Far past the basin, tens of miles to the northwest, where the ground inclined, and the trees parted, great stretches of farm field encompassing the outskirts of a city atop a hill could be found. It was the city of Hilton, home to over three thousand residents, and the destination of which Azriel saw in the distance.

The city was a shining beacon of man’s handiwork. Seeing it renewed Azriel’s sense of wonder for the world and made him feel as though the trip was worth the view alone. Hundreds of buildings towered over the city walls revealing their red-tiled roofs, which could be seen even a few miles out.

The day was still early, and the sun had yet to fully rise. Lazarus had awoken Azriel earlier in the morning so that they may arrive a bit early. He wasn’t exactly sure how long it would take and didn’t want to risk being late. After all, coming sooner rather than later had no fiscal consequence.

Azriel sat beside his father at the reigns of the wagon. The wagon was pulled by two horses and was covered by a canopy to sleep under without weathering nature’s elements. Under it also laid sacks of grain and other trade goods. The peasantry used this trip for dual purposes.

When they arrived, Lazarus saw Azriel off before reminding him to follow the rules he had him memorize along the trip. Then steering the cart toward the market where he would’ve sold off the village goods for cloth, tools, and other essential commodities, his father left him to his own devices.

Azriel walked through the city, completely flabbergasted by the sights before him. The buildings in the town were all multiple stories tall and built of wood and stone. The shape of their structures were impeccably masterful, looking as though they were made with extensive effort and time. The roads were layered with bricks, as were the sidewalks on which many pedestrians traversed, with the proceeding of their daily routines.

The sounds of people talking and horse hooves clopping clouded Azriel’s vision, carriages with horses caught between people crossing in front made him feel enclosed, and the streets smelt of human and animal excrement. It was safe to say that these factors quickly zapped his appreciation for the city.

Azriel loved the scenery of the city, but the crowd of people through which he navigated brought back painful memories he would’ve preferred having left untapped. He felt as though, at any second, one of them would be wielding a sword in their hand with the intent to kill another, and then a mindless mob of senseless abandonment would break out on the spot.

Fortunately for Azriel, his fears turned out to be unfounded as he managed to make his way to the top of the hill without seeing a single person wield a blade against another. There he approached another gated wall. Inside there was the estate of the Duke of Hilton, Tobias Leone.

Duke Tobias’s manor was immaculate in its beauty. For what little of it he could see through the gate sent shivers down his spine and made his eyes widen with awe and wonderment. Such magnificence made Hildenfreide look like a shanty-town crowding a brook, like a tribe of nomads pitching up tents for a night.

Two pikemen wearing light crimson brigandine bearing the insignia of an azure lion stood in front of the gate, barring Azriel’s approach.

The one on the right commanded, “State your business.”

Azriel scratched his head, trying to remember what his father told him to say to the guards.

“I’m here on recommendations of the Hans of Hildenfreide and the duke himself to be entered into the Knight’s Academy selection trials.”

Lifting out his hand, the guard asked for the letter that would prove Azriel’s claim. He hurried to produce it from out of his ring’s pocket-dimension, placing it in the guard’s hand.

Reading the parchment and examining The Duke’s signature at the bottom, the guard handed it back, humming, “This all checks out. You’re free to enter.”

From above, a person operating the gate coiled a pulley that lifted the metal bars, leaving Azriel to freely enter. Once inside, he took a few seconds to take in the sights and scents before heading towards the manor.

The land was complexly flat, unnaturally flat. It was clearly leveled and covered in fertile soil. The wide field of short-cut grass was of even length across the premises. In the far back past the flower garden that parted the glossy stone road into a circle and freshened the air with a bewitching scent, a manor built with bright-white painted concrete stood three floors tall. Its whiteness, unblemished, and the structure, untarnished.

Approaching the tall double doors, he wondered if it was courtesy to knock or stand there and wait. Not wanting to risk it, he stood in wait at the front of the manor for many minutes.

Suddenly, he heard a mechanical click, and the door opened, revealing a handmaid who must’ve been no older than thirteen. She looked surprised and nervous, giving him a sense that he had done something wrong.

“Might I ask who you may be, sir?”

Azriel, not understanding the handmaiden’s position in the household, knelt down at her feet and eloquently bowed, saying, “Good lady of the household, my name is Azriel of Hildenfreide. I’m here to request that I may meet your father, the Duke.”

Azriel waited a few seconds to hear her response but was treated with silence instead. Concerned, he looked up to see the girl’s face burning red with embarrassment. Azriel was deeply perplexed as he was only doing how he had been taught.

“O-Oh… L-Let me go get him.”

She hurried away from Azriel’s embarrassing mistake, leaving him to question what he should do next, eventually deciding to follow after her inside, up the stairs, and down a hallway.

Azriel was astonished to see the inside walls were painted white with gold trimming, and the floors were white-marble tiles carpeted over with vibrant velvet rugs. The design reminded him a lot of the portal. It was as though the heavenly architecture from the legends of heaven were what inspired the manor’s designers.

Following her, unaware of his presence, Azriel stopped every few moments to stand in awe of the many stunning paintings adorning the walls. He hadn’t ever seen a painting before, having only ever heard of them from his encyclopedic tome.

