My uncle Dane once told me, “Beware of those who offer you the world with a smile; sometimes the sweetest promises hide the sharpest daggers.”

I never pictured myself being led by someone who’d never even been to a place I knew inside and out. But there I was, back at the estate, following Jitters, the stray I’d picked up in town, as if he were some sort of lord and I was his lackey.

The little guy strutted ahead with the confidence that should’ve been reserved for royalty. His head was held high, tail even higher, as if he owned the entire place. He stopped just outside the main mansion’s courtyard, a space typically bustling with the menial tasks of daily life.

But today, it felt different. It was unnervingly quiet. The usual buzz of activity was gone, and all that was left was a silence that seemed to hang in the air like a storm waiting to break. I half-expected lightning to strike at any moment.

If someone had come out and shouted, “The witch of the east is coming!” it wouldn’t have felt out of place. But no, it wasn’t dramatic. It was worse. Catherine Goldenshield, the daughter of Duke Lysander, had arrived.

I could already see her convoy making its grand entrance. If I’d been more inclined to humor the spectacle, I might have thought it was some kind of royal parade, except it was all a bit much, even for that. The carriages were lined up in perfect formation, gleaming like they’d just been polished for the occasion.

Silverlion soldiers, alongside our own estate guards, stood at attention like they were preparing for an attack, not for the visit of a duke’s daughter. But that was Catherine for you. Everything had to be over-the-top when she was involved, even if it made no sense. I’d long ago dubbed her “the scheming bitch,” and the spectacle she brought with her was exactly what I expected.

At the main mansion entrance stood Alistair. He wore that familiar expression, the one he always had when he’d been up half the night preparing for something like this.

And knowing Alistair, that’s exactly what he’d been doing. He’d been tinkering with details, making sure everything was just so. Maybe he was hoping to impress Aiden with his thoroughness, or perhaps he was trying to outshine Catherine in the grand entrance department. Either way, good luck with that.

As I took in the scene, I couldn’t help but notice the increasing presence of Stormbournes around the estate. It was unusual to see so many of our family members gathered in one place unless something major was happening.

My father had four siblings, each with their own families. All of them were present, except for my father’s youngest. My father’s cousins usually kept to their own corners of the region, but today, they were here at the estate with their families.

The second eldest of my father’s family, Uncle Heaton, was the most recognizable face at the estate. He lived here full-time, overseeing the day-to-day operations, along with my father.

Where Heaton was all business and no-nonsense, his wife was cut from the same cloth. She was strict, orderly, and had an eye for detail. Their children were well-mannered, always impeccably behaved, and never caught up in trouble. Quite the opposite of me, I’d say, but that was hardly a surprise. The family relationships were always a bit skewed when it came to me.

Then there was Ned.

Now, Uncle Ned, he was something else. A walking disaster when it came to humor. His jokes always fell flat, leaving everyone awkwardly shifting in their seats. He had a knack for scolding people, and I was a regular target.

He seemed to take a particular joy in criticizing my conduct and the various mischiefs I got into. But the thing was, I’d long since learned how to handle it. When he started his usual lecture on my “wild ways,” I’d just say, “The red rose is blowing into the shade tonight,” flashing the sign of the ‘Heart’ with both hands.

That usually shut him up fast. His face would turn beet red, and he’d lock his lips, scurrying off like a frightened mouse, probably to pick on someone else.

Uncle Ned lived about ten miles away, but he was always dropping by, much to everyone’s dismay. It might’ve been tolerable if he’d only stayed for a meal or a quick visit, but the constant presence of him and his unsolicited advice on everything was far from it.

Unlike my other uncles, Ned had no children of his own, which might explain his tendency to meddle in everyone else’s business. His wife, on the other hand, was a woman of few words. She rarely spoke unless spoken to, and her silence often made her an easy target for Ned’s endless commentary. To this day, I still don’t quite understand how she put up with him.

Next in line was Sam. Uncle Sam was a character in his own right. He and his wife lived in their own mansion on the estate, just like Heaton. Uncle Sam was married to a woman at least fifteen years younger than him, and the rumors surrounding their union were, to put it mildly, colorful.

It was said that she’d worked at the Royal Rose before they’d gotten married, which, frankly, was the reason I did my best to avoid the tavern. It was hard to enjoy a drink when you might bump into your uncles, and the last thing I needed was to deal with them when I was just trying to relax.

The three of them, Ned, Heaton, and Sam, were all regulars at the tavern, and our paths often crossed when I was there. Whenever they spotted me, they’d threaten to tell my father about my “unsavory” behavior.

Of course, I’d respond in kind, threatening to spill the beans about their drunken escapades and where they spent their time when they weren’t at home with their wives. We knew it was an empty threat, though. Neither of us were interested in ratting the other out, so the threats were more of a game than anything else.

