A dimly lit hall. Rose—the maid’s lamplight cast deep shadows across the walls, dancing as they walked quietly towards the door.

Shaden breathed in deeply. He’d been awakened by the cold breeze of dusk when his maid had entered his room, coming to his bed to stir him. But his eyes had already opened, and he’d gotten up. She’d told him to follow her. After she’d helped him get dressed, they’d emerged from the room, beginning to walk to the back side of the manor where people seldom went—the second floor. It wasn’t as if the area was off-limits like the front side of the second floor, but he’d rarely seen anyone on it. Then again, he’d only stayed there for like what, three days?

Rose stopped before a large door, waiting for him. Once he stopped, she knocked on the door thrice. “The young lord has arrived,” she said. Shaden heard a small “Let him in,” from the inside, and the maid pulled open the door, bowing her head as a signal for him to enter.

“It is forbidden for the servants to eavesdrop on the discussions,” she told him. “I will wait for you outside.”

“Thank you,” Shaden told her. She seemed a little taken aback but bowed nevertheless. After he prepared himself, he entered the room, and the door closed behind him, confining him into the heavy atmosphere that was the dimly-lit chamber of the Veurbois.

All of the nobles of the family—except the lady of the manor—were seated around in a circle, each in a comfortable chair that couldn’t be distinguished from the darkness of the room. Indeed, darkness cloaked their bodies, their seats, and the very floor they were on. The only light was from an eerie crystal that floated at the center of the circle, glowing faintly like the full, silver moon during a dark night. Seeing him enter, Esel rose from his seat, spreading an arm out to greet him.

“You honor us with your presence,” he said, retracting his hand, “for you have decided to share your heart with us. Please, sit.”

He took the empty seat next to Eilae and Eyla. They were seated according to their age, he noticed.

“You must have many questions,” Enen, the eldest, told him. “And all will be answered. All will be understood.”

“For you are in the Reading Chamber,” Lan continued. “Here, nothing is kept secret. Everything is shared.”

“We will know you, and you will know us,” Nerr said. “The deepest desires, we will share them.”

“Of course, we can’t read your thoughts,” Eilae added quietly. She glanced at him. “But every emotion will be laid bare. Your fears, your worries, your desires…everything.”

“And you’ll learn many things,” Eyla nodded. “Even I’m learning new things every day. Emotions, manners, and maturity.”

“It can be difficult,” Ailan said quietly, “and harsh. But it’s better to be ashamed here than outside. For nothing leaves this room, for we all know the weight of our words.”

“Now, are you ready to join us?” Esel concluded. “To partake in our communion of spirits?”

“I am ready,” Shaden said.

The moment he uttered the words, he felt a faint fog of magic surround his body. Then another, and another until there were seven. They were reading him, observing his feelings. The air was thick with magic, and though there was little movement amongst them, he could feel their hungry eyes inspecting him to satisfy their curiosity, to see what he was made of.

“Enough.”

Immediately, the sensation vanished, and the air was quiet again. Esel tapped his fingers on his chair.

“This will not do,” Esel told him with a small shake of his head. “You are concealing yourself.”

Shaden blinked. “Concealing? How?”

“You’re circulating,” Eilae said. “Like you always do. A little wouldn’t matter…but your influence is too strong. You’re forcing yourself to be something.”

“But it’s only circulating?” Shaden asked.

“Mana is the essence of will,” Enen said. “To use mana is to will something. To circulate is to will your body and mind. And your will is blocking your heart, making it a dull throb.”

Shaden looked down at the darkness. He’d been worried about being exposed before. But he wasn’t worried anymore. Or rather, he was making himself not worried. Because he was Shaden, not Demund. And Shaden could do anything.

“I…understand how you feel,” Ailan said. “It’s scary, right? But that’s—it’s a natural thing. You’ll soon see all of us too.”

The silence afterwards was deafening. He’d thought that he’d prepared himself. He’d thought that he’d show them his cool and perfect self. But if he couldn’t circulate, then…then what?

Shaden felt someone hold his hand. Looking up, he saw Eilae’s caring eyes.

