Sunlight filtered through the window, spilling across the spacious bedroom. Velin stirred in bed, rose, and opened the window to greet the rising sun.
From this vantage point, he could see Training Ground Number Seven within the castle grounds, where thousands of knights and squires drilled under the watchful eyes of their superiors.
A gentle knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in."
The door opened, revealing a maid whose elegance was matched only by her respectful curtsy. "Master Velin, His Lordship requests your presence for breakfast, followed by a visit to his study."
"I understand."
She stepped back, closed the door, and departed.
Velin bowed his head, fully aware that this visit to his father's chambers would demand a decision.
Over two months ago, following his coming-of-age ceremony, he had reached adulthood.
In the Ecks family, all children except the designated heir were faced with a choice upon coming of age:
1. Become the guardian knight of the current heir, swearing an oath before the Goddess of Life never to betray them.
2. Leave the family to become a Pioneer, venturing to the frontier to forge one's own legacy.
3. Join the kingdom's direct knightly order through the family's recommendation, serving the king.
Without his unique soul skill—Guidance of Fate—Velin might have chosen the first path, remaining within the family, coasting through life until the end.
As a transmigrator, he had received fate's gift upon reaching adulthood. Over the past two months, through trial and error, he had discovered its special function: each month, at eight o'clock on the first night, a melodious female voice whispered a piece of vital information into his ear. So far, he had received two such revelations: one concerning himself, the other regarding the Ecks family's domain, Silvercrest.
A servant soon brought breakfast. Dressed and seated, Velin quickly consumed three slices of bread and a large mug of milk. Once the dishes were cleared, he dismissed the servant, took up his knight's dagger, and set off for his father's study.
Windsor Castle, despite its romantic name, was a formidable fortress. It sprawled across eight square kilometres and housed tens of thousands of inhabitants. Within its walls lived several hundred members of the Ecks family, over two hundred Silver Knights, a thousand Bronze Knights, and more than six thousand squires. The remainder were servants, moving ceaselessly through the castle corridors.
Velin left the annexe that held his quarters, his footsteps echoing across the pristine floors. Servants bowed in greeting, and he returned their nods with polite smiles.
Half an hour later, he reached the third floor of the main keep. He straightened his attire, drew a deep breath, and knocked.
"Enter."
Velin pushed the door open. Before him stood his father, Angus Ecks, sixth Patriarch of House Ecks and current Earl of Eagle—a man whose presence radiated authority. Velin placed his right hand over his heart and bowed. "Good morning, Father."
"Velin, my son," Angus said, his tone measured but commanding. "What is your choice?"
"Father, I choose to become a Pioneer Knight, to bring new glory to House Ecks." Velin met his father's piercing gaze with unwavering resolve.
"This choice feels unbefitting of you," Angus replied, his eyes questioning.
"Perhaps I have matured since reaching adulthood," Velin answered steadily. "I wish to follow in Eagle's footsteps and forge my own path."
Satisfied that his son had made his decision, Angus allowed his stern aura to recede. "According to the rules of the first-generation Ecks family, a son who chooses to become a Pioneer Knight may remain in the castle for only three months. As your father, I will grant you an extra month. After that, you must leave Windsor Castle."
"I understand, Father. There is nothing more to discuss."
Velin bowed once more before departing.
As he reached the doorway, Angus called out, "Your intelligence spared Silvercrest significant losses. The reward, along with the aid, will be delivered to you."
"Yes, Father," Velin replied, then closed the door behind him.
No sooner had the study door shut than a shadow runner appeared, kneeling before Angus. "Master, no other factions were near Young Master Velin. Shall we investigate further?"
"This matter ends here. Destroy all records," Angus ordered, hands clasped behind his back.
"Yes, Master." The shadow runner vanished.
A rare smile softened Angus's otherwise stern features. "Velin, my boy," he murmured, "I hope you carve out a new realm for yourself and bring glory to Ecks."
Velin walked through the castle, contemplating his next move. Before coming of age, he had intended to stay within the family, coasting through life. Now, with his choice made, he needed a clear plan.
"Next, I will seek Elder Miller to gather information," he murmured.
Every Pioneer paid respects to Elder Miller, the living fossil of the Ecks clan, who had reached the remarkable age of three hundred and twenty. But first, Velin had a task in Silvercrest.
The second piece of Guidance of Fate had revealed this:
"Two weeks from now, at residence 308 in Silvercrest's western district, two factions will conduct a transaction. The commodities: two young men of exceptional potential—one fair-haired, one silver-haired. Highest-ranking participants are mid-tier Bronze-grade. Rescue these youths, and they shall become your wings."
Velin mounted a horse led by a servant, instructed the guards to open the gates, and rode thirty kilometres toward Silvercrest.
