Keldon trailed Bethany through the manor, every floor and room bursting with livelihood and music. And the further he went in, the more he found it increasingly difficult not to gawk at all the casual extravagance. Stained glass windows, intricate sculptures of ice, and blast, there was more red cloth in this singular hallway than he’d seen in all his years at the Hissings.

  “That dining hall table was thousand-year-old reclaimed Cartovian wood. Sir Volldsteen was gifted it among several others for finishing a contract early given to him by the Kharburn city council,” said Bethany, gesturing to the artesian carved twelve-foot dining table.

  “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to stare,” said Keldon, turning red.

  It was the third time that Bethany had stopped to explain an object’s history to him.

  “No need for apologies Master Keldon, Sir Volldsteen had purchased these items with the intent of capturing beauty in all its forms. Would it please you to continue forward to Sir Volldsteen, or would you care to browse some more of Sir Volldsteen’s art collection?” asked Bethany, all the while maintaining a respectful downwards gaze.

  “No no, I’m in a rush but I keep getting sidetracked. Just take me straight to Volldsteen please,” said Keldon.

  “Most certainly,”

  Bethany clicked her heels together, turning around and striding carefully past a crowd of wine-drunk women as Keldon followed suit. However, as they passed crowds of flirtatious noblemen, Bethany’s coworkers, and rowdy partygoers, it became clearer to him just how well-respected Bethany was.

  Although she carried herself with the humility of a servant, there was noble confidence in her step. She acted humbly, keeping her head down and lowering her eye contact within her social position. But through age gap or social status, her treatment was elevated compared to other servants. Whereas most servants moved from kitchen to table relatively unnoticed, Bethany was constantly stopped for friendly conversation by noblemen and co-workers alike.

  Finally, after passing what seemed to be an endless array of hallways, Bethany stopped in front of a large split door that was guarded by a gruff-looking warrior that towered seven feet- tall in polished chrome armor. A shining halberd leaned on his shoulders as he took a step forward, bending down to meet Bethany.

  “Evening Beth, does the gentleman behind you have a reservation?”

  Bethany turned to Keldon with a look of expectation.

  “Oh um, I think? I have a letter here that my friend Bertram gave me. I think it’s for Baron Volldsteen but I guess it got addressed to someone named ‘Wubbo’,” said Keldon.

  As the name ‘Wubbo’ left his lips, he saw from the corner of his eye Bethany’s shoulders tense up. The guard turned to Keldon with a dark glare as he felt his blood run cold under his fingers.

  “The letter,” the guard said, extending his meaty hand out to Keldon.

  Sweat began to build upon his back as Keldon put Bertram’s letter in the guard’s hand as the guard unfurled the crumpled paper. The guard pulled out a pair of glasses that looked tiny in his massive hands and put them on, squinting at the letter. Keldon eyed his left, even the professional Bethany bore a nervous expression.

  The gruff warriors’ eyes drew over the letters in the shimmering lantern light, his eyes scanning over the page, reading carefully.

  Keldon wiped his clammy hands on the hems of his tunic, clutching onto Yan’s scarf instinctively for comfort. Oh shoot, was that a coffee stain on the letter?

  The gruff warrior let out a deep sigh, tucking away his glasses. He turned to Bethany, nodding upwards as Bethany visibly relaxed. She turned to Keldon with a deep bow.

  “Have a pleasant evening Master Keldon, I’ll be returning to my former duties now,” she said.

  “Sure thing! Thanks for your help,”

  As Bethany turned to leave, the gruff warrior stepped up to Keldon. His heart pounded against his ribcage. Would the letter be enough to meet with someone so important?

  The gruff warrior lowered himself to Keldon’s eye level. Actually, getting a better look at the warrior’s face, it seemed that the old warrior wore his age gracefully. Only the crow’s feet on the corner of the guard’s eyes gave away the youth that fled him.

  “So, is Old Bert doing alright nowadays?” asked the gruff man.

  “Wait, you know Bertram?!” asked Keldon.

  “Know him? Boy, he lined up my entire career! Come on in, we’ve been waiting for you for quite some time,” said the guard with a laugh.

  The guard turned around, pushing apart the giant split doors as bright light’s blurred his vision.

  Crystal lights hung from an arched rooftop, creating a twinkling effect on the marbled floors. Dozens of important-looking officials in postured uniforms sipped wine and chatted as servants cleared empty plates and platters from a long black dining table. However, even despite all the conversation happening around the room, the center of attention laid on the two people seated at the head of the table. And for good reason too.

  There was a man and a woman seated at the end of the table, dressed in pristine all-white clothing that matched their deep umber skin. The man’s features were sharp and masculine, complimented by the neat dreads that had been tied back. The woman wore simple but elegant clothing, her jewelry sparkling with light and matching the golden undertones of her curled dark hair.

