When Thorsten finally arrived at the dining room, he was surprised to see only one other person already seated at the table.
"Youngest~"
Leon greeted him with a bright grin on his face, nodding his head towards the empty seat.
"How does it feel like to finally not be the last one down?"
"The best" Thorsten's reply was flat as he took his seat.
"I know. It'll feel ten times better when you're first."
A jovial chuckle flowed from Leon's lips, the candle lights seemingly brightening with his laughter.
Moments later, Ferzen stepped through the door. He paused briefly upon seeing Thorsten already seated, then continued to his place without comment.
Thorsten caught the exchange, his gaze shifting between the two.
'Is there a joke I'm missing…?'
For the past several days, he had somehow managed to arrive last to every meal. At first, it had gone unnoticed—but it had happened often enough that it no longer seemed coincidental.
Leon's barely contained amusement suggested he was well aware of it.
Before Thorsten could question it, the scent of food drifted in as the servants entered.
'Hmm… Smells good.'
The main course, a roasted fowl served with creamy mashed potatoes and herb-infused vegetables, was set before them.
As Thorsten took his first bite of his meal, savouring the juicy and tender meat as its flavour spread over his tongue.
The delicious meal made any other thought background noise as he enjoyed his dinner.
____________
'Oh… This is delicious.'
Taking another bite of the apple pie, he paused briefly, savouring the harmonious blend of warm, spiced sweetness and bright, tart fruit as it danced on his palate.
Of all the things he had been forced to adjust to, the quality of the food was not one of them. Nor did he want it to be.
Everything, even the simplest of meals—bread, eggs, meat—were prepared to a standard he had not experience before.
Back on Earth, food of this quality been a rare luxury. Reserved for formal dinners and the occasional invitations to eat out from his superiors—settings where enjoyment came secondary to appearances, where every action was measured and every word carefully curated.
Meals he had prepared for himself had been easier, if not unremarkable. Yet comparing those to this to felt less like a difference in effort and more like a gap in skill he could never bridge.
As he enjoyed another bit of the pie, he felt like it was washing away the memories of cheap dinners and the half-burnt meals he had forced himself to eat to stave off hunger from his broke student days.
'Ah~ I could eat this forever.'
As that thought circled in his mind, a voice broke him from his revere.
"We're leaving early tomorrow, so I'll be turning in early. Goodnight, Youngest, Father."
Leon said, a barely stifled yawn sounding in the room as the door closed behind him.
A warm silence settled in the room, with both Ferzen and Thorsten still seated and drinking their tea. It was this same, bitter beverage they had been drinking to complement desert.
The black tea was the strongest thing he had drank since coming here. And although it couldn't beat the real thing, it served as a decent enough alternative to coffee.
'I wonder if I'll ever find the time to go get some.'
It wasn't like coffee beans did not exist; it was rather that they weren't as popular nor accessible as it was on Earth, with the only place he could reliable find some being practically on the other side of the world.
Watching his reflection the tea's dark surface, the face he saw reflected at him was still unfamiliar and alien.
'I really can't get used to this.' It was also not something he ever wanted to become accustomed to.
Every time he looked in a mirror, he was reminded of the fact that he did not belong here.
Thorsten's face, his family and his life—the thought that he would eventually come to consider these relationships as his own tied a heavy knot in his stomach.
He set the teacup down harder than intended, the sound of its clinking echoing loudly in the otherwise silent room.
"Goodnight, Father." He said, pushing his chair out slightly and dismounting it.
As he stood up to leave, Ferzen followed after him, leading to them to walking out of the room together.
No words were shared between them; they simply walked side by side through the candlelit hallways of the palace.
He had felt this before, but whenever he was standing beside Ferzen, a faint warmth seemed to radiate from his towering form.
At first, he had thought this was simply due to Thorsten's feelings of respect and admiration towards his father that carried over to him that resulted in this feeling.
But walking next to him now, he started to question if there was more to it than that.
'A human radiator… wait—is that even possible?'
Lost in such thought, he didn't notice as they both passed the hallway leading toward Ferzen's room and continued to the edge of the hall.
"Your brother and I will be departing early in the morning, so there will be no need to see us off."
It was only when Ferzen spoke to him that he realised he was still there.
Thorsten glanced up at him, nodding his head as the door to his room appeared when they turned the corner.
"Then I wish you safe travels, Father." He added after a moment of thought.
Standing in front of the door to his room, Thorsten turned to face his father.
For a brief moment, he found himself speechless as the image of 'his' father overlapped with the man standing before him.
The image vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him staring blankly into Ferzen's deep, crimson eyes.
Thorsten lifted a hand to rub at his heavy eyelids, as though trying to dispel the lingering impression, one eye still fixed on his father.
For a brief moment, Ferzen said nothing. Then, with a quiet exhale, he placed a hand atop Thorsten's head, ruffling his hair lightly.
"Get some rest."
The simple gesture lingered for only a second before he withdrew his hand and turned away.
With his eyes on Ferzen's retreating figure, a small thought popped up in his mind as he felt the lingering warmth where Ferzen's hand had been.
'It's warm.'
In the hallway, the moonlight spilled across them both, casting their figures in a pale silver glow, their shadows stretching long behind them.
*****
As the morning sun rose over the mountains, signalling the start of another day in the quiet city of Mutterroak.
The palace square was already stirring with activity. Servants loaded the waiting carriages with the last of the luggage, their breath faintly visible in the frigid air.
Nearby, the coachmen carried out their final checks—some tightening the reins and inspecting harnesses, others seated patiently as they awaited the order to depart.
Amidst the quiet bustle, a lone servant apart from the rest as he overlooked their work.
"—Yes, sir."
The knights saluted after his order before moving to their carriage at the rear of the line up.
The elderly servant watched their retreating figures for a moment before giving a small nod to himself. Reaching into his blazer, he retrieved a small silver coverless pocket watch.
Its smooth, dulled casing caught the morning sunlight, the bronze hands ticking steadily beneath the glass. After a brief glance, he slipped it back into his pocket.
By then, the courtyard had settled. Servants and knights stood aligned along the path, their movements stilled, their attention fixed forward.
All the preparations had been completed, so now all that remained was for his lord to arrive.
All preparations were complete. Now only one thing remained.
As the final knight stepped into position, the servant turned, his gloved hand closing around the handle of the palace doors. With a single, fluid motion, he pulled them open.
Cold air spilled inward, flowing into the mouth of the open door.
Untouched by the chill, a towering figure stepped through.
Clad in a tailored suit bearing the Baylith crest, Ferzen emerged into the morning light, his presence alone enough to still what little movement remained.
"High Lord." Bastion bowed deeply.
"We greet the High Lord."
The line echoed as one, servants and knights lowering themselves in unison.
Ferzen stepped forward, his steps slow and measured against the stone as the assembled servants and knights lowered their heads respectfully in his passings.
Trailing slightly behind his father, Leon walked with a far lighter air, his gaze wandering briefly across the bowing servants before settling ahead once more.
At the end of the path, the waiting carriage stood prepared for his arrival, its dark exterior polished to a muted sheen beneath the dawns light.
The coachman stepped forward and opened the carriage door at once.
Ferzen ascended the short steps without pause, carrying the same steady composure that had settled over the courtyard from the moment he appeared.
Leon paused briefly, glancing up at a room on the third floor before entering after his father.
The door closed behind them with a muted thud.
Only then did the courtyard gradually return to motion, the servants calmly resuming their duties beneath the pale morning sun.