A week had passed since Aeren met Lady Isolde.
That first day had been a little awkward. Aeren felt like a third wheel, the air between them slightly restrained. Both Isolde and Liora seemed to be holding something back. He didn't ask about anything, instead following their lead in silence.
When they met in the courtyard, Lady Isolde approached with calm grace, her steps light but confident.
Aeren bowed. "Good morning, Lady Isolde. It is an honor to serve under you."
Liora gave a smaller, slightly stiff bow. "Good morning, my lady."
Lady Isolde's lips curved faintly. "Good morning. There's no need to be so formal all the time—we're of similar age. Still, I appreciate your manners. Come, follow me."
Liora and Isolde walked side by side, speaking quietly, while Aeren followed a few paces behind. His stride was measured, posture flawless—every movement speaking of duty. It gave the impression that he was there only in a working capacity, not as part of their circle.
They soon arrived at the training grounds. The gates were normally closed to all but the heirs of House Verdan. Lady Isolde gave a small nod to the guard, who swung them open without a word.
The training grounds stretched as far as the eye could see—easily the size of a village in Drevin territory. Sunlight glinted off polished weapon racks. Archery targets stood at varied distances. Sparring pits filled with fresh sand awaited combatants. To the far side, an open track for mounted drills curved in a wide loop.
"Let's start with running," Isolde said.
They ran lap after lap under the sun. Hours passed, the sound of their footfalls steady against packed earth. Liora's breathing grew heavy, and even Isolde's pace slowed, but Aeren's steps never faltered.
"You've got remarkable stamina," Isolde remarked, wiping sweat from her brow.
"Thank you, my lady," Aeren replied evenly.
Liora glanced at him from the corner of her eye, saying nothing, but her slight frown spoke enough.
After that came strength drills—weighted sandbags, combat stances, and target strikes. An hour passed before Isolde straightened, a spark in her eyes.
"Now… we spar."
She fought Liora first, then Aeren, then both at once. Her footwork was sharp, her strikes precise. Again and again, she disarmed or unbalanced them, until the ninth bell rang and victory was hers every time.
Liora and Aeren were marked with dust and bruises. Isolde left smiling, her earlier formality softened.
Aeren returned to his quarters, washed, and changed. At half past nine, he met Liora in the kitchen, where the head chef stood waiting.
"You will learn Lady Isolde's favorite dishes," the chef said. "No mistakes."
They cooked under his sharp instruction before carrying the food to the dining hall.
Lord Eldric sat at the head, with Lady Isolde to his right and his two sons to his left—Lord Ceyric, age fifteen, and Lord Marrec, age fourteen. The Verdan family had only these two sons and their single daughter.
After the midday meal at the eleventh bell, Aeren and Liora cleared Lady Isolde's table with practiced efficiency. By the twelfth bell, Lady Isolde made her way to the family library for her studies. She granted permission for Aeren and Liora to accompany her, an uncommon courtesy.
For three hours they remained there, surrounded by the scent of parchment and the quiet rustle of pages. When the study session ended, Aeren and Liora returned to the kitchen, while Lady Isolde retired to her room with a faintly tired look.
At the fourth bell, under the chef's instructions, Aeren and Liora prepared a light meal. Together they carried it to Lady Isolde's chambers. Aeren delivered the tray, but only Liora was allowed inside. He waited outside her door for what felt like hours, standing silently in the corridor until Liora emerged.
By the fifth bell, the evening routine began. The three of them—Aeren, Liora, and Isolde—returned to the training hall. This time, however, they were not alone; the other heirs of House Verdan were present as well. All the heirs trained together for three hours, the sound of clashing wooden weapons and steady breathing filling the hall.
When the session ended, each heir returned to their own accommodations. At the eighth bell, Lady Isolde dined in her room, leaving Aeren and Liora to finish their duties for the day.
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Present
Aeren sat in his quarters, staring at the dim glow of the lantern. His thoughts wandered to the Ghost Manor. He had been going there for a week now, yet there was no response from the other side.
Lira had left him without warning, disappearing into the slums. And then there was Renn. Lady Isolde had spoken of him to Liora once, a conversation Aeren had overheard purely by coincidence.
Over the past week, Aeren had continued his experiments, gaining small insights. But true progress required freedom—freedom he could only secure if he discovered who was truly behind the Ghost Manor. If he knew that, he could work openly… even for what others might call a good purpose.
He stood, pulling on the dark, fitted clothes he used for his nightly excursions. The moon hung high above, blood-red against the night sky. Without another thought, Aeren vanished into the shadows, leaving nothing behind but the whisper of the door closing.