  Yet somehow, it wasn’t the gorgeous-looking couple that drew the stares of the crowd. It was the frightening creature behind them. The beast was massive and jaguar-like in shape and looked like it had been carved from onyx steel. However, everything about it emanated the aura of a living being as its chest rose and fell softly, napping in a curled position around the man’s chair.

  And the worst part was, the guard was leading him straight to the head of the table.

  Stares slammed into his back, causing him to pull his cloak tighter to his body. The gruff warrior in chrome reached the head of the table as the room grew quiet. Nobles leaned in, growing curiouser and curiouser as to Keldon’s mysterious identity.

  “Sir Volldsteen,” said the guard to the man.

  A warm smile crawled across the man’s face.

  “Olaf! Who’s our new guest?” said Sir Volldsteen in a cheerful voice.

  Olaf stepped to the side, sweeping his hands out to allow Keldon to introduce himself.

  Keldon swallowed the lump in his throat, putting his arms behind his back to front a noble appearance.

  “Hi Wu-, I mean Baron Volldsteen. My name’s Keldon. I think you should have gotten a letter that said I’d be arriving? said Keldon.

  Keldon paused, waiting for some kind of reaction. However, he was only met with blank stares.

  “It should have been from Bertram? He said that someone named Wubbo owed him a favor and that you’d help me out or something?”

  The room went silent as all eyes turned to Baron Volldsteen. The woman next to Baron Volldsteen gave the baron a loving smile.   

  “HAHAHA!” laughed Baron Volldsteen.

  “Lilian my dearest, you were right again my darling, he was simply late,” said Baron Volldsteen, kissing the woman on the lips.

  Baron Volldsteen stood up, soaking up the attention in the room like it was the most natural thing in the world. The head of the metal beast perked up, awakening to his stir.

  “Alright everyone, that’ll be all for the evening from me. If you have any further concerns about Bill 52, Lillian will take them down on the way out. Otherwise, feel free to wander about the manor for the rest of the evening. Thank you, and have a good night.”

  There were a few grumbles but each of the guests stood up. They bowed towards Baron Volldsteen, turning to their own retinues and shooting glances at Keldon as they moved towards the door. Stares were drawn from every corner of the room. Keldon clenched his jaw, forcing a neutral expression onto his face.

  “I’ll have Bethany bring you records of last week’s gathering sometime this week darling. See you later tonight my love,” said Lillian.

  “I’ll see you tonight darling. Don’t forget the honey!” said Baron Volldsteen with a wink.

  Lillian blushed, playfully slapping his shoulder. She turned to Keldon, offering him a gentle smile.

  “Make yourself at home Keldon,” said Lillian, turning to follow the guests.

  And with the last click of the door, it was just him and Baron Volldsteen. Well, the two of them and a giant metal panther.

  Sweat gathered under Yan’s scarf as Keldon’s mind raced. Did he make a good impression? Would he make it to the entrance exams in time? Can magic scarves be washed by hand, or do they need dry-cleaning?

  “Lovely, isn’t she? The only tamed FleshHunter in the entire continent,” said Baron Volldsteen.

  “F-ff-fleshHunter?!” stammered Keldon.

  Keldon’s eyes widened as his feet felt like lead under the red gaze of the onyx metal beast. His mind jumped to a small footnote of a bestiary he’d read years ago. Terrified notes of countless corpses from esteemed professor Estellbe Di Miorda flashed in his memories. Yet, the mythological beast of danger was enjoying a belly rub in front of his very eyes.

  “And you’ve just now realized?” asked Baron Volldsteen.

  Baron Volldsteen looked at Keldon with a raised eyebrow for a second when it looked like a thought just dinged in his head.

  “I’d forgotten that Bertram mentioned that you were a Hissings Sifter! I wouldn't have expected it from your full SimCo attire,” said Baron Volldsteen.

  Keldon looked down at the green cloak and tunic that he’d traded for a few favors from Sims and Darian. He knew little of modern politics and fashion trends, history books were already rare enough to come by in the Hissings.

  "I'm sure they're not that nice, are they?"

  “Hah! Well, they’re sure not Tar Rags. Come come, let’s get you settled in for the night and we’ll have a chat,” said Baron Volldsteen.

  “Wait! Baron Volldsteen, Bertram mentioned you’d be willing to help me enter the scribe entrance exams at the Grand Academy, but on the way here, I’d heard that they’re finishing up? When’s the soonest that I could take them?” said Keldon.

  Baron Volldsteen stopped in his tracks, turning around as his brimming smile faded. Empathy washed over his face as a nerve pricked at the back of Keldon's head.

  "What's wrong?" asked Keldon.

  “Have you not already taken them? The Grand Academy’s scribe apprentice exams finished yesterday,” said Baron Volldsteen.