The Meeting
Wandering through the castle halls, Valen soon heard faint laughter — light, unguarded, human.
He followed the sound until he reached the servants' wing, a place nobles rarely visited.
There, by the open corridor, he saw a young boy around his age carrying a basket of linens for one of the maids.
Valen froze. He wasn't used to seeing another child inside the castle — especially not one dressed so plainly.
He took a few cautious steps closer, curious.
In Valen's eyes, this boy was… different.
Free. Ordinary. Real.
Maybe, just maybe, this could be his first real friend.
He gathered all the courage his small heart could hold and opened his mouth to speak—
"Are you just going to stand there and stare?" the boy said suddenly, turning with a half-grin. "You know we can see you, right?"
Valen turned crimson.
"I— I know! I just— I wanted to ask your name."
The maid turned around, and when she saw Valen, her face drained of color.
She immediately pulled the boy beside her and bowed deeply.
"Forgive us, young master! My son Leon doesn't know who he's speaking to!"
Valen blinked, startled by her panic.
He shook his head quickly.
"It's not a problem, truly. I wasn't offended. Actually…"
He smiled.
"I was wondering if Leon wanted to play with me."
The maid nearly dropped the basket.
"Y-Yes, of course, young master! He would be honored!"
Leon, however, frowned. He wasn't sure how to respond — he had never played with a noble before.
Still, one look from his mother decided it for him.
That afternoon, the two boys ran through the courtyards, climbing walls and chasing each other across the gardens.
They fought mock duels with sticks until sunset painted the castle gold.
By the time night fell, they were both covered in dirt and laughter.
As they parted ways, Valen grinned.
"Tomorrow morning — the practice yard. Don't be late."
Leon smirked back.
"I never am."
That night, for the first time in his young life, Valen de Noir fell asleep smiling —
and the walls of the estate, for once, felt less lonely.
Valen woke up before sunrise, just as he did every morning.
But that day was different — there was an unfamiliar energy pulsing in his chest.
Today's training wouldn't be alone.
Today, he would train with his first friend.
A knock came at the door.
"Young master, may we come in?"
"You may," Valen said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
His servants entered, helping him dress and comb his hair. He could hardly stand still.
He skipped breakfast, waving off their protests.
"I'll eat later," he said. "I can't be late."
He hurried through the halls, boots echoing against the stone until he reached the training yard.
The morning air was crisp, the sun still low.
Valen stretched, warmed up, then began his usual muscle drills — push-ups, sword stances, breathing control.
Even at his young age, his form was remarkable.
The knights often whispered that the third son of House de Noir trained like a man twice his age.
But for Valen, it still wasn't enough.
His desire to protect — to be strong — burned deeper than talent or pride.
As the clock struck eight, the trainee knights began arriving.
They nodded respectfully to the young master, secretly admiring his discipline.
Some whispered that the patriarch himself quietly took pride in watching from the balcony.
Then, yawning and stretching, Leon entered the yard.
"Good morning, Leon," Valen said with a grin. "You look half-dead. Couldn't sleep?"
"Good morning, Valen," Leon replied, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, I slept fine. But you nobles forget — servants wake up long before their masters."
Valen blinked.
He had never thought about that before.
In that small moment, he was reminded again of the difference between them — how status defined everything in this world.
He pushed the thought aside and raised his wooden sword.
"Well then, I hope you're not expecting me to go easy on you "
Leon smirked.
"Not at all, young master."
They took their stances.
The air grew still.
Then Valen moved — a blur of motion — and the fight was over before Leon even realized it had begun.
Leon lay on the ground, staring at the sky, utterly confused.
Valen laughed, offering his hand.
"You're so funny, Leon. You actually thought you could beat me?"
Leon took his hand but looked down, embarrassed.
"I suppose it was foolish of me to think I could ever match you."
Valen punched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Don't be stupid. You'll improve with time. You have spirit — and that's rarer than skill."
Leon looked up, hope flickering in his eyes.
"Do you really think so, young master?"
Valen nodded with a confident smile.
"I'm sure of it. If you put your heart into it, one day you'll be a great knight."
Leon's chest swelled with pride.
"Then I swear — I'll become your knight, Valen! I'll protect you no matter what!"
Valen laughed, caught off guard by his friend's sincerity.
"Then I'll hold you to that, Leon."
They spent the rest of the day training side by side — clumsy swings, bursts of laughter, and endless sunlight.
By evening, both were exhausted, lying on the grass under the fading gold of the sky.
When they parted, Valen turned to one of the servants nearby.
"See to it that Leon is added to the knight trainees' schedule starting tomorrow. Provide him with what he needs."
The servant bowed.
"As you command, young master."
That night, peace once again settled over the Noir Estate.
The stars glimmered faintly above the marble towers —
and somewhere, the first threads of destiny began to weave two young souls together.