As soon as the young man left the dream space, his eyes shot open in the real world. Just as he had expected, there was a gentle knock at the door. Rising from his bed, he walked over and peered through the small peephole. After confirming the identity of the person knocking, he opened the door.

Standing there was a young maid, likely a little older than him.

Upon seeing the sleep still lingering in his expression, the maid quickly apologized, "I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep."

The young man gave a casual shrug. "No worries. What's the matter?"

"Her lady is requesting your presence," the maid replied.

"Alright, I'll be there in a bit."

With those words, he tidied up his disheveled clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles and straightening his appearance, before heading out toward the large mansion next door.

Upon reaching the mansion's entrance, he was greeted by two knights clad in silver armor, their gallant air unmistakable. The intricate designs on their armor made them appear even more imposing, and the crossed spears at the door signified their role as protectors.

Despite their daunting presence, the fierce looks in their eyes betrayed the hardness that came from countless battles. Though the young man couldn't sense spiritual energy, being powerless in that regard, he could tell that these knights were no ordinary soldiers. They were experts, ranking far above the common warrior.

A look of realization crossed his face. These knights being here meant something important.

As soon as he approached, the knights, as if expecting him, uncrossed their spears, clearing the path for him. He nodded in acknowledgment and stepped into the mansion.

Once inside, he found the same maid waiting for him. She led him through the mansion's opulent halls, guiding him toward the grand hall. While the exterior of the mansion was grand, the interior far surpassed it in luxury. The grand hall was a sight to behold, with intricate designs that reflected royal architecture.

Every corner of the room seemed to speak of wealth and power, with lavish furnishings and fine craftsmanship on display. Several seats were arranged in the hall, each adding to the room's regal atmosphere.

Seated in the hall were a few figures. One of them was a woman he recognized—her blonde hair flowing elegantly over a luxurious garment. She was a striking beauty, someone of clear importance. Beside her sat a young girl who bore a strong resemblance to her, a clear indication of their familial bond.

Across from them, another woman sat, this one with black hair. She too wore luxurious garments adorned with fine gold jewelry, exuding an air of extravagance. Beside her was a young boy around the same age as the young man, also with black hair.

As soon as the maid had led him into the hall, she bowed respectfully and made her exit, leaving him in the presence of the gathered individuals.

"Greetings, my lady," he said with a slight bow toward the blonde woman seated before him. Seeing him, she smiled warmly.

"Lian, how are you doing? Sit down," she replied, gesturing to a seat nearby. "It seems you've been sleeping too much again."

She pointed at the bags under his eyes, a clear sign of either too much or too little sleep, and let out a faint laugh. It wasn't a surprise that even the Countess was aware of the rumors about his erratic sleeping habits—rumors about how he would sometimes fall asleep at random intervals.

Lian, as usual, tried to brush off the concern. "My lady, it's not as bad as it looks. I actually had Moonbloom leaf last night."

The Countess, Lady Mariana Catellen, chuckled softly. "Don't worry, Lian. I understand your condition, so there's no need to be embarrassed about your sleeping habits. It's not your fault."

In truth, Lian's relationship with the Countess and her family was quite close. His mother, Elara Eshar, had been Lady Mariana's handmaiden and close friend. After Elara's tragic death during Lian's birth, the Countess had taken him in and raised him as though he were her own.

Despite the difference in status between a handmaiden and a countess, their bond had been so strong that formalities never came between them. As a result, Lady Mariana had always treated Lian with kindness, and he had formed a close friendship with her daughter.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Lady Mariana often teased Lian about his sleeping habits, finding his reactions endearing. Though his condition had been a matter of concern for years, they had consulted countless physicians to no avail. His unmanageable sleep patterns seemed to be beyond a cure, leaving it as one of those problems they had accepted, albeit with lingering sadness.

Noticing his shy reaction, Lady Mariana smiled again and gestured toward the woman sitting opposite her. "Lian, this is Duchess Elowen Mirelda. She is the one who requested your presence."

Lian's eyes widened slightly at the introduction. He quickly bowed and greeted her. "Greetings, Your Grace."

The black-haired woman smiled back at him. "No need for formalities, Lian," she replied warmly.

Though he had already suspected as much from the knights stationed outside, this was the confirmation he needed. The woman before him was none other than the powerful Duchess Elowen Mirelda Thornward of Ardenthall, the region in which this county was located.

