The lessons continued at their usual pace. Victoria, after a while, finally seemed to tire of tormenting me. Like a bored cat with an unresponsive toy, she found other distractions to occupy her attention. And frankly, I was grateful for that.
For the first time in a long time, I was able to enjoy the solitude and peace within the school. I took refuge in the books, the training, the quieter conversations. The corridors began to seem wider, the weather kinder.
Meanwhile, outside, the corpse on display in the main square - right in front of the castle entrance - continued to attract stares and whispers. It had become a symbol. A threat. A warning. And, of course, an endless source of rumors.
Seven months passed in this climate of veiled tension.
The body, even embalmed using special techniques, lost its impact over time. But what it represented remained firmly in the air: something was coming. The nobles walked around with watchful eyes, the merchants reduced their stocks and whispered about war between houses. Everyone knew that New Moon Castle didn't make impulsive decisions. If that corpse was there, in plain sight, it was for a reason.
And while the world was shaking on the outside, I was growing on the inside.
My training continued steadily. Every day. Without rest. My body changed again. My muscles densified, my reflexes sharpened. The centipedes continued to feed me something other than meat - it was as if I had become something else. More than human. And little by little, the fragile structure of a thirteen-year-old boy began to slip away, replaced by the constitution of a man in the making. Still young... but dangerously capable.
Seven months later, I graduated.
I completed the basic courses with good grades - and more than that, I was allowed to advance directly to fourth grade, at just thirteen years old. Most looked at me with restrained respect... others with suspicion. I was aware of both kinds of looks. And I didn't want either of them.
I held the graduation scroll in my hands as I left the school gates. The seal was still fresh, the bow slightly askew. My heart was beating calmly - I should have been celebrating. But something in the air told me that the day would not end as usual.
That's when I saw him.
At the main exit of the city, mounted on a white horse, like the tip of a spear about to be driven into the heart of the stranger.
My father.
The Baron was dressed in full black armor. Polished steel, reinforced at the joints. At his waist, a short sword. On his back, a bow. A broach rested in one hand, and, stuck in a long box behind the saddle, was a pole weapon - probably the curved-bladed halberd he used in old campaigns. This wasn't a ride. It was preparation.
Behind him, ten warriors lined up like a living wall.
Doug and Rammal were among them, and I recognized their watchful eyes even from a distance. None of them smiled. None of them even looked away. When they set off, riding as a squadron through the east gate of New Moon, I watched them until their bodies became shadows... and then dust.
They had a destiny. And it didn't look promising.
I continued my journey to the castle. The silence along the way seemed denser than usual. When I arrived, I was greeted by Alfred. He was drying his hands with a linen cloth, his movements hurried, as if I had interrupted him in the middle of something important.
"Where did my father go?" I asked bluntly, feeling the parchment still warm in my hand.
Alfred hesitated for a split second. That pause, that silence... said more than any immediate answer.
"The silver mine had problems again. The baron went to check." Alfred's voice came out low, almost whispery.
I nodded slightly, but I know that my expression betrayed me. Something didn't make sense. That mine...
"I get it." I mumbled, but suspicion had already settled deep in my throat. "Where are Vera and Nora?"
"They're reading books in the young master's room." he replied with his usual courtesy, but there was something... something in the way he avoided my gaze.
I said no more. I just walked towards the castle, crossing the silent corridors with measured steps. The tapestries swayed slightly in the wind from the open windows, and every crack of the wood beneath my feet seemed amplified.
I reached the library and locked the door behind me.
That space was my refuge - and, at the same time, my arsenal.
I walked quickly past the tall bookshelves and the piles of books that I had written or organized myself over the years. The records, the studies, the compilations of stories from my lineage. All meticulously filed.
But it was behind the small bookcase in the corner that my real interest lay.
I crouched down, slid open the wood and revealed the reinforced cedar box. It was bigger than it looked - and older than anyone there imagined.
I carefully opened the lid.
The black arch was still there, as imposing as ever. The dark wood seemed to absorb the light around it, and the red string was still firm, tense, as if waiting for the right moment to sing. There were three other spare ropes, carefully coiled and secured with leather straps. Beside it, a heavy quiver rested silently - full of black arrows with curved tips and steel shafts.
The sight of it gave me a strange feeling... familiar and dark at the same time.
"Silver mine, huh?" I muttered, narrowing my eyes slightly.
"Alfred... how exactly do you know about the silver mine?"
My voice barely came out, but the silence after it was deafening.
That information was an absolute secret. Only I, my father... and, one day, my descendants would know the true nature of that mine. To everyone else, including those who worked there, it was just an old iron mine - abandoned years ago for "low productivity".
I approached the tower window and looked out into the courtyard.
And there he was.
Alfred, hurrying towards me... accompanied by two men I'd never seen before. The three of them were coming from the east gate, the same one my father had left from. But the strangers... were armed.
A smile appeared on my lips without my realizing it. Not with joy. It was a cold smile. Calculated. Almost murderous.
(Alfred... we've taken such good care of your family. My father paid for your daughter's studies, gave your brother land... and you...) I sighed, more frustrated than angry. (The other houses are cruel to their servants. We've always been fair. But it seems that wasn't enough.)
The truth was simple: trust is a sharp blade. And now it was pointed at us.
I picked up the bow. I tested the weight. It was familiar. Part of me. I put the quiver on my back and took a deep breath, the smell of old wood and leather preparing me for what was to come.
"If this is treason..." I muttered to myself. "...then I'll treat it as such."