“Read me,” she told him. He did. Inside, he felt the gentle warmth of courage radiating from her small body, intertwined with the emotion of sympathetic attachment. But there was also fear, uncertainty, and worry. “See? No one is perfect,” she said to him. “And only by revealing ourselves can we face our imperfections.”

“The first step is the most difficult,” Nerr smiled. “It was the same for all of us.”

Eilae’s hand was warm. He remembered why he’d decided to join them. He wanted to understand Eilae, but he hadn’t been willing to show himself to them. Had it been just the two of them, it would have been better.

He stopped his flow of mana, halting even the natural stream. Immediately, his senses dulled, and he became more of Demund. He felt raw and uncontrolled like an athlete after a harsh workout session. Oftentimes he liked that sensation, but before the Veurbois, it was unsettling.

“I’m ready,” he told them.

The Veurbois acted immediately, and the fog of magic surrounded him once more. This time, they penetrated more deeply, savoring the emotions that he’d exposed for them. He didn’t know what they’d read. His worry, no doubt. What exactly was he feeling? Emotions were a complicated thing, even more so when he wasn’t controlling them.

“There are not many who can bend their own emotions as you do,” Esel said, “but control without understanding is the cause of internal degradation. The surface is kept clean, yet the darkness grows within. It is difficult to know oneself objectively. Therefore, we will help you. Now, do not be alarmed.”

One cloud of empathy grew more concentrated, resting within him like gentle snow. Inside, something stirred, and he felt the magic cause his heart to slow, and time seemed to freeze second by second.

“There are countless emotions within one’s heart,” Enen spoke, his voice soft like the morning breeze. “Let us guide you through some of them. Relax, and see yourself for who you truly are. What do you feel?”

Slowly, one emotion grew larger than the rest, and the others subsided. The pressure on his chest. The slight feeling of nausea. The coldness of his toes. “I feel nervous,” Shaden said. “Maybe it’s fear.”

Enen nodded. “These things go together. It’s okay to close your eyes. Focus, and look through them. What is the cause of these emotions?”

Shaden gripped his fists. The emotions—they were clear and uncomfortable. All of them were looking at him—no, sensing him. Empathizing with him.

Someone put their hand over his, holding it. He looked up and saw Eilae.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “Let us share the burden. Let us feel what you feel and comfort you. And I hope you will do the same for me. Sense us, and know how genuine we are.”

He felt something well up inside of him. The quiet room, the warm temperature, the comfort of his seat, the closed eyes of everyone. The subtle scent of sweet, mild fragrance. And the lack of his mana overpowering his body. He felt invisible chains fall one by one, and something loosened in his heart.

“I…am worried that I will be judged,” he said. “I am not as great as everyone thinks. Just a normal guy.”

He heard people nod understandingly. He continued.

“Noble etiquettes, responsibilities, even the party. Will I be able to learn it all and act properly? I—I’m not confident. You know, I only wanted to have fun. But it…it always feels like something bad is waiting to happen. It was always like that, in all three families.”

“But now, you are not alone,” Nerr said softly. “All of us will be by your side. And your enjoyment will be our happiness.”

“All men have the fear of incompetence,” Lan agreed. “It is nothing to be ashamed of. As for disasters that will happen, we will stand together. Your burdens will be ours.”

The nobles muttered in agreement. Shaden felt his uneasiness subside. Then came forth a new emotion—sadness. This time, a different person orchestrated the magic.

“What do you feel?” Nerr asked.

“Sadness that I didn’t know existed,” Shaden said. It was a dull feeling, an empty feeling. A throbbing beyond his nose threatened to spill water. The viscosity of breathing.

“Where does it come from?”

“I’m…not sure,” he admitted.

“When you do not know, you can rely on the help of others to discover yourself. Perhaps, it is your longing for your family?”

Shaden didn’t feel a change. He shook his head.

“Your experiences with the other families?”

This time, the tension grew stronger. He breathed in heavily and nodded.

“The Jakhar Kishaks?” No, the feeling lessened. “The Nieuts?” Yes, something grew within him. “What did they do to you?”

