Katsu kept his stride relaxed as they crossed the metal-inlaid flagstones, each step sending a faint clink echoing between the copper-accented walls that flanked the path to Dravantiir Manor.
Overhead, the towering spires gleamed like lightning rods, spearing the gray sky in jagged defiance.
Beside him, Mari walked with exacting precision, hands folded neatly behind her back, her cloak billowing with the faint hum of static from the charged air.
He tried for casual, but the protest in his voice sparked just beneath the surface.
"You know, I can probably survive a House visit without a lightning rod in heels."
Mari didn't miss a beat.
"By rule of House, a Maid of Honor must accompany the Heir in formal matters.
And since we're walking into Dravantiir.
Ancestral seat of precision, legacy, and blade-sentences—I'd say this qualifies as formal."
Katsu huffed, but not unkindly. "You've memorized the etiquette codes, haven't you?"
"Seventeen hours," she said, her gaze still forward. "Velthra protocols were archaic. Dravantiir's are edged in steel and signed in lightning."
He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
"So if I break tradition and walk in alone, what happens? Trial by lightning?"
Mari's tone was dry, though there was the faintest warmth behind it. "The servants would whisper. The sentries might smirk. And someone from the Archive would quietly inscribe it as 'noncompliant behavior.' But no—your Maid of Honor would still be at your side. That's the point. We don't leave alone."
Katsu rolled his eyes, but a small grin tugged at his lips. "Fine. Just don't let them see you enjoying yourself."
"I'd never," Mari replied smoothly. "Besides, I doubt they'd permit joy on the premises. Dravantiir courtesy is a blade with no sheath."
Ahead, the manor loomed—obsidian and steel, its great doors etched with the coiled crest of a lightning serpent biting its tail. The hinges crackled faintly as the current in the air pulsed in rhythm with the arcane sigils woven into the walls.
Katsu hesitated for half a breath.
Mari nodded once.
"After you, Velthra."
Inside, the hallway stretched long and cold, lined with armored guards in storm-dark uniforms trimmed with silver. They stood still as statues, but their presence wasn't inert—it thrummed, like a sword waiting to be drawn.
Katsu leaned in, murmuring, "Are they alive, or just enchanted armor?"
"They're Dravantiir," Mari replied. "You won't hear them breathe, but they don't miss anything. And they don't move unless something needs correcting."
"Efficient."
"And heavily armed."
Before he could respond, two guards stepped forward in perfect synchrony, their boots striking the stone with mechanical precision as they opened a set of tall doors.
The room beyond was a forge disguised as a council hall—metal veins inlaid into the stone, a low, constant vibration in the walls, and arc-lanterns flickering with cold blue light. The hum of enchantment was faint but unmistakable.
At the center stood Rei Dravantiir, arms crossed, jaw tight. Facing him was a tall woman with streaks of silver threaded through her dark braid, her posture regal, her eyes sharp as forged steel.
"You can't keep showing up to council in a scorched cloak," she said, voice like thunder over metal. "You're setting precedent."
"It's just a cloak, Zuri. No one—"
Rei cut off as he and the woman turned to see Katsu and Mari entering.
The atmosphere shifted with surgical clarity.
Zuri Dravantiir examined them in a single sweep, and though she did not move, Katsu could almost feel the weight of being measured, judged, and filed all at once.
"Velthra," she said, her voice clipped but not cold. "Welcome to Dravantiir. I trust the current didn't overwhelm you?"
Katsu stepped forward with a faint smirk.
"Define 'overwhelm.' We only got zapped once."
Mari followed, bowing with exact form.
"The invitation was received and protocol followed. Velthra offers respect."
Rei muttered, "They're early, Zuri."
Zuri didn't smile, but her brow arched slightly.
"Punctuality is discipline. You should try adopting it."
Her eyes lingered on Katsu for a beat longer, then flicked back to Mari. "Good form. You'll find this House appreciates precision, Maid of Honor."
Mari bowed again. "Noted, Lady Dravantiir."
Lightning hummed faintly through the chandelier overhead.
