The journey to House Sternroar was unlike anything Ragnar had ever imagined.
The carriage glided across the stone roads with barely a sound, its polished wheels absorbing every bump in the road. Ragnar sat stiffly on the velvet seat, afraid to touch anything around him. The cushions were softer than the bed of straw he had slept on the night before, and the faint scent of cedarwood lingered in the air. Through the window, he watched the city of Lament disappear behind them.
The slums slowly gave way to cleaner streets lined with stone houses and flowering trees. The people here walked with confidence instead of desperation. Children laughed openly in gardens while servants hurried between elegant estates carrying baskets of fresh fruit and expensive wine. It felt like an entirely different world.
Lord Alaric Sternroar noticed Ragnar staring through the window.
"This is the Noble District."
Ragnar remained silent.
"The kingdom has many faces," Alaric continued. "Unfortunately, the people who live here rarely see the one you came from."
Ragnar's eyes never left the window.
"They don't want to."
Alaric smiled faintly.
"No."
"They don't."
Silence settled between them once more.
After nearly an hour, the carriage slowed before a pair of enormous iron gates. Two statues of roaring lions stood guard on either side, their stone eyes watching every visitor who approached. Beyond the gates stretched a sprawling estate surrounded by forests and carefully maintained gardens. At its center stood an enormous manor of white stone, its crimson banners dancing in the wind.
Ragnar had never seen a building so magnificent.
The gates creaked open.
Servants lined the entrance as the carriage rolled into the courtyard.
More than fifty people bowed simultaneously.
"Welcome home, Lord Alaric."
Ragnar froze.
Home.
The word felt foreign.
The carriage stopped before the manor's grand staircase. A servant opened the door before Alaric stepped outside.
Ragnar hesitated.
"Come."
The young orphan slowly climbed down from the carriage.
Every servant's eyes immediately shifted toward him.
Curiosity.
Confusion.
Disgust.
He recognized those expressions all too well.
A whisper spread through the crowd.
"That's him."
"The orphan?"
"The boy who destroyed the Awakening Crystal."
"I heard he used forbidden blood."
"Why would the lord bring someone like that here?"
Ragnar instinctively lowered his head.
Before the whispers could grow louder, Alaric spoke.
"This young man is Ragnar."
His calm voice carried across the courtyard.
"From this day onward, he is under the protection of House Sternroar."
The whispers stopped instantly.
No one dared question the lord openly.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the entrance.
An elderly man with silver hair descended the staircase. His posture was perfectly straight despite his age, and his sharp blue eyes carried decades of experience.
He bowed politely.
"Welcome home, my lord."
"Good evening, Edwin."
Edwin's gaze shifted toward Ragnar.
"So..."
"This is the child."
"It is."
The old butler walked forward until he stood only a step away from Ragnar. Without warning, he reached out and gently lifted Ragnar's chin.
The boy flinched.
Edwin studied him carefully.
"You've survived sixteen years in Lament."
"...Yes."
"You've eaten from garbage."
Ragnar nodded.
"You've been beaten."
Another nod.
"You've stolen."
Ragnar looked away.
"...Sometimes."
The old butler's expression remained unreadable.
"Good."
Ragnar blinked.
"I beg your pardon?"
Edwin folded his hands behind his back.
"A boy who has never suffered rarely appreciates comfort."
The old man turned toward the servants.
"Prepare a bath."
He looked back at Ragnar.
"And a proper meal."
Several maids hurried inside.
Ragnar simply stood there, uncertain whether he was dreaming.
No one had ever offered him food before.
Not without demanding something in return.
As if reading his thoughts, Edwin spoke again.
"Do not misunderstand."
"This kindness is an investment."
"You now represent House Sternroar."
"You will be expected to earn your place."
Ragnar slowly nodded.
"I understand."
"I hope so."
The old butler disappeared into the manor.
Alaric chuckled quietly.
"Edwin has served this family for nearly fifty years."
"He isn't very friendly."
"No."
"But he is honest."
The two entered the manor together.
The entrance hall was larger than the entire orphan shelter Ragnar vaguely remembered from his childhood. Marble pillars reached toward a ceiling painted with scenes of ancient kings and dragons. Chandeliers bathed the room in warm golden light while priceless paintings lined the walls.
Ragnar couldn't stop looking around.
Everything seemed unreal.
A loud voice suddenly echoed through the hall.
"So..."
"This is the stray you brought home."
Ragnar turned.
Descending the staircase was a young man dressed in an elegant black military uniform. He looked no older than nineteen. His golden hair was neatly combed, and his emerald eyes carried a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.
Alaric sighed.
"Cedric."
Cedric Sternroar stopped halfway down the staircase.
"So it's true."
"You really adopted him."
"I haven't."
"Not yet."
Cedric folded his arms.
"Father..."
"Our family is already divided."
"The council barely agrees with your decisions."
"And now you've brought home a street rat?"
The words struck harder than any punch Ragnar had ever received.
He lowered his gaze.
"I can leave."
"No."
Alaric's voice was calm but firm.
"You will stay."
Cedric laughed.
"And where exactly will he sleep?"
"In the servants' quarters?"
"The stables?"
"Or perhaps..."
Cedric looked Ragnar directly in the eyes.
"...my room?"
A cold silence filled the hall.
Alaric's expression hardened.
"Cedric."
One word.
That was all it took.
Cedric looked away with a sigh.
"Fine."
He turned and walked back upstairs.
"But don't expect Mother to welcome him."
Those words lingered long after he disappeared.
Ragnar looked toward Alaric.
"I shouldn't have come."
Lord Sternroar rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Every lion must survive the den before it can rule the pride."
Ragnar frowned.
"I don't understand."
"You will."
Outside...
Hidden among the trees beyond the estate walls...
A lone figure watched the manor through a brass telescope.
The spy smiled before rolling up a parchment.
"The boy has entered House Sternroar."
He sealed the message with black wax bearing the crest of a raven.
Far away...
In his candlelit study...
Lord Thorne Grayvale broke the seal and read the report.
His lips curled into a faint smile.
"So the lion has claimed him."
He tossed the letter into the fireplace.
"It changes nothing."
He rose from his chair and stared into the dancing flames.
"Every kingdom needs a king."
His crimson eyes glowed in the darkness.
"And every king..."
"...needs an executioner."