《Katalin's Journey: The Early Years》


 Chapter 01: Are you back for real

    Something was wrong. Katalin held her breath, frozen in bed as she listened to the darkness.


    The faint glow of embers from the hearth barely pushed back the shadows that cloaked her room. It was too early for the first clang of hammers in the smithy next door, too early for her mother to be up moving about.


    But her inner wolf was on alert.


    She lay still, eyes open, searching for what had disturbed her. Waiting. Listening. But the night was silent¡ªno shuffling feet, no creaking floorboards, nothing out of the ordinary.


    Then¡ª


    A soft chuckle in the dark.


    Papa


    She knew the sound instantly, like the low rumble of bellows before the fire roars to life.


    In an instant, she flung herself out of bed¡ªonly to be snared by her own blankets. A startled yelp escaped her as she crashed to the floor, limbs tangled in the sheets, her pride bruised if not her body.


    From across the room, the chuckle deepened into a soft laugh. His laugh.


    She wriggled free, pushing herself upright, blinking through the dim light. There¡ªhis silhouette, sitting in the chair beside the small wooden table where she toiled over her lessons, the table she often abandoned mid-assignment to sneak into the forge.


    Henrik.


    She bounced to her feet and launched herself at him, unthinking, unrestrained.


    If he had been anyone else, she would have bowled him over. But Henrik was an old hand at handling his daughter¡¯s enthusiasm. He braced himself just in time, catching her with a grunt and sweeping her into a quick, firm arc before settling her onto his lap.


    ¡°You¡¯ve grown a lot this past year,¡± he said, shifting her weight slightly. ¡°I almost didn¡¯t catch you.¡±


    She landed in his lap, arms locked around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. ¡°I knew you would,¡± she murmured.


    Warmth. Strength. Home.


    She clung to him, breathing in his scent of iron and woodsmoke, of travel and distance, of everything she had missed. His arms tightened around her in return, and for that moment, the world outside her father¡¯s embrace didn¡¯t exist.


    Katalin tightened her grip around her father, pressing her face against him. He felt solid and steady, like always, but there was something different¡ªthe way he exhaled, slow and deep, as if letting go of things he¡¯d been carrying for too long.


    ¡°Are you back for real this time?¡± she asked, her voice muffled against his tunic.


    Henrik let out a breath, rubbing slow circles on her back. ¡°Well, Kitten, I won¡¯t be leaving again without you and your mother.¡±


    Katalin shifted slightly in Henrik¡¯s lap, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. ¡°Your new smith is ready?¡± she asked, her voice bright with anticipation. ¡°The forge and everything?¡±


    She felt, rather than saw, the small nod he gave. ¡°It¡¯s all set up,¡± he said, his voice steady in the darkness.


    Excitement stirred in her chest. ¡°So when we get there, you can start teaching me?¡±


    A pause. She couldn¡¯t see his face, but she felt the slight tension in his arms where they rested around her. ¡°You still want to be a blacksmith, then?¡±


    Katalin didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I will be a blacksmith.¡±


    Henrik exhaled, his tone gentle as he asked, ¡°Have you talked to other people about what they do?¡±


    She frowned, puzzled. ¡°Why would I do that?¡±


    Henrik let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. ¡°Kitty, you¡¯ll have so many choices. Your mother says your mana pool will be large¡ªalmost as large as mine. And if you learn her family¡¯s ways to control it, you could be almost anything you want. Maybe even a mage or a sorceress.¡±


    A grin spread across Katalin¡¯s face, her confidence unwavering. ¡°Perfect. If I can be anything I want, I want to be a blacksmith.¡±


    Henrik didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her in a steady, familiar hold. The warmth of him, the slow rise and fall of his breath, surrounded her. He said nothing, just held her, and in the quiet, Katalin could feel the weight of his thoughts as the silence stretched between them.


    Katalin shifted slightly, the hush pressing in on her. She hesitated, then finally whispered, ¡°Papa?¡±


    Henrik¡¯s voice was soft in the dark. ¡°Yes, Kitty?¡±


    She swallowed, gripping a handful of his tunic as she forced the question out. ¡°Why don¡¯t you want me to be a blacksmith like you?¡±


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    Henrik¡¯s arms tightened around her, his voice low and firm. ¡°Don¡¯t ever think that. It would make me very happy if we worked together your whole life.¡±


    She pressed her face against his chest, her voice muffled. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem like it sometimes.¡±


    Henrik exhaled, the sound heavy in the quiet room. ¡°You¡¯re old enough to understand what the world is like. People don¡¯t believe women should be blacksmiths.¡±


    Katalin snorted, the sound sharp. ¡°Are they going to throw me in a dungeon if I try?¡±


    Henrik let out a small snort of laughter. ¡°No.¡± But then his tone shifted, more serious. ¡°But you¡¯d never be allowed to own your own smithy.¡±


    Katalin shrugged, unconcerned. ¡°So? I¡¯ll just always work in yours.¡±


    Henrik didn¡¯t respond right away. His arms stayed firm around her, but there was something thoughtful in the way he held her. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. ¡°What if I¡¯m not always around?¡±


    Katalin stiffened. The words settled wrong in her chest. Slowly, she leaned back, trying to make out his face in the dark. ¡°Are you leaving again?¡±


    Henrik shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not planning to.¡±


    She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°And you¡¯re going to live longer than me and Cassius and Mama, right?¡±


    She felt, rather than heard, the way his breath caught. When he answered, his voice was low. ¡°Probably.¡±


    Katalin swallowed hard and pressed her forehead to his shoulder, curling in closer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Papa. I didn¡¯t mean to make you sad.¡±


    Henrik kissed the top of her head, his lips warm against her hair. ¡°That¡¯s all right, Kitten.¡±


    For a while, they just sat together, Katalin tucked into his lap, his arms wrapped securely around her.


    Then Henrik chuckled, the sound a deep rumble beneath her cheek.


    ¡°And there¡¯s still the other thing,¡± he murmured.


    Katalin groaned. ¡°Don¡¯t say it.¡±


    ¡°Hey now,¡± he said, his tone mock-serious. ¡°I think you¡¯re perfect just the way you are.¡±


    She dropped her head back against his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. ¡°But I¡¯m small.¡±


    Henrik nodded against her. ¡°But you¡¯re small.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m only eleven. I¡¯ll grow,¡± she said firmly. ¡°I¡¯ve been concentrating on it real hard.¡±


    Henrik let out a quiet laugh. ¡°I¡¯m not sure it works like that.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter anyway.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± His voice held amusement.


    ¡°No,¡± she said, grinning now. ¡°If I can¡¯t hit it harder, I¡¯ll hit it longer.¡±


    Henrik lightly ruffled her hair. ¡°That would work.¡±


    Henrik shifted slightly, his breath warm against her hair. ¡°Tell me,¡± he said, his voice quieter now. ¡°Why do you want to be a blacksmith so badly?¡±


    Katalin hesitated, pressing her lips together as she thought. The answer had always been there, but putting it into words felt different.


    ¡°I¡­ I can feel it,¡± she said finally, the certainty settling in her chest. ¡°It¡¯s right.¡± She turned her head, trying to see his face in the dark. ¡°You believe me, right, Papa?¡±


    Henrik gave her a small squeeze, his voice steady when he answered. ¡°I do, Kitten. More than you know.¡±


    A slow grin spread across her face. ¡°Imagine what kind of smith I could be if I get your mana and Mama¡¯s control.¡±


    Henrik let out a dramatic groan and shuddered. ¡°It¡¯s scary to think about.¡±


    Katalin giggled. ¡°Papa¡­¡±


    Instead of answering, Henrik squeezed her tight, trapping her against his chest until she squirmed in protest.


    ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t¡­ breathe!¡± she gasped, laughing between words.


    Henrik loosened his grip just enough to let her inhale, and she jerked upright in his lap, nearly knocking heads in her excitement. ¡°When do we go?¡±


    Henrik chuckled, steadying her with one arm as she nearly toppled. ¡°My plan was for us to leave for Butterridge today,¡± he said, his voice lighter now, ¡°but I just found out Duke Alaric is holding a feast tonight and requests that we attend. So, we¡¯ll leave tomorrow.¡±


    Katalin tilted her head, considering. ¡°A feast is nice. I like feasts.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Henrik said with a small, knowing smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure it will be good, but it¡¯s going to be a long day. This will be a midnight feast for Alaric to make official announcements. I imagine the Duchess will have her hand in setting things up.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I hope so,¡± Katalin said, grinning in the dark. ¡°If Aunt Teo helped, then there¡¯ll be music and tumblers and maybe a magic show.¡±


    Henrik huffed softly, amused. ¡°Aunt Teo?¡± He sounded somewhere between entertained and mildly alarmed. ¡°Since when is the Grand Duchess Teodora Illon Stonehaven¡ªgrandmother of Duke Alaric and one of the most powerful women in the realm¡ª¡®Aunt Teo¡¯?¡±


    Katalin shrugged, completely unbothered. ¡°Since always. That¡¯s what she told me to call her.¡± She crossed her arms. ¡°And you and Mama always said to be respectful and do what I can to be good company for her.¡±


    Henrik held up both hands, his smirk clear in his voice. ¡°Alright, alright. If that¡¯s what she wants.¡±


    A comfortable silence settled between them, the warmth of their embrace still lingering. Henrik shifted slightly, his voice quieter when he spoke again.


    ¡°Will you miss her and your brother when we go?¡±


    Katalin considered the question for a moment, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll miss Aunt Teo a lot,¡± she admitted. ¡°We go riding or walking almost every day.¡±


    She hesitated, then added, ¡°And I¡¯ll miss Cassius¡ªbut we hardly see him already. He¡¯s always in the Keep with Sir Lysander or traveling. He gets to travel a lot.¡±


    She glanced up, though in the darkness, she could only make out the faintest outline of her father¡¯s face. ¡°Will we come back and visit them?¡±


    Henrik was quiet, as if weighing his words. Then, his voice came steady and sure.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how often,¡± he admitted, resting a hand against her back, ¡°but we¡¯ll visit from time to time. And no doubt your brother will come to us as often as he can.¡±


    After sitting in comfortable silence for a few minutes Henrik squeezed her shoulder, his voice low and warm. ¡°You should try to get a little more sleep, Kitten. It¡¯s going to be a long day.¡±


    Katalin scrunched her nose. ¡°I¡¯m too excited to sleep.¡±


    Henrik sighed, the sound soft in the dark. ¡°Then just lay down for a bit. Close your eyes, think about what you want to do today.¡±


    She hesitated but finally sighed, sliding off his lap and padding across the room to her bed. The blankets were a tangle from earlier, but she kicked them into place and flopped down, arms sprawled wide. ¡°Fine,¡± she muttered, pulling the covers up to her chin.


    Henrik stood, his chair creaking slightly. ¡°That¡¯s my girl,¡± he murmured. He brushed a hand lightly over her hair before stepping toward the door.


    Katalin, still buzzing with excitement, rolled onto her stomach. ¡°What about you?¡± she asked, peering at him in the dark.


    She heard the faint smile in his voice. ¡°I¡¯ll make one last check of the smithy¡ªsee if I have everything, and how the new guy has it set up.¡±


    Katalin turned and buried her face in the pillow. ¡°I don¡¯t like him. He never lets me in the smithy.¡±


    She could almost hear the smile in Henrik¡¯s voice. ¡°Do you even know him?¡±


    ¡°No. But I don¡¯t have to,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Get some rest, Kitty,¡± he said.


    She listened to him leaving her room and his footsteps fade, her mind dancing with thoughts of Aunt Teo, the feast, the new smithy, the journey ahead¡­


    Her eyes grew heavy, the excitement slowly sinking beneath the quiet of the room.


    Then, a voice.


    A gentle hand shook her shoulder, and her mother¡¯s whispered, ¡°Time to wake up, Little Wolf.¡±

 Chapter 02: One day, youll misplace your own tail

    Katalin woke slowly, blinking against the warm light spilling through the window. She frowned, shifting beneath the covers. That was strange¡ªshe never slept this late.


    Papa had gotten home so late last night, so of course her parents had slept in too.


    They probably stayed up talking.


    She pushed herself up on one elbow, rubbing a fist over her eyes. ¡°Where¡¯s Papa?¡± she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.


    A quiet chuckle met her ears. She turned toward the sound and found her mother sitting beside the bed, already dressed, her dark hair neatly braided.


    Seraphina grinned down at her daughter. ¡°He went up to the residence to see some people.¡± She tapped Katalin¡¯s knee through the blankets. ¡°Now, up you get.¡±


    Katalin groaned but swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet met the cool stone floor, sending a shiver up her spine. ¡°Alright, Mama,¡± she muttered, stretching her arms above her head. ¡°Do you want me to get some eggs?¡±


    Seraphina smiled. ¡°That¡¯s up to you. I already made breakfast for your father, so do you want to eat before or after our exercises?¡±


    Katalin didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Let¡¯s meditate first.¡± She rolled her shoulders, still shaking off the last traces of sleep. ¡°My wolf pup has been running in circles since Papa showed up. I need to calm him down.¡±


    Seraphina nodded. ¡°Alright. Do you need to use the bathroom before we start?¡±


    Katalin opened her mouth to say no¡ªthen paused, frowning slightly.


    ¡°¡­No.¡±


    A heartbeat passed.


    ¡°¡­I mean, yes.¡±


    The moment she said it, the need became urgent. She dashed out of the room, bare feet slapping against the cool stone floor.


    ¡°Put on your slippers!¡± Seraphina called after her, but Katalin was already gone.


    Before leaving the bathroom, she paused at the mirror, tilting her head slightly.


    Mama said mirrors were almost magical¡ªhow they could show you things you didn¡¯t always notice. It was unusual for them to have one at all, something only nobles or rich merchants owned.


    Katalin had never really thought about it before. But¡­


    Papa said I¡¯ve gotten bigger.


    She studied her reflection, really looking at herself for the first time in a while.


    Her brown hair fell to her shoulders¡ªsome might call it curly, but it was really just wavy. She pushed a strand behind her ear, then frowned slightly.


    She knew she was small for her age¡ªeveryone reminded her. And thin. But turning twelve at the harvest festival had to mean growing taller. It had to.


    She leaned closer, studying her eyes. Brown, but flecked with hints of green and gold, depending on the light. Had they always been like that? She hadn¡¯t noticed before.


    She leaned closer thinking about something Mama often said: ¡°The eyes show what''s hiding inside a person.¡± Katalin searched her reflection, wondering if she could see whatever it was that made her wolf pup run away during practice.


