CHAPTER 2: THE SEALED VOW AND THE CAPTOR'S CARRIAGE
The departure wasn't silent. It was heavy with the ghost of a glory House Valis no longer possessed. As I walked toward the sleek, black Arcano carriage, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
"Aren."
I turned. My father, the King of a shrinking hill, looked at me with eyes that were terrifyingly clear. He didn't look like a failing noble; he looked like a father losing his heart to save his skin.
"I raised you well," he said, his voice a low gravel.
"You did, Father," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "But a well-raised son knows when it's time to pay the debt."
He reached into his robe. "I can give you nothing of value. No titles, no land, not even the House Crest—that belongs to your brothers now. But I can give you this." He pressed a cold, heavy object into my palm. It was a ring, an ancient band of obsidian with a hollow center where a gem should have been. "Your mother's lineage token. In my glory days, it held the ember of our house. Now, it is empty. But there is one more thing..."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a ritualistic whisper. "I grant you the Right to Recall. A sealed vow under the Old Law. If House Valis survives because of your service, you may one day return to reclaim your status. If the house falls... the vow dies with us."
"I understand," I said, sliding the empty ring onto my finger. It felt like a shackle, and a promise.
The Cruelty of the Highborn
"Are we done with the melodrama?"
Arielle Arcano was leaning against the carriage door, her arms crossed under her chest, accentuating a curve that made my "pragmatic" brain momentarily short-circuit. She looked bored, but her eyes were tracing the way I held myself.
"Emotional?" she asked as I approached.
"A bit," I admitted.
"Good. It means you have something to lose. People with nothing to lose are boring 'Pawns.' I prefer 'Silvers' with stakes." She gestured toward the estate. "Go pack. Quickly."
"Pack what? I assumed a house as 'benevolent' as Arcano would provide a new wardrobe for their latest acquisition."
Arielle let out a dry, mocking laugh. "I'm not buying you clothes yet, Aren. You haven't earned the Arcano silk. You'll wear your own rags until we reach Tenho Academy. Now move."
"Cruel," I muttered, turning back.
"Efficient," she corrected, watching me walk away.
My father had already prepared a small trunk. He handed it to me with a final, desperate look. "Just... be nice to her, Aren. The Arcanos are cats. If you stroke them the right way, they purr. If you don't, they skin you alive."
"I've always been good with animals, Father," I said with a wink I didn't truly feel.
The Carriage of Horrors
The interior of the Arcano carriage was a world of velvet and magic-cooled air. I sat opposite Arielle, my small trunk tucked under my feet. As the carriage lurched forward, the silence became a playground for my imagination.
I looked at Arielle. She was reading a parchment, her legs crossed, one heel dangling off a very expensive-looking foot.
What exactly is her 'selection' process? I wondered. I remembered seeing her at the Tenho Academy entrance ceremony months ago. She had been surrounded by high-tier nobles, but she had stayed back, watching the crowd like a gambler at a high-stakes table. She wasn't looking for the strongest—she was looking for the most useful.
My mind began to drift into darker, more 'DxD-style' territory.
What does a girl like her do with a 'Silver' piece? Maybe she'd force me into those dangerously thin silk robes I'd heard the Arcano servants wore. Or maybe she had a fetish for 'Broken' things—maybe I'd be hanging upside down from a dungeon ceiling while she practiced 'stimulation' spells on me. Or worse... she'd sell me off to some ancient, wrinkled Demon Matriarch as a 'pleasure pet.' I have a decent face; I'd probably fetch a high price in the courtesan quarters.
I must have let out a visible shudder.
"I don't have a fetish for elderly women, if that's what you're worried about," Arielle said without looking up from her parchment.
I froze. "I didn't say a word."
"Your face did. You went from 'stoic martyr' to 'scared virgin' in six seconds." She finally looked up, a devilish glint in her eyes. "I am a Noble Heir of Arcano. I don't need to 'abuse' you sensually to get what I want. You are my Silver Piece. My property. My... well, let's call it what it is."
"A dog?" I asked, a bit of my natural bite returning.
"A very handsome, very talented dog," she purred, leaning forward until the scent of her perfume filled my lungs. "And what do we say to our mistress, Aren?"
I stared at her. The power dynamic was clear, but the way her eyes lingered on my neck made the air feel twenty degrees hotter.
"Fine," I sighed, leaning back into the velvet. "Anything you please... my lady."
"Good boy," she whispered, her tongue darting out to lick her lip just for a second. "Now, sit still. We have a long drive to the Academy, and I want to see exactly what makes that 'Broken Watch' of yours tick."