The journey south had taken longer than expected.
Winter storms. Monster attacks. The usual complications of traveling from the frozen north to the temperate central territories.
But now Arden stood before the gates of his family's estate—a massive compound that spoke of centuries of accumulated wealth and power.
Home. Sort of.
Strange, being uncomfortable in your own childhood home.
The gates opened.
A steward approached, bowing deeply.
"Lord Arden. Welcome home. Your father is expecting you."
"Where are my siblings?"
"In various locations, my lord. The Duke requested you meet with him first before—"
"I'll see my siblings first. Where's Theron?"
The steward blinked, clearly thrown by the deviation from protocol.
"The young lord is... in the training yard. As usual."
"Good. I'll start there."
-----
Arden found his youngest brother exactly where expected.
Theron Valekrest, at twelve years old, was already built like a young warrior.
Broad shoulders. Thick arms. The kind of physique that promised incredible strength when fully grown.
He was currently sparring with a combat trainer—and actually holding his own.
"Good! Much better, young lord! Your stance is solid!"
"Thank you, instructor!" Theron's voice was still nervous, but there was determination underneath.
He executed a combination strike that forced the trainer to actually defend seriously.
Progress, Arden noted with satisfaction. Real progress.
Three years ago, before I left, Theron could barely hold a sword without shaking.
Now he's actually fighting. Still hesitant, still doubting himself, but fighting.
"That's enough," Arden called out.
Both Theron and the trainer turned.
"Lord Arden! I didn't know you'd arrived—"
"Take a break. I'll work with my brother."
"Of course, my lord."
The trainer left, and Theron stared at Arden with wide eyes.
"B-Brother Arden? You're... you're back?"
"I'm back." Arden approached, studying his youngest brother. "You've grown. And improved. That combination strike was solid."
"You think so?" Theron's face flushed with pleasure, but then uncertainty crept in. "I mean, I'm still not very good—"
"You're better than you were. That's what matters." Arden picked up a training sword. "Show me what you've learned."
"I... okay."
Theron moved into his stance, and Arden could see the difference immediately.
The shaking was less. The positioning was better. The fear was still there, but it didn't paralyze him anymore.
"Attack me."
"But you're—you're Peak Fourth Stage now! I heard the reports! I'm still just second stage! I'll just—"
"You'll just try. Like you promised me three years ago you would."
Theron hesitated, then nodded.
Remember. Before I left, I told him to try. Every day. Even when he was scared.
Looks like he actually listened.
Theron charged.
His form was still imperfect. His movements still telegraphed.
But there was commitment now. Actual intent behind the strikes.
Arden deflected easily, but noted everything that had improved.
"Good footwork. Much better than before."
"Really?"
"Really. Again."
Theron attacked again, this time with more confidence.
And again.
And again.
Each time, his movements got sharper. More committed.
After twenty minutes, both of them paused for breath.
"You've been working hard," Arden observed.
"I... I tried. Like you said. Every day, even when I was scared." Theron wiped sweat from his forehead. "I still mess up a lot. I still freeze sometimes during serious sparring. But... but I'm getting better. Slowly."
"That's all anyone can ask. Progress, not perfection."
Theron's smile was shy but genuine.
"I was scared you wouldn't come back. Three years is a long time. I thought maybe you'd forgotten about us. About your promise to help me."
"I didn't forget. The north is just... demanding. But I'm here now."
"For how long?"
"A few weeks. Then I have to return."
Theron's face fell slightly, but he nodded.
"I understand. The north needs you more than we do. But... but could we train together? While you're here? I want to show you how much I've improved."
"Every morning. I promise."
-----
Arden found his sister next.
Lyanna Valekrest, at fourteen, was surrounded by books and medical texts.
She looked up as he entered.
And then a dark shadow fell over her face.
Literally. Somehow, despite the bright afternoon light streaming through the windows, her entire face was cast in ominous shadow.
"Oh," she said, her voice perfectly pleasant. Perfectly calm. "You're back."
Oh no.
I know that tone.
That's the 'I'm smiling but I want to murder you' tone.
"Lyanna—"
"Three years." Her smile was bright. Too bright. The shadow over her face somehow deepened. "Three. Entire. Years. Without a single visit home."
"I sent letters—"
"Oh yes. Letters. How wonderful. Thank you for the letters, dear brother." Her voice remained perfectly sweet. The shadow intensified. "Do you know what you wrote in those letters? 'Too busy to visit during breaks. Important work in the north. Will visit soon.'"