    Katalin pulled back and exhaled. She looked more like Mama than Papa, which she supposed was good. People always said Mama was beautiful.


    Not that it really matters.


    She turned away from the mirror and padded back toward the bedroom.


    As Katalin returned, she plopped on the edge of the bed beside her mother, adjusting the hem of her nightdress.


    ¡°Will our new home have Papa¡¯s bathroom?¡±


    Seraphina smirked. ¡°Oh yes. I told him, ¡®Do not come back until it is ready.¡¯¡± She crossed her arms and gave a dramatic shudder. ¡°I am not going back to hand-pumped water, outdoor privies, or¡ª¡± she made a face ¡°¡ªbuckets.¡±


    Katalin giggled. ¡°Buckets are the worst.¡±


    Seraphina sighed. ¡°Truly.¡± Brushing her hands over her skirts, she stood. ¡°Now, get dressed. Wear your riding clothes.¡±


    Katalin blinked. Realization lit her face. ¡°Aunt Teo!¡±


    Seraphina held up a hand before she could get too excited. ¡°Yes, but check with Mirelle first. Make sure Lady Teodora is feeling up to riding today. If she¡¯s having a weak morning, don¡¯t press her¡ªjust give her your company.¡±


    Katalin nodded quickly. ¡°I will. But if she¡¯s feeling well, do you think she¡¯ll let me ride Smokey again?¡±


    Seraphina smiled a knowing glint in her eye. ¡°That depends on whether Lady Teodora thinks you¡¯ve earned it.¡±


    Katalin grinned as she pulled out a pair of sturdy trousers. ¡°Then I better be extra sweet today.¡±


    Once Katalin had finished dressing, Seraphina pulled a brush, comb, and a few ribbons from her apron pocket and tapped the bed beside her.


    Katalin groaned but did as directed, flopping down with exaggerated reluctance. ¡°Do we have to?¡±


    Seraphina merely arched an eyebrow. ¡°Unless you want to look like a wildling when you see Lady Teodora.¡±


    Katalin huffed but sat still as her mother began pulling the brush through her hair, careful but firm. She endured it in silence, only squirming slightly when Seraphina worked through a stubborn tangle.


    Once her hair was properly braided and secured with a ribbon, Seraphina gave it a final pat. ¡°Alright, get your mat and candle.¡±


    Katalin hopped off the bed and crouched down, reaching beneath it for her rolled-up meditation mat. Then, standing, she grabbed a plain beeswax candle from the shelf by her bed.


    Seraphina, meanwhile, retrieved her own mat from the table, where she had placed it earlier when she came in to wake Katalin.


    Together, they unrolled their mats on the floor.


    Seraphina settled into place, then reached for the small pouch tied around her neck. She untied it slowly, fingers brushing over the worn leather, and looked expectantly at Katalin.


    Katalin reached for her own throat¡ªwhere nothing was hanging.


    Her heart skipped.


    She glanced at Seraphina, then bounced up, rushed to her bed, and grabbed a small pouch hanging from the bedpost. She plopped back down and meekly muttered, ¡°Sorry, Mama.¡±


    Seraphina hummed, shaking her head. ¡°One day, you¡¯ll misplace your own tail.¡±


    Without another word, she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a flint striker¡ªthe same pocket where the brush and comb had disappeared earlier.


    Katalin placed her candle between them, and with a few practiced motions, Seraphina struck a small spark, lighting the wick.


    The flickering flame danced between them, casting warm, steady light across the floor.


    They each reached into their pouches.


    Seraphina pulled out a small stone, smooth and familiar beneath her fingertips. The carefully etched hound¡¯s paw print caught the flickering candlelight, shadows deepening in the carved lines.


    Katalin withdrew a wolf¡¯s tooth, noticing how its rough surface was beginning to give way to polish where her fingers had worried it during these lessons.


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    Seraphina¡¯s voice was soft but steady. ¡°Alright, like we practiced. Breathe deep and slow. Look into the candle. Feel the texture of the tooth in your hand.¡±


    Katalin obeyed, letting her breath slow, her fingers running over the curves and ridges of the tooth as she focused on the steady flame before her. The warm glow wavered gently with each breath.


    They sat in silence for several minutes, the room settling into stillness.


    Seraphina¡¯s voice came again, quiet but firm. ¡°Concentrate inside yourself. Find your mana.¡±


    The world narrowed to the rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of the flame, the weight of the tooth against her palm.


    Silence stretched between them.


    Then¡ª


    ¡°Did you find him?¡± Seraphina asked softly.


    Katalin nodded but didn¡¯t take her eyes off the candle. ¡°He¡¯s there,¡± she whispered. ¡°But he won¡¯t come.¡±


    Seraphina remained unbothered, her voice patient. ¡°That¡¯s alright. Be patient. Feel your mana. Where is it now?¡±


    Katalin¡¯s brow furrowed as she concentrated, her breathing steady. ¡°He¡¯s everywhere,¡± she whispered. ¡°Just running around.¡±


    Seraphina nodded. ¡°Well, he¡¯s just a young puppy. He wants to play with you.¡±


    Katalin frowned slightly. ¡°What do I do?¡±


    Seraphina¡¯s voice remained calm, steady. ¡°Chase him. And if you get close, turn around and run.¡±


    Katalin¡¯s fingers curled around the wolf¡¯s tooth in her palm. ¡°But how?¡±


    Seraphina shifted slightly, her posture relaxed but unwavering. ¡°Just will yourself to be there. I know it¡¯s not easy, but we¡¯ve done it before. You can do it. It will get easier.¡±


    For a moment, Katalin hesitated. In a voice barely above a whisper, she murmured, ¡°Alright, Mama.¡±


    She was somewhere else¡ªher world. She couldn¡¯t always reach it, but it was getting easier.


    A vast space stretched around her¡ªundefined, weightless, not quite real but more than a dream. The edges of it shifted and wavered, as if it were still forming, a world not yet solid. It felt familiar but distant, like something just out of reach.


    Fog curled at her feet, thick and swirling, but beyond it¡ªmotion.


    A flash of pale fur, darting through the haze.


    Her wolf pup.


    Vaelkan to her. Wavefang to anyone else.


    It was nothing but blurred movement and restless energy, a streak of white flicking in and out of sight. Paws kicked up dust that wasn¡¯t really there. A shadowed tail cut through the mist. Once, she caught a glimpse of bright, clever eyes watching her¡ªthen gone, lost to motion again.


    She tensed.


    Run, she willed herself. Chase him.


    She lunged forward¡ªbut she was slow. Her body felt heavy, her steps dragging as if the fog itself resisted her movement.


    The wolf pup was effortless. It leapt and turned, bounding in wild arcs, never still. Not afraid of her. Not avoiding her. But not listening either.


    Still, she pushed forward, forcing herself through the weight of the space between them. For a moment¡ªjust for a moment¡ªshe felt close.


    But before she could reach him¡ªhe veered away.


    Katalin stumbled to a halt, frustration curling in her chest.


    I can¡¯t do it.


    The pup kept running, tireless, untouchable.


    Looking around Katalin felt another presence. Something new and dark. A shape lurking in the mist, massive and formless. And cold. When she tried to focus on it, it seemed to grow larger, pushing between her and the wolf pup. She felt a creeping sensation, like icy fingers reaching for her. Her heart beat faster.


    Looking around for the wolf pup she couldn¡¯t see him. She could sense that he was there but he was blocked from view. Shielded by the cold, lurking beast in the mist.


    Katalin''s eyes flew open. ¡°Momma, there''s... there''s something else there. Something big.¡±


    Seraphina''s voice remained gentle. ¡°What does it feel like?¡±


    ¡°Like... it doesn¡¯t want me to do this. Like I''m not good enough.¡± Katalin''s voice trembled.


    ¡°Ah.¡± Seraphina nodded. ¡°That''s doubt, Little Wolf. We all have to face him from time to time. But he cannot hurt you. Only stand in your way.¡±


    Katalin thought about her mother¡¯s words and nodded.


    ¡°It''s trying to keep you from Wavefang,¡± Seraphina said. ¡°Acknowledge it''s there, then let your attention drift past it. Focus on your pup.¡±


    Katalin took a deep breath and focused on the candle and her breathing.


    After a few minutes she was there again, in her inner world.


    She squeezed her fists, feeling the phantom shape of her wolf¡¯s tooth even though it wasn¡¯t here with her. She could hear her mother¡¯s voice¡ªsteady, patient.


    The beast was there, lurking in the mist. But now she knew what it was. She willed it to step aside - challenging it to try to stop her. ¡°I CAN DO THIS!¡±


    It seemed to grow smaller and slink away. With the beast no longer lurking just out of sight she looked around for Vaelkan and he was there. Just like before, dashing in and out of the fog around her.


    Again she willed herself to move. It was a little easier this time.


    She watched as the wolf pup ran through the fog and followed. She thought he was ignoring her, but then he dashed towards her and turned away as he got close.


    If you get close, turn around and run.


    Katalin exhaled.


    Instead of lunging forward again, she did the opposite.


    She turned and ran the other way.


    For the first time, the pup hesitated.


    It didn¡¯t stop¡ªbut it faltered.


    For a breath, a heartbeat, it turned toward her.


    She took another deep breath and whispered the name only she knew, the one that belonged to her alone.


    ¡°Vaelkan.¡±


    The pup''s ears twitched. His tail flicked.


    But then the pup bounded off into the mist once more, leaving her alone.


    She stumbled to a halt, frustration curling in her chest.


    The wolf pup dashed away again¡ªfurther this time, further than before.


    A flare of heat pulsed through the mist, sudden and sharp.


    ¡°Stop running from me!¡±


    The air crackled. The fog around her flashed red, twisting like it had been struck by lightning.


    And then¡ªsomething moved.


    Not creeping like doubt. Not waiting.


    This thing lashed out, quick and fierce, rippling through the mist like fire racing across dry leaves.


    The wolf pup saw it. Felt it.


    Its ears flattened, its body crouched low, and in a blink, it was gone¡ªvanished into the mist.


    Katalin gasped.


    The thing¡ªthe force¡ªwas still there, thrumming in the air like the aftershock of a storm.


    Burning. Uncontrolled. Unseen.


    She didn¡¯t know where it had come from. Only that the wolf pup had fled from it.


    She snapped back to awareness.


    Seraphina¡¯s voice was already there, calm and knowing.


    ¡°What did you feel?¡±


    Katalin clenched her fists, her breath still short. ¡°It scared him,¡± she admitted, her voice small.


    Seraphina nodded. ¡°That is your anger and frustration.¡± Her mother reached out, pressing a steadying hand to Katalin¡¯s arm. ¡°It burns like fire. It pushes when you need to pull. It commands when you need to listen. And when it flares¡ªyour mana flees.¡±


    She studied Katalin carefully, her voice calm but certain. ¡°I expected something like this. This beast is strong in you, and you will have to learn to tame it.¡±


    Katalin swallowed, her pulse still thrumming in her ears. Her mind flickered to other times when she had snapped too fast, shouted too loud, clenched her fists too tight. Mama always said her temper ran hot¡ªbut now it was driving her wolf away.


    Determined, she nodded to her mother.


    She would do better.


    ¡°Breathe with me,¡± Seraphina murmured.


    Inhale. Exhale.


    Again. Again. Until the fire cooled, until the trembling inside stilled.


    Seraphina¡¯s hand lifted, brushing a loose strand of hair from Katalin¡¯s brow. ¡°Wavefang wants to be your friend,¡± she reminded gently. ¡°But he is wild. He is as unsure of you as you are of him. If you wish to lead him, you must be calm.¡±


    It took longer this time to slip into the other place, but when she did the burning beast had faded to wisps of smoke and the other was again small and distant.


    ¡°Calm,¡± she told herself.


    Again she watched as the wolf pup glided in and out of the mist. Again she followed. And then this time when the pup dashed towards her she was ready. Instead of trying to meet it she turned and moved away.


    He followed. Only a few steps and then he ran past and away.


    Excitedly Katalin moved behind him. And when he again ran towards her she turned and ran away. Soon they were moving in a pattern, almost a dance. Each chasing the other. The fog and mist swirling around them.


    This was not submission, not mastery¡ªbut a shift. A first step. She could feel a bond growing.


    But then her steps slowed and she faltered¡ªjust like at the start.


    Looking around, the space that had seemed so vast now appeared to be closing in. She looked for Vaelkan and he was there. But moving slowly. She could sense that he was tired.


    ¡°Katalin.¡±


    The voice was distant, pulling at the edges of the space.


    She took a step, where had her wolf gone? The fog was getting thicker.


    She could barely sense him now. He seemed to be far away.


    She tried to move in the direction she felt was right but could only go a few steps.


    ¡°Katalin.¡±


    The voice was louder. More insistent.


    It was hard to breathe. She felt on the edge of panic.


    ¡°Katalin!¡±


    Her vision blurred, her breath faltered¡ªthe world around her dissolved.


    With a sharp intake of breath, Katalin¡¯s eyes¡ªeyes she hadn¡¯t even realized were closed¡ªpopped open.


    The room spun. A deep ache curled in her chest, like she¡¯d been wrung dry. Every limb felt sluggish, too heavy, too weak, and tingled like she had slept on it wrong.


    She swayed. Seraphina¡¯s steady hand was already on her shoulder, keeping her upright.


    ¡°Easy, Little Wolf,¡± her mother murmured.


    Katalin squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then blinked hard. The weight lessened slightly, but she still felt hollow¡ªlike something inside her had drained away.


    Then, despite it all, a wild, breathless grin spread across her face, her heart still racing from the chase.


    ¡°Oh, Mama,¡± she gasped, barely able to contain her excitement. ¡°He played with me! He¡¯s so beautiful.¡±


    Seraphina smiled broadly, warmth filling her expression. She gave Katalin¡¯s shoulder a squeeze before releasing it, then reached down, laying a gentle hand over Katalin¡¯s closed fists.


    ¡°Nicely done, Little Wolf.¡± Her voice was soft, steady. ¡°I am proud of you. And your father will be surprised when he learns how far you¡¯ve come while he was away.¡±


    Katalin shook out her hands and arms, careful not to drop the wolf¡¯s tooth. The tingling hadn¡¯t fully left her, and exhaustion dragged at her limbs, a sluggish weight beneath her skin. But despite the heaviness, excitement burned beneath it, pushing past the weariness.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it again,¡± she said eagerly.


