Master Keiran's workshop smelled like death.
Leon stood in the doorway of the east wing workshop, taking in rows of vials, dried plants hanging from the ceiling, and equipment he didn't recognize. The old man sat at a workbench, grinding something in a mortar with steady, practiced movements.
"Close the door," Keiran said without looking up. "You're letting the heat in."
Leon stepped inside and shut the door. The room was cold, almost as cold as his mother's study. Frost covered the windows from the inside.
"Your mother says you survived a poisoning attempt." Keiran finally looked at him. The man was ancient, probably seventy, with liver-spotted hands and sharp grey eyes. "Lucky or smart?"
"I noticed the server."
"Smart then." Keiran set down his mortar. "Luck runs out. Skill doesn't. Come here."
Leon approached. Keiran pushed three cups toward him, each containing clear liquid.
"One is water. One is diluted wolfsbane. One is diluted nightshade." Keiran's voice was matter-of-fact. "Tell me which is which."
Leon looked at the cups. They all appeared identical.
"I don't know."
"Dead three times over." Keiran picked up the first cup. "Smell."
Leon leaned forward and inhaled carefully. Nothing. Just water.
"Again. Deeper."
Leon breathed in more. There, underneath. Something faintly bitter.
"Second cup."
This one had a sharper scent. Almost sweet but wrong.
"Third."
Earthy. Musty.
"The first is nightshade," Keiran said. "Second is wolfsbane. Third is water. You got all three wrong."
"I've never smelled poison before."
"Now you have. We'll do this every morning until you can identify them instantly." Keiran pulled out a notebook and wrote something. "Your nose is your first defense. Poisons have signatures. Learn them."
He stood and moved to a cabinet, pulling out more vials.
"Wolfsbane attacks the heart. Makes it beat irregularly until it stops. Nightshade affects the mind. Confusion, hallucinations, paralysis. Darkroot shuts down the liver. Each one kills differently. Each one has a different antidote."
Keiran set three new vials on the table.
"These are the antidotes. But antidotes only work if you know what you've been poisoned with. Guess wrong and you die faster. That's why identification matters more than treatment."
"How do I build resistance?"
"Slowly." Keiran selected one of the vials. "We start with wolfsbane. Smallest possible dose. Your body learns to recognize it, fight it. Over weeks, we increase the amount. Eventually, a normal lethal dose won't kill you. It'll just make you sick."
He poured a single drop into a cup of water.
"Drink."
Leon looked at the cup. His heart was beating faster.
"Your mother approved this," Keiran said. "I've been doing this for forty years. I know exactly how much won't kill you."
Leon picked up the cup and drank.
It tasted like water. He felt nothing.
"Good. Now we wait." Keiran returned to his workbench. "Sit down. Tell me if you feel anything unusual. Dizziness, nausea, irregular heartbeat, numbness."
Leon sat. Minutes passed. He focused on his body, trying to detect any change.
His Status screen flickered.
[Status Effect: Wolfsbane Exposure (Minimal)][Duration: 30 minutes][Effect: None - Dose too low to cause symptoms]
"The System tracks it," Leon said.
"Only because you have that Poison Awareness skill," Keiran said, not looking up from his grinding. "Most people don't get notifications about what's in their body. They just get sick and die. That skill you earned will save your life someday."
Leon studied the notification again. Without Poison Awareness, he'd have no idea what was happening to him until symptoms appeared. The skill gave him information others wouldn't have.
"Useful feature," Keiran continued. "Means you'll know if you've been poisoned even if you can't taste it. Though don't rely on it. Status screens can be suppressed with the right magic. Your senses are more reliable."
Leon dismissed the notification. The thirty minutes passed slowly. He felt fine the entire time.
"That's it for today," Keiran said. "Tomorrow, same time. We'll do this daily for two weeks, then increase the dose. By winter, you should have basic resistance to all three common poisons."
"Just those three?"
"There are hundreds of poisons. We focus on what's actually used. Wolfsbane, nightshade, darkroot. That covers ninety percent of assassination attempts. The other ten percent are exotic, expensive, or both. Not worth your time yet."
