As the sun went down, Lane took a detour through the gardens, walking around and reaching the side of the castle instead of its front entrance. There, maids and servants busied themselves preparing the dinner or getting ready the work for the first task of the next day.

Lane fitted in seamlessly among the castle’s staff and made his way unbothered until he reached the kitchen. There, the smell of broth and freshly baked bread reminded him he had spent the whole day wandering without pause.

So he scurried trough the kitchen and scrapped a piece of bread and cheese. None of the kitchen personnel said a thing, and neither did Lane even although today they seemed busier than usual. Perhaps another merchant paying a visit to the Lord. Thought Lane as he exited the kitchen and walked while nibbling at his bread.

Unlike its’ imposing outward appearance, the castle’s interior was that of austere simplicity. Here, closer to the kitchen and the staff quarters, that only accentuated to the point where empty hallways with naked walls were the norm.

Oddly, despite the darkness and cold air, Lane found that emptiness calming. The silence of the hallways disturbed only by the echoes of his steps on hard stone. He fell into a slow pace and allowed himself to wander, thinking of the events of the day.

He still had not seen Dahlia, nor his sister. However, although earlier he had been looking forward to the meeting, now he didn’t feel so sure. His father, too, had been looking for him, and that one was not a meeting Lane looked forward to having.

Outside, the daylight was gone. In its place, a gloom spread over the town and leaked into the castle bringing along the cold breeze of winter. Lane shivered, and recalled the old man, grasping his shoulder with a cold grip. The weight of the book on his back proving it had all been real. “Read it alone,” the old man had said. Somehow, now Lane did not found the words as convincing.

Perhaps, he thought, I should ask father for help? Yet the sole thought made him grimace.

“Ahem,” A cough by his side caught Lane’s attention and making him stop.

Standing on a door a few steps away was a youth about Lane’s age. He had short blue hair combed sideways, and revealing some streaks of silver. He wore a white long-sleeved shirt, dark blue pants, and a pair of gloves of matching color. His shoes were completely black. Still, even in the dim light of the corridor, those shoes shone with polished reflections.

Lane frowned with his fist closing, and his lips tight on a line.

“Young Lord,” said the youth as he bowed with his right hand to the shoulder and his left extended palm up at the front, “I believe the Lord and the Captain are waiting for you at the meeting hall.”

“I am not a Lord, Hans,” Lane said, “And I don’t find that amusing, I think I’ve said it plenty of times already.”

“Hmm, my apologies,” said Hans straightening, “perhaps, the young master is so imposing, that I keep forgetting it.”

Lane scoffed but did not retort, instead, he turned away and started walking to the hall. However, as he was about to leave, Hans called him out again.

“If I may, young master?”

“Hmm? What do you want now, Hans?” asked Lane looking at Hans sideways.

“It’s just a personal suggestion but,” And he paused for a moment looking Lane up and down, “You may want to refresh, and change your attire before the meeting.”

Lane looked at him but Hans’ face was a deadpan mask without a single hint of joy nor mockery.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Thanks, Hans.” Answered Lane between his teeth. For an answer, Hans gave a nod. His face was still unchanged as Lane walked away.

As Lane made way for the meeting hall, the corridors’ bare decoration started changing into one of functional opulence. His steps echo fading as carpets covered what previously were stone floors. The walls showing an occasional painting depicting sceneries from the surroundings of the town. Finally, when he reached a dual wooden door carved with elaborated lines, Lane realized he still held a piece of bread.

He let out a sigh, threw the bread in his mouth, and gulped it without chewing. Then, after dusting his hands, Lane pushed the doors open.

The light from a spacious room pushed away all the gloom in the hallway, blinding Lane for a moment. Just as his sight was coming back, he heard a happy voice and felt a pair of arms wrapping around his right one.

“Lane!” Called his sister. “Where were you? We looked for you the whole day! Rolf even said he told you!”

At the mention of Rolf, Lane could not help but purse his lips. Turning to the voice, he saw Lena, his sister.

Looking at her face always left a sense of unease in Lane. She had his same brown hair, his same green eyes, and his same slim frame. A mirror in every sense but the length of her hair that, coupled with her current yellow dress, made Lena the perfect image of him in girl’s clothes.

To his despair, Dahlia had joked once that he looked like a failing disguise of Lena posing as a pretty boy. He had promptly denied it, claiming Lena looked like a handsome boy wearing a skirt. The exchange had ended pretty badly for him. To date, Lane had to accept that with each passing day, Dahlia’s joke was coming closer to a prophecy than he may like.

Today, however, that face finally looked different, as some white streaks of hair fell to her shoulders along the brown cascade.

“Lena! Your hair! Is that?” asked Lane.

“Yes! I’m linking!” she cut him, “And not only me, look!” She said pointing to the hall.

Over there, around a long table sat her. She was wearing a long, blue dress yet still sat with her legs crossed as was the costume for a young lady wearing a skirt. She was looking his way, with a slight smirk and squinting eyes. She wore her hair tied in a single braid that fell forward over her left shoulder.

It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but with attention, Lane saw that in her braid, some strands were a lighter color matching the pinkish lines on her blue eyes.

Lane smiled.

“So? How was it?” asked Lena shaking his arm.

“Uh? What was?” Said Lane looking at her.

“You, oh…” She said after checking his hair, “You haven’t started linking yet?”

“Ah! Sorry!” She said at Lane’s grimace, “I, I am sure you will start soon. There is still more than a week!”

“Eh, yeah.” Lane said scratching the back of his head and looking downwards. The book hanging by his back seeming to increase in weight.

“Don’t worry young man. When I had my reveal, I didn’t start with the link until the last day, ha ha ha!” Boomed a deep voice from the end of the table.

Only then, did Lane paid attention to the other people sitting at the table. Sitting at the head of the table, was a tall man with a broad back wearing a black long-sleeved shirt. His red hair resembled hers but his eyes were a deeper, darker blue. Deren Korden, City Lord of the Kingdoms’ Northern border. He was waving a big hand at Lane, inviting him to approach with a wide grin.

Then, at his right hand was another man. This one was a little shorter and had a slimmer build. Yet, he was still tall, and the muscles in his arms were noticeable even through the sleeves of his grey shirt. He had short black hair and a well-trimmed beard.

Captain of the border, the right hand of the City Lord, and Lane’s father, Lance Darr sat staring at him in silence.

After an awkward moment in which his father gave Lane’s outfit a look, he finally spoke.

“Come, son, don’t let Deren waiting.”

“Yes, father, thanks my Lord,” and he made his way to the table.

As he walked to the table, Lena followed him without letting go of his arm.

“Come, Lane! I wanted you to meet her earlier, but you took too long playing away.” She said smiling and pointing at the last member of the table. She was a short girl sitting in a diplomat position at the left of the Lord. As he closed in, he saw she had sandy blonde hair falling just above her exposed shoulders. She turned and looked at him with a pair of brown eyes that sparkled with streaks of vibrant green.