    Seraphina held up a hand, stopping her before she could settle back into position. ¡°Slow down. You need to recover. He will be there waiting next time,¡± she said gently.


    ¡°Tomorrow?¡± Katalin asked?


    ¡°We will see. We¡¯ve been at this for an hour. You don¡¯t want to overuse your mana. Not ever¡ªbut especially not this soon.¡±


    Katalin blinked, frowning. ¡°An hour?¡±


    Seraphina softly laughed, the warmth of it settling between them. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s very easy to get lost in there. But as you improve, it will get easier. You¡¯ll be able to slip in and out, even being here and there at the same time.¡±


    Katalin sighed deeply but didn¡¯t argue. ¡°Alright, Mama.¡± She turned the wolf¡¯s tooth over in her palm, watching how the candlelight flickered across its surface, then slowly curled her fingers around it.


    After a moment, she rose onto her knees and leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to her mother¡¯s cheek. ¡°Thank you for teaching me, Mama.¡±


    Seraphina smiled warmly, and maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªher eyes were a little glassy. ¡°Of course, Little Wolf. That¡¯s what we do in our family.¡±


    She gave Katalin¡¯s hand a light squeeze before releasing it. ¡°Now, put up your things and go get those eggs so you can have breakfast.¡±

 Chapter 03: Strongly touched by dwarves

    The kitchen smelled of spices and simmering broth, the warmth of the stove filling the small space. Katalin sat at the table, legs swinging idly beneath her chair as she finished off the last of her eggs, savoring the rich, buttery flavor. A few bites of spicy sausage remained, and she popped them into her mouth, chewing happily as the heat spread over her tongue. She reached for her glass of milk, drinking deeply until it was empty.


    Across the room, Seraphina moved about, her familiar silhouette haloed by morning light as she wiped the counter before lifting the lid on the pot simmering over the fire. Steam rose in a fragrant cloud - roasted meat and bone broth curling through the air, thick and comforting. For the last time in this kitchen, Katalin watched her mother stir with slow, deliberate motions, as if committing the ritual to memory.


    The shelves behind her were mostly empty, packed away bit by bit over the last few weeks. Now, without the tins of dried meats and jars of tallow, the kitchen felt... wrong. Home was already somewhere else. Somewhere she had never even been.


    Seraphina let out a slow breath, her gaze lingering on the stone walls, the darkened beams overhead. She saw Katalin watching her and asked, ¡°Will you miss it?¡±


    Katalin licked the last bit of grease from her fingers, tilting her head in thought.


    Their home wasn¡¯t grand. It had always smelled of steel and coal, the air tinged with the heat of the forge just outside. But it was familiar¡ªevery scratch on the floorboards, every crack in the stone holding a memory.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she admitted after a pause. ¡°But I want to see our new home more.¡±


    Seraphina smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. ¡°That¡¯s a good way to look at it, Little Wolf.¡±


    Katalin drained the last sip of milk from her glass and stood, carrying her plate, fork, and glass to the washbasin. She scrubbed them quickly, setting them on the drying rack with a practiced efficiency that came from years of habit.


    As she wiped her hands dry on a cloth, she turned back to her mother. ¡°What time should I be back?¡±


    Seraphina stepped away from the stove and pulled Katalin into a warm hug. ¡°That¡¯s up to Lady Teodora. She might ask you to help her with preparations for the feast. If she does, that¡¯s fine¡ªyou can stay with her all day if she wants, and I¡¯ll see you at the feast tonight. Just send word if any plans change.¡±


    ¡°I promise,¡± Katalin said.


    Seraphina kissed the top of her head, then pulled back, smoothing the wrinkles in Katalin¡¯s tunic before giving her a light push toward the door. ¡°Don¡¯t forget to check with Lady Mirelle when you get to the keep. See how Lady Teodora is feeling today before you go making any riding plans.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± Katalin said.


    ¡°Good. Now go on.¡±


    With a quick grin, Katalin opened the door and stepped into the cool morning air.


    The morning sun made her blink as she breathed in the crisp air, the familiar tang of hot metal and coal dust filling her lungs¡ªa scent she had known her entire life .


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    She was surprised to see her father was inside the smithy, standing near the forge, speaking with Joren¡ªthe new smith who had taken his place.


    Joren was a broad-shouldered man, his arms thick with muscle, his face square and serious. He wasn¡¯t unkind, but he wasn¡¯t Henrik. And he never let her in the smithy.


    Katalin hesitated, watching the two men talk. She hadn¡¯t seen Henrik at the forge in so long¡ªnot really, not as he used to be. She missed the way the smithy had felt when it was his.


    She should go. Aunt Teo would be waiting. But she wanted just a moment more.


    Just to be near him again.


    Decision made, she strode toward the smithy. The heavy wooden doors stood open to the morning air, and she slipped inside, the warmth embracing her instantly.


    The fire wasn¡¯t blazing yet, but the stones held its memory. The air was thick with heat, sweat, and iron.


    But something felt¡­ wrong.


    She glanced around. The anvils were still there, the workbenches lined with tools, the quenching barrel full. But the walls¡ªthe walls were empty.


    The rune-covered dwarven shields, axes, and hammers that had always lined them¡ªgone.


    She missed the sight of them. They were some of the first things packed up and taken away.


    For as long as she could remember, she had traced those runes with her fingers, feeling the shallow etchings in the metal, wondering what stories they told. Now the smithy looked¡­ hollow.


    She stood there for a moment, remembering how they had looked with their many colors and designs. Then, as she stared at the empty walls, a memory surfaced¡ª


    The three of them were sitting cross-legged on the floor, the fire flickering between her mother and father. They had been speaking carefully, gently, like they were telling her something important.


    Most people, they had explained, believed Henrik was part dwarf. That was why he had lived so long, why he had strength beyond most men. It was a story that had started years ago, encouraged by Duke Alaric¡¯s father, Edgar. No one had ever seen a half-dwarf before, but who was going to argue with a noble?


    Katalin had frowned. ¡°But are you really part dwarf?¡± she had asked. ¡°Does that mean Cassius and I are too?¡±


    Henrik had chuckled, warmth in his eyes. ¡°Who can really say what our grandfathers and great-grandfathers got up to?¡± He had ruffled her hair, his voice light but steady. ¡°But I can promise you this, Kitty¡ªour bloodline has been strongly touched by the dwarves.¡±


    Katalin shook off the memory and stepped closer to her father, standing quietly beside him as Joren continued speaking, seemingly oblivious to her presence.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to move into your rooms,¡± Joren was saying, his voice thick with satisfaction. ¡°Finally get out of that rented hovel. And now, with a proper home, I can start thinking about taking a wife.¡±


    Katalin blinked, tilting her head slightly. She had never heard men talk about marriage much before. But Joren didn¡¯t sound excited. He sounded¡­ practical.


    ¡°I have a few prospects,¡± Joren continued, scratching his chin. ¡°There¡¯s a merchant¡¯s daughter¡ªsmart, knows her numbers. Would be useful in keeping the books. Then there¡¯s my cousin¡¯s widow. Poor thing¡¯s been struggling since he died in that farming accident, and she has a good dowry. Then there¡¯s the butcher¡¯s daughter¡ªsturdy girl, strong. Likely to bear healthy sons.¡±


    Henrik gave a noncommittal grunt, his hand idly resting on Katalin¡¯s head as she leaned into him. He said nothing, just listened, the way he always did.


    Katalin, on the other hand, felt her nose wrinkle. Joren spoke about these women the same way traders in the market talked about livestock.


    At last, Joren seemed to notice her. He turned his gaze down, offering a small nod. ¡°Ah, hello there, Katalin.¡± Then he grinned. ¡°Shame you¡¯re not a little older. I could have negotiated with your father for your hand.¡±


    Katalin froze.


    Joren laughed, as if he had just made the most generous offer in the world. ¡°Would¡¯ve been a fine match for you, eh? But don¡¯t worry¡ªyou¡¯ve got a good father. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll catch an excellent husband someday.¡±


    Katalin¡¯s lips pressed into a thin smile. ¡°How lucky for me,¡± she said, her tone just a little too sweet.


    Joren, oblivious, nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.¡±


    She turned back to Henrik, her expression brightening as if the entire conversation had already left her mind. ¡°Papa, I¡¯m heading up to the Keep to see Aunt Teo.¡±


    Henrik pulled her into a quick hug. ¡°Stay out of trouble, Kitten.¡±


    ¡°No promises,¡± she murmured into his tunic before slipping away.


    Joren was still talking as she stepped out of the smithy, rolling her eyes as she walked toward Stonehaven Hall.

 Chapter 04: I can still beat out a horse

    Katalin stepped out of the smithy, the crisp morning air washing over her flushed face after the forge''s heat. Beyond the threshold, the keep''s outer yard buzzed with purpose¡ªservants darting past, retainers calling instructions, their voices punctuating the steady rhythm of booted feet on ancient stone. The clank of armor and the murmur of conspiratorial conversations mingled with the occasional impatient whinny from the guard¡¯s stables. Even from here, she could sense the urgency in the air¡ªthe keep was alive with preparations for the coming feast.


    She made her way toward the Stonehaven family residence, weaving through the familiar courtyards with practiced ease. The rich aroma of fresh bread and spit-roasted meats drifted from open kitchen doors, mingling with the pervasive scent of damp stone, and wood smoke.


    As Katalin approached the entrance to the residence, she spotted Garrick and Oswin at their usual posts, their dark gray cloaks marked with the Duke¡¯s azure and silver crest. Garrick, the older of the two, had a grizzled beard and the kind of steady, unshakable presence that came with decades of service. Oswin, by contrast, was young and sharp-eyed, always standing a little straighter whenever someone important walked past.


    Nearby, another man stood alone, slightly apart from the entrance. Obviously a soldier, but his cloak was different¡ªa deep, slate blue trimmed in black. Westguard colors.


    That caught her attention.


    Soldiers from Westguard weren¡¯t common in Stonehaven, but they weren¡¯t strange either. She¡¯d seen them before, mostly when they came with messages or to pick up supplies for the western border. And on occasion, her father had to mend their wagons or reshoe their horses. She didn¡¯t recognize this one, though.


    He was tall¡ªtaller than Garrick, even¡ªand carried himself with the same quiet confidence the keep¡¯s seasoned guards had. But there was something different about him. He wasn¡¯t old like Garrick, but he wasn¡¯t young like Oswin either. Somewhere in between. His short, dark brown hair looked a little wind-ruffled, like he had just arrived after a long ride. His face was sharp but not unkind, and his eyes¡ªquick, steady¡ªwere watching everything.


    She lingered on him for just a moment longer, wondering who he was. A messenger maybe?


    Garrick¡¯s voice pulled her back, and she turned toward the familiar guards, greeting them with a bright smile.


    ¡°Morning, Lady Katalin,¡± Garrick greeted, his gruff voice warm. ¡°We¡¯ll be missing you around the keep once you¡¯re off to Butterridge.¡±


    Oswin, adjusting his grip on his weapon, and smiled. ¡°Not half as much as the Grand Duchess will.¡±


    Katalin beamed at them. ¡°Morning, Garrick! Morning, Oswin! I¡¯ll miss you too. But I¡¯ll be back for visits.¡±


    Oswin chuckled, stepping aside to push open the door for her. ¡°Well then, don¡¯t go forgetting us when you¡¯re off in the wilds.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± she promised, stepping inside where she was immediately enveloped in the warmth of the keep. The corridors were alive with movement¡ªservants rushing past carrying bolts of fabric, polished silver trays, and armfuls of greenery for decoration. Voices overlapped¡ªcooks calling out orders, chambermaids whispering about last-minute preparations, stewards barking instructions.


    Katalin slipped through the chaos, her path familiar. She moved with confidence, turning down long halls and ascending the winding staircases that led to the Grand Duchess¡¯s private chambers. Here, the rush of activity softened. The air carried the subtle scent of lavender and aged parchment, a familiar comfort.


    As she entered the main parlor, she spotted Lady Mirelle, the Grand Duchess¡¯s head lady-in-waiting, engaged in quiet conversation with another noblewoman. Lady Mirelle was a refined woman in her late fifties, her silver-streaked hair tucked neatly beneath a delicate lace cap. She held herself with the grace of someone who had spent decades at court.


    Katalin paused just inside the doorway, waiting patiently for a lull in their conversation before stepping forward. ¡°Good morning, Lady Mirelle.¡±


    The woman turned, her expression instantly softening. ¡°Ah, Katalin, dear.¡± Her smile was warm, familiar. ¡°You¡¯re just in time. Lady Teodora is in good spirits today and very much looking forward to seeing you.¡±


    Katalin grinned. ¡°Good. I hope we go riding. This will be the last time I see Smokey until we visit.¡±


    Lady Mirelle¡¯s knowing smile deepened. ¡°Smokey is a smart horse, I am sure he will remember you.¡± She gestured toward the inner doors. ¡°Go on in. She¡¯s expecting you.¡±


    With a quick nod of thanks, Katalin slipped past her and entered the Grand Duchess¡¯s chambers.


    Upon entering, she took in the familiar surroundings¡ªmorning light filtering through tall windows, candles still flickering despite the day¡¯s arrival. Soft pools of gold played across polished wood and heavy drapes. The air carried the calming scent of lavender, parchment, and aged oak¡ªa scent she had come to associate with these rooms.


    Attendants and courtiers moved with quiet purpose, delivering messages, arranging seating charts, reviewing last-minute details for the feast. Yet despite the activity, there was no sense of chaos. Every motion was measured, precise. This was the Grand Duchess¡¯s domain, and even in the midst of preparations, order reigned.


    At the center of it all, Lady Teodora sat in a cushioned chair by the hearth, dressed in a gown of deep sapphire blue. It was elegant but looked comfortable, the rich fabric draped gracefully over her frame. Her silver hair was pinned up, though a few wisps had slipped loose, framing her sharp, regal features.


    She looked up as Katalin entered, and the moment their eyes met, the sharpness in her gaze melted into something warm and knowing. A small, pleased smile curved her lips.


    ¡°Ah, Kata, my little pearl,¡± she said, holding out her hands.


    Katalin barely hesitated before crossing the room, slipping her hands into the Grand Duchess¡¯s outstretched ones. The older woman pulled her in, embracing her firmly. Katalin pressed her face briefly into the familiar scent of fine fabric and faint perfume, feeling the solid, steady presence of the woman who had been a constant in her life.


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    The hug lingered¡ªlonger than usual. As if Lady Teodora were reluctant to let go.


