop making me look like the decorative kind of noble.'"
Father's voice broke in before I could answer. "House Godfrey has never been in the habit of waiting for permission to act in defense of our people."
Even if they technically belonged to Count Beaumont's vassal Baron Kayer's lands.
Sir Jofrey set down his fork. "Still, the Baron raises a fair point. The law must stand, even in the wilds."
Remy leaned forward, eager to stir the pot. "And yet, Sir Jofrey, if the law stands idle, what then? Should we send a written complaint to the bandits first?"
The knight frowned, but there was amusement in his eyes. Thorn, however, didn't smile. He merely placed his cup down with careful precision.
"If a storm ever comes to these lands," he said quietly, "those who act without the consent of their liege may find themselves… standing alone."
The table went silent. Even the clink of cutlery seemed to pause.
I met his gaze and held it, letting the moment stretch until it frayed.
Finally, I smiled. "Then it's fortunate… as the future of House Godfrey, I'm not in the habit of standing still."
Remy broke the tension with an exaggerated clap. "Well said! Now… about the wine, who here can taste the oak in this year's vintage?"
The conversation drifted back toward safer waters, but the weight of Thorn's words lingered, like a shadow beneath the bright hall lights.
Mnex summed it up neatly. "One toast, three threats, and a compliment buried so deep you'd need a shovel to find it. Politics is exhausting."
The rest of the meal passed in polite conversation and carefully measured smiles. When the final plates were cleared and the wine cups drained, I allowed myself a quiet breath of relief. My jaw ached from smiling, my shoulders from sitting too straight. Finally, I rose from my seat.
Nobles swarmed around me like bees to honey.
It was strange. The way they smiled, the way they leaned in... Someone's perfume hit me like a wall of flowers. Too sweet. Too close. I'd seen wolves circle prey. This felt exactly like that, except worse. Wolves don't flatter first.
Countesses, young ladies, senior knights… they all took turns offering praise, congratulations, or simply gawking.
Some bowed, others pointed me out to their children like I was a painting at a museum.
It felt less like a celebration, more like a coronation.
I smiled and nodded through it all, offering short replies.
Then, two figures stepped out from the crowd, Baron Thorn's children.
"I'm Carlsen," said the boy with a proud look. "This is my sister, Diane."
I nodded politely.
Carlsen looked me up and down. There was a flicker of tension in his eyes… jealousy, maybe.
"You sure you're seven?" he asked, squinting. "I'm ten, and we're the same height. You didn't, I don't know… cheat a little?"
I didn't answer. My lips curled into a faint smile.
A small flame flickered in my palm.
It danced between purple and orange before vanishing into thin air.
Diane's eyes went wide. Her mouth parted slightly.
She stood frozen for a few seconds, cheeks flushed.
Carlsen noticed. His brow furrowed, and without breaking eye contact with me, he grabbed his sister's arm.
"Let's go," he said sharply.
"B-but…" Diane stammered, but he cut her off, dragging her away.
As they walked off, my gaze found Baron Thorn.
He was watching me, right at that moment.
For a heartbeat, the noise of the hall faded, as if the two of us were the only ones left
He was smiling, at least, it looked like a smile.
But it was the kind of smile people give before drawing a knife. Slow. Practiced. Poisoned.
I turned my head slightly.
Didn't like that man, I thought. He's like a taller, sleazier Remy.
Mnex sighed.
"As if one Remy wasn't already too much…"
The hall had thinned. Servants cleared plates, the musicians played softer now, and the smell of spiced wine lingered in the air.
I'd stepped toward the side corridor, meaning to head upstairs, when a low murmur caught my ear.
It came from the alcove near the western windows.
Baron Thorn stood there with Sir Jofrey and Remy, their heads bent in quiet conversation.
They hadn't noticed me… too focused on each other.
"…impressive for his age," Jofrey was saying. "But raw iron is still unshaped. A few more hunts, a few more years, and he might truly be dangerous."
Thorn's reply was a slow pour of words. "Dangerous to whom, I wonder? A boy who acts without orders is a boy who might ignore more than just orders."
Jofrey's gaze sharpened slightly. He set his cup down. "If your horse stops obeying, the smart choice is to put it down before it throws you. Only time will tell which rider you are."
Thorn's jaw tightened. "And yet, the order here keeps the West from tearing itself apart."
"Perhaps," Jofrey allowed. "Orders can be tricky. Because in the dark, it can be hard to tell… who's guarding the lord's hall, and who's the direwolf waiting in the shadows for his lord to lower his guard."
For a heartbeat, their smiles stayed polite. But the silence between them was heavier than steel. The words lingered in the air like the chill before a storm. For a moment, neither man moved, only their eyes locked, each weighing how far the other might go.
Remy chuckled softly, swirling his goblet. "Well, well, my lords… orders can be reforged, if you've got enough solmar. People tend to follow the man with the heaviest purse."
Thorn's eyes narrowed. "Gold has a way of running out. Loyalty does not."
Jofrey smirked faintly. "And yet, you can see who carries the heaviest purse… but can you truly weigh who holds the greater loyalty?"
For a moment, none of them spoke. Only the faint clink of Remy's cup broke the quiet.
Thorn finally said, "If the Count won't temper the boy, others will. Sooner or later. And my loyalty Jofrey… sits higher than that of a mere knight."
The corner of Jofrey's jaw twitched, though his smile stayed fixed.
Remy tilted his head. "So long as 'sooner' doesn't ruin the trade, I'll drink to that."
They shared a thin smile, the kind men share when the words mean more than the tone admits.
I stepped back into the shadows before they could see me.
Mnex's voice was almost bored. "Congratulations. You just eavesdropped on a conspiracy appetizer. The main course will probably try to kill you."
I wasn't sure if he meant the politics or the people… and I wasn't sure which one was worse.
By the time the celebration ended, only family and a few servants remained in the hall.
A mountain of gifts sat piled on a side table, ornate scrolls, fine fabrics, carved wooden toys, a few silver cups.
Most were traditional, nothing too extravagant. Neither lacking, nor overdone.
But one gift stood out.
A long black box, bearing the crest of Marquess Vance.
When I opened it, a gleaming sword rested inside… its steel polished to a shine, its hilt inlaid with mother of pearl, its scabbard glittering like a jewel.
"Hmm," I murmured, lifting the weapon.
"It's like a stage prop that thinks it's important."
Mnex's voice chimed in.
"Cheap knockoff. Awful balance. Garbage steel. Looks flashy, sure but one real strike and it'll shatter like glass. Waste of space. Toss it."
I wondered if Vance meant it as a gift… or a message.
I placed the sword back in the box and closed the lid.
Handed it to a nearby servant.
"Store this in the back. Might use it for decoration someday."
That was enough for one day. Bears, wolves, bandits, fake smiles, cheap gifts, and hollow laughter…
All wrapped up in a neat little festival.
But now… my bed was waiting.
And this time, I had actually earned some sleep.
I'd killed beasts and faced men but today I'd survived something worse: politics.
Honestly, these social events felt more exhausting than tracking a beast through the wild.
What a waste of effort.