Athalia paced back and forth the room, a large smile plastered on her face. While Hagen didn’t manage to calm her down, he did at least convince her to change the blood-stained dress.

“Jonathan is a father, can you believe it? And we used to joke that he would become a celibate monk. Turns out he became a parent before us. And I didn’t notice it at first because of his skin, but that boy John takes a bit after his father. His eyes are green at the edges, and he’s so tall at his age, although his mother was also tall...”

While his wife was ecstatic and chattered nonstop, Hagen remained much more quiet and pensive.

“Why are you saying nothing?” she finally asked him.

The earl took a deep breath and looked back at her. “He’s Jonathan’s son.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been saying this whole time while you’ve been standing there ruminating. You should be happy.”

“I am happy,” he said honestly. Jonathan was his friend and, while there was nothing he could do about Dene’s death, he could at least take care of their child. Or at least he hoped so, and that uncertainty worried him. “Do you think other nobles will also be happy if they find out about him?”

Athalia blinked, realizing what he was getting at. A bastard could create a lot of troubles simply by existing. If word got out that Jonathan had a son out of wedlock, then Damian Olsen would have a bit of a scandal on his hands. If that son happened to be half-bred, then the scandal would be much bigger considering the Holy Flame’s views on the southerners. The Duke would stop at nothing to have the boy killed.

Duke Jorvan Olsandre, Hagen’s liege, would get involved, and he’d try to get hold of John exactly because of the harm he could do to the Olsen’s rule.

“So what are you saying, you want to throw the boy out?”

“No, obviously not. I’m saying that we can’t let anyone find out who he is. I say that we burn Jonathan’s letter and make sure that John tells no one who his father is. He did save Bellatrix and Nevil, so we could use that as an excuse to hire him to the castle staff.”

Athalia didn’t like his suggestion at all. “The staff? You mean to have him as a servant.”

“It’s the best way. We’ll be able to protect him. For all effects and purposes, he’ll be just a half-bred boy that we rewarded with a job.”

“Oh yes, he’ll be washing floors and emptying chamberpots, what an honor,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “He has noble blood, he deserves better than that, he deserves...” Athalia began to trail off, a pensive look on her face. She remained like that for a couple of moments before breaking out into an ominous smile. “He deserves a reward for saving Bellatrix and Nevil.”

Hagen didn’t understand what she was planning, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.

She moved towards his desk and rummaged through the drawers, stopping only when she found the wooden box where he kept the measuring stones. With it in hands, she strode out of the room.

Hagen sighed. “Dammit,” he muttered before leaving after her.

***

John dried himself with a white wool towel before wrapping it around his waist. On his neck, he had his mother’s necklace, a leather cord with a black and white coin for a pendant. It was the key to entering the most important part of the Secret Realm.

He didn’t know what it was made from, only that it felt extremely smooth, so much so that the bathwater didn’t even bead on it. According to his mother, no one was supposed to know about the key’s meaning, but he’d rather not take any chances. As soon as possible he’d try to paint it over to try and hide it.

The washroom had a large horizontal bathtub lined with a beige-colored ceramic. At the bottom of it was a metal drain stopper. John couldn’t see underneath it, but the presence of a stopper implied that there was some sort of plumbing in place, else the water would spill all over the floor.

Other than the bathtub, there was also a cabinet and a door that led to the privy.

A knock on the door caught John’s attention. He walked out of the washroom and into the bedroom.

“John, are you there?” he heard Athalia’s voice from the other side.

“Yes, just a moment.”

The clothes John came into the castle with were all crumpled at the washroom’s floor, while any spare one was outside with his horse. He could put the dirty clothes back on, but the old maid did tell him about clean garments inside the wardrobe.

He put on a white tunic along with a pair of brown trousers, none fitting all that well. Not finding any footwear, he walked barefoot over the carpet towards the door and opened it, but not before hiding the necklace inside a pocket.

Now wearing a green dress, Athalia held a wooden box on one hand and a cup of water on the other. Earl Hagen stood behind her, face stern.

“May we come in?” she asked.

John opened the door wider and moved out of the way. “Please,” he answered. They walked into the room and he closed the door behind then.

Athalia settled the items on a tea table and pulled herself a chair. Hagen followed suit, and John figured it would be too awkward to be the only one standing, so he also sat down.

“Do you like your accommodations?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady,” he answered.

“That’s good. Now for the reason why we’re here. I’m sure you understand that the matter of your ancestry is… sensitive to say the least. As such, it’s very important that you tell no one about your parents, understand?”

John nodded. She didn’t need to tell him considering how many times his mother already did the same.

Athalia smiled in response. She next pointed at him, or more specifically, at his nose. “I take that it broke some time ago. It’s been healing well but, unfortunately, it’s not properly aligned.”

She was right. On the road, John had tried to put his broken nose back into place. This proved to be easier said than done though.

“It will remain crooked if left like that. I can heal it, but first I’ll need to put it back in place. Are you okay with that?” Receiving a nod in confirmation, she leaned forward and placed both thumbs on his nose. “On three. One—” she pushed.

The crack of his nose breaking echoed through his head. The second time hurt even more than the first. John’s vision flashed white and he forced himself to remain upright. Blood started running down his nose when he finally felt something cold being pressed against his face.

His vision returned and, with cloudy eyes, he found a glob of water floating against his face as Athalia worked her magic. The pain turned into a throbbing ache, then into a slight soreness, and finally disappeared in full. All in a matter of seconds.

When Athalia finally felt satisfied with her work, the glob of water turned into a rivulet that flowed back into the cup. “All done,” she spoke with a smile.