    Finally, she drew back but did not release Katalin¡¯s hand. Instead, she studied her, eyes searching for something only she could name.


    ¡°You look well,¡± she said at last. ¡°A little taller, I think.¡±


    Katalin grinned. ¡°Mama says I¡¯m growing like a weed.¡±


    The Grand Duchess chuckled, her grip on Katalin¡¯s hand tightening for a moment before she glanced toward the high-backed chair positioned near the hearth.


    Seated there, dressed in dark clerical robes, was Father Odran¡ªretired head of the Temple of Aurelian and now Aunt Teo¡¯s personal adviser. His hands rested atop the carved head of his cane, his steady gaze observing the exchange with quiet amusement.


    ¡°Good morning, child,¡± he greeted, his deep voice like the distant rumble of a storm over the sea.


    Katalin dipped her head respectfully. ¡°Good morning, Father Odran.¡±


    A quiet sigh escaped the Grand Duchess as she turned her gaze toward the window, her fingers idly tracing the edge of Katalin¡¯s sleeve. ¡°I knew this day would come,¡± she said, her voice softer now. ¡°I worked hard enough to make it happen, but I find myself quite unhappy about it.¡±


    Father Odran shifted slightly in his chair, his keen eyes resting on Katalin with quiet contemplation. ¡°I still do not think it is a good idea,¡± he admitted, his voice measured. ¡°She lends you her youthful energy every time she visits. I worry what her absence will bring.¡±


    Lady Teodora gave a hum of acknowledgment, but her expression remained unreadable as she turned back to Katalin. For a long moment, she simply studied her, as if weighing something heavy in her thoughts. Then, finally, she asked, ¡°Would you stay if I asked you to?¡±


    Katalin blinked. The question caught her off guard, settling deep in her chest. Would she?


    She hesitated, truly considering it.


    She loved being here. She loved the keep, the city, these rooms, the warmth of Aunt Teo¡¯s presence.


    But she had spent her whole life watching her father at the forge, dreaming of the day she would stand beside him, hammer in hand.


    ¡°My heart¡¯s desire is to be a blacksmith¡­¡± she said at last, her voice quiet but certain. ¡°But if you asked me to stay, I would.¡±


    Aunt Teo turned away briefly, pressing her lips together before taking a deep breath and facing Katalin again. Her misted eyes met Katalin¡¯s, and she reached for her again, drawing her into another firm embrace.


    ¡°Thank you, Kata,¡± she whispered against Katalin¡¯s hair. ¡°But I could never deny you your heart¡¯s desire¡ªthough I expect others may try.¡±


    She drew back, smoothing a hand over Katalin¡¯s braids before glancing up at Father Odran with a faint, knowing smile. With a slight shake of her head, she mused, ¡°What a kind soul you are. Having you near warms my bones like a day in a summer garden.¡±


    Katalin shifted, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands. ¡°I¡¯ll come visit all the time,¡± she promised.


    Lady Teodora patted her hand fondly. ¡°Of course, you will. And you¡¯ll write to me, won¡¯t you?¡±


    Katalin perked up. ¡°Yes! I''ve been sending letters to Papa while he was away and Mama says my writing is improving.¡±


    The Grand Duchess smirked. ¡°I shall be the judge of that.¡±


    The room seemed to settle then, the attendants subtly giving them space, understanding the moment for what it was. Lady Teodora leaned back slightly, the warmth of her previous smile lingering, though there was still something in her eyes¡ªsomething wistful.


    ¡°Well then, Kata,¡± she said, her tone shifting to something lighter, ¡°I do have something I need you to do for me today.¡±


    Katalin tilted her head. ¡°Aren¡¯t we going riding?¡±


    The Grand Duchess sighed, shaking her head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Kata. I don¡¯t have time today. There is too much to do.¡±


    For the briefest moment, Katalin¡¯s jaw tensed, her brows pulling together. The heat of disappointment flared in her chest¡ªtoo fast, too strong¡ªbut just as quickly, she caught herself. She took a breath, forcing her expression smooth, but the tension lingered in her shoulders.


    Lady Teodora watched her with knowing amusement, a touch of fondness in her eyes. ¡°Oh, I see. You were more excited to see Smokey than you were to see me,¡± she teased.


    Katalin looked as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn¡¯t. Her mouth opened, then closed, then she finally muttered, ¡°No¡­ I just wanted to see him one more time.¡±


    The Grand Duchess¡¯s eyes twinkled with amusement. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Kata. Smokey will be there at the smithy in the morning. You can give him all your affection then¡ªand maybe even get a chance to ride him.¡±


    Katalin¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Thank you, Aunt Teo. You¡¯re my favorite friend, but Smokey is definitely number two.¡±


    Lady Teodora grinned and turned toward Father Odran. ¡°You see? You worry about my health for nothing. Even at my age, I can still beat out a horse.¡±


    Father Odran chuckled, his eyes crinkling with quiet amusement. He gave a small, seated bow. ¡°Of course, Your Ladyship. Consider me properly chastised.¡±


    The Grand Duchess settled more comfortably into her chair, fixing Katalin with a measured look. ¡°Now, Kata, as I was saying. I do have something I need you to do for me today.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Aunt Teo. What do you need me to do?¡±


    Lady Teodora gestured toward the fireplace, where a boy pushed himself up from where he¡¯d been sitting on the hearthstone.


    Surprised she hadn¡¯t noticed him earlier, Katalin took a moment to study the boy. He was a little taller and a least a year older than her, with dark hair neatly combed into place and sharp, serious eyes. He stood with a quiet confidence, dressed in fine but practical clothes¡ªnothing overly elaborate, but well-fitted and clearly expensive.


    ¡°This is my great-nephew, Laszlo,¡± Lady Teodora said. ¡°He arrived last night with his father for the feast. It¡¯s been many years since he was last in Stonehaven, and I am sure he hardly remembers it. I¡¯d like you to show him around¡ªboth the keep and the city¡ªso he can reacquaint himself.¡±


    Katalin nodded to Lady Teodora before stepping forward and dipping her head politely. ¡°Welcome to Stonehaven, my lord.¡±


    Laszlo gave a small nod in return. ¡°Thank you. It¡¯s good to be here. If you¡¯re going to be my guide, please just call me Laszlo.¡±


    Katalin then paused, unsure what to do next. She did not have very much experience dealing with someone her own age.


    Lady Teodora smiled at Katalin¡¯s hesitation. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Kata. You¡¯ll have fun, I promise. Just take him around, let him see the keep and the city. If you get hungry, stop by the kitchen for something small¡ªbut don¡¯t spoil your appetites. And make sure you¡¯re both at the feast on time.¡±


    The feast! For a moment Katalin forgot the boy as her thoughts shifted at the mention of the feast. ¡°Oh! Will there be music?¡±


    The Grand Duchess chuckled. ¡°Of course, there will. You think I would host a feast without music?¡±


    That was a relief. ¡°What about tumblers and a magic show?¡±


    ¡°That depends on whether the performers arrive on time,¡± Lady Teodora replied.


    Katalin grinned, already excited.


    With a gesture Lady Teodora turned Katalin¡¯s attention back to Laszlo. ¡°Now, off you go. Show him around the keep and the city, and make sure he¡¯s not late for the feast.¡±


    Katalin gave a small curtsy. ¡°As you command, my lady.¡±


    Lady Teodora shook her head with a fond smile.


    Katalin hesitated. ¡°Will you send word to Mama?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Kata, don¡¯t worry. I will have a page bring her a message.¡±


    Laszlo stepped up beside Katlin then turned to face Father Odran who had been quietly watching the exchange. ¡°It was nice to meet you, Father Odran.¡±


    Reminded by his example, Katalin turned back also, ¡°Yes¡ªhave a good day, Father.¡±


    Father Odran nodded to each in turn and added, ¡°It was a pleasure to meet you also Laszlo. And thank you Katalin, but please try not to lead young Laszlo into too much trouble.¡±


    Katalin smiled. ¡°No promises.¡±


    With a final hug from Lady Teodora and a nod from Father Odran, she turned toward the door, Laszlo falling into step beside her.


    As they stepped into the hall, she glanced sidelong at him.


    ¡°So,¡± she said, ¡°do you remember Stonehaven at all?¡±


    Laszlo shook his head. ¡°Not really. My father told me about it, but I was too young to remember.¡±


    Katalin¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Then we¡¯ve got a lot to do.¡±


    And with that, she led him toward the keep¡¯s grand halls, ready to show him her world.

 Chapter 05: The best way out

    Katalin led Laszlo through the halls of the residence, moving with the ease of someone who had spent years weaving through these corridors. The stone walls were draped in banners of deep azure and silver, the colors of House Stonehaven, while narrow windows let in slivers of cool morning light.


    As they walked, Laszlo hesitated, then asked carefully, ¡°May I ask you something?¡±


    Katalin glanced at him, catching the uncertainty in his tone. ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s not too forward¡­ how old are you?¡±


    ¡°I have eleven harvest festivals,¡± she answered. ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°Twelve, by the way nobles count years.¡± He paused, thinking. ¡°But I was born just before the new year, so we¡¯re probably about the same.¡±


    Katalin nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t know when I was born for sure.¡± They walked a few more steps before she glanced sideways at him. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    Laszlo opened his mouth, then hesitated. ¡°Oh, well¡­ it¡¯s just because you¡¯re¡­ um.¡±


    Katalin grimaced, shaking her head. ¡°Oh. Because I¡¯m so small. Yeah, I hear that a lot.¡±


    Laszlo gave a half-shrug, clearly relieved she¡¯d said it first. ¡°Well¡­ not that small.¡±


    Katalin smiled and nodded her head. ¡°I¡¯ll grow.¡±


    They continued on and passed a few servants carrying supplies for the feast¡ªbolts of fabric, polished silver trays, and baskets of fresh bread. Katalin gave them brief nods in greeting, at ease in the space, while Laszlo kept silent, his sharp eyes scanning everything around him. He was taking it all in, studying the layout, the movements, the way people stepped aside to let them pass.


    As they neared the main exit, Laszlo slowed, glancing toward the guards posted by the door. Their presence wasn¡¯t unusual, but something about them seemed to make him reconsider his next step.


    He leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. ¡°I bet a place this large has a lot of ways in and out.¡±


    Katalin grinned. ¡°Oh yes. There are all sorts of ways in and out. There¡¯s a door in the kitchens that leads to the back gardens, and if you take the right passage in the lower halls, you can slip out near the armory without anyone noticing.¡± She glanced at him, watching for his reaction. ¡°Oh, and there¡¯s a little stairwell near the library that opens up onto a side courtyard. Barely anyone uses it.¡±


    She let the words hang for a moment, then grinned. ¡°But the best way out? The roof. If you know the right path, you can go up and see the whole city from there. Want to?¡±


    Laszlo hesitated just a fraction, then nodded. ¡°Yes. That sounds great.¡±


    Katalin led the way, her steps confident as they navigated the winding halls and staircases of the keep. They climbed higher and higher, passing through narrow corridors that saw less foot traffic, until they reached the exit to the roof.


    A single guard stood at his post, leaning against the stone archway with the relaxed ease of someone who didn¡¯t see much excitement at this station. His hand rested lazily on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes flicked toward them as they approached.


    Katalin smiled. ¡°Hello, Wilmar.¡±


    The guard straightened slightly, nodding in greeting. ¡°Morning, Katalin.¡± His gaze shifted to Laszlo, scanning him with mild curiosity. ¡°And who¡¯s this, then?¡±


    Katalin gestured toward him. ¡°This is Laszlo. He¡¯s Lord Tamas¡¯s son.¡±


    At that, Wilmar blinked, his posture shifting immediately. He glanced at Laszlo again, this time with sharper interest. ¡°Ah. I¡¯d heard Baron Westguard and his son arrived last night.¡± He hesitated only a moment before straightening fully and giving a short bow of his head. ¡°My lord.¡±


    Laszlo gave a small nod in return, not reacting to the shift in tone. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    Wilmar¡¯s lips twitched, but he didn¡¯t relax as he usually did around Katalin. He stepped aside, pulling open the heavy wooden door leading onto the roof. ¡°Watch your step,¡± he said. ¡°The wind¡¯s sharp up there today.¡±


    Katalin led the way out, Laszlo following close behind. A gust of cool air greeted them, carrying the crisp, clean sweetness of the Pride Sea mixed with the faint smoke of the buildings below. The sky stretched endlessly overhead, brilliant and cloudless.


    From up here, they could see everything.


    The keep stretched below them, a maze of courtyards, barracks, and sturdy stone towers casting long shadows in the morning light. Guards moved along the battlements, their steel catching glints of sun as they patrolled the walls. Near the fortified front gate, the High Mage¡¯s Tower loomed over everything else¡ªa smooth spire of pale stone, its narrow windows dark and unreadable. From where they stood they could see one lone guard standing on its upper balcony scanning the horizon.


    Katalin tilted her head. ¡°I¡¯ve always wondered why the mage tower isn¡¯t near the keep¡¯s halls, like the others.¡±


    Laszlo followed her gaze. ¡°It¡¯s for defense,¡± he said. ¡°From up there, the mages can see beyond the walls. And if the city is ever attacked, they can strike down from above.¡±


    Beyond the keep, the city of Crestport spread out in a patchwork of narrow streets and clustered rooftops, bustling with life. The docks were a flurry of movement, ships of all sizes moored along the piers as workers hauled crates and barrels. The wind carried snatches of sound up to them¡ªthe distant clang of metal on wood, the creak of rigging, half-heard voices calling orders¡ªfaint and scattered, pieces of a world just out of reach. And beyond the city¡ªthe Pride Sea, its vast waters shimmering under the sunlight, stretching all the way to the horizon where it vanished into blue infinity.


    Laszlo braced his hands on the low wall, scanning the view. ¡°Westguard doesn¡¯t have a tower like that,¡± he said, nodding toward the High Mage¡¯s Tower. ¡°We have four smaller ones, one on each side of the fortress. A battlemage and his apprentice live in each.¡±


    Katalin¡¯s brows lifted. ¡°You¡¯ve met a real mage?¡±


    Laszlo nodded. ¡°Yes. I have to attend most of my father¡¯s councils and they are always there. The youngest one, Aldrich Moonfell, is friendly enough.¡±


    Katalin frowned. ¡°Our High Mage is named Corvus Nightweave. I go in and out of Stonehaven Hall all the time but I¡¯ve never met him. And I¡¯ve never met anyone from the Nightweave family, either.¡±


    Laszlo chuckled. ¡°There probably isn¡¯t a Nightweave family.¡±


    Katalin blinked. ¡°What about his parents?¡±


    Laszlo turned slightly, leaning against the stone railing. ¡°His parents aren¡¯t named Nightweave. And they probably aren¡¯t anywhere near Stonehaven. Mages take new names during their training. Father says it is just mystical nonsense. No one knows if they choose a name or if their masters give it to them. But once they take the name, their old one is never spoken again.¡±


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    Katalin glanced back toward the High Mage¡¯s Tower, and shrugged. ¡°Sounds like bards. But I know one bard who changes his name all the time.¡±


    Laszlo shrugged. ¡°Mages, bards¡­I guess all magic users are odd.¡±


    Laszlo looked back toward Crestport, then out past the horizon. ¡°You have the Pride Sea right at your doorstep. Have you ever been out on the water?