Leon stood. "What about detection? Besides smell."
"Color, consistency, temperature. Some poisons make liquids slightly thicker. Some change color in certain lights. Some react to heat." Keiran pulled out a small kit. "Take this. Testing strips. Drop them in your drink. If they change color, you've got a problem."
Leon took the kit. "My mother said you were a royal poisoner."
"Was. Retired twenty years ago." Keiran returned to his grinding. "Got tired of killing people. Turns out teaching nobles how not to die is more satisfying."
"How many people did you kill?"
"Enough to know exactly how much won't kill you." Keiran glanced up. "Any other questions?"
Leon thought about Damian. About House Mordain. About whether they'd try poison again.
"How do you build immunity to something you've never encountered before?"
"You don't. That's why new poisons are so effective." Keiran set down his pestle. "But experienced poisoners are rare. Most assassins use what's available, what's known. If you survive the common ones, you'll survive most attempts."
Leon nodded and headed for the door.
"Boy," Keiran called. Leon stopped. "Your mother told me you figured out the poison before drinking it. That's good instincts. But instincts only work if you're paying attention. Stay sharp."
"I will."
Leon left the workshop and headed to the training yard. His daily routine. Poison lessons at dawn, sword practice after, ice magic in the afternoon.
The wolfsbane dose had been too small to feel. But knowing it was in his system, even harmlessly, made him aware of his body in a new way. His heartbeat. His breathing. The way his muscles moved.
Aren was already in the yard, running through forms.
"How was it?" Aren asked, not stopping his movements.
"Educational."
"You look fine. Mother said the first few days would be easy."
Leon picked up a practice sword. "She told you about the training?"
"She tells me everything." Aren switched to a defensive stance. "Come on. Let's see if poison makes you slower."
They sparred for an hour. Leon held his own better than usual. His mind felt sharper, more focused. Maybe it was the INT increase from yesterday. Maybe it was just determination.
[Skill Level Up: Swordsmanship, Lv 6 → Lv 7]
He dismissed the notification mid-swing and pressed his advantage. Aren blocked but had to step back.
"There," Aren said. "That's what I'm talking about. You're getting better."
They reset and continued. By the time they finished, Leon's muscles ached but his mind was clear.
Lunch was quiet. Leon ate alone in his room, reviewing what Master Keiran had taught him. Smell. Color. Consistency. Temperature. Testing strips.
He pulled out his journal and started a new section.
Poison IdentificationWolfsbane - faintly bitter smell, attacks heartNightshade - sweet-wrong smell, affects mindDarkroot - earthy smell, targets liver
He added more notes. Everything Keiran had said. Everything that might matter later.
When afternoon came, he went to his ice magic lesson with his mother's senior mage. An old woman named Yelena who had more patience than anyone Leon had ever met.
"Show me Frost Edge," she said.
Leon drew his practice blade and focused. Ice spread across the steel, thin and controlled. He moved through three strikes. The frost held.
"Four," Yelena said.
Leon continued. Fourth strike. Fifth. On the sixth, the ice shattered.
"Better than last week." Yelena made a note in her book. "Your control is improving. But you're still thinking about it too much. The ice should be instinct, not concentration."
"How do I make it instinct?"
"Practice until you can do it in your sleep." Yelena demonstrated, ice forming on her hand without any visible effort. "I've been doing this for fifty years. The magic is part of me now. For you, it'll take time."
Leon reformed the ice on his blade and tried again. This time he made it to seven strikes before it broke.
[Skill Level Up: Neve Family Technique: Frost Edge, Lv 3 → Lv 4]
Progress. Slow, but real.
The day ended with dinner in his room again. He reviewed his notes, added more observations, then collapsed into bed.
His dreams were strange. He was back at the Winter Ball, watching Damian across the room. But instead of the ballroom, they were standing in a frozen wasteland. Shadow and ice, competing for space.
Leon woke before dawn, his heart racing.
The Status effect from the wolfsbane was long gone. But the dream stayed with him.
He got dressed and headed to Master Keiran's workshop for day two.
This time, he'd be ready.