“They treated me like a soldier,” Shaden recalled. “But I had to follow what they taught me, right? I had to endure…”

Nerr nodded. “There’s something more. Something…tragic. This is sadness from death.”

“Yes,” Shaden agreed. “They killed my wyvern. His name was Grak. I’d raised him for almost a year, and he died when one of the Nieuts blew his head off. It was self-defence, they said.”

Something unexpected happened. He felt anger from each of them, anger that burned in accordance with his sadness. It gave him the strength to continue.

“What could I do? Punish the people I’m supposed to learn from? I’d done something similar in self-defense. What the heck was I supposed to do? It was only—only a pet.”

He realized that his fingers were trembling. How uncontrolled he was without mana. Eilae squeezed his hand.

“I tried, I really did. I was earning recognition from them, slowly. I even saved a soldier. I saved the entire platoon. I knew they looked down on me first because I was a child, but I endured. Because they told me—all of them had been through the same thing.”

He felt his eyes fill with moisture. “They massacred beastmen who came too close to the boundary. Orders were orders. Soldiers don’t question; they don’t think. I pressed it down. I couldn’t take it the second time. And…it was all useless.”

Someone patted his back. It was Eyla. She was younger than him, but her eyes seemed to understand. It was strange, but not a bad feeling.

“Let it all out,” Nerr said. “Face your pain, and unravel it. Why did you feel sad? Because of loss? Because of sympathy?”

“......powerlessness,” Shaden said. “I was powerless to do anything. No…too naive. Too ignorant. I didn’t know anything. I’m just…”

A student. Not a solider, not a politician.

“So you pressed it all in. You’re incredible for not letting it fester within you,” Nerr said. “All guilt from war should lie on its leaders. You did nothing wrong.”

“I led the beastmen to their deaths.”

“You know that’s not true. There are things beyond our control. We cannot know everything.”

“I’m selfish. I wanted to play hero.”

“You have the desire to help others. That is an admirable quality.”

“We will teach you power,” Enen promised. “Not false appearances, but true confidence. For we know that together, you can achieve everything you desire.”

“And I hope that you can teach me too,” Ailan said in a small voice. “Because I also lack confidence. When I saw you spread your dark wings, I was filled with awe. I—and all of us—still feel the same way.”

“Men try to force their emotions,” Lan stated. “They numb themselves, fool themselves, and slash themselves apart. What, then, is left but an empty husk? No; we achieve true dominance through one another. A doctor cannot operate on himself but must find another. In this way, we stay truly confident. Now, prepare yourself, for the next emotion is the most dangerous.”

The sadness subsided, and a new feeling began to boil. It rose like fire, causing his muscles to tighten, casting a frown upon his face. He dug his nails into his palm, resisting the urge to stomp his feet. Eilae squeezed his hand.

“Anger,” he said.

“Where there is fear and sadness, anger takes root,” Lan said. “It engulfs, suppresses, and destroys, trying to wash away weakness with wrath.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Shaden growled. “I should have flattened them. I should have taken her eyesight for being so blind. I could always heal it back. How cowardly I was! I should have made them understand that I could destroy them.”

“Indeed, for if you will it, death will surely come,” Lan said. “But your anger goes deeper. There is much frustration.”

Shaden shut his eyes tightly. “I made a lot of mistakes. Sometimes I was too rash. Other times, too passive. It’s so hard to act right.”

“Each circumstance requires a different attitude,” Esel agreed. “Yes, you were thrown into the unknown. No one taught you how to act, and you learned by yourself.”

“Yes. Wait, no. I was taught. But I hated it. I hated the north, I hated being the Guardian’s slave, I hated—”

Shaden blinked. No…these emotions were too strong. He breathed slowly, and his anger lessened.

“Splendid. For in everything, never lose control,” Lan told him. “Be beyond your emotions. But know them well. Do you feel hatred towards yourself?”

“Maybe. Against my ineptitude. I can’t act like a proper hero. I’m just imitating a character I read in a book. This—all of it is fake. My real self is crippled.”

“In our eyes, you are wonderful,” Eyla said. “You’re what we prayed for.”

If only they knew about his real self. How would they have treated him then?