    Katalin shook her head. ¡°No. I¡¯ve been to the city a lot, and I like watching the boats come and go, but I¡¯ve never been on one.¡±


    Laszlo turned toward her. ¡°Would you want to?¡±


    She tilted her head, considering. ¡°Maybe. It looks exciting, but I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d like being stuck on a boat for very long.¡±


    Laszlo nodded, then looked back toward the horizon. ¡°I¡¯ve never been either. Westguard only has a river, and not a very big one. But I¡¯ve crossed it a few times in rowboats.¡±


    Katalin remembered the Westguard soldier she had seen earlier. She glanced at Laszlo. ¡°A soldier by the doors was wearing Westguard colors. Did he come with you and your father?¡±


    Laszlo gave a small shrug. ¡°A lot of soldiers came with us. He¡¯s probably one of them.¡±


    Katalin studied him for a moment, but before she could say anything, Laszlo stepped closer to the edge of the roof, leaning against the low wall. His gaze shifted to the busy courtyards below. ¡°I guess it¡¯s not always this crowded down there.¡±


    Katalin also turned to watch the people below, ¡°No. Everyone is getting ready for the feast.¡±


    Laszlo pointed toward a field beyond the city walls. ¡°What about those people?¡±


    Katalin followed his gaze and spotted the field between the keep and the city. A small crowd had gathered along the edges, watching two teams dart across the grass, wooden sticks flashing as they battled for control of a small leather ball. The crack of wood striking the ball echoed through the open air, punctuated by bursts of cheers and shouts.


    ¡°That¡¯s shinty,¡± Katalin said. ¡°It¡¯s really popular here. The big guilds and the city guards have their own teams, and the smaller guilds group together to make theirs. Even the villages outside the city play against each other.¡±


    Laszlo studied the game for a moment. ¡°We don¡¯t have anything like that in Westguard.¡±


    Katalin arched an eyebrow. ¡°What do you play, then?¡±


    ¡°All our games are combat-related,¡± Laszlo said. ¡°Archery contests, capture the flag, things like that. But the most popular is folk football.¡±


    ¡°Folk football?¡±


    Laszlo gave a short laugh. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t heard of it.¡±


    Katalin shook her head.


    ¡°It¡¯s simple,¡± Laszlo said. ¡°Two teams, as many players as you can get, no real field¡ªjust a ball, two goals, and one rule. Get the ball to the other team¡¯s goal however you can.¡±


    Katalin stared at him. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±


    Laszlo nodded. ¡°It¡¯s rough, but it¡¯s good training,¡± Laszlo said. ¡°You have to be fast, stick with your team, and do anything you can to score. I played a match just before we left Westguard.¡± He smirked slightly. ¡°It ended in a draw. Because we ran out of daylight.¡±


    Katalin laughed. ¡°I can imagine.¡± She watched the shinty players as they fought for the ball, weaving and dodging with quick footwork and well-placed strikes. ¡°This is still better. It¡¯s fast, and you have to be smart to win.¡±


    Laszlo considered that for a moment, then nodded. ¡°It does look like good exercise. But the people watching¡ªwhat do they get out of it?¡±


    Katalin grinned. ¡°It¡¯s fun to watch.¡±


    Laszlo blinked, looking genuinely puzzled. ¡°Just¡­ watching?¡±


    She laughed. ¡°Yes! You cheer for your team, yell at the players when they mess up, argue with your friends about who¡¯s better. Haven¡¯t you ever watched a game before?¡±


    Laszlo shrugged. ¡°I suppose. But not for fun.¡±


    Katalin rolled her eyes. ¡°You sound like my brother.¡±


    Laszlo gave a quiet laugh but didn¡¯t argue. Instead, he asked, ¡°What do you do for fun?¡±


    Katalin thought for a moment. ¡°Now? Mostly riding with Aunt Teo. Or reading.¡± She hesitated, then added, ¡°Before my father left for Butterridge, I spent most of my time with him in the smithy.¡±


    Laszlo raised an eyebrow. ¡°You like the smithy?¡±


    Katalin nodded, then looked back down on the keep, scanning the streets below. ¡°Look, over there,¡± she said, pointing toward a familiar set of buildings nestled against the inner wall near the gates. ¡°That¡¯s where my father¡¯s smithy is. And where we live. Well, for now.¡±


    Laszlo found where she was pointing, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the structure. ¡°It looks¡­ smaller than I expected.¡±


    Katalin huffed. ¡°It¡¯s not small. It¡¯s just not as fancy as the rest of the keep. But it¡¯s the best place in all of Stonehaven¡ªat least, I think so.¡±


    Laszlo¡¯s mouth quirked slightly, but he didn¡¯t argue. ¡°And after you move?¡±


    Katalin hesitated, then gestured beyond the city, toward the distant hills where Butterridge lay. ¡°Out there to the east. My father¡¯s building a new smithy. We¡¯ll have a house, too. Bigger than our rooms here.¡±


    Laszlo was quiet for a moment, still looking at the smithy below. ¡°I see.¡±


    He turned back to her, studying her face. ¡°Are you looking forward to it?¡±


    Katalin shifted on her feet. ¡°I guess so. I mean, yes.¡± She lifted her chin, firming her voice. ¡°It¡¯ll be different. We¡¯ll have more space. A real home of our own, not just rooms in the keep.¡±


    Laszlo raised an eyebrow. ¡°But?¡±


    Katalin exhaled, crossing her arms as she looked down over the city. ¡°I¡¯ll miss it here. I¡¯ve lived my whole life in the keep. I know every hall, every shortcut. I know the guards and the servants, the way the bells sound at different times of the day. I¡¯ll miss Aunt Teo and my brother. I¡¯ll miss Smokey.¡±


    ¡°Your brother is staying at the keep?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He lives here in the residence. He is learning to be a land manager.¡±


    ¡°He is? I will probably see him often then.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re staying in Stonehaven?¡±


    ¡°I think so. My father doesn¡¯t tell me much.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s funny then. That this is your first day here and it¡¯s my last.¡±


    After that they were both quiet. Just watching the people below.


    Without looking up Katlin asked, ¡°Will you look after her?¡±


    From the corner of her eye Katlin saw Laszlo nod, ¡°Yes. I wouldn¡¯t say I can look after her, but I¡¯ll see her often. I heard Father Odran say he was worried about her.¡±


    Katalin smiled wide. Happy that Laszlo understood without asking. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said.


    Laszlo gave a small bow, mimicking what Father Odran had done earlier then continued, ¡°As you command, My Lady.¡±


    Hearing her own words thrown back at her, Katalin grinned and gave a short laugh. If she knew him better, she would have punched Laszlo in the arm. The urge was hard to resist.


    But then a serious expression crossed Laszlo¡¯s face, ¡°I only just met my Great Aunt today, well, other than when I was too young to remember, but I think she is the nicest noble I have ever met.¡±


    At that, warmth spread in Katalin¡¯s chest, easing some of the worry she hadn¡¯t even realized she was carrying, ¡°She is the nicest person you will ever meet. Noble or not.¡±


    Laszlo just nodded, ¡°You are probably right.¡± And they went back to watching the crowd below.


    After a few minutes Laszlo turned to Katalin. ¡°So,¡± he said, keeping his tone casual. ¡°Besides the front door, show me your favorite way out of the keep.¡±


    Katalin perked up. ¡°Oh, I know the perfect way!¡±


    Without hesitation, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him along.


    Katalin led Laszlo back down through the winding halls, slipping into a quieter corridor away from the usual foot traffic. The walls were lined with unlit sconces, the stone floor cool beneath their steps. They passed a storeroom, its heavy wooden door slightly ajar, the scent of dried herbs and grain spilling out, before reaching a small side door.


    With a practiced push, Katalin swung it open, revealing the dukal stables.


    The familiar scent of hay, leather, and oiled tack greeted her, mingling with the earthy musk of horses. The space was alive with quiet movement¡ªstable hands murmuring to their charges, the occasional scrape of a hoof against packed dirt, the rhythmic clink of harnesses being adjusted.


    She stepped forward, glancing around under the pretense of making sure the way was clear¡ªbut in truth, she just wanted a quick peek at Smokey.


    There.


    Her gaze landed on the familiar gray gelding, his dappled coat catching the morning light where it streamed through the stable¡¯s high windows. Smokey stood calmly in his stall, ears flicking forward as if sensing her. A smile tugged at her lips, her feet already shifting toward him.


    Before she could take another step, a stablehand approached, wiping his hands on a rag. He was a broad-shouldered man with hay clinging to his tunic and the easy confidence of someone who had spent his life around horses. His gaze landed on Katalin, and he broke into a friendly grin.


    ¡°So the Grand Duchess gave you the big news, huh?¡± he said cheerfully. ¡°Guess she finally¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, Laszlo smoothly stepped forward, cutting him off with practiced ease. ¡°We¡¯re just passing through,¡± he interjected, his tone polite but firm. ¡°Sorry to bother you.¡±


    At the same time, he placed a light but insistent hand on Katalin¡¯s elbow, guiding her forward with deliberate purpose.


    Caught off guard, Katalin blinked as she was steered away, leaving the stablehand standing mid-sentence, looking slightly puzzled.


    Once they were a few steps away, Katalin pulled her arm free, frowning up at him. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to be rude.¡±


    Laszlo blinked. ¡°Was I rude?¡±


    Katalin crossed her arms. ¡°You interrupted him for no reason.¡±


    Laszlo hesitated, just for a moment. It was so brief that if she hadn¡¯t been watching him, she might not have noticed. Then he let out a slow breath and shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to be rude. I was just thinking about the festival.¡±


    Katalin narrowed her eyes at him. She was beginning to think Laszlo was hiding something from her. But she had no idea what or why. Before she could decide if she should question him, he was already moving ahead like nothing had happened.


    She shrugged and hurried to catch up. ¡°Fine. So what would you like to see next?¡±

 Chapter 06: Ill show you the best parts

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    As they stepped out of the stables, Katalin turned toward the far side of the small exercise field where young horses were being led in circles. Beyond it, the familiar kennels stood in neat rows of wooden pens and enclosures, their fencing sturdy but worn from years of use. Excited, she gestured for Laszlo to follow.


    ¡°This way,¡± she said. ¡°I want to show you the hounds.¡±


    Laszlo followed, casting a glance at the rows of pens. As they neared, a deep-throated bark rang out from one of the kennels, followed by the rustle of paws against straw as the dogs stirred at their approach. A few hounds propped their front paws on the fencing, tails wagging in excitement, while others dozed in patches of sunlight, their ears flicking at the noise of their companions.


    Katalin leaned over the fence of one enclosure, grinning as a familiar reddish-brown hound padded up to her. ¡°Hello, old boy.¡± She scratched behind his ears, and the hound let out a pleased huff before giving her fingers a slobbery lick.


    Laszlo, however, had stopped a few paces back, eyeing the hounds with something between surprise and skepticism.


    ¡°They¡¯re¡­ friendly,¡± he observed.


    Katalin looked up, brows raised. ¡°Of course they are. They¡¯re trained for the hunt, not war.¡±


    Laszlo still looked unconvinced. ¡°At Westguard, we only have war dogs. They¡¯d never let a stranger this close.¡±


    Katalin tilted her head. ¡°Do you get to be around them?¡±


    ¡°Only with the handlers near. The war dogs listen to all the handlers,¡± Laszlo said. ¡°My father¡¯s dogs are not as mean. He has two personal hounds¡ªGideon and Vengeance. They only take commands from him and the houndmaster, Otto. No one else, but I think they are used to me.¡±


    Katalin wrinkled her nose. ¡°Vengeance? That¡¯s a name for a dog?¡±


    Laszlo shrugged. ¡°My father named them.¡±


    A voice called out to them. ¡°Katalin?¡±


    She turned to see a tall, thin man in a worn leather jerkin approaching from a small wooden building beside the pens. His graying beard framed a weathered but kind face, and despite the streaks of silver in his dark hair, his stride was strong and confident.


    Katalin brightened. ¡°Uncle Miksa!¡±


    Miksa grinned at her, hands settling on his hips. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you today. Thought you¡¯d be too busy preparing for the feast.¡±


    Katalin flashed a quick grin. ¡°I¡¯ve got time. Aunt Teo gave me a special mission.¡±


    Miksa raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear in his expression. ¡°Oh? A special mission, is it?¡±


    Katalin giggled. ¡°I¡¯m showing Lord Tamas¡¯ son around.¡± She gestured toward Laszlo. ¡°This is Laszlo.¡±


    Miksa¡¯s expression shifted, becoming more measured. He straightened slightly, giving a respectful nod. ¡°My lord. Welcome to Stonehaven.¡±


    Laszlo returned the nod. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Miksa turned back to Katalin. ¡°Tell your mother hello for me.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± Katalin promised. ¡°And tell Aunt Barbara hello too.¡±


    Miksa nodded, giving her shoulder a light pat before stepping back. ¡°Well, back to work. These mutts won¡¯t feed themselves.¡± He turned toward the kennels, then whistled sharply to one of the younger handlers. ¡°Run up to the kitchens. With the feast tonight, they¡¯ll have plenty of good scraps and bones. Bring back what you can.¡±


    Laszlo, who had been listening quietly, frowned slightly. ¡°The houndmaster is your uncle?¡±


    Katalin nodded. ¡°On my mother¡¯s side. Almost her whole family serves the Stonehavens in one way or another.¡± She glanced around at the dogs, a fond smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Mama loves this place. She spent a lot of time here when she was young, and she still visits often¡ªespecially this year while my father was gone.¡±


    Laszlo absorbed this, then asked, ¡°What else does your family do?¡±


    Katalin shrugged. ¡°A little of everything. Some are in the kitchens, some are stewards or guards. One of my uncles is a carpenter. Mama was a lady¡¯s maid for Aunt Teo before she married Papa.¡±


    Laszlo looked thoughtful. ¡°The only commoners I know are soldiers. The others don¡¯t really talk to me. They just do their work and go.¡±


    Katalin considered his words with a faint frown. He wasn¡¯t wrong, exactly. The servants of the keep were efficient, moving like shadows through the halls, never lingering where they weren¡¯t needed. She¡¯d never thought about how that might seem to someone raised as a noble.


