His ego took a large hit. But he understood it. Adrian wasn’t the Sterkhander heir. Eventually, he would be disinherited and given a knight order to manage as Knight Commander. If he got lucky, maybe his own fort across the frontier. None of them would deal with him much, considering their vast number of years. Each one could have been literally fifty times his age, if not more.

To them he was a baby. Lower even considering the gap would be like a newborn and a sixty-year-old grandfather.

I wonder how old Halvard is?

He carried their Mark level. He couldn’t be that much younger right? Adrian again wondered how strong each one was compared to his knight. What levels were their non-Mark skills? He couldn’t imagine the skill level of someone that had lived for a thousand years. He guessed if Halvard fought anyone of them, it would come down to the smallest things.

Differences at that level were magnified.

The knights that followed each shook Adrian’s hand firmly. They kept their helms on since none of them would ever speak in the presence of the meeting. Only standing at attention to their master, and their master’s master. Each one stood with their walls on the back, next to their maids and servants.

Galant bowed with a flourish. “Lord Sterkhander.”

The other two were quick to copy him. There were traditions they followed. The first Knight Commander would always start, and then the rest would follow in order. Cartek being the last in line so far. Until the day they elevated another Knight Commander.

“Lord Alaric,” Cartek rose from his bow. “It is always a pleasure to see your grace.”

Alaric’s face brightened, a smile blooming. “Likewise, Knight Commander Cartek. We must get together to discuss military convention sometime soon.”

“It would be my honor.”

Alaric beamed, back straight.

The rest gave their salutations without much back and forth. They were here for important matters that decided their fate. There could be time for socialization some other day, or at worst after the gathering. They sat in their respective spots closest seat on Magnus’s left.

Adrian and his siblings sat to Magnus’s right. An empty seat at the head of the table, next to the throne seat, for their long-passed mother.

“Keep the doors open,” Magnus said, before he turned to his knight commanders.

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He whispered to them. A myriad of reactions occurred on their faces, but it was too vague for, the now seated, Adrian to figure out. There was an intense discussion going on with lively back and forth between them. Eventually, Galant shook his head but accepted whatever Magnus and Diossius were tag teaming him about. Cartek was politically mute, a massive smile on his face.

Adrian guessed it was about the goblins and their involvement. That was the only new information no one knew about. He wasn’t sure what there was to argue about.

Eventually, others began to filter in.

Knight commanders of smaller knight orders within the fortress. All loyal to House Sterkhander. Generals of the normal soldiers. And many more that dealt with scouting, farming, economics, tactics, and lastly the Scepter. The houses professional message delivery system. Their main process to debrief everyone before they made it to the meetings without wasting time. It made these sessions take a quarter of the time it would usually take.

Cartek’s influence on the House. A boon so far.

The room was filled to the brim. Many without any place to sit, forced to stand as close as they could without being reprimanded by the seated parties. These meetings would usually occur in the main gathering hall, where it happened for the majority of the House’s history. But Magnus had changed it to this spot nearly five years ago. Without an explanation to anyone.

Nobody dared question him. He had been a miracle worker in the darkest time. They could deal with a bit of eccentric flare. Even if it caused minor inconvenience.

“Silence,” Magnus said. His voice even and in a conversational tone.

The room instantly quieted. So much so, Adrian could hear himself breathe like an exhausted beast. He tried to breathe quieter. It did not help one bit. Beatrix gave him a smirk, which he ignored judiciously. At least Alaric was too busy preening and shining brightly as the heir to have noticed. He didn’t need another person to teasing him, or in Alaric’s case harassment.

“This will not take long. Everyone should have been debriefed by members of the Scepter.”

The normal soldiers wearing robes instead of the common military uniform shifted uncomfortably. They were all quiet and shy. Voices low and soft. It forced anyone receiving a debriefing to focus entirely to what was being said. Genius. It made sure it was impossible to miss any details.

“Galant,” Magnus waved for him.

Galant stood up. He cleared his throat. “First item,” he paused, eyes surveying the group. Making sure everyone was listening. “The orc hordes. You’ve read the reports. Large raid parties. Powerful raid chiefs. They are dire—”

“More so than previously suspected,” Magnus added.

Galant only tilted his head. That hadn’t been the subject of their little argument moments ago. Adrian’s guess had been wrong. None of the knight commanders of the Silver Fist knew about this. Their attention given undivided to Magnus.

“Adrian?”

Shit!

He cursed mentally. The entire room turned to him as one. Countless pairs of eyes watching his every single twitch. Adrian would rather fight an orc with a toothpick than deal with this, he learned. But he got up anyway. There was no other choice.

“The Hrafnung—”

A few knight commanders from the smaller orders snorted.

Adrian waited for long seconds. The silence stretched, uncomfortable.

“Continue, Adrian,” Magnus said.

“Yes, Father,” he emphasized. “The Hrafnung eliminated a goblin that had been whispering into a Raid Chief’s ear. Guiding his tactics against our defenses.”