Among the extended family, my father’s cousins and their wives showed up, but frankly, none of them were all that interesting. What really caught my attention wasn’t who was there, but who wasn’t. My father’s youngest brother, Dane.

Too bad he wasn’t here. Uncle Dane had always been the wild card of the family. He had this way of stirring things up and keeping people on edge. And, honestly? He was probably the only one who could’ve made this whole situation feel a little less suffocating.

Uncle Dane is an Arcane Swordsman, two levels higher than Aiden and, aside from my father, the only other man in the family who could use mana.

The guy was tall, built like a fighter, with muscles that told the story of years of training. He had that kind of presence that made people step aside the moment he walked into a room. Unlike my other three uncles, who seemed to wear their potbellies like badges of honor, Uncle Dane carried himself with a quiet strength that demanded respect.

It made me wonder if that was the fate of all Stormbournes without mana cores. Would they all end up soft like those three fat uncles of mine? I couldn’t help but picture the future, imagining Alistair, years from now, older and married, settling into the life of a well-fed nobleman, draped in fine clothes that did little to hide a growing belly.

Uncle Dane lived in Slavia, a Stormbourne territory that bordered our own, about a hundred miles away. It was a strategic base for our military strength, home to around ten thousand soldiers, and Uncle Dane was at the very top. He was more than just the head of the military there; he was a living legend in the making.

My father had taken me to visit Slavia a few times, and each time, I looked up at Uncle Dane in awe. He was everything I thought I wanted to be. Strong, skilled, well-mannered, and, above all, respected.

Hold on a second. Let me take that back. It wasn’t everything about him I admired.

The part about being tall and handsome? Yeah, that was what I really wanted to take after.

Those visits to Slavia always got me thinking.

Was my father hoping I’d follow in Uncle Dane’s footsteps?

Sure, I wasn’t the eldest son, but I had a mana core. That was something that set me apart from my siblings (aside from Aiden) and cousins. It meant I had a role to play in the grand scheme of things.

Even though I was still fumbling my way through spellcasting, I knew it meant something. Maybe I was supposed to take charge of the Stormbourne military one day, wielding both magic and steel side by side.

If my father wanted to groom me for that role, fine. In return, House Stormbourne could end up being the first “Drunken Army” in Valoria. You know how much I love ale and wine. One of the ways I showed appreciation for hardworking soldiers was by treating them to an excellent brew. After all, I’ve got a soft spot for liquor, and one of the best ways to show appreciation for the men and women who fought for you was by offering them something worthwhile to drink.

I watched from a distance as the spectacle began to unfold. Out of her carriage stepped Catherine. Waiting for her was Aiden. He offered his hand, and she took it in that uniquely royal way of hers. After that, they started walking toward the rest of the Stormbournes. Aiden had turned into an envoy and was introducing our people.

He began with the main family. My sister, Aeryn, was first; then my brother, Alistair; and it should have been me next. But since I was off watching from afar, he moved on to Uncle Heaton, Ned, Sam, and their families, as well as the other Stormbournes in attendance.

The introductions were going smoothly, with Aiden doing his best to entertain Catherine. That was when I caught something from the corner of my eye.

A Silverlion guard lingered at the rear, half-melted into the shadows and barely noticeable until now. His uniform was midnight blue with silver trim. A clasp on one side of his cloak marked him as Catherine’s personal protector.

He moved with quiet poise, but his polished appearance gave him away. This wasn’t some rookie playing dress-up. He looked like a veteran, someone who had spent years being a wall of muscle in heavy armor. I hadn’t seen him at any point during Catherine’s earlier visit, which made his sudden appearance even more curious.

Catherine continued mingling with the crowd until Aiden approached her. Together, they walked inside through the large oaken doors that led into the heart of the Stormbourne family’s main house. The hallways were filled with blossoms and other decorations, guiding the way toward a banquet prepared in Catherine’s honor.

With that, the event came to a close. The servants began ushering the Silverlion soldiers to their temporary quarters in the inner part of the estate. After all, at some point, our guards had to be relieved from their duty.

Warden Grinwald stood right in the middle of it all, his usual grim expression softening just a little. For a moment, I thought the formalities were finally over. His frown seemed to ease, and I realized he was free from the weight of his role as the estate’s head of security, even if just for a fleeting moment.

I watched as the last of the Stormbourne family vanished into the mansion’s depths. There was something about this visit that felt different, but I couldn’t quite figure it out.

And what was that nagging feeling that had been bothering me ever since Catherine’s large entourage entered the estate? It was like a soft voice carried by the wind, whispering that something sinister was about to unfold, and I needed to be ready for whatever came next.