Warm water poured over Ragnar's shoulders as he stood motionless inside a marble bath larger than the room he had once called home. Steam rose into the air, carrying away layers of dirt that had clung to his skin for years. The servants worked silently, scrubbing away the grime with scented soaps until the water beneath him turned dark. Ragnar had never imagined that simply being clean could feel so strange.
When the bath was finished, they dressed him in a black tunic embroidered with silver thread and fitted him with a pair of polished leather boots. The clothes felt stiff and unfamiliar, and Ragnar found himself tugging at the collar every few moments.
One of the maids smiled.
"It fits you well."
Ragnar looked down at himself in disbelief.
"Is this... really for me?"
"It is now."
She stepped aside as Edwin entered the room carrying a neatly folded crimson cloak.
"The family is waiting."
Ragnar's stomach tightened.
"For what?"
"Dinner."
The word sounded simple enough, yet Edwin's expression remained serious.
"There are many battles fought within House Sternroar."
He draped the cloak over Ragnar's shoulders.
"Very few involve swords."
The dining hall stretched nearly the length of the manor itself. A polished oak table occupied the center of the room, long enough to seat more than thirty guests. Crystal chandeliers bathed everything in golden light while portraits of former Sternroar lords watched from the walls.
Ragnar hesitated at the doorway.
Everyone else was already seated.
At the far end of the table sat Lord Alaric Sternroar, calm as ever.
To his right sat a woman whose beauty was impossible to ignore. Her long chestnut hair rested neatly over an emerald dress, and a silver necklace bearing the Sternroar crest hung around her neck. Though elegant, there was a sharpness in her amber eyes that made Ragnar instinctively lower his gaze.
This could only be Lady Vivienne Sternroar.
Beside her sat a young woman about Ragnar's age. Her long silver-blonde hair flowed over one shoulder, and her sapphire-blue eyes calmly observed him without saying a word. Unlike the others, she didn't appear amused or disgusted.
She simply looked... curious.
Lord Alaric rose from his chair.
"Ragnar."
The young orphan stepped forward.
"I'd like you to meet my family."
He gestured toward the elegant woman.
"My wife, Lady Vivienne."
She inclined her head politely.
"So you're the famous orphan."
Ragnar bowed awkwardly.
"My lady."
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before shifting away.
Then Alaric turned toward the young woman.
"And my daughter."
"Lady Elara Sternroar."
Elara gave a graceful nod.
"Welcome."
Her voice was soft.
Much softer than Ragnar expected.
Finally, Cedric leaned back in his chair with a smirk.
"You've already met me."
Ragnar chose not to answer.
Lord Alaric motioned toward the empty chair beside Elara.
"Sit."
The moment Ragnar lowered himself into the chair, servants began placing dishes upon the table.
Roasted pheasant.
Fresh bread.
Creamy potato soup.
Steamed vegetables.
Fruit so vibrant it hardly looked real.
Ragnar stared in disbelief.
Back in Lament, he had considered stale bread a feast.
Here...
Even the soup smelled expensive.
Edwin quietly leaned toward him.
"Wait."
Ragnar immediately pulled his hand away from the bread.
A servant poured wine into crystal glasses.
Lady Vivienne noticed Ragnar watching everyone else.
"You've never attended a noble dinner."
It wasn't a question.
"No, my lady."
"I can tell."
Cedric chuckled.
"Give him a spoon before he mistakes the centerpiece for food."
Several servants struggled not to laugh.
Ragnar felt his ears burn.
Lord Alaric glanced at Cedric.
"Enough."
The room fell silent again.
Dinner finally began.
Ragnar carefully copied the others, watching how they held their utensils before attempting the same himself. He nearly dropped the fork twice but managed to hide it by pretending to reach for his cup.
Across the table, Elara noticed.
Without saying anything, she quietly demonstrated the proper way to hold the utensils.
Ragnar copied her movements.
She gave the smallest smile.
No one else seemed to notice.
For the first time that evening...
Ragnar felt slightly less alone.
Halfway through the meal, Lady Vivienne finally spoke.
"Tell me, Ragnar."
He looked up.
"What do you know about House Sternroar?"
"...Nothing."
"I thought as much."
She folded her hands elegantly.
"Our house has protected the western frontier for nearly three hundred years. We have buried fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters defending this kingdom."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"And now people whisper that my husband intends to hand our legacy to a street orphan."
The room became painfully quiet.
Ragnar lowered his gaze.
"I never asked for this."
"No."
"You didn't."
Her voice remained calm.
"But whether you wished for it or not, you have become part of this family."
She leaned forward.
"Do you know what that means?"
Ragnar slowly shook his head.
"It means every noble house in the kingdom is now watching you."
Cedric scoffed.
"If they aren't planning to kill him first."
Alaric set down his fork.
"Cedric."
"I'm only stating the obvious."
He looked directly at Ragnar.
"The moment Father brought you through those gates..."
"...someone signed your death warrant."
The words sent a chill through Ragnar's body.
Lady Vivienne didn't disagree.
Neither did Alaric.
Instead, Lord Sternroar calmly reached into his coat and placed a folded letter upon the table.
The crimson wax seal had already been broken.
"Our spies intercepted this less than an hour ago."
He unfolded the parchment.
"It was sent from Grayvale territory."
Ragnar's heartbeat quickened.
Lord Thorne.
Alaric read the message aloud.
"'The orphan now resides within House Sternroar. Preparations for the first harvest may begin.'"
Silence.
Ragnar frowned.
"What does 'first harvest' mean?"
No one answered immediately.
Finally...
Edwin spoke.
"It means..."
"...they're coming to kill you."
Before anyone could say another word—
BOOM!
The windows along the western wall exploded inward.
Glass rained across the dining hall.
Servants screamed.
A black arrow struck the center of the dining table, vibrating violently as smoke curled from its shaft.
Tied beneath the arrowhead was another message.
Lord Alaric removed it calmly.
Only three words were written on the parchment.
We're watching.
Somewhere beyond the estate walls...
Hidden among the darkness...
A pair of crimson eyes smiled.