The dining room was quiet, save for the occasional clink of silverware against the plates. A large roasted pheasant sat on the table’s center platter, its skin glazed with a honey-citrus marinade that glistened under the light of the chandelier. Bowls of spiced rice, stewed mushrooms with cream, and roasted root vegetables accompanied the dish. At the far end of the table, a small basket of fresh bread rolls rested under a linen cloth, their tops dusted with flour.

Ronan sliced a piece of pheasant from his plate, chewing in silence. His gaze wandered briefly to Gideon, who ate with the same grace he approached everything in life. There was no conversation—just the occasional crackle of the fire in the corner hearth and the muted shuffling of servants somewhere in the distance.

The door creaked open, and Suri stepped in, balancing a tray with a finesse which made it seem like he would drop it right there. He was wearing a simple uniform, the sleeves slightly too long for his slender frame. His dark eyes gleamed with pride as he approached the table, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. On the tray sat a golden bowl filled with fragrant broth, garnished with herbs and slices of pale meat.

“Stew’s ready, Master Gideon,” Suri said as he set the bowl gently in front of him. He turned to Ronan with a small nod before straightening up, his posture stiff but eager.

“Thank you, Suri,” Gideon said, his voice even but kind enough to make the boy’s shoulders relax. Suri lingered for a moment, then gave a slight bow and left as quickly as he’d come.

Ronan’s eyes followed Suri out the door, then flicked back to Gideon. “You’re giving him too much to do,” he said flatly, though there was no real bite in his tone.

“He needs something to focus on,” Gideon replied, not looking up. “Purpose keeps people afloat. Even when they feel like they’re drowning.”

Ronan didn’t answer, instead turning his attention back to the pheasant on his plate. He wasn’t in the mood to push the conversation. Especially not a philosophical one.

After a few moments, Gideon broke the silence again. “How are your preparations coming along?”

Ronan leaned back in his chair, setting his fork down with a faint clatter. “Fine, I guess. We were done with all the important stuff about the university and the empire and Tobias has been drilling me on the etiquettes—what to say, how to stand, where to bow. Apparently, knowing which fork to use is more important than anything else.” He let out a short laugh, sharp and bitter. “Of course, none of it actually matters if you’re at the wrong end of the system.”

Gideon’s expression didn’t change, but there was a subtle shift in his gaze, something thoughtful and almost... regretful. “Things,” he said slowly, “are not as immovable as they seem.”

Ronan frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gideon reached for his glass, swirling the amber liquid inside before taking a measured sip. “Many people thrive on appearances. But a lot of times, the foundation beneath the exterior is fragile. There are cracks, whether people choose to see them or not.”

Ronan tilted his head, his curiosity piqued despite himself. “You talk like you’re not a part of it.”

“I play my role,” Gideon said, his tone carrying just enough weight to make Ronan pause. “But not all roles are permanent.”

Ronan studied him for a moment, trying to decipher the meaning behind the words, but Gideon’s face remained as inscrutable as ever. With a soft sigh, Ronan turned back to his plate, deciding not to press further.

Honestly, he was getting a little tired of his complete, yet incomplete sentences.

After a pause, Gideon spoke again, “I have been thinking of sending Suri with you to the university as an attendant.”

Ronan frowned, his grip tightening on his fork. “Suri? As my attendant?” The words felt foreign in his mouth. He glanced up at Gideon, half-expecting him to smirk or say he was joking, but he was aware Gideon was not one of those guys.

“Yes,” Gideon said, his tone calm as ever. He took a sip from his glass, watching Ronan carefully. “He’s young, yes, but he’s determined. And I think the two of you would be good for each other.”

Ronan stabbed at a piece of pheasant, though he had no real appetite anymore. “Suri doesn’t belong in a place like that. He’s... not used to it.” The last words came out quieter, as if he were talking about himself just as much as Suri.

“And you are?” Gideon’s question was soft, but it cut through the air like a blade.

Ronan’s eyes flicked up to meet his, narrowing slightly. “You know I’m not,” he muttered. He shoved the pheasant around his plate, his tone growing defensive. “But he’s a baby. He’s got no idea what it’s going to be like. From what I know, there will be people who’ll look down on him just for breathing. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m doing, and now you’re saying I should drag him into it? A ten year old kid into this?”

“And yet, he’s a kid who looks up to you,” Gideon said, his tone softening but his gaze sharp. “Did you think no one noticed him following you around like a baby chick? He follows your lead, Ronan. If he sees you facing this, he’ll rise to the occasion too.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worried,” Ronan muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Because what if the Ronan Grey from the slums who’s pretending to be Ronan Vandross from the nobles, messes up? And he knew he was going to mess up.

Gideon’s expression softened slightly, seemingly picking up on his thoughts. “You’re worried because you care. That’s good. It’s better than indifference.” He let the words settle for a moment before continuing. “But protecting him doesn’t mean keeping him in a cage. It means giving him the tools to stand on his own, even when it’s difficult. I thought I had made that clear on our first meeting.”

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Ronan slumped back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. The knot in his stomach hadn’t loosened, but Gideon’s words had hit their mark.

“Tell you what,” he wiped his hands with the washcloth lying on the side and stood up, “Why don’t we let Suri decide for himself?”

***

The heavy double doors of Gideon’s office creaked open as Ronan stepped inside, trailing a few paces behind Suri. The room was as imposing as ever, with the faint scent of leather and ink. A crackling fire burned in the hearth, its soft light flickering against the high shelves lined with tomes Ronan had no doubt Gideon had read a million times.

Suri stood rigid in front of Gideon’s desk, his back straight but his hands trembling slightly at his sides. Ronan slouched near the doorway, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for a way to change the topic entirely.