She stood, still smiling that terrifying smile, the shadow making her look like a demon wearing human skin.
"SOON, you said. THREE YEARS AGO."
"The north was—"
"The north, the north, the north!" Her voice went up an octave. "Do you know how many times I defended you? 'Oh, Arden's just busy. He'll visit soon. He promised!' Do you know how STUPID I looked when you NEVER CAME?"
Arden took a step back.
She's terrifying. How is she this terrifying?
She's fourteen. Why does a fourteen-year-old have this much murderous aura?
"I'm sorry—"
"SORRY?" The shadow somehow expanded, filling half the room. "Oh, you're SORRY. How WONDERFUL. That makes EVERYTHING better!"
She pulled out a thick medical textbook.
"Did you know this book weighs exactly eight pounds? Did you know that if thrown with sufficient force, it can cause a concussion? I've been STUDYING."
"Lyanna, please—"
"Oh no, no, no. Don't 'Lyanna, please' me." She hefted the book like a weapon. "You PROMISED. You broke that promise. And now you walk in here like nothing happened?"
Arden held up his hands defensively.
"You're absolutely right. I broke my promise. I should have visited. I have no excuse except that I was completely absorbed in work and lost track of time."
"Three. Years."
"Three years. Which is inexcusable." Arden bowed his head. "I'm sorry. Genuinely. You have every right to be angry."
The shadow flickered slightly.
"You... you're actually apologizing?"
"Yes. Because I was wrong. I should have made time. You're my sister. That should have taken priority."
The shadow receded a bit more.
Lyanna lowered the book.
"You're not going to make excuses? Blame the north? Say it was necessary?"
"No. It was my choice. I chose work over family. That was wrong." Arden met her eyes. "I can't change the past three years. But I'm here now. And I'll do better."
The shadow vanished completely.
Lyanna set down the book, and her expression shifted to something more vulnerable.
"I missed you. We all did. But I... I really needed you here. After Mother died, you were the only one who understood. Who didn't just tell me to move on or be strong."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"And then you left. And you never came back. And I thought maybe you'd forgotten. Or decided we weren't worth the trouble."
"I never forgot. And you've always been worth it." Arden stepped closer. "I was selfish. Absorbed in my work. But that's not an excuse. I'm sorry."
Lyanna was quiet for a moment.
Then she hugged him, hard.
"Don't do it again. Or next time I'm throwing the book. And maybe some poisons. I've gotten very good at poisons."
"Noted. I'll visit more regularly."
"You better."
They sat together, the tension dissolving.
"So," Lyanna said, her usual bright smile returning—genuine this time. "Tell me about the north. Your letters were informative but boring. I want details."
"What kind of details?"
"The interesting kind! Battles. Monsters. Near-death experiences." Her eyes gleamed. "Anything involving violence and survival would be appreciated."
Arden spent the next hour recounting various northern adventures, carefully editing out the worst parts.
Lyanna listened with rapt attention, occasionally asking pointed questions about monster physiology or combat injuries.
"And you're still researching venoms?" Arden asked eventually.
"Of course. I've made significant progress." Her smile turned sharp. "Did you know that certain monster venoms can be synthesized to specifically target demonic corruption? It's fascinating work."
"Preparing for something specific?"
"Just being thorough. After all, not everyone can be a Peak Fourth Stage combat prodigy. Some of us need... creative solutions."
She's definitely preparing to kill something. Someone. Something that hurt her.
But I won't push. She'll tell me when she's ready.
"If you need monster samples, I can arrange shipments from the north. We have plenty of corpses."
Her face lit up.
"Really? Oh, that would be wonderful! I've been trying to get Corrupted monster samples for months!"
They discussed medical research and poison theory for another hour.
And despite the rocky start, Arden felt closer to his sister than he had in years.
She's still hiding pain. Still wearing masks.
But at least she's not actively trying to murder me anymore.
-----
Casmir Valekrest was exactly where Arden expected.
Beating the absolute hell out of training dummies.
At fifteen, Casmir was already a formidable warrior.
Third Stage cultivation. Fierce, aggressive, relentless.
And currently destroying his twentieth training dummy with barely controlled rage.
"You're going to run out of dummies at this rate," Arden called out.
Casmir spun, his scarred face twisting into a scowl.
But Arden saw right through it.