    She was about to comment when Laszlo shifted topics. ¡°If I¡¯m staying in Stonehaven, I¡¯ll need to get to know the soldiers here.¡± He glanced around. ¡°Where do they train?¡±


    Katalin grinned. ¡°Not far. Come on¡ªI¡¯ll show you.¡±


    She gave one last pat to the hound before leading Laszlo toward the training grounds.


    Katalin led Laszlo through the keep, pointing out landmarks as they walked¡ªimportant buildings, the fastest routes messengers took, and the best shady spots the guards claimed when off-duty.


    Even before they reached the training grounds, the sounds of clashing weapons, grunts of exertion, and sharp, barked orders filled the air.


    They stepped through an archway into a wide, open space beside the barracks. The ground had been beaten into packed earth, with rows of target dummies lined against one side and racks of practice weapons stacked neatly in the shade of a wooden overhang. A bow range stood at the far end, where a handful of archers loosed arrows at straw-filled targets.


    The yard was alive with motion. Soldiers of all ranks and ages were scattered throughout, some locked in sparring matches, others drilling footwork or wrestling in a wide dirt ring. A group of younger recruits jogged in laps around the perimeter under the watchful eye of a drillmaster, who shouted at anyone who slowed their pace.


    Katalin stopped just inside the entrance, taking it all in. She had seen the yard before, but never like this¡ªnever with so much movement, so much intensity.


    Laszlo stood beside her, watching intently. His gaze tracked the soldiers as they moved, studying them with quiet focus.


    Katalin glanced at him. ¡°Do you want to meet the officers?¡±


    Laszlo shook his head. ¡°No. My father will want to introduce me to them himself.¡±


    Katalin accepted that easily enough and turned back to the training. Near one of the water pumps, two soldiers stumbled away from the wrestling ring, drenched in sweat. They collapsed onto the ground, gulping down water, their chests rising and falling heavily.


    She frowned, squinting at them. ¡°Do they always go until they fall over?¡±


    Laszlo turned to her, surprised. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re already strong. Why push until they can¡¯t even stand?¡±


    Laszlo considered her for a moment, then gestured toward the exhausted soldiers. ¡°They¡¯re trying to make their bodies use mana.¡±


    Katalin blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°When you¡¯re too tired to keep going, your body tries to find another way,¡± Laszlo said. ¡°It starts using your mana. Do it enough, and your body learns to use mana before you get tired.¡±


    Katalin chewed her lip, thinking. ¡°So¡­ they don¡¯t have to wait until they¡¯re tired to use their mana?¡±


    Laszlo nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the goal.¡±


    ¡°Do they train like this every day?¡±


    ¡°No. You can only go until you drop every few days.¡± He paused, considering. ¡°But it¡¯s strange¡ªthe better you get, the longer you need to rest afterward if you push that hard.¡± Then he added, ¡°But at the same time, you can go a lot longer before you get worn out.¡±


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    She was fascinated. ¡°I think this is how my father uses mana. But my mother is teaching me a different way.¡± She hesitated, debating how much to say. Finally, she added, ¡°She¡¯s trying to teach me to control my mana through focus and concentration.¡±


    Laszlo looked intrigued. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of different mana training methods,¡± he admitted. ¡°But my father says they¡¯re just shortcuts for the weak and lazy.¡±


    Katalin¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°That¡¯s stupid.¡±


    Laszlo smirked slightly. ¡°I never really believed it. The Westguard battlemages never exercise, and they¡¯re terrifying.¡±


    Katalin crossed her arms, thoughtful. Her mother¡¯s way made sense¡ªguiding mana with control, not brute force¡ªbut she was curious.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask my mother about it,¡± she said finally. ¡°She always says control is the key to using mana, but¡­ maybe this is how men train?¡±


    Laszlo shrugged. ¡°Maybe. I¡¯ve never seen a woman train like this.¡±


    Katalin wasn¡¯t sure what to make of that. But she was definitely asking Mama later.


    A thought struck Katalin. ¡°I wonder how mages train their mana.¡±


    Laszlo scoffed. ¡°Me too. I bet they stand around while their master shoots fireballs at them.¡±


    Katalin snorted. ¡°That would explain why we don¡¯t see many old mages.¡±


    Laszlo smirked. ¡°Or why they all look strange. Maybe their eyebrows never grow back.¡±


    Katalin grinned, but her thoughts lingered on the High Mage¡¯s Tower. Did mages train their mana like warriors, pushing themselves past exhaustion? Or like her mother, through discipline and control? Maybe it was something else entirely.


    Maybe she could ask Corvus Nightweave¡ªif she ever met him.


    Katalin watched a group of recruits jog past, their boots kicking up dust, and felt a sudden pang of hunger. ¡°Watching all this exercise is making me hungry. Do you want to get something to eat?¡±


    Laszlo didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I could definitely eat right now. I had breakfast barely after the rooster.¡±


    Katalin grinned. ¡°Then let¡¯s go to the kitchen and see what they have.¡±


    Laszlo opened his mouth, then paused. ¡°Oh, wait.¡± He turned slightly, as if thinking. ¡°On a day like this, I bet they¡¯ll have something really good in the market.¡±


    Katalin nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sure they will,¡± she said with a half-laugh. ¡°But I don¡¯t have any coin.¡±


    Laszlo looked unconcerned. ¡°That¡¯s not a problem. I have a few silver pieces.¡±


    Katalin¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Silver? You really have silver pieces?¡±


    Laszlo shrugged. ¡°Sure.¡±


    She hesitated, then asked, ¡°Can I see one?¡±


    Without a second thought, Laszlo dipped a couple of fingers into a small pouch at his belt¡ªright next to the fancy-looking dagger he carried¡ªand pulled out a silver penny. He handed it to her.


    Katalin turned it over in the sunlight, running her thumb across its surface. ¡°So pretty,¡± she murmured, then held it back out to him.


    ¡°Keep it,¡± Laszlo said.


    Katalin blinked. ¡°What? No. No, I can¡¯t take this.¡±


    Laszlo grinned. ¡°You earned it. For being my guide.¡±


    Katalin frowned. ¡°No, truly. I¡¯m glad to show you around. And besides, this is a favor for Aunt Teo. I wouldn¡¯t want her thinking I only do favors for coin.¡± She pressed the silver piece firmly back into Laszlo¡¯s hand.


    Laszlo studied her for a moment, then nodded. ¡°If you insist. But I think even the Grand Duchess would agree it¡¯s only right that I buy us something to eat in the market.¡±


    Katalin considered that, then grinned. ¡°You¡¯re right. Aunt Teo is a very practical woman, after all.¡±


    Smiling, they set off, Katalin leading the way toward the market. The closer they got, the more the scents of the market thickened¡ªroasting meat, sweet spices, fresh bread baking in stone ovens. The air was alive with sound, merchants calling out their wares, bartering voices overlapping in an unbroken hum, and the occasional clatter of wooden carts being wheeled into place.


    From somewhere ahead came the bleating of goats, the snuffling of pigs, and the flurry of chickens squawking as a handler struggled to keep them in their crates. These were farmers and traders who had brought livestock in the hopes that the keep¡¯s kitchen staff, or perhaps the housemaids of the nobles living within the keep, would purchase them for the evening¡¯s great feast.


    As they stepped into the bustle of the market, Katalin turned to Laszlo with a grin. ¡°Come on¡ªI¡¯ll show you the best parts.¡±


    She led him past the brightly colored stalls, pausing at a few of her favorites. First, the glassblower¡¯s stall, where delicate flasks and colored beads caught the sunlight, glittering like tiny frozen flames. Then to the jeweler, where strands of polished stones hung in neat rows, and finally, to the pottery seller, where goods from all over the world lined the shelves¡ªclay jars from the southlands, painted plates from across the sea, and stout mugs crafted by dwarven hands.


    Laszlo took it all in, his gaze flicking from stall to stall, his usual careful expression shifting into something like wonder. ¡°We have markets in Westguard,¡± he said after a moment, ¡°but they¡¯re¡­ orderly. This feels more alive.¡±


    Katalin nodded. ¡°It is, isn¡¯t it? It feels like you get to see pieces of the whole world here.¡±


    She turned then, leading him past a long row of food vendors, pointing out her favorites as they walked. ¡°That one has the best sausages. They¡¯re spicy, but not too spicy,¡± she said, nodding toward a man turning links of dark red sausage over a grill.


    ¡°Over there¡ª¡± Katalin pointed toward a stall where a woman was pulling golden-brown pastries from a small oven. ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯ll find the best meat pies. But my father doesn¡¯t let us get them often.¡±


    She turned slightly, gesturing toward another vendor where whole fish sizzled over an open flame. ¡°And if you like fish, that stall has the best roasted ones¡ªif you get there before the best ones are gone.¡±


    Laszlo nodded, following her lead, but Katalin had one more stop in mind. She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him toward a smaller stall tucked between two large ones, where skewers of chicken sizzled over an open flame. The air was thick with a sweet and fruity scent mixed with the smell of roasting meat.


    ¡°But if you want the best food in the market, it¡¯s this,¡± Katalin declared. ¡°The glaze makes it perfect¡ªhoney and peach.¡±


    Laszlo eyed the skewers warily. ¡°You actually eat food from these places?¡±


    Katalin gave him a flat look. ¡°Chicken.¡±


    Laszlo blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a chicken. This was your idea.¡± She nodded at the grill. ¡°Maybe they can cook you too.¡±


    Laszlo rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. ¡°Fine. But if I die of poisoning, you¡¯ll have to explain it to my father.¡±


    Katalin laughed and turned to greet the merchant, an older man with thick arms and a round belly. ¡°Master Teun!¡± she called cheerfully.


    The man¡¯s weathered face split into a broad smile. ¡°Ah, little Katalin! You¡¯re just in time¡ªI have fresh skewers turning now.¡± His gaze shifted to Laszlo, taking in his fine clothes with a raised brow. ¡°Bringing a new friend?¡±


    Katalin nodded. ¡°This is Laszlo. He¡¯s visiting.¡±


    Teun gave an approving nod. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re here, then you must have good taste.¡± He turned the skewers over, letting them caramelize over the flames. ¡°Bet you miss young Jakob¡¯s peaches, though.¡±


    Katalin sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not the same without him.¡±


    Laszlo glanced between them, clearly lost. ¡°Jakob?¡±


    ¡°My cousin,¡± Katalin explained. ¡°My uncle runs the peach orchards outside the city, and Jakob¡­ well, he had a way of making the trees grow the best fruit. But he wanted to be an adventurer, so he left a few months ago.¡±


    ¡°An adventurer?¡± Laszlo¡¯s eyes lit up with interest.


    Teun chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Going to slay dragons or some nonsense. Left a good trade behind, that one. But I suppose adventure is in the blood of some young men.¡±


    Laszlo handed over a silver penny and turned to leave, but Teun cleared his throat. ¡°Your change, my lord.¡±


    Laszlo blinked, then took the handful of copper Teun offered. ¡°Oh. Right.¡± He tucked the coins into his pouch without counting them.


    Katalin took her skewer and immediately took a bite, chewing quickly. ¡°Just wait till you try it,¡± she mumbled around a mouthful of meat.


    They walked through the market, eating as they went. Laszlo took his first bite cautiously, then blinked in surprise. ¡°Alright,¡± he admitted. ¡°That¡¯s really good.¡±


    Katalin smiled. ¡°Told you.¡±


    As they turned a corner, the sound of a lute drifted toward them, light and playful. Katalin looked up and spotted a small wooden stage where a young man sat, playing for a cluster of children. He was thin, his clothes were brightly colored silks in hues of deep blue and crimson. His fingers danced over the strings, coaxing out a cheerful tune.


    Laszlo slowed. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Katalin grinned. ¡°That¡¯s Lucien the Lyrical. He¡¯s a journeyman bard¡ªwhich is probably why he¡¯s stuck playing for the kids.¡±


    Laszlo tilted his head. ¡°Lucien the Lyrical?¡±


    Katalin smiled. ¡°He is the bard I mentioned on the roof. His real name is Thomas Cooper, but you know how bards are with their names. Last time he was Lucien the Loquacious. Before that, Lucien the Lark. I hope he never picks just one¡ªI like hearing what he comes up with next.¡±


    Laszlo laughed quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t really know much about bards,¡± he admitted. ¡°They come by Westguard sometimes, but mostly to deliver news. I think they perform in the inns, but I¡¯ve never been inside one.¡±


    Katalin raised her eyebrows in surprise. ¡°Would you like to listen for a bit?¡±


    Laszlo hesitated, glancing at the bard. ¡°Is it safe? He won¡¯t try to put a spell on us, will he?¡±


    Katalin grinned. ¡°Lucien¡¯s music can stir your emotions, but that¡¯s all.¡± She tilted her head toward the lively melody. ¡°If anything, you¡¯ll just end up feeling happier.¡±


    Laszlo watched as the bard strummed a lively melody and the children clapped along. His expression shifted¡ªcurious, almost thoughtful. Then, with a small nod, he said, ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s listen.¡±


    They wandered over and sat down among the children, Katalin settling onto one of the steps of the stage while Laszlo took a seat directly on the ground with the rest of the kids. He didn¡¯t hesitate, didn¡¯t seem to think twice about it or notice that he was larger than most¡ªjust sat cross-legged among them, his focus entirely on the bard.


    Katalin glanced around, taking in the gathered children. Those closest to the stage were dressed well¡ªsons and daughters of merchants, keep officials, and visiting nobles. But further back, standing at the edges, were the common-born children. They lingered at a distance, watching but not joining in. She frowned slightly, wondering if they wanted to sit but felt they couldn¡¯t.


    She tried to remember a time when she had hung back like that, unsure if she was allowed to join. But every time she had seen bards or musicians, she had been with Aunt Teo or her parents, always at a festival or some gathering where she belonged without question. She had never needed to hesitate.


    The thought made her uneasy. She had always thought herself just another child of the keep¡ªjust the daughter of a blacksmith. But now, watching the way the other children held back, she wondered if maybe she¡¯d been luckier than she realized.


