Lysander's words immediately heightened my sense of alert. The thought of another werewolf in our town was not just a matter of concern for everyone in Bortoli, but also a potential complication for Lysander himself, given the delicate balance we had maintained regarding his secret.

"I lost his scent."

"It's a man?"

"Definitely a male. And he moves quickly."

The presence of the caravan had brought a lot of activity to the town, drawing many residents out of their homes. This influx of people made it challenging for Lysander to continue tracking the mysterious individual he had sensed.

"I don't like it, Randall. I feel that we might encounter trouble soon."

"I'll gather the militia and have them keep watch around the town."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't do that. It might scare him off and prevent us from understanding what he is really after. I'll stay on guard tonight instead. If I see anything, I'll come and find you."

The possibility of a conflict between two werewolves in our town filled me with unease. Such an event could not only incite panic among the townspeople but might also risk exposing Lysander's secret, jeopardizing his position within the community. The townsfolk already harbored some apprehension towards him, and witnessing such a confrontation could solidify or increase their distrust, fostering unnecessary animosity towards Lysander.

Navigating through the crowd with caution, Lysander and I finally made it to the quieter stretch leading to our house. There, my horse stood, appearing somewhat restless and eager to return to his barn.

The horse let out a soft neigh as I approached and mounted him. I extended my hand towards Lysander, offering to help him mount behind me.

"You know I'm too old for that. What about a short race to the house? You and your horse against me?"

I knew all too well that these races were somewhat futile; Lysander's supernatural speed as a werewolf far surpassed that of any horse. "You're going to cheat anyway."

A wide smile grew on his face, placing both hands behind his back. "I promise I won't. I'll take it easy on you."

I couldn't help but laugh at Lysander's proposition and his obvious intention to bend the rules in his favor. "You have your fingers crossed behind your back. I know you like the girt that gets inside my fingernails; you might shift into your wolf form to outrun old Billy here. That's hardly fair. And you always win anyway. Where's the challenge in that?"

Lysander, still eager for the challenge, offered a compromise. "How about I give you a head start? I'll begin running when you are halfway down the road."

I thought about it for a second, then I accepted his challenge. " Alright, deal!"

As soon as I agreed to the race, I swung the reins and urged Billy into a fast gallop. The sound of hooves thundering against the ground reverberated around me as we surged forward. Behind us, I could hear Lysander's footsteps gaining ground rapidly. True to his nature, Lysander closed the gap with unnatural speed. As he overtook us, a triumphant grin spread across his face, reaching the barn well ahead of us.

"That was a good race brother," Lysander said.

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"Don't mock me. We both knew I didn't stand a chance against you. But I have to say, I'm impressed. You managed to beat Billy without even turning into your wolf form. How did you do that?"

"I don't know, I just found out myself. I also found out that everyone has an specific smell."

"Well, look at you discovering new things. I'm proud of you. Now, let's get back inside, I'm starving."

"If is veal for lunch, I'll take it raw."

"That, I've always found disgusting."

Lysander's laughter echoed alongside us as we made our way to the house. His sense of humor always had a way of lightening the mood, regardless of the circumstances.

Upon entering the house, we found Arland, seated comfortably in his chair. Beside him sat Winston, the town's treasurer, a man very well known amongst the townspeople. He was busy with an open book and a feather pen in hand, likely attending to some financial matters for the town.

"Boys, please take a seat with me," Arland said.

Turning to Winston, I offered a respectful greeting, "Good evening, Winston."

Winston acknowledged us with a touch of his hat and a warm smile. "Boys, glad to see you in good spirits."

The time had come to talk about who was going to lead the town. This was a discussion I had anticipated, one that I knew was inevitable given Arland's advancing age and the growing needs of our village.

"We must decide now. One of you must become Lord of the Manor. The village has grown significantly in population and requires more attention than ever. My time is nearing its end, and I feel the sands of my life rapidly slipping away."

Lysander takes his fragile hand concerned about him. "You should rest, father. Randall and I will manage the affairs of the town,"

"There has to be one in charge; it's the only way to govern effectively. The people of Bortoli need that structure."

"Then I vote for Randall." Lysander said. "He understands the people of this town here better than I do."

I had always approached my responsibilities under Arland's guidance as duties to be fulfilled, not necessarily as a path I sought for myself. Leadership, especially in a growing town like Bortoli, demanded more than just administrative skills; it required a deep connection with the people and an understanding of their needs.

Moreover, Lysander's unique nature and his slower aging process presented a different kind of opportunity for leadership, one that could potentially offer a more enduring stewardship.

I stand from my chair, voicing out my opinion in the matter. "Your best candidate to lead will be Lysander, father."

"Brother! No!"

"We have to consider the long-term future of Bortoli. In a few years, I might be in the same position as you, Arland. Lysander, on the other hand, can provide stable, long-term leadership."

I walk towards lysander and placed my hand over his shoulder. "I will follow you to the depths of hell if needed, brother. I truly believe you possess the qualities needed to lead effectively. Just remember to keep a safe distance from the ladies."

Our laughter filled the room, a pause, amidst a serious discussion. It was an inside joke, acknowledging Lysander's somewhat less successful ventures in romance.

"Then this matter does not require any further discussion. Lysander, stand in front of me."

Arland drew his sword and gave it to Lysander. "I, Arland D'amano, Lord of the Manor and leader of Bortoli, call forth my son, Lysander D'amano to answer my call."

Lysander accepted the sword, as he knelt before our father. Winston diligently recorded the proceedings in his book, ensuring that the event was officially documented.

"Swear that you will lead with your heart and not with fear. Swear that you will care for our town and help its people thrive."

" I swear with my life, I will protect this town and every living person within it," Lysander said.

"With these words, I yield my power to you, Lysander. Rise now as the new Lord of the Manor, Sir Lysander D'amano."

"Bortoli acknowledges its new leader, Sir Lysander D'amano. Let it be known, this notice will be replicated and placed around town, informing the people that a new leader has been selected." Winston said.

Lysander turns towards me, his bright red eyes afflicted with emotion.

"Thank you, brother. I am grateful for your support."

"Lead by example, Lysander. And make your old man proud of your accomplishments." Arland said.

The evening transformed into a celebration, marking the beginning of Lysander's tenure as the leader of Bortoli.