And Katsu, despite himself, straightened his posture a little more. The air here demanded it—razor-sharp, charged with discipline. He stretched his shoulders as he stepped toward Rei.
Rei didn't move.
"Your Maid of Honor woke you up?" Rei asked flatly. No venom. But no real curiosity either.
"Yeah," Katsu replied, tone even.
Rei nodded once, glancing off toward the far wall, as if considering something only half-important.
"So…" he said, "why did you lie to me?"
Katsu blinked. Then didn't. His face stayed neutral, but the edge in his aura tightened.
"At the scaling ceremony," Rei continued. "That aura. That wasn't just Founder-level mana. What was it, really?"
A pause. A breath.
"My mother unsealed my power," Katsu said quietly. "I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't know if I should."
He looked away for just a moment, then back, voice lower. "She told me her name at the end. I didn't know how to process it. I'm… sorry."
Rei's eyes narrowed slightly—light flared in his irises for the briefest flicker—but then he shook his head, a humorless exhale escaping through his nose.
"You're good," he said. "I would've fought you already, if our Houses weren't under treaty."
Katsu gave a lopsided smile. "Helps more than it hurts."
"Helps you not get hurt."
Katsu's grin sharpened. "From who? You?"
Rei's mana flared, fingers twitching with lightning. "Who else?"
Katsu's hand moved toward his back, instinctively reaching for the hilt he didn't carry—
A snap cracked through the air.
Mari's palm met Rei's wrist with practiced grace, disrupting the charge in his fingers. At the same time, a sharp tug yanked Katsu's head backward by the roots of his hair.
He winced.
Lady Zuri stood behind him, calm as a drawn blade.
"What do you two think you're doing?" she asked, voice icy with restrained wrath. "Inside? Really? In my hall? Under treaty?"
Her glare snapped toward Rei, then back to Katsu, sharp enough to leave cuts.
"You shame your Houses," she continued, her grip on Katsu's hair unwavering. "We open our doors for negotiation and alliance, and you idiots want to duel like drunk mercenaries in the back alleys of Solmere."
Mari sighed, releasing Rei's wrist with a shake of her head. "Boys made of thunder. All flash, no foresight."
Katsu grimaced. "Okay, ow. I get it."
Zuri released his hair slowly, brushing invisible dust from her gloves as if disgusted by the contact. "You're in Dravantiir now. Every stone here remembers blood. Every wall knows discipline. We don't allow chaos under our roof."
Rei rubbed his wrist, eyes narrowing. "He provoked me."
"I heard what he said," Zuri snapped. "And if a little provocation unhinges you that easily, maybe you're not ready to represent our House without supervision."
Rei went still.
The room buzzed with tension—raw and humming, like a storm caged just behind the walls.
Zuri exhaled sharply, then turned her back on them both.
"Come," she said. "The council room's waiting. And so is the reason you were summoned."
Katsu glanced at Mari.
She didn't say a word—just gestured forward like nothing had happened.
The four of them moved deeper into the manor, boots clicking over the iron-veined floor.
As they passed beneath a set of glowing storm-lanterns, Katsu muttered under his breath,
"So… she always pulls hair?"
Mari leaned in, expression unreadable.
"Only when she's being polite."
Katsu sighed, putting his hands on the back of his head. He looked up to Zuri and Rei.
A shiver crept down the back of Katsu's neck when he caught her glancing over her shoulder.
She was smiling.
Not with menace. Not mockery.
It was soft—barely a curve, but unmistakably real. The kind of smile worn by someone who had seen too much, held back too long… and, in this rare moment, let a crack show in the steel.
A hint of warmth touched her cheeks—so faint he almost doubted it. The kind of expression you'd miss if you blinked, the kind that lingered only in dreams or portraits of people long dead.
It wasn't a smile meant for him.
But he saw it.
And suddenly, Zuri Dravantiir wasn't just the Iron Lady of Lightning and Protocol.
For a heartbeat, she looked almost proud.
Mari didn't notice.
But Katsu did.
And it made him wonder what kind of storm forged her—and what part of her still remembered the heat that came before the lightning.