Shit. Shit. Shit.
My footsteps echoed down the Darknorth estate's marble corridors, each one bouncing back at me like the ticking of a doomsday clock. The polished floor gleamed, the banners of the house fluttered overhead, and the solemn portraits of my ancestors seemed to glare at me as if saying, "Disgraceful brat. We fought wars, and you can't even wake up on time."
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was late.
Not late by a cute, forgivable five or ten minutes. No, no. I was a whole hour late. Which, if you know anything about noble society, is the social equivalent of spitting in everyone's wine glass.
And before you ask, yes—I already knew this was a cliché mistake. I had sworn on my life that I would never commit it. And yet, here we are.
Now, you might be wondering, "Rishi, you have a maid. Why didn't she wake you up?"
Allow me to explain: yesterday, I told Lira, "Don't let anyone or anything disturb my sleep."
Reasonable, right? Logical even. I mean, who wouldn't want uninterrupted beauty rest before the most important day of their life?
The problem is, when your maid has a soul-binding contract, your words are basically engraved into the laws of existence. So when I said 'don't disturb me', she took it so literally that even my alarm clock didn't dare ring. The birds outside my window probably held their breath out of respect.
So yes, this was her fault.
And also mine.
But mostly hers.
Second culprit? My sadistic instructor. That lunatic decided that, as a "gift" for my awakening ceremony, he would crank up the difficulty of training. That day was the first time in both my lives that I experienced a true nightmare without sleeping. I came back from training crawling, swearing my body would never recover.
So naturally, I overslept. And now I was on my way to the Awakening Hall, muttering curses under my breath.
The hall loomed ahead like a giant's fortress. Its doors were tall enough to fit a dragon, carved with dragons and phoenixes entwined in eternal battle. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling inside, their crystals scattering light in every direction. The air was thick with the scent of incense and expectation.
I pushed the doors open.
Every head turned.
Dozens of nobles, their eyes like daggers. Children around my age stood with their parents, their postures stiff and rehearsed. Some were from the Darknorth branch families, others were the offspring of loyal knights or lesser nobles. They were lined up neatly, already buzzing with nerves, while I strolled in an hour late like I had just woken up from a nap.
Wonderful. Exactly the kind of impression you want to make when half the estate's political vultures are here to weigh your worth like cattle at an auction.
Now, you might think, "But Rishi, you're high nobility. Why does it matter if you're late?"
That's the catch. Precisely because I'm high nobility, everything I do matters. This was my grand introduction to my generation. A chance to impress, to gather support, to cement myself as a potential heir of Darknorth.
Which, by the way, I have absolutely no interest in. Running this den of schemers sounds like a lifetime of headaches. I'd rather fight those wild dogs again, and that's saying something.
Still, appearances matter. And I had just ruined mine spectacularly.
From the corner of the hall, Serenya's gaze found mine. Calm. Elegant. But the slight smirk tugging at her lips told me she was enjoying my suffering far too much.
And then, as if fate wanted to add insult to injury, one of the elders stepped forward.
He was an old man with silver hair combed so meticulously it looked like it could cut glass. His robes were embroidered with the Darknorth crest, and his eyes gleamed with the kind of sharpness only decades of scheming could provide.
"Well, well," he drawled, his voice cutting through the hall. "The young master of Darknorth finally graces us with his presence. We were beginning to wonder if perhaps you had inherited not only your father's blood… but also his leisurely habits."
Polite laughter rippled through the crowd. My lips twitched. Of course. Nothing like an old fox taking his chance to score political points by roasting the late kid in front of everyone.
And then he went for the real attack.
"Tell me, young Rishi, about this legacy you've inherited recently. Surely, as a loyal son of Darknorth, you will share such fortunes with your family?"
There it was—the subtle demand. Wrapped in fake concern, dripping with greed.
I plastered on a bland smile. "Legacy? Elder, I think you've been listening to too many tavern tales. I assure you, nothing so dramatic has happened."
But he wasn't letting go. His tone turned lofty, almost paternal. "Remember, child, the strength of one is nothing without the family. You owe it to this house, which has nurtured you. You must think of the welfare of all, not just your own ambitions."
I tilted my head, still smiling, though my eyes sharpened. "And I suppose my father should have thought the same when he saved the lives of half this council during the Velmorian raids five years ago? Or when he earned war merits that still protect this estate? Tell me, Elder—am I not allowed to draw upon the support of the family he bled for? Or is his life—and the lives he saved—worth less than the expense of a search party?"
The hall went silent.
The elder's face stiffened, but he couldn't openly rebuke me. Not without insulting my father's sacrifice. His lips twitched, searching for words, but nothing came out.
I held his gaze, refusing to back down. That's right, old man. You wanted to corner me, but sometimes the cub bites back.
And then, just as the tension reached its peak, the great doors of the hall opened once more.
Duke Avish Darknorth, my uncle, walked in.
He was dressed in black and silver, his aura rolling across the hall like a storm. Power. Authority. Every step was measured, every movement deliberate. His eyes swept across the crowd, sharp and calculating, and every noble instinctively bowed their head.
Beside him, the duchess walked with serene grace, her presence softer but no less commanding.
"Enough," the duke's voice cut through the silence, smooth yet heavy with authority. "Today is not for squabbling over debts and legacies. Today, we witness the potential of the next generation."
The elder bowed, forced into silence.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my grin back onto my face.
Saved by the fox king himself. For now. But I know how these games work. They'll circle back when they smell weakness. Old foxes never forget. Neither will I.