Her reputation was well known—her influence in the royal court was immense. Rumors about her power had swirled for years, but Lian had never paid them much attention. He had always been too focused on his own struggles to care much for courtly politics.

With this confirmation, he now knew who the boy sitting beside the Duchess was as well—Lord Alaric Rian Thornward, her eldest son. The rumors had suggested he was a year older than Lian, but their similar height made them appear to be of the same age.

As Lian took his seat, Alaric stared at him intensely, a smug look crossing his face. His gaze was sharp, almost piercing, and Lian found himself irritated by it. It was as if Alaric was trying to bore a hole through his skin, as if he couldn't wait to speak his mind. Lian's body tensed uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the young noble's scrutinizing eyes.

Duchess Elowen smiled again, her gaze now on Lian. "My, hasn't he grown up quite a bit?" she remarked, her tone polite, but something in her words made Lian frown inwardly. Though his expression remained mostly neutral, there was an odd tension in the air, one he couldn't quite place.

"I remember his mother, that maid," Duchess Elowen added, her tone carrying a hint of nostalgia. "She was very pretty, and you were quite fond of her in those years. It's a shame she died so young."

A brief flash of sorrow crossed Lady Mariana's eyes as she seemed to reminisce. She sighed, her voice soft and laced with emotion. "Well, it's in the past now. Heaven's will, I suppose. Man can't oppose it, and if it was Heaven's will for her to go, then so be it. It's unfortunate, but life can be devastating."

"That's true," Duchess Elowen replied, her gaze shifting back to Lian. "But you've done a fine job raising this boy. He's grown into a fine young man." Her smile brightened as she studied Lian. "I hear he's been quite close to little Elysia."

She was, of course, referring to the young girl seated beside Lady Mariana, her daughter. "It must be nice for her to have such a close companion," Elowen continued, her tone still calm but carrying a subtle weight. "Especially as she prepares for her future with Alaric when she comes of age. It must be reassuring for her to have someone to keep her company in the meantime, don't you think?"

Though her words were polite, Lian couldn't miss the thinly veiled message beneath them. A chill ran through him as he realized the Duchess was drawing a line between him and Elysia. She was making it clear that the girl's future with Alaric had already been sealed, and any closeness beyond friendship would not be tolerated.

Lian remained composed, though inwardly, he sighed. He had known for some time that Elysia was betrothed to Alaric, the eldest son of the Thornward family, but he had never paid much attention to it. He had always seen Elysia as a sister—nothing more. They had grown up together, their bond close and innocent. To him, it was a relationship built on familial affection, not romantic interest. However, the Duchess's words made it clear that his presence was now being scrutinized. He could no longer pretend his relationship with Elysia was without consequence.

Elysia, sitting silently, seemed to pick up on the underlying tension. A frown creased her face in clear displeasure. She had always seen Lian as a brother, and the thought of any threat to their bond unsettled her. Not even her arranged marriage to Alaric could alter that. She would not allow anything to come between her and Lian—not even societal expectations.

Alaric, noticing her expression, smiled smugly before chiming in. "Mother," he began, his tone falsely respectful. "I understand all of that, but isn't it wonderful? At least this boy—what's his name, Lian—has been a great help to my future wife. He's acted as a brother to her, hasn't he? It's not bad, really. I think it's quite nice."

His smile widened as he glanced at Lian, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. "Since he's going to be my future brother-in-law, I should extend some courtesy toward him, don't you think?"

Lian's jaw tightened as he listened to Alaric's words. There was something off about his tone, as though Alaric were toying with him, trying to provoke a reaction.

Alaric continued, "I heard you've decided to become a warrior, Lian. I admire ambition, truly. But I've also heard you've had some… difficulties. Rumor has it you can't sense or use spiritual energy, which is quite rare. That must be devastating for someone with such determination."

His voice dripped with mock sympathy. "I've heard you frequent the god Pillars, seeking enlightenment, and yet… nothing. That must be hard. Especially knowing you'll be connected to the Thornward family in the future. It's really a pity."

Though the words seemed polite on the surface, Lian could sense the malice beneath them. Alaric wasn't offering understanding; he was flaunting Lian's misfortune in front of everyone.

Lian forced himself to remain composed, though inside, he felt a surge of irritation.

Alaric's carefully chosen words were meant to cut deep, and it was clear that he relished in doing so. Lian's suspicion grew—Alaric was up to no good, and these 'kind' remarks were just the beginning of whatever he had planned.