His anger subsided until he was but the dull throb of his heart. He could sense his emotions beneath the surface, being held back by the nobles’ magic. Which would appear next?

“There is no need to rush things,” Esel said. “For we do not force emotions, but coax and beckon them to where we want. Now, tell us—what is it that you desire? What is it that you want to accomplish or enjoy?”

It was longing, the craving for something. The deep need for comfort and peace and fun. The thrill of adventure, and the full display of his powers.

“Recognition,” Shaden muttered. “That is one thing. Peace…is another. But that’s—no. I also want exciting things to happen. Maybe it’s not peace that I want, but for things to go as I wish. To be...cool.” He snorted. “It’s showing off. Argh, is that what I really want?”

“There’s no need to be ashamed,” Eilae told him. “For this is what you would call honor and glory.”

“Is it really?”

She nodded. “You’ll see many things, Shaden. You’ll see how empty some people are, or how superficial their actions are. You’ll see cruelty behind smiles, and compassion behind a frown. But we do not lie to ourselves. Be honest with yourself. There’s something else you wish for, isn’t there? I can feel it.”

Shaden smiled subtly with a hint of pain.

“What I want can’t be achieved here,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Must you go back to Melern? Or Skotos?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s…somewhere very, very far away.”

“Is it love?” Eyla asked with twinkling eyes. “My chest feels tight.”

“Something like that,” he replied. “Say—if a commoner said that he wanted to marry into the family, would it be allowed?”

He glanced at Esel.

“It isn’t an impossibility,” Esel said. “Do you consider yourself a commoner?”

“I am, aren’t I? I don’t have a title aside from being the Heir of Skotos.”

Esel smiled. “You will have no problems if you wish to marry.”

Shaden chuckled. “I’m too young for that, aren’t I?”

“It’s never too young to have a fiance.”

“A fiance?”

He’d always loved the idea of having a fiance. A few characters in his books had had fiances. It was heartwarming, romantic, and exciting. Holding hands in school together, living in the same house—these were things he’d been envious of. But these things would never happen to him.

“Do you have a fiance?” he asked Eilae, turning to her.

She looked back at him. It was as if she’d frozen on the spot. Her cheeks flushed a little, and she shook her head, turning away.

What? What was that reaction?

It would be a lie to say that he didn’t think of her as cute. Indeed, many times he had during their travels together, and her mature personality had been easy to get along with since he was also older than he looked. But the truth was that she was much younger than him. So he had ignored those feelings, and Eilae had become his friend. A younger sister of sorts.

How old was she now? Fourteen. That was three years younger than his real self.

“Uh, er—” Shaden stammered, “I didn’t mean—um—”

Oh, gosh. They’d think that he was talking about him and Eilae. Panic filled him, and his emotions began to—

“I think that will be enough for today,” Esel said, clapping his hands twice. Immediately, all of the magic dispersed from his body, returning to each person. The feeling of control was gone as well. “Again, I thank you for opening your heart to us. How did it serve you?”

Shaden immediately circulated, regaining his absolute sense of calm. The realization of how vulnerable he’d been came shortly afterwards. He had been so willing to talk, his words coming out without little restraint…but it wasn't a bad feeling.

“I feel refreshed,” he said. “More settled, I think.”

Esel nodded. “I am glad. And I am pleased to have been able to partake in your emotions and thoughts.”

“As are we,” the others said in unison. Eilae’s voice was the smallest.

“Tomorrow, we will begin anew,” Esel announced. “There are seven of you, so one day of the week will be dedicated to each member. It is the beginning of a new generation.”

“Will you no longer join us, Father?” Enen asked.

“No, my son. From now on, you will lead,” he said. “Do not let my emotions corrupt your own. My young lord, I would not wish to force myself upon your conscience. But if you wish it, I will reveal myself.”

“No, do as you wish,” Shaden told him. “After all, I know little.”

Esel bowed. “Your kindness is unmatched. Now then, the sun has risen.”