That's not anger. That's... he's trying not to look happy.
Classic. Absolutely classic.
"About time you showed up," Casmir growled, stalking over. "Three years. Didn't even visit once."
"I know. I apologized to Lyanna already. I'm apologizing to you now."
"Don't need your apologies." Casmir looked away. "Not like I care. I was just... you know. Busy. Training. Didn't even notice you were gone."
Liar. Complete and utter liar.
His ears are red. He's fidgeting. He's trying way too hard to sound indifferent.
"Is that right?" Arden said, amused. "Didn't notice at all?"
"Not even a little bit. I was completely focused on training. Didn't think about you once."
"Not even once?"
"Not once."
"Then why did the staff tell me you kept asking when I was coming back?"
Casmir's face went red.
"That's—that's because Father kept asking! I was just relaying information! Not because I cared!"
So easy to read. It's almost endearing.
"Right. Just relaying information."
"Exactly! Don't get any weird ideas!" Casmir crossed his arms defensively. "I'm not some kid who missed his brother. I'm a warrior. Warriors don't get sentimental."
"Of course not."
"I mean it!"
"I believe you."
"Stop looking at me like that!"
"Like what?"
"Like you think I'm lying!"
Arden couldn't help but smile.
He's completely transparent. Every emotion written on his face despite his best efforts to hide it.
He missed me. Probably trained twice as hard to impress me. Probably drove the staff crazy asking about my return.
But he'll never admit it directly.
But that's fine. I can work with that.
"So," Arden said casually, "want to spar? I'd like to see how much you've improved."
Casmir's eyes lit up before he quickly schooled his expression.
"I guess. If you want. Not like I've been waiting for a chance to test myself against you or anything."
"Of course not."
"I haven't!"
"I said I believe you."
"You're patronizing me!"
"Would I do that?"
"Yes! You're doing it right now!"
They moved to the sparring ring.
Casmir took his stance, and Arden could see immediately that he'd improved significantly.
More refined technique. Better control of his aggression. Real power behind every movement.
He's been working hard. Really hard.
"Ready?" Arden asked.
"Don't hold back just because I'm your brother. Fight me seriously."
"I will."
"I mean it! I'm not some kid anymore! I'm strong enough to—"
Arden's training sword tapped his shoulder before he could finish.
"Dead. Too busy talking."
Casmir's face went scarlet with embarrassment and indignation.
"That doesn't count! I wasn't ready!"
"In a real fight, enemies don't wait for you to be ready."
"Again! And this time, actually fight me!"
They sparred for an hour.
Casmir was good. Really good. His aggression was controlled now, channeled into devastating strikes. His footwork was solid. His battle sense was sharp.
But he still couldn't land a clean hit on Arden.
After the fiftieth failed attempt, Casmir threw down his sword in frustration.
"How?! How are you still so much better?! I've been training every day! I've reached Third Stage! I've—"
"You've improved tremendously," Arden said honestly. "Three years ago, I could have beaten you with one hand. Now I actually have to try, even if I am suppressing myself to keep it fair."
"Don't patronize me—"
"I'm not. You're genuinely skilled. Top tier for your age." Arden picked up Casmir's sword, handing it back. "The gap between us is experience, not talent. I've fought real monsters. Real life-or-death battles. That changes you."
Casmir took the sword, his expression conflicted.
"So I'll never catch up to you."
"You will. Eventually. When you get your own real combat experience." Arden met his eyes. "And I'll be glad when you do. Because I need allies who can fight at my level. The threats coming are too big for me to handle alone."
Casmir was quiet for a moment.
Then, very quietly: "I've been training. Every day. Pushing myself harder than anyone else. Because I wanted to be strong enough to stand beside you when you came back."
"I know."
"How do you—did the staff tell you?!"
"No. But it's obvious. Your technique, your cultivation level, your battle sense—all of it shows dedicated, obsessive training." Arden smiled slightly. "You worked hard. I'm impressed."
Casmir's ears turned red again.
"Well. Good. Because I wasn't doing it for your approval or anything. I was just... training. Because that's what warriors do."
"Of course."
"Stop smiling like that!"
"Like what?"
"Like you can see right through me!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"I do! I really do!"
But Casmir was smiling despite himself.
Beneath all the bluster, he genuinely cares. Genuinely worked hard. Genuinely wanted to make me proud.
That's... actually kind of sweet.
Not that I'll tell him that. He'd probably explode from embarrassment.