    A few minutes later, Lucien strummed the final notes of his song, letting the melody linger in the air for a moment before lowering his lute with a flourish. He glanced over the gathered children, his grin playful.


    ¡°Well now,¡± he said, his voice carrying over the quiet. ¡°That was a fine bit of music, but tell me¡ªare you lot ready for a story?¡±


    A chorus of eager voices answered him. ¡°Yes!¡±


    Lucien chuckled, tapping a finger against his chin in mock thoughtfulness. ¡°Hmm. Let¡¯s see¡­ what tale shall I spin for you today?¡± His gaze swept the crowd, eyes twinkling with mischief. Then he snapped his fingers. ¡°Ah! I know just the one. Have you ever heard of the Legend of Ervand the Mad Mage and the Jeweled City?¡±


    The children gasped in excitement, some bouncing where they sat. ¡°Yes!¡± they cried in unison.


    Lucien laughed. ¡°Well, let¡¯s hope you haven¡¯t heard it told quite like this.¡±


    He straightened on his stool, adjusting his lute on his lap, and let his voice drop into a storyteller¡¯s cadence. ¡°Hear now, children, the tale of Ervand the White, the greatest of mages, and how he became Ervand the Mad, whose folly cost him all.¡±

 Chapter 07: The Legend of Ervand the Mad

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    Hear now, children, the tale of Ervand the White, the greatest of mages, and how he became Ervand the Mad, whose folly cost him all.


    Long ago, in an age of conquest, when Velmora, Empress of Blackthorn stretched her iron grasp across the lands, there stood a city of unmatched beauty and splendor. It was a place of tall spires and golden domes, of shining streets and wise rulers, a city where scholars and artisans lived in harmony. This was the Jeweled City, and its ruler was King Sylvester the Ever-Wise.


    For many years, Sylvester ruled with cunning and fairness, and his people flourished. But the Blackthorn Empire was ever hungry, and soon, word reached the Jeweled City that Velmora the Merciless was marching, her legions a black tide rolling over the world.


    No walls had withstood the empire¡¯s might. No fortress had held against its war engines. And the King, ever-wise, grew afraid.


    First, he summoned his astrologers, those who studied the stars and read omens in the heavens. They cast their runes, peered into the night sky, and consulted their ancient scrolls. Their advice was solemn:


    ¡°Make prayers and sacrifices, beseech the gods for their favor, and they may turn the Blackthorn Empire aside.¡±


    And so, King Sylvester did as they advised. He emptied the temple coffers, burned fragrant offerings upon the altars, and sent forth his most pious priests to pray day and night.


    Yet, the stars did not shift, and the heavens did not answer.


    The Blackthorn legions marched ever closer.


    Next, he summoned his consulars and diplomats, the wisest tongues in the realm. They counseled him to speak with the conqueror, to send envoys with gold and silver, offering tribute in exchange for peace.


    So the King obeyed, sending his finest ambassadors with chests of coin and rare treasures. They bowed low before Velmora the Merciless, offering gifts beyond measure, and pleaded for mercy.


    But Velmora did not believe in mercy.


    And so, the envoys returned¡ªor rather, their heads did, packed neatly in crates of cedarwood, the scent of their perfume failing to mask the stench of death.


    The King despaired. The walls would not hold. The gods would not intervene. Diplomacy had failed.


    And the Blackthorn banners darkened the horizon.


    Finally, in his desperation, he summoned his court mages, the wisest in the land, and bade them find a way to save the city.


    The mages convened, their robes whispering as they gathered, speaking in hushed voices long into the night. Some suggested illusions, to hide the city from view. Others proposed enchantments, to shatter the weapons of their foes.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    But none knew a spell that could truly turn aside the storm.


    None but one.


    Ervand the White, the King¡¯s most trusted mage, stepped forward. His face was grim, his voice like steel.


    ¡°There is a way,¡± he said, ¡°but the cost will be great.¡±


    And so, while the city prepared for war, Ervand prepared for his spell.


    For a month, he did not sleep.


    For a month, he did not rest.


    By candlelight and starlight, he worked, scrawling runes of power, whispering incantations older than the mountains. He did not stop to eat nor drink, and when he walked, his steps faltered, for he leaned ever heavier upon his staff.


    The other mages begged him to stop.


    ¡°Magic is not endless,¡± they warned. ¡°A mage is not a god.¡±


    But Ervand did not listen.


    And then, at last, the day came.


    The Blackthorn army camped at the base of the mountain, their banners standing like a forest of spears, their campfires stretching out like stars fallen to earth.


    The night air carried the clang of armor, the neighing of warhorses, and the distant, haunting beat of war drums that pounded like the heartbeat of doom.


    Within the city, no one slept.


    And in the tallest tower of the palace, Ervand the White stood at his worktable, hands trembling over his scrolls.


    Then came the sound of hurried footsteps.


    The great doors to his chamber burst open, and King Sylvester himself entered, his royal cloak trailing behind him. But tonight, there was no regal composure¡ªhis crown sat askew, his face pale, his eyes wide with desperate hope.


    ¡°Hurry, Ervand!¡± the King pleaded. ¡°The enemy is at our gates!¡±


    Ervand did not lift his gaze from his work. The runes upon the parchment before him glowed a dim blue, flickering like dying embers. His voice, hoarse from chanting, was barely above a whisper.


    ¡°Tomorrow, your city will be safe.¡±


    The sun broke over the mountains, gilding the Jeweled City in gold.


    But to the west, the sky was dark with storm clouds of war¡ªthe banners of the Blackthorn Empire.


    The enemy advanced.


    And then¡ªlight.


    A single blinding ray of radiance flared from the highest tower, piercing the morning sky.


    There, at the very peak of the palace, stood Ervand the White.


    His staff of ivory and gold rose high, his voice thundering across the battlefield.


    ¡°Let no blade strike this city.¡±


    The wind howled.


    ¡°Let no fire burn its stones.¡±


    The earth trembled.


    ¡°Let no force break its walls.¡±


    The sky cracked with power.


    And then, the chanting began.


    In a language not meant for mortal ears a voice echoed through the heavens. The air itself shuddered. The world bent beneath his will.


    And then¡ªa blinding flash.


    A great barrier had risen around the city¡ªa crystalline dome, as clear as glass yet harder than the strongest steel.


    The Blackthorn soldiers struck the barrier¡ªand their blades shattered.


    They launched catapults¡ªbut the stones rebounded and crushed them instead.


    The Jeweled City was safe.


    The people cheered.


    The King wept with joy and rushed to thank the man who had saved them all.


    But when he arrived, he found only a husk.


    The spell had drained Ervand¡ªnot just of mana, but of life itself.


    And the King, in his sorrow, did not yet realize the greatest tragedy of all.


    For no one could leave the city.


    No doors to the outside world could open. No gates could swing wide. The people of the Jeweled City, safe from their enemies, were now prisoners of their own salvation.


    And so, the Blackthorn army left, for what use was a city they could never enter? The war moved on, and the Jeweled City remained behind, untouched, untaken¡­ lost in time.


    To this day, travelers speak of it, shimmering on the horizon like a mirage, a glistening jewel atop a mountain. Some say the wind that sweeps across its walls carries the voices of ghosts, crying from within¡ªbegging for release, or at least the freedom to die.


    But all who hear the tale know the lesson it carries:


    ¡°Magic is not endless.¡±


    ¡°A mage is not a god.¡±


    ¡°And those who forget this lesson will pay the price.¡±


    ¡°In much more than silver or gold.¡±


    Thus ended the tale of Ervand the White, and so began the legend of Ervand the Mad Mage and the Jeweled City.

 Chapter 08: Theres more variety here

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    The road from the keep to the city sloped gently downward, paved with thick-cut stones worn smooth by years of travel. The land between was open and well-kept, neither wild nor truly tamed. No trees were permitted to grow close to the walls of either the keep or the city, leaving a clear stretch of land where the sunlight fell unhindered. Small vegetable gardens dotted the space near the road, neatly fenced with wooden stakes and rope to keep out stray animals. Some belonged to the castle¡¯s staff, others to the city¡¯s poorer families who tended them with careful hands, growing onions, cabbages, and hardy greens to supplement what they could afford.


    Crestport spread wide and solid beneath the midday sky. Its walls, built from the same gray mountain stone as the keep, encircled the city in a broad hug, sturdy but not looming. Where the keep¡¯s towers reached for the sky like the teeth of a great beast, the city¡¯s fortifications were lower, more practical, lined with watchtowers spaced evenly along their length. From this distance, the city within was a sea of rooftops¡ªsteeply pitched against winter snow, some covered in slate, others in thick wooden shingles. Narrow chimneys jutted up between them, thin ribbons of smoke curling into the air from the thousands of hearths below.


    The main road bustled with movement. Pushcarts trundled past, their wooden wheels clattering against the stone, laden with sacks of flour, barrels of ale, and bundles of firewood. Mule-drawn wagons rolled by in the opposite direction, carrying fresh-cut timber and crates of fish from the harbor. One large wagon, drawn by a pair of heavy horses, creaked under the weight of its cargo¡ªsacks stacked high with something heavy and dense, likely grain from the inland farming villages.


    Katalin and Laszlo walked at an easy pace, stepping aside as needed to let carts pass.


    Laszlo was quiet for a moment, then glanced at Katalin. ¡°So, that bard,¡± he said. ¡°Lucien the Lyrical.¡±


    Katalin grinned. ¡°You liked him?¡±


    Laszlo shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. He was¡­ different than I expected.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°I thought bards just sang songs and told jokes in taverns.¡± He looked thoughtful. ¡°That was a real story. A lesson.¡±


    Katalin nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what they do. Some of their stories are silly, but many are meant to teach.¡± She kicked a loose stone, watching it skip ahead on the road. ¡°I liked that one, but I don¡¯t think I ever really thought about it before.¡±


    Laszlo gave her a sideways glance. ¡°About not using all your mana?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°I mean, I knew that much, but¡­¡± She hesitated, frowning. ¡°I didn¡¯t know warriors had to worry about it too.¡±


    Laszlo¡¯s expression shifted, and there was something like pride in his voice when he answered. ¡°Of course we do. I train with my father¡¯s house guards and the sons of the other nobles. We have to be able to fight past exhaustion.¡±


    Katalin glanced at him. He spoke of it like a fact¡ªlike something he expected of himself.


    ¡°I think I understand the warning better now,¡± she said slowly. ¡°But I¡¯ll ask my mother.¡±


    Laszlo just nodded, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.


    The conversation carried them down the last stretch of road, and as they neared the city gates, the noise of Crestport grew louder¡ªvoices calling, carts creaking, livestock bleating as they were herded toward the market. Just before the walls, a large, flat field opened up to the side of the road, where a group of men were shouting and chasing after a small ball with wooden sticks.


    Katalin brightened. ¡°Shinty,¡± she said, grabbing Laszlo¡¯s sleeve and tugging him toward the field.


    The game was fast and chaotic, played on the open grass with no set boundaries. The men were of varying ages, some young and lean, others older and thick-built from years of labor. Sweat gleamed on their faces, their tunics damp and dirt-streaked, but they moved with practiced ease, swinging their sticks low to intercept the ball, racing to outmaneuver their opponents.


    Spectators crowded around the edges, laughing and calling out encouragement. A few young boys in patched shirts chased after an extra ball near the sidelines, swiping at it with sticks much too large for them.


    Katalin nudged a young woman near the front of the crowd. ¡°Who¡¯s playing?¡±


    The woman turned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. ¡°Tailors¡¯ guild against the brewers,¡± she said, then nodded toward the field with a grin. ¡°That¡¯s my Roger there in the orange top.¡±


    A woman beside her laughed. ¡°Oy, you wish he was your Roger.¡±


    The first one smirked. ¡°He will be. He just don¡¯t know it yet.¡± The two of them dissolved into laughter.


    Katalin grinned, but Laszlo was watching the game, his brow furrowed in thought.


    ¡°It¡¯s like folk football,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°But faster. More skill, less tackling. It looks much safer.¡±


    Katalin snorted. ¡°Safer? Have you seen how they swing those sticks?¡±


    Laszlo nodded. ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    They lingered a bit longer, Katalin pointing out the rules and the best players, Laszlo absorbing it all with quiet interest. But after a few minutes of watching again, he frowned slightly.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to see what¡¯s happening up close,¡± he admitted. ¡°It was better watching from up high.¡±


    Katalin sighed. ¡°It would be great if they had a tower close by to watch from.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°Oh well. It¡¯ll be better when we¡¯re older and tall enough to see.¡±


    She turned, nodding toward the road. ¡°Come on.¡±


    Laszlo followed without protest as they left the Shinty field and returned to the road. Ahead, the wide stone gates of Stonehaven loomed, flanked by thick walls that stretched in both directions. Just outside, two lines of people and carts wound their way forward¡ªone for wagons and pack animals, the other for pedestrians.


    Katalin and Laszlo joined the pedestrian queue, moving steadily forward. The cart line was slower, with each wagon stopping as guards checked goods and questioned the drivers. The air buzzed with the chatter of merchants, the occasional bray of a donkey, and the groan of wooden wheels rolling over the stone.


    Their wait wasn¡¯t long. They stepped up to the guard stationed at the pedestrian entrance. He was a grizzled man in a mail hauberk, his surcoat bearing the crest of Stonehaven¡ªa silver tower on a blue field. He gave them a cursory look before asking, ¡°Who are you, and what¡¯s your business in the city?¡±


    Katalin answered easily. ¡°I¡¯m Katalin, smith¡¯s daughter, and this is Lord Laszlo Velmora.¡±


    The moment the words left her mouth, the guard¡¯s posture shifted. His gaze snapped to Laszlo, eyes widening slightly before he straightened to full attention. ¡°My lord.¡± He inclined his head respectfully. ¡°Welcome to Crestport. Do you need anything? Would you like an escort?¡±


    Laszlo gave a polite nod. ¡°Thank you. No, we¡¯re fine.¡±


    The guard hesitated a moment, then nodded. ¡°Of course, sir.¡± He stepped aside, lifting a hand to wave them through.


    As they passed under the high archway and into the city, Laszlo exhaled, glancing around. The street ahead bustled with movement¡ªvendors hawking wares, servants carrying baskets, messengers darting between buildings. He shook his head slightly.


