Azrael climbed in first. His parents followed right behind him. The door clicked shut with a soft sound that felt final. The carriage rolled forward with a gentle sway.
Wheels crunched over the gravel drive. The estate fell behind them as they headed down the long road toward Count Blackthorn's hall.
Inside the carriage the seats were plush velvet. Azrael sat between his mother and father. He kept his hands folded neatly in his lap like the perfect little boy. Sunlight filtered through the lace curtains and warmed his face.
Lady Selene turned to him with a soft smile. Her violet eyes sparkled with that familiar warmth.
"Azrael, my sweet one," she said gently. "Are you excited to meet Count Eldric? He is a seventh-class magus after all. Quite the fan of magic yourself, aren't you?"
He looked up at her with the biggest smile he could manage. His cheeks lifted high and his red eyes crinkled at the corners. "Yes, Mother!" he chirped.
"I can't wait to see him. He's so strong and smart."
'This is so embarrassing,' he thought.
Count Alaric chuckled low and ruffled Azrael's neatly combed black hair.
"That's my boy. Always eager to learn."
The conversation drifted easily after that. They talked about Elara, his fifteen-year-old sister who was away at the Royal Arcane Academy. Selene's voice filled with pride as she described Elara's latest letter.
How her sword aura had grown sharper and her spells more precise. Alaric added stories from his own youth. How the roads they traveled now used to be wilder before the counts formed their alliances.
Azrael listened and nodded at all the right moments. He asked small questions in his cute voice.
"Does Elara miss us when she's at the academy?" The carriage wheels kept turning. Outside the window the countryside rolled by in slow, beautiful detail. Green hills stretched far, dotted with wildflower fields that swayed in the breeze.
Distant towers of other noble estates poked above the treetops. Magic lanterns hung from roadside posts even in daylight. Their faint glow reminded everyone that this was a land where sword aura and spells shaped daily life.
Merchants' carts passed them once or twice. The drivers tipped their hats to the Draekon crest on the carriage door.
Azrael stared out the window the whole time. 'It's peaceful here,' he thought. 'Too peaceful maybe. After last night with those traffickers, I wonder how deep the Jexis Church's roots go.' But he kept the cute act going.
He laughed when his father made a joke about old battles. He leaned into his mother's side when she patted his knee. The ride felt long in the best way. Slow and full of small comforts that made his chest feel strangely warm.
Finally the carriage slowed. Count Blackthorn's hall came into view through the trees. Azrael's eyes widened just a little. The building was massive. White stone walls rose high with spiraling towers capped in gold.
Floating crystal orbs drifted around the upper balconies like tiny stars. Banners in deep crimson and silver fluttered from every parapet. The gardens leading up to it were perfectly trimmed.
Roses bloomed in enchanted colors that shifted from red to purple as the light changed. Fountains sprayed water that sparkled with embedded mana.
'It's even bigger than our estate,' he thought.
'Impressive. No wonder everyone wants to be part of this territory.'
They stepped out together. Footmen in crisp uniforms bowed low. The air smelled of fresh bread from the kitchens and faint perfume from the arriving guests. As soon as they walked through the grand double doors every head turned.
Young girls in pretty dresses paused mid-step. Older ladies in flowing gowns lifted their fans a little higher. Whispers rippled across the entrance hall.
Azrael felt all those eyes on him. He kept his posture straight. His black coat with the deep red lining caught the light from the overhead chandeliers. The gold cords across his chest gleamed. His messy black hair had been tamed just enough to look intentional. Those sharp red eyes scanned the room calmly.
He looked majestic. Like a young prince stepped out of an old painting. Small for his age but carrying himself with quiet confidence that made people stare longer than they meant to.
Some of the women near the refreshment tables leaned in close to each other. "If I were only just a bit younger," one murmured with a soft laugh, "that boy would have been mine. Look at those eyes."
Another nodded. "The Draekon heir. So elegant already."
Count Eldric Blackthorn approached them then. He was a tall man in his late forties. Silver streaks ran through his neatly trimmed brown hair. His blue eyes held the calm power of someone who had mastered seventh-class magic years ago.
A simple but rich robe of midnight blue draped over his shoulders. Golden runes stitched along the hem glowed faintly. Behind him walked a girl who looked about thirteen. She had soft brown curls that framed her round face. Her cheeks flushed red the moment her eyes met Azrael's.
Next to her stood a boy around the same age. His bright red hair stuck up in messy spikes. He glared at Azrael with clear annoyance twisting his mouth.
Alaric and Selene greeted the count warmly.
"Count Blackthorn," Alaric said with a firm handshake and a genuine smile.
"Thank you for the invitation. The journey was pleasant."
Selene curtsied gracefully. "The hall looks more beautiful every year. Your mages have outdone themselves with the floating orbs."
Count Eldric returned the smile.
"Count Draekon, Lady Selene, it is always a pleasure. And is this your son?" He looked Azrael up and down with open curiosity.
"The youngest Draekon. I have heard good things about his talent."
Alaric nodded proudly.
"Yes, this is Azrael. And our daughter Elara is still doing wonderfully at the academy."
"Excellent news," Eldric replied. He clapped Alaric on the shoulder.
"We must catch up properly after the opening dance. The Jexis Church matter can wait for a quiet moment."
Azrael stood there politely. Inside his mind raced.
'A seventh-class mage right in front of me. I really want a real conversation with him later. See how his mana feels up close.' He had wanted that since the carriage ride.
The girl with the brown curls kept staring at him. Her face grew even redder. She fidgeted with the lace on her sleeve. Azrael glanced the other way. The red-haired boy was still glaring. His fists clenched at his sides.
'Does this young brat have a crush on her or something?' Azrael thought. A small smirk tugged at his lips before he could stop it. He gave a tiny wave to both kids then turned and walked off toward the main hall with his parents.
All eyes stayed on him as he moved. The majestic little figure in the black-and-red coat drew whispers and smiles from every corner. He felt the attention but kept his steps light.
Later, after the greetings and the first round of music, servants led the Draekon family to their guest rooms on the upper floor. Azrael got his own chamber. The door clicked shut behind him and he let out a quiet breath of relief.
'Finally alone. Thank the old demons for small favors.'
Selene stepped in for a moment before leaving. She cupped his face gently.
"Come here, my sweet boy. Give your mother some kisses. You look so cute tonight I could just squeeze you forever."
He hesitated for half a second. The old memories of battles and gods flickered in the back of his mind. Then he leaned in and planted two quick kisses on her cheek.
"Good night, Mother," he said with a bright smile.
She hugged him tight and left with a happy sigh.
Alaric came in next. Without warning he scooped Azrael up into his strong arms. The boy dangled there for a moment.
'What are you doing?' Azrael thought. But he kept the cute smile plastered on his face and let out a soft laugh like any happy ten-year-old would.
Alaric held him close. "Have safe dreams, son," he murmured. He pressed a warm kiss to Azrael's cheek. Then he set the boy down gently and left the room.
Azrael sat on the edge of the big four-poster bed. The silk sheets felt cool under his palms. He glanced around to make sure the door was fully closed.
"Abyssal Hoard," he whispered.
A small ripple of purple shadow opened beside him. He reached in and pulled out the black hood from the night before. The fabric felt familiar and heavy in his hands. He slipped it over his head. It settled low over his eyes.
The room fell quiet except for the distant sound of music drifting up from the hall below