-----
The twins were last.
At two years old, Mira and Frey Valekrest were barely forming personalities.
But already, stark differences were emerging.
Mira—the girl—was a terror.
The moment Arden entered, she was climbing on furniture, ignoring the nursemaid's frantic attempts to stop her.
"Mira! No! You'll hurt yourself!"
"RAWR!" Mira declared, successfully climbing onto a bookshelf.
"Young lady, get down this instant!"
"NO! I'M TALL NOW!"
She's going to be a handful when she grows up. Actually, she's already a handful now.
Frey—the boy—was more reserved.
He sat quietly in the corner, arranging blocks with careful precision.
When Arden approached, Frey looked up with serious eyes.
"Brudder?" he asked carefully.
"Yes. I'm your brother Arden."
"Been gone long time."
"I have. I'm sorry."
Frey considered this gravely.
"Mira missed you. Cried sometimes."
"Did you miss me?"
"Yes. But didn't cry. Boys don't cry." He said this with the utmost seriousness. "Read about you. In papers. Fighting monsters. Very strong."
He's two and he's already reading papers?
Or at least having them read to him and understanding the content.
This kid is going to be terrifying when he grows up.
"BRUDDER ARDEN!" Mira shrieked from her bookshelf perch.
"WATCH ME!"
She jumped.
Arden caught her easily.
She immediately tried to bite him.
"Mira, no biting," the nursemaid scolded desperately.
"But I'm FIERCE!" Mira protested. "RAWR!"
"You're fierce, yes. But we don't bite family."
"Can I bite enemies?"
"When you're older, maybe."
"PROMISE?!"
"...Sure. When you're older."
"YAY!"
Arden spent an hour with the twins.
Mira climbed all over him, declaring herself "the strongest" and demanding that he acknowledge her power.
Frey asked surprisingly intelligent questions about the north
"When I'm big," Frey said seriously, "I'll help you protect everyone."
"I'll hold you to that."
"And I'll PUNCH ALL THE MONSTERS!" Mira declared, demonstrating her "punching" on Arden's arm.
"I'm sure you will."
"Do you think I'm strong?"
"Incredibly strong."
"STRONGEST?!"
"Maybe when you're older."
"I'LL TRAIN! EVERY DAY! AND THEN I'LL BE STRONGEST!"
She's got the determination. And the complete lack of self-preservation instincts.
These two are going to be forces of nature when they grow up.
If I can keep them alive long enough.
----
Finally, Arden met with his father.
Duke Vareth Valekrest sat behind an enormous desk, reviewing documents.
He looked up as Arden entered.
"Three hours late. You met with your siblings first."
"I did. I apologize for the delay, Father."
Arden sat only when gestured to, maintaining proper protocol despite his earlier deviations.
Vareth studied him for a long moment.
"Your siblings speak well of you. Especially Casmir. That boy barely speaks well of anyone."
"Casmir is... straightforward once you understand him."
"Straightforward is one word for it. Aggressive is another." Vareth set down his papers. "You've changed. Three years ago, you were different. More... conventional. Now you seem more purposeful. More directed."
"The north changes people. Or kills them."
"Indeed." Vareth pulled out a letter. "Your coming-of-age ceremony is in three days. You'll be presented to the King. Given your formal titles. Acknowledged as a full member of the nobility."
"I understand."
"There will also be the Imperial Academy's exhibition matches. Kael Thorne is expected to participate. The entire realm will be watching." Vareth's eyes were sharp. "People are already speculating about you two. The Northern Prodigy and the Academy Champion. Some are calling it a rivalry."
"I have no interest in rivalries, Father. I'm doing different work."
"Are you? Or are you simply avoiding comparison?" Vareth leaned back. "The north is important. Your work there is valuable. But you are still a Valekrest. Still my heir. You represent this house. Remember that."
"I will, Father."
"Good." Vareth's expression softened slightly. "Your siblings missed you. More than they'll admit. Don't make them wait another three years."
"I won't."
"See that you don't. Dismissed. Rest. We have a busy few days ahead."
Arden left the office, exhausted.
Family. Always so complicated.
Theron's improving but still needs encouragement. Lyanna almost murdered me but forgave me. Casmir is completely transparent but will never admit it. The twins are already little terrors.
And Father expects me to maintain house reputation while preparing for apocalypse.
Joy.
He headed toward his assigned quarters, ready for sleep.
I need a smoke