Gideon gestured for Suri to step closer, his expression unreadable. “You’ve done well since coming here,” he began, his voice measured and deliberate. “Adapted quickly. Took on every task given to you with focus and dedication.”

Suri blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise, though he quickly recovered, nodding sharply. “Thank you, Master Gideon.” His voice was steady, but the faint tremor in his hands betrayed his nerves.

Gideon leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze settling on the boy. “I’ve been considering who should accompany Ronan to the university. It’s an important decision. An attendant isn’t just a servant—they’re a reflection of the person they serve.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with expectation. Suri’s breathing quickened, his hands gripping the fabric of his trousers as though anchoring himself. Ronan watched him from the corner of his eye, his jaw tightening.

Gideon paused for a moment before continuing, his voice calm but firm. “I’ve decided it will be you, Suri.”

Suri’s eyes widened, his composure slipping for just a heartbeat. “Me?” he breathed, the word almost inaudible.

“Yes.” Gideon’s tone was absolute. “It won’t be easy. The university is a far cry from this estate—or the slums where both of you came from. You’ll face challenges, scrutiny, and no small amount of prejudice. But I believe you’re ready for it.”

Suri’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, his dark eyes shining with barely contained excitement. He straightened his posture, his trembling hands curling into fists at his sides. “I... I’ll do it, Master Gideon. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Gideon inclined his head slightly, his approval understated but clear. “Good.”

Ronan shifted against the wall, his frown deepening. “Hold on a second.”

Both Gideon and Suri turned to look at him, and Ronan pushed off the wall, his arms uncrossing as he walked toward them. His gaze settled on Suri, his tone quieter but no less firm. “Are you sure about this? It’s not just fetching tea and following orders, Suri. This isn’t the estate. It’s going to be rough out there.”

Suri nodded eagerly, his smile widening. “I know. And I’m ready. I’ll learn everything I need to, and I won’t let you down.”

Ronan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You say that now, but you don’t know what you’re walking into.”

“I don’t care,” Suri said, his voice gaining strength. “I want to go with you. I... I want to prove I can do it.”

Ronan stared at him for a long moment, searching for any sign of hesitation. There was none. The boy’s excitement and determination practically radiated off him, and for the first time since the conversation began, Ronan felt the knot in his chest loosen slightly.

He let out a slow breath, glancing at Gideon. “If you’re sure about this... and if he’s really sure... fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gideon’s lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile. “Duly noted.”

Suri grinned, practically bouncing on his heels. “Thank you, Ronan! I promise, I won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ronan muttered, waving him off. “Just don’t get in my way, alright?”

“Suri, you’re dismissed,” Gideon said smoothly, interrupting before Suri could speak again. “Go and pack up. Let Reginald know whatever you need for yourself. He will help you get ready for tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!” Suri said, bowing quickly before turning and walking out of the room. He glanced over his shoulder at Ronan, his grin still lingering, before disappearing through the heavy doors.

The moment the doors closed, Gideon gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”

Ronan hesitated, glancing toward the door as if considering following Suri out. With a resigned sigh, he dropped into the chair, slouching slightly. “What now?”

Gideon didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he opened a drawer and pulled out a small, ornately carved box. He set it down on the desk between them, his expression as impassive as ever. It was small, with geometric patterns etched into its surface. Ronan arched an eyebrow, his curiosity barely masked beneath a casual expression.

“Open it,” Gideon said, leaning back in his chair.

Ronan hesitated for a moment before flipping open the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of deep blue velvet, was a silver ring. The band was unassuming at first glance, but closer inspection revealed faint runes etched into its surface, glowing faintly with a soft, pale light. At its center, a small, glossy black stone was embedded, shimmering with a faint iridescence.

“It’s a vaultstone,” Gideon explained, his voice calm and measured. “This one has a moderate capacity. Enough to store essentials and a few extras. I thought it might come in handy at the university.”

Ronan’s fingers hovered over the ring before he picked it up. The metal was cool against his skin, and the faint hum of magic within it sent a subtle shiver up his spine. He turned it over in his hands, studying the craftsmanship, though he made a point of keeping his expression neutral.

“A separate dimension for storage,” he said, slipping the ring onto his finger. It adjusted instantly, resizing to fit perfectly. He flexed his hand, feeling the faint pulse of energy from the vaultstone. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Gideon’s tone carried a hint of dry amusement. “I see you’re as hard to impress as ever.”

Ronan shrugged, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward for the briefest moment. “It’s... practical. Thanks.”

Gideon’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, but he didn’t comment further. Instead, he shifted the conversation. “When you arrive at the university, you’ll meet many people. Some will want to befriend you, others will want to use you. Be careful who you trust.”

Ronan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I don’t really need a lecture on trust. I can handle myself.”

Gideon’s gaze sharpened slightly, his voice taking on a sterner edge. “Overconfidence has led many to ruin. You can’t always take people at face value. Manipulation isn’t always obvious.”

Ronan’s jaw tightened, but he met Gideon’s gaze evenly. “I’m not overconfident. And I’m not naive, either. I can tell a lot about people... sometimes even more than they realize.”

Gideon tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Is that so?”

Ronan hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking. “Yeah. I can... feel things. Emotions. It’s like a sense. I don’t always understand it, but it’s there. I know when someone’s lying, or when they’re angry, or... hiding something.”

For the first time in the conversation, Gideon’s calm demeanor cracked slightly. His eyes narrowed, and his posture straightened, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his features.

“What do you mean?”

Ronan cocked his head to one side, “I mean, I even sense your emotions a lot of times. I felt them when you first met me too.”