Three days after the Sea Beast incident, Ashwood Manor had become a fortress of reverence.
Servants bowed so low their spines creaked. Knights saluted with such force that shoulders popped out of sockets. Gardeners trimmed hedges in perfect, terrified silence whenever Kaelen passed. Even the manor's cats had started walking in straight lines around him.
Kaelen found it exhausting.
"They're all so polite," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "I wish someone would just tell me if I have dirt on my face."
A passing maid overheard.
She burst into tears.
"The Great One worries about *dirt*..."
Her friends spent the next hour trying to console her. Kaelen watched from the window, utterly bewildered, wondering if he'd accidentally broken another social norm.
---
Baron Roland had a different problem.
The Western Continental Tournament.