Traveling along the broad, stone-paved road, he reached the city in twenty minutes. Silvercrest, spanning thirty square kilometres, housed over three hundred thousand people. As the second-largest city in the Ecks domain, it maintained a permanent garrison of eight thousand troops to safeguard its security.
...
The city gate officer's eyes widened as Velin approached at a gallop. He sprang to his feet, shouting, "Clear the way! His Lordship is coming through!"
Soldiers scrambled, pushing aside merchants and civilians to open a path. With a rush of hooves, Velin rode into the city, his presence parting the crowd like water.
Once through, the officer sank back into his chair, muttering as he straightened under the sunlight, "Another day, another miracle…"
Velin quickly got his bearings and made for his destination: the West District Security Department. Soon, a grand, imposing building rose into view. A guard at the entrance took Velin's horse, led it to an open space, and offered fine fodder to restore the animal's vigor. Velin barely glanced at it, striding into the building with purpose.
"Chief Constable Baker!" he called.
Moments later, a burly man clad in silver-ranked half-armour emerged. He bowed sharply. "Young Master Velin, how may I serve you?"
Velin's voice was calm but commanding. "I require a squad of constables for an urgent matter."
Baker immediately summoned a soldier. "Inform Captain Ackman of the Sixth Squad. Assemble your men in the courtyard at once."
"Aye, sir!" The soldier saluted and sprinted off.
Minutes later, fifteen men clad in iron armour lined up in the courtyard. At their head stepped a middle-aged man, his bearing matching Velin's own. He saluted Baker with a firm chest-thump.
"Sir, Captain Ackman reporting for duty."
"You shall accompany Young Master Velin," Baker said.
"At your command," Ackman replied respectfully, then turned to Velin. "Lead the way, Master Velin."
Velin nodded, satisfied with the veteran warrior, and led the squad into the streets of the West District. Their mission: a crackdown on organized crime, with the added benefit of personal gain.
...
Inside a private residence in Silvercrest's West District, several gang members completed a shady transaction with two shadowed figures in black robes.
"This sack contains what you requested," the gang leader said, gesturing to the sack. Two youths lay inside—one golden-haired, the other silver.
The cloaked figures exchanged a glance. One stepped forward to confirm the identities. The other tossed a cloth bag to the floor, the clatter of coins echoing sharply.
A subordinate retrieved the bag and placed it respectfully into his boss's hands. "The transaction is concluded."
Before the parties could disperse, the front door slammed open. Velin burst in, short sword in hand. "Everyone, drop your weapons!" he bellowed.
The gang members froze, eyes wide. Their leader's gaze fell on Ackman entering behind Velin. Pale, he shouted, "The constabulary! Run!"
Before anyone could react, he crashed through the window and vanished. A piercing scream echoed from outside—the leader's cry, now silenced forever.
The remaining hooded figures drew their concealed blades, but Velin moved first. Using the room's narrow space, he struck with precision, eliminating both threats in a blink.
Ackman watched silently, a faint gasp escaping his lips. "Master Velin… your skill is incredible."
"You flatter me," Velin replied, sheathing his blade.
He approached the fallen figures and removed their masks, revealing their identities. Both bore black shamrock markings on their foreheads.
"Master Ackman," Velin said, his voice low, "these corpses are tied to important matters. Shall we handle them?"
"Do as you see fit," Ackman replied.
Velin's attention turned to the sack. The two youths inside matched the intelligence he had received—and both bore slave brands on their foreheads. Without hesitation, he lifted them into his arms and exited.
The constables exchanged murmurs, glancing at the handsome youths in Velin's care. "Master Velin wouldn't have come here just for them…"
"Certainly not," another whispered.
Ackman silenced them with a sharp bark. "Escort these individuals back—now."
Velin mounted his horse with the youths in tow. Ackman approached, carrying a bag of confiscated coins. "Master Velin… these are the recovered funds. Shall we—"
"Divide them among yourselves. I will take none. Consider it payment for the lads' efforts."
"Thank you, Master Velin," the constables said, gratitude evident in their voices.
Back at Windsor Castle, Velin stabled his horse and carried the two youths to his chambers. Servants, though astonished, dared not comment. Inside the castle, speaking freely of one's master was unthinkable.
He laid the youths upon the bed and, seeing them remain still, departed to consult Elder Miller.
...
Descending into the subterranean stronghold, Velin handed his weapons to the sentry, underwent a thorough search, and was permitted entry. Dim light revealed walls inscribed with the names and deeds of Ecks family members across centuries.
The lineage had endured seven centuries, now comprising five Earls, seventeen Viscounts, and thirty-three Barons. Velin's branch was the main line; four other Earls represented subsidiary branches. Within the Kingdom of Ilia, the Ecks family's influence surpassed many marquess-level powers, though they had not yet produced a legendary figure to ascend to ducal status.
After traversing a kilometre-long staircase, Velin reached a brightly lit archive room. An elderly man dozed nearby. Velin approached quietly, waiting for him to awaken.