    ¡°I know this isn¡¯t Westguard,¡± he muttered, ¡°but it¡¯s much too easy to get into the city.¡±


    Then, as if shaking off the thought, he turned to Katalin with a shrug. ¡°What are we seeing first?¡±


    As they stepped past the gate and into the bustling streets of Crestport, Katalin gestured ahead. ¡°I guess we should take a quick look at the market so you can compare. It¡¯s straight ahead.¡± She pointed down the wide road before them. ¡°This is Tradersgate we just came through, and this is Stonehaven Street. It leads straight to the market square and the port beyond. If we went around to the front of the city, that would be Kingsgate, and we¡¯d be on Starcrest Street. The only thing interesting that way is the main guard barracks. And if you want to see where the rich merchants live, you¡¯d go a short way and turn onto Kingsway.¡± She gave a half-smirk. ¡°But all their houses are walled, so you can¡¯t really see anything. I got to visit a few before my father left, when he came to do one job or another. Mostly working on their bathrooms.¡±


    Laszlo frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t they have smiths here in the city?¡±


    Katalin straightened a little, her smile widening. ¡°Oh, yes. There are eight master smiths in Crestport, and I don¡¯t even know how many apprentices and journeymen. But if they can, everyone asks for my father.¡±


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    As they walked toward the market square, Katalin pointed out the streets and alleys they passed. ¡°This is Millstone Alley,¡± she said, nodding toward a narrow lane where sacks of flour and grain were stacked outside a low stone building. ¡°That¡¯s where the city¡¯s bakers get their flour. And over there¡ªTanner Road. You can smell that one before you see it, even though most of the curing is done outside the city.¡±


    Laszlo wrinkled his nose as they passed, catching a whiff of the acrid scent.


    Near the gates, the buildings were larger, more structured. Several inns stood in a row, their wooden signs swaying slightly in the breeze. Katalin gestured to them as they passed. ¡°Father says these inns are good,¡± she said. ¡°Used by merchants and farmers who come to Crestport on business or to see your uncle. Not too expensive, comfortable, and safe.¡±


    Laszlo glanced toward the nearest one, The Copper Tankard, where a few men were unloading crates from a wagon. ¡°They all have stables?¡±


    Katalin nodded. ¡°Most people coming from the villages bring their own carts and animals. See the fenced yards?¡± She pointed to the spaces beside each inn. In some, wagons stood loaded and covered, ready for travel. Others held tired-looking horses, their reins looped over posts as their owners went inside to eat or rest.


    Laszlo¡¯s gaze landed on a group of men standing near several carts, watching the road with wary eyes. ¡°Those aren¡¯t city guards,¡± he noted.


    ¡°They¡¯re not,¡± Katalin agreed. ¡°Merchants have their own guards. Father says city guards will try to catch thieves but they won¡¯t guard your stuff.¡±


    Laszlo hummed in understanding, his expression thoughtful as they continued.


    As they walked deeper into the city, the streets became narrower, branching into districts dedicated to different trades. Katalin named them as they passed. ¡°Smith¡¯s Row. Brewer¡¯s Lane. Tanner Road¡ªyou smelled that one.¡± She grinned. ¡°Jeweler¡¯s Street is just ahead, and further down is Glass Alley.¡±


    Laszlo¡¯s gaze flicked from sign to sign, taking it all in. ¡°Everything¡¯s so¡­ organized.¡±


    Katalin laughed. ¡°Sort of. It makes it easier to find things, most craftsmen live right above or behind their shops. The streets look neat, but the alleys behind them are a maze.¡±


    They soon reached the market square, where the bustle of the city reached its peak. The crowd pressed in around them¡ªmerchants calling out their wares, children darting between stalls, the scent of fresh bread, roasting meat, and exotic spices thick in the air.


    Laszlo turned in a slow circle. Katalin smiled at his expression. ¡°See? There¡¯s more variety here, and more people. But the market in the keep has the better food. And most of the business in the city is done in the shops, not here.¡±


    Laszlo looked around, his gaze hopeful. ¡°Are you hungry again?¡±


    Katalin laughed. ¡°No, we should wait for the feast.¡±


    As they walked through the bustling market, Laszlo glanced around at the food stalls, the scent of roasting meat and spiced bread thick in the air. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re not hungry?¡±


    Katalin shook her head. ¡°Trust me. The feast is worth waiting for.¡± Then, with sudden excitement, she grabbed his sleeve. ¡°I want to show you something you can¡¯t get in the keep.¡±


    She led him past a row of vendors selling bolts of fabric, carved wooden trinkets, and jewelry, stopping at a narrow wooden stand stacked high with books. The bookseller¡¯s stall was wedged between a spice merchant and a glassblower¡¯s display, the scent of parchment mingling with exotic spices.


    Laszlo¡¯s face lit up the moment he saw the books.


    Katalin grinned. ¡°A fellow bookworm.¡±


    Laszlo ran his fingers along the spines of a few well-worn tomes before pausing. ¡°Why is there no bookseller in the keep?¡±


    ¡°Gregor Ivanyr is the only bookseller in the whole city,¡± Katalin explained. ¡°He says he doesn¡¯t feel comfortable around the keep¡¯s guards.¡±


    Laszlo¡¯s fingers stilled over a book as he eyed the bookseller with suspicion. ¡°Why don¡¯t the guards trust him?¡±


    Katalin shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s Kervician. He says he hates Kervic and left as soon as he could, but...¡± She let the thought trail off.


    ¡°Plus, he says it¡¯s too much trouble to haul a bunch of heavy books to the keep when hardly anyone buys them. Aunt Teo is his only good customer there, and she just gives him a list of what she wants.¡±


    Gregor, a thin man with wire-rimmed spectacles and ink-stained fingers, looked up from where he had been adjusting a stack of books and smiled at Katalin. ¡°Ah, my young scholar returns,¡± he greeted, brushing his hands off on his apron. ¡°And you¡¯ve brought a friend.¡±


    Katalin nodded. ¡°This is Laszlo.¡±


    Gregor gave Laszlo a respectful nod. ¡°Welcome, my lord. Do you have any special interests?¡±


    Laszlo kept his expression neutral. ¡°We¡¯re just looking.¡±


    Gregor gave a knowing nod and stepped back, allowing them to browse.


    Katalin grabbed a book and turned it over in her hands. ¡°Look,¡± she said, reading off the title with mock grandeur. ¡°A Thorough Examination of the Migratory Patterns of Lesser Cloud Dragons During the Second Age of the Silver Moon.¡±


    Laszlo smirked. ¡°The title is longer than the book.¡±


    Katalin set it back down. ¡°If I were a rich noble, I¡¯d have a Cloud Dragon for a pet.¡±


    Laszlo barely glanced up as he reached for another book. ¡°Or the Cloud Dragon would have you for a pet. Or a snack.¡±


    Katalin gave a short laugh and continued browsing. A moment later, Laszlo moved a few books aside and picked up a thick tome. ¡°Look at this one,¡± he said, tilting the cover for her to see. ¡°The Gifted Smiths'' Definitive Guide to Plants and Their Uses.¡±


    Katalin¡¯s interest sparked immediately. She joined him, and together they set the book on top of a stack to flip through the pages.


    She read aloud, ¡°On the Proper Methodology for the Extraction and Integration of Botanical Properties into Metallurgical Compositions Through Mana-Based Transmutation. By Master Thaddeus Wordsworth III, Advanced Practitioner of Botanical Metallurgy. Royal Academy of Enhanced Smithing. Fifteenth Edition, Revised and Expanded.¡±


    Laszlo blinked. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of this. You use plants for smithing?¡±


    Katalin shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of it either.¡± She flipped a few pages, scanning the text. ¡°You can use nightsbane to make a dagger poisonous. Or calendula in a healer¡¯s staff. But look at these instructions.¡±


    Laszlo squinted at the dense text. ¡°Achieve the necessary state of mana-cognitive resonance... What does that mean?¡±


    Katalin put on an earnest, serious face. ¡°Well, obviously...¡± She slowly read, ¡°This is most efficiently accomplished through dual-focal mediation wherein one¡¯s mana simultaneously interfaces with both components in question.¡±


    They exchanged looks.


    Then both burst into laughter.


    Katalin shook her head, still chuckling. ¡°I have no idea what that means. But I¡¯ll ask Papa.¡±


    While she continued flipping through the book, Laszlo resumed scanning the shelves, reading titles aloud.


    ¡°On the Proper Care and Maintenance of Enchanted Weaponry as Practiced by the Knight-Mages of the Celestial Order.¡±


    ¡°Lessons from the Blade: A Study of Famous Duels and Their Outcomes. This one actually sounds good.¡±


    ¡°Traditional Healing Methods of the Mountain Druids: Volume 15 of 20, with Annotations.¡± He made a face. ¡°Who reads twenty volumes of anything?¡±


    Then he stopped, reaching into the stack and pulling out a book. ¡°Oh. Here¡¯s one I read.¡± He dusted off the cover and held it up. ¡°Reflections on the Weight of the World.¡±


    That caught Katalin¡¯s attention. She closed the smithing book and turned toward him. ¡°I read that one too!¡±


    Laszlo blinked in surprise. ¡°You did? I only read it because my tutors made me. They spent weeks asking me questions about it.¡±


    Katalin groaned. ¡°Well, to be honest, I try to read it sometimes. Aunt Teo gave it to me as a gift. She says it¡¯s her favorite book ever. Maybe you can explain it to me so I can talk to her about it like I actually understood.¡±


    Laszlo shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think you want me to explain it. I¡¯m not even sure I really understand it.¡± He flipped through the pages. ¡°Every time I thought I understood something, my tutor asked another question that made me doubt everything.¡±


    Katalin smirked. ¡°Like what?¡±


    Laszlo sighed and read aloud. ¡°Does the world exist as it is, or only as we perceive it?¡±


    She wrinkled her nose. ¡°I don¡¯t like that.¡±


    ¡°Neither do I!¡± Laszlo huffed. ¡°If you punch someone, they don¡¯t just imagine it hurts.¡±


    Katalin chuckled. ¡°Depends on how hard you hit them.¡±


    Laszlo grinned and went on. ¡°Or how about this one¡ªMagic is not an external force¡ªit is the unseen thread that binds all matter together.¡±


    Katalin tilted her head. ¡°I think that sounds nice. I like that part.¡±


    Laszlo frowned. ¡°Then why do some people have it and others don¡¯t? And do bugs have mana? Not the giant magical bugs, the normal little ones. Or what about rocks?¡±


    Katalin snorted. ¡°You should ask a mage.¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± Laszlo said. ¡°He just smiled at me and said, ¡®It¡¯s complicated.¡¯¡± He shoved the book back into the stack. ¡°Philosophy is annoying.¡±


    Katalin smirked and patted his arm. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, maybe in twenty years we¡¯ll understand it.¡±


    Laszlo gave her a flat look. ¡°I doubt it.¡±


    Katalin gave Gregor a friendly wave. ¡°Come on,¡± she said to Laszlo, already stepping away. ¡°Let¡¯s see the boats.¡± And with that, she moved on, weaving back into the bustling market.


    Laszlo sighed but nodded, following her as they made their way toward the port side of the market. The air shifted as they passed fishmongers, thick with the scent of lake fish and fresh water. Gulls circled overhead, their cries blending with the din of bargaining fishermen and dockworkers.¡±


    Katalin glanced at the row of inns lining this part of the city. The signs were more faded, the wood more worn, and the men loitering outside were rougher than the ones near the gates.


    ¡°Father says this area isn¡¯t safe at night,¡± she murmured.


    Laszlo took in the hard faces of the sailors, the sharp-eyed merchants, and the way some people tucked their purses deeper into their coats. ¡°I believe him.¡±


    ¡°They walked past the fish stalls, deeper into the port-side market where the crowds grew rougher and the voices louder.¡± This end of the square was more colorful, the traders wearing bright, embroidered clothing and selling wares that stood apart from the everyday goods of the city. Some peddled fine rugs and woven tapestries, others displayed carved wooden trinkets, painted masks, and beads in every shade imaginable. The scents of saffron, cinnamon, and roasting nuts drifted through the air, mingling with the ever-present smell of the sea.


    Laszlo¡¯s gaze landed on a row of cloth-draped tents, their vibrant reds, blues, and golds standing out against the sturdy wooden stalls around them. He nodded toward them. ¡°What are those?¡±


    Katalin followed his gaze, then grinned. ¡°Those are the Freefolk¡ªnomadic traders,¡± she said. ¡°They travel wherever they please, setting up temporary camps. Before Count Cedric conquered this land, it was held by different warrior clans. They say the Freefolk are the ones those clans took it from.¡±


    Laszlo studied the tents for a moment. ¡°Uncle Alaric allows them?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°He gives them open travel on all his lands. They hear things, pass messages between villages. They help spread word of all that happens in the realm.¡± She grinned. ¡°Most people call them Alaric¡¯s spies, but I like them. Or most of them.¡±


    ¡°What do they sell?¡±


    ¡°Their own crafts.¡± She gestured to one stall, where a man in loose, billowing sleeves displayed silver bangles and filigree earrings. ¡°Jewelry, cloth, carved things. And wine. Mother likes their wine.¡±


    As they walked, Katalin pointed to a tent with its entrance drawn open. An older woman sat in a wicker chair, her snow-white hair covered in a deep red scarf, while a younger girl lounged beside her, idly braiding strands of her dark curls.


    Laszlo tilted his head. ¡°What about them?¡±


    Katalin¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Fortune tellers.¡±


    ¡°Fortune tellers?¡± Laszlo repeated, skeptical.


    She nodded. ¡°People ask them about all kinds of things. When to fish, when to plant, how to get Rebecca to stop mooning over Karl. Important things like that.¡±


    Laszlo gave a quiet laugh. ¡°And what have they told you?¡±


    Katalin shrugged. ¡°Nothing. My father says it¡¯s a silly waste of coin.¡±


    Laszlo grinned. ¡°Come on then.¡± He started toward the tent, and Katalin hesitated only a second before following.


    As they approached, Laszlo stopped in front of the old woman. ¡°Is this where we can have our fortunes told?¡±


    The older woman¡¯s gaze swept over them, lingering a fraction longer on Laszlo before Katalin held up a hand. ¡°Hold on.¡± She turned to the woman. ¡°How much?¡±


    The old woman smiled, slow and knowing. ¡°A silver each.¡±


    Katalin scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s robbery. I know for a fact you usually charge two coppers.¡±


    The woman chuckled. ¡°Fine. Two coppers each. But for three, I will look deeper.¡±


    Before Katalin could argue, Laszlo reached for his pouch. ¡°Three each will be fine.¡±