Indeed, golden light had begun pouring into the room with the arrival of dawn. It was an odd feeling, seeing the sunrise together while they sat tranquilly in their seats. Eilae’s hand was still on his, and some sweat had formed between their skin. But she didn’t show any signs of letting go. Something buzzed in his chest. Shaden slowed his circulation, relishing the raw feelings that began to surface again. There was something pleasant about being vulnerable, something magical about sharing his emotions.

But fear struck him once more, and he circulated again.

“Will you allow us the honor of daily reading?” Esel asked him. “For men share once and return to the darkness. Would you allow us to know you each second so that we may admire you?”

Shaden bit his lip. “That’s what everyone here does, right? You are always reading each other.”

“You surprise me again. But yes, that is what we do.”

“I’m…not as great as you think I am.”

The lord shook his head. “Perhaps I phrased it wrongly. It is less admiration, and more love, my young lord.”

“Love?”

Esel slowly stretched one hand out to the air, and he curled his fingers as if holding something. “Yes, love,” he nodded. “For love is the most powerful of emotions. It is the most beautiful and desirable. To share love is to create a bond that goes beyond life and death. But—”

He lowered his hand. “There is nothing more tragic than forced love. No, we will not force it. By knowing you, we will love you.”

“And is the same expected of me?”

“Never,” Esel replied. “This, we do to dedicate ourselves to you. But should you love us, then we would find no greater honor.”

“Did my grandfather do the same?”

The older man smiled—a nostalgic smile. He lowered his head slightly, closing his eyes.

“Indeed. He found his wife during the time he was here.”

“He did?”

“She was a distant relative of ours who’d visited during his birthday,” Esel told him. “Ah, those were wonderful moments. It was quite funny to see your grandfather so flustered…”

Esel trailed off. “But the sun rises. I should not keep you here. So, my young lord—do you allow it?”

Shaden glanced at Eilae. She nodded slowly with an air of peace, as if to say Don’t worry, it’ll be alright. And indeed, this was what he’d wanted, was it not?

“I’ll allow it,” Shaden said. “And I will ask as well—can I read you too?”

Esel got up, as did the others in unison. Before Shaden could react, all of them—except Eilae who still held his hand—placed their hands on their chests and bowed their heads towards him, so smoothly and respectfully as if they’d practiced it a thousand times.

“We welcome you to the family,” Esel spoke, straightening his back. “For there is no greater pleasure than being of one mind with another. Now then, the sharing is over. Let us head to breakfast.”

The doors opened automatically when the old lord neared it, revealing a group of servants who stood by waiting. Shaden sensed a sparkle of magic die out at the corner of his eye. That was how they’d been signaled, no doubt. He felt a tug and realized that he’d still been holding Eilae’s hand.

“How long are you going to hold it?” she whispered to him.

“Oh! Whoops, I kind of forgot.”

And he had, being so focused on what was to come since everyone could now read him freely. Eilae wiped her hand on a cloth that her servant gave her, gracefully taking off the mantle that she’d been wearing. The others were doing the same.

“Was I supposed to wear something similar?” he whispered to her. “I don’t think I got one.”

“A mantle is what you wear to represent your family,” she told him. “This is part of the Empire’s customs. You’ll learn them in time.”

His maid, Rose, had arrived and was walking alongside them. The hallway was wide enough for four people to walk side-by-side. The other servants—including the old butler—were doing the same for everyone.

“We’re allowed to read the servants, right?” he asked.

“Of course. Though for others, it’s better if they don’t know. Our gift isn’t public.”

“Got it.”

Breakfast went by peacefully, and Shaden was briefed on what he would do from now on, now that he had decided to become a part of them. After a short discussion, it was determined he would study with Eyla first since she was also being taught the various manners of the Empire. He’d move on to different things, but to prepare for his birthday, the lord—or rather, his wife—hadn’t wanted him to embarrass himself before the guests.

“The societal sphere is a cruel and discriminating place,” Portiga fussed. “One wouldn’t enter until they are fifteen, but this is a special occasion.”

It was fascinating to glance at everyone’s emotions all at once. They all had an air of grace as they ate, but within, each person was like a witch’s cauldron—bubbling and popping, sometimes one thing vanishing and another randomly popping up. The lady, especially, was a cacophony of worries beneath her wrinkled and calm face, though what she worried for he did not know.

