Chris and Daniel both woke up in the early afternoon of the next day, and Chris concluded that perhaps Winter had decided to let them sleep in. They took their time getting dressed, and after wandering around the house in a daze for about ten minutes, they finally located the rest of the group: apparently, they had been waiting for an early lunch in the sitting room downstairs. The main reason it had taken the pair so long to find it was due to the fact that the only way to reach the sitting room was by passing through the dining room, and if one was left unaware of that fact, they would end up circling the entire mansion five times. Fortunately for Chris and Daniel, they spotted a servant carrying a tray of tea into the dining room and followed them, hoping to get a better direction.

When they entered the vast sitting room, they spotted Arnold trying to light fire with the help of the young man from last night, although the latter seemed to be in the way with an array of advice more than anything else.

Ian and Winter weren’t around.

“Good morning,” Chris greeted.

“Oh, morning!” Osburt smiled and gave him and Daniel a wave. “Did you sleep well?”

“D-done!” Arnold stepped away from the fireplace. There was a small fire burning over a pile of wood and balled up papers.

“Good job! …Oh! I’m quite rude, excuse me.” The young man cleared his throat and straightened his back. “My name is Osburt Steven Eleonora Belwhite Burness, it’s a pleasure.”

“Daniel Souza, likewise.”

“Um, Christopher Hawks, but please, Chris is fine.”

“So you’re Chris?” Osburt’s eyes traveled from his head down to his toes and back. “I’ve heard of you. Did you really shatter the Jakkovost?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Chris was really sick of being reminded of that, but not enough not to wonder how Osburt knew. He assumed Winter had told him somehow. He was extremely grateful that Daniel chose that moment to say:

“Is there going to be any breakfast? Or lunch?”

“Our cook will bring it in a moment.”

“Is-is Sir Ian still asleep?” Arnold popped up next to Osburt.

“I expect that even if he isn’t, he’ll avoid me as much as possible,” the young man said, rolling his eyes. “My little brother doesn’t like me very much.”

“So…” Chris furrowed his eyebrows. And then it clicked. “You are the brother?”

“Judging by your tone I assume he’s told you about me.” Osburt sat graciously in one of the soft chairs, his eyes never leaving the Hach’s face.

Chris looked at the fire.“He made me hope I’d never meet you, frankly.” He hesitated, then added, “But you’re not half as bad as I imagined.”

“Thank you.”

“Good morning.”

Winter, followed closely by Ian, entered the room. A large smile cracked Chris’ lips upon their arrival (or, to be exact, upon Winter’s arrival) and he stuttered a response accompanied by a weak wave. Arnold sprung up with the exclamation “I li-lit a fire!” and Daniel, who had fallen asleep, woke up with a gasp.

The cook, a middle-aged Witch with severe eyes, rolled in a tray with food – bread, an assortment of pastries, jam, butter, fish, and more tea – a few minutes later, and for a short while there was only the sound of cutlery.

“So tell me, Christian,” said Osburt, chewing his third slice of bread. “Did you run off school again?”

“Is Father still storming about that?” Ian avoided the question, not looking at his brother. Chris’s eyes darted between them, amazed at the similarities in their features; it was surprising that he hadn’t noticed it sooner.

“You have no idea. It was half the reason I came here. When he’s home, even I can get tired of listening to him rant about you,” replied Osburt conversationally. “So why are you here? In such a large group?”

His eyes traveled from Winter to Chris, Daniel and Arnold. Chris had his eyes pinned on Winter. Winter, with Chris’s help and remarks from Daniel here and there, told Osburt in short everything that had happened, including their intentions.

“You won’t tell your father any of this, Osburt, will you?” Winter eyed him.

“And miss the opportunity to see his face when he hears the news first-hand?” Under her intense gaze, Osburt added more seriously, “I couldn’t possibly gain anything from telling him. Besides, you know that I’m on your side. Something needs to be done about the wars between the Hunters and the valkolikeni, and I also hear she’s giving the Stareaders too much freedom, probably to do with all the disappearances as of late. You said you passed by Grandma’s place, did you tell her any of this?”

Winter shook her head. “No, I told her we were sort of on vacation.”

“Wise.” Osburt paused. “So, wait, am I now sitting in the presence of the future King?” His eyes moved towards Chris.

“Not…not necessarily. I don’t have the Jakkovost anymore; I don’t even know how I’m going to fight.” Chris ignored Ian’s snort of disapproval. “I… guess I’ll figure it out then…”

“You don’t need a special weapon to win. Just a little more training. I can help you.” Osburt smiled. “Used to train my lil’ bro, too!”

He ruffled Ian’s hair affectionately. The boy jerked away.

“Get away from me!”

“That’d be great, but do we have the time?” Chris glanced at Winter.

“You do need to train. We were going to stay here a few more days to begin with.”

“Grand! Daniel, freshly cooked food for a while longer!” announced Chris. His enthusiasm died down when he noticed Winter’s glare. “Not that… I haven’t been enjoying bread and crackers and, er…” he trailed off. “Um…”

Deciding it would be best if he stopped right there, Chris bit into a pastry roll, looking away. His face felt hot.

Arnold giggled under his breath.