The girl stopped at the end of a hall knocking on a door, still unaware of Azriel, who was causally standing a few feet away.

“Come in.” spoke a voice coming through the door.

As the girl opened it, an older man sitting behind a desk stacked with papers inquisitively queried, “Yes, what it?”

“T-There is a boy waiting to see you who says his name is Azriel of Hildenfreide.”

The man grunted, “Ah yes, send him up so-”

“Hello, sir,” Azriel smiled while leaning over in front of the doorway.

The handmaid screamed while falling back in surprise. Her face was one of terror as she processed what had happened and its implications. The grey-haired bearded man had a look of shock as well.

“D-Did I do something wrong… Sir?

The man momentarily furrowed his brow, causing the handmaid’s heart to sink before bursting out into a bout of laughter, seemingly amused by Azriel’s conduct.

Azriel tilted his head in confusion, thinking, “Is he laughing at his daughter falling?”

Wiping a tear from his eye, the grizzled man spoke, “I had heard you had little sense, but this is something else entirely.”

He stood up and walked over, held out his hand, and shook Azriel’s, saying, “I am Duke Tobias Leone, and you are Azriel of Hildenfreide?”

“T-That is correct, sir.”

The Duke grinned, saying, “Come, let us discuss in private?”

Azriel nodded in agreement.

***

Azriel was sat on an elegant white couch across from The Duke in a meeting room that overlooked the entire backside of the city. Atop the table between them, two teacups were placed.

Azriel was curious what it was as he had never seen tea before.

“Please, drink,” The Duke smiled.

Azriel lifted the cup with a bit of hesitance, questioning what it could possibly be. He examined closely as steam arose from it.

The Duke’s amiable expression shifted to that of annoyance towards Azriel’s perceived mistrust, “Come now, it’s not poisoned. It’s simply a friendly gesture.”

At hearing this, Azriel knew he had broken the first rule his father taught him to follow over the three days ride: never offend nobility; always keep them appeased.

Sensing that he had mistakenly offended him, he took a considerable sip without any consideration for the heat that would burn his tongue. Worse yet, it tasted like dirt and flowers to him. He couldn’t help but convulse it back out, spraying the brown liquid all over the clean white table.

His eyes widened as he knew he only possibly could’ve compounded the horridness of the situation. He had to do something quickly to redeem himself.

Ripping his shirt in half, he raced to clean the spill with the ragged cloth while repeating, “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I’ll clean this up right away.”

Duke Tobias’s eyes were widened in shock as he opened his mouth and, in a bone-chilling voice, inquired, “You don’t know what tea is, do you?”

Stopping his movements and slowly lifting his head with the fluidity of a rusty hinge, Azriel looked up at The Duke’s blank expression, cautiously asking, “W-What’s tea, sir?”

A few moments of dead silence were then broken by him bursting into another fit of laughter.

“I don’t know why I expected you would. You are from way out in the Styx after all.”

Azriel awkwardly tried to force a laugh to lighten the tension. Humor was a concept he struggled with to the point that he hadn’t ever laughed before. Until now, He hadn’t even tried to fake a laugh either. Nobody in Hildenfreide ever held it against him, so he didn’t feel the need to improve upon it.

“So,” the Duke suddenly became serious, “Is it true you actually killed a wendigo?”

Azriel nodded.

The Duke squinted, analyzing up and down Azriel’s exposed torso and arms, observing their toned definition as if for confirmation. Azriel had unwittingly made a power play in revealing his chiseled physique when ripping his shirt off. Having that of a ten-year-old’s body, it was enough to impress even the brutiest of brutes.

Duke Tobias’s suspicion had been slightly dampened by this but not quelled.

“May I ask how?”

Azriel looked up to the ceiling for a few seconds trying to recall the story his father had made up, before explaining, “Uncle Hans was being attacked by the Wendigo, so I grabbed my shovel and swung the edge into its spine. It was… um… open and so I swung it, and it snapped and-”

“I think I understand.”

Azriel was internally relieved, thinking The Duke had bought his lie. Before that moment, he hadn’t ever told a consequential lie, only ones that were innocent or for the sake of convenience.

“But…” The Duke sighed, “I’ll still need to see a demonstration of this talent I’ve heard so much about. After all, I need to see with my own eyes whether or not you’re worth staking my credibility on.”

Lightly tapping a call bell with two fingers, the door opened with the maid girl stepping through to retrieve the tea. Only after she lifted the tea plates did she notice Azriel’s toned shirtless body. Startled, her hand quaked, and the teacup fell, pouring tea on Azriel’s patchy trousers.

Right before the teacup would’ve shattered against the ground, Azriel subconsciously caught it between his crossed feet. Reaching to grab it and replacing it on its plate, he looked at her with his beautiful blue eyes and softly whispered, “Be careful.”

Her face whole face turned a shade of deep red as tears started to build in the corners of her eyes. Impetuously turning away to hide her face, she hurried out the door, forgetting to close it behind her. Azriel thought little of her mannerisms as he always missed anything with even the slightest bit of subtlety.

Awkwardly cocking his head to the side and scratching the back of his neck, he sighed, “May I ask a selfish request.”

Duke Tobias, his eyes still transfixed on Azriel’s feet, replied, “S-Sure.”

“Can I have a change of clothes?”