He felt someone touch his arm. Turning to the side, he found Eyla who had a pout on her face. She motioned to him to come closer to her and whispered into his ear.

“I can’t read you,” she said. “Your presence is too strong.”

Right. While he was circulating, they couldn’t read him. But circulating was like breathing to him. He felt uncomfortable without it, maybe even suffocated. It happened naturally. He’d have to consciously stop it.

But it wasn’t fair to them, was it? That he could read them but they could not. He relaxed the flow of power inside of him, bringing it to a halt.

“Can you do it now?” he asked Eyla.

She nodded quickly. But her expression darkened. “If it’s uncomfortable, you don’t need to…”

Shaden smiled. The girl was worried for him—and feared him slightly. She didn’t want to offend him. That much was clear. So much tension, so much…order.

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I think I can afford to relax here.”

Eyla nodded again, more furiously this time. “You can!”

He still remembered the whipping incident. But he sensed no ill emotions from anyone within the room. Nerr had been whipped to be set as an example, and now he realized that they had been sharing their emotions throughout it all.

If I’d come here first before the other families, how much easier would it have been?

He could’ve known people’s true intentions and would’ve acted accordingly. Things would have been simpler. Easier. Less heart-wrenching so that circulation wouldn’t have been the only thing he’d relied on. Without circulation, the thoughts kept coming in. Regrets, doubts, and pain from old scars.

Thankfully, no one seemed to mention it, carrying on their conversations like usual. He, too, ate while responding to their questions. And something felt right about it. Because although the words didn’t pass between them, he felt their compassion and worry for him when he looked into their hearts.

And it comforted him.

⤙ ◯ ⤚

“An invitation? From the Veurbois?”

The young man frowned, taking the letter from his servant. He was Medis Entamen, the second son of the Entamen family—one of the six great houses that ruled over the Rvuvick Empire. He took care of the foreign affairs of the family, reading through public letters, invitations, and declarations, which was why he was the first to read the letter from the Veurbois. Taking a knife at his side, he smoothly cut the envelope open and shook the letter onto his hand, unfolding it.

The letter was a surprise in itself. As they were the farthest away from the Veurbois, their regions being on opposite ends, not many interactions happened between them, much less letters. Of course, there were interactions, but they were economic and political ones—and the political ones were always harbingers of change. Usually, drastic change. It wasn’t a bad thing, however. The Veurbois did not have any enemies, and while the letter had surprised him, Medis looked forward to reading it. Though it would be a lie if he said that he did not have any worries.

Yes, the Veurbois did not have any enemies. They were pleasant to be around, and there were rumors that even the Emperor himself looked forward to their counsel. There were other rumors as well—that the Veurbois could see the future, allowing them to make peace with their foes before they even became foes. Or eliminate them before they sprouted.

Medis frowned again. Then, he chuckled out loud, though it was more from surprise. He couldn’t believe what he was reading.

“A birthday celebration? For an honored guest?”

It wasn’t out of place for the families, large or small, to invite each other to their parties and balls. After all, these things were necessary for information to be shared. But the Veurbois were not known for trivial parties. When an invitation came from the Veurbois, it carried with it dramatic weight. And those who didn’t attend would find themselves lagging behind in every matter.

After all, that was what their family was known for. Long ago, when the Empire had begun as a small country—a kind of safe haven for the human race—the heads of the six great houses had been the chief advisors to the first Sterdraer, each excelling in specific matters. The Veurbois had overseen interpersonal relations and negotiations with outsiders. Of course, that had been many, many years ago. Now, each family ruled over what could be called a small kingdom, having to take care of matters other than their initial ones. Still, the families retained their roots.

So for the Veurbois to send out a birthday invitation, much less one without specifications, was peculiar, almost absurd. There was no mention of name, age, or family. Only the statement of ‘honored guest’ and how blessed and joyous the occasion would be.

Medis rubbed his chin, furrowing his eyebrows. For the invitation to be a secret code of some kind was a stretch as their relationship was that of business partners. A bad joke, perhaps? No, the Veurbois did not joke. His father would want to investigate, no doubt, even though it would lead to taking some people out of other work.

He got up from his chair, heading to his father’s study. Though he was a busy man, he would want to see it. For Medis could feel something lurking behind the letter’s words, something that hinted at the source of the Veurbois’ confidence.

It was well known that the Veurbois were the weakest of the houses. They had no great military, no superior economic power, no brilliant advancements in magic, no natural resources, no known spiritual blessings. If there was one thing, it was that Louverie was the happiest, fairest, and safest region according to the Empire’s reports, with most of its citizens, if not all, being content with their lives. Truly, the Veurbois were those who spent on the people, not on the betterment of the house. Their people’s allegiance, Medis mused, lay with them more so than the Emperor himself. A dangerous thought. Perhaps that was why the Veurbois were kept weak.

Yet—though they were the weakest, no one dared to take advantage of them. Was it because of the charismatic aura they exuded? Or their elegance and beauty? Truly, when Medis had met the second son of the Veurbois, something had seemed different. Not in a menacing, powerful kind of way, but in a relaxing, pleasant kind of way. The young man could make people laugh and let down their guard. Yes, the Veurbois were excellent mediators. They had friends everywhere—perhaps that was why no one dared to cross them.

Medis glanced at the letter again. The words of ‘honored guest’ lingered in his mind.

For there were rumors. Each family had rumors, of course. Some were true, and some were not. The Veurbois had many rumors. Rumors of how they had close ties to the Kingdom of Melern. Naturally, this was because they were neighbors. But some incidents throughout history—and one incident in particular—had caused suspicions to intensify, though no evidence had been found.

It was a well-known story. Three—no, four decades ago, a marquess of Astramilieu had come to pay their respects to the Duke of Louverie, the Head of the Veurbois. But the marquess’s eldest son had taken a liking to the daughter of a minor aristocrat whose territory they had passed through, forcing himself upon her. The minor aristocrat had been a distant relative of the Veurbois, and though the young lady’s position was too low to be engaged to the son of the marquess, the marquess had permitted it, half-fearing the Veurbois, half-happy that he’d made a connection—or so that was how it was told. It hadn’t been ‘forced,’ but rather mutual.

Talks had gone in between them. After all, the marquess’s son had done something improper. Records showed that they had separated on good terms. The young lady had been in tears, but these things weren’t uncommon in the Empire. The marquess and everyone with him had exited Louverie without a single incident, returning to their territory with the lady who, everyone knew, was doomed to live as the second wife, or even worse—as a concubine.

The very next day, the heir had been found on his bed—dead. No external wounds, poison, or magic had been found on his body. As there had been no wedding, the young lady had been sent back promptly. Exactly the day after her arrival, the marquess and his entire family had been found dead in their rooms—again, without any signs of the cause.

No evidence meant that the Veurbois were innocent. The marquess and his household had been cursed for their wrongs, for they had committed many. But the timing of the incidents had raised many eyebrows among the nobility, and the unspoken rule to never offend the Veurbois or their people had been formed…

Truly, the Veurbois loved their people. This ‘honored guest’ was likely one of them—someone who had accomplished a great feat. To send an invitation to the Great Families, while excessive, was like them.

Medis clenched his jaw. Truly, for something that minor? For a commoner? There was no doubt the Great Families would find it insulting. It would be a waste of time. The Veurbois would embarrass themselves. No, the person would be someone greater.

But who exactly that person would be eluded his mind. None of the Melernian royals had birthdays near this time. Alas, the worrying would be left to his father. He knocked, pushing the door and entering after his father bid him to come in.

All across the Rvuvick Empire, similar notions were rippling out like wildfire. The cause of the Veurbois’ invitation was a mystery that none could answer. Even the two princesses of the Kingdom of Melern, now puzzled by the invitation, could not guess who the ‘honored guest’ would be.

Indeed, no one knew—and the spirit of inquisitiveness burned within the greater and lesser families; for not long after the invitations had been received, the Crown Prince himself secretly decreed that he would award anyone who discovered the identity of this ‘honored guest’—the prize of a hundred gold coins.

Thus, the flames of fervent curiosity grew bigger and bigger.