After the Young Wolf had roused his father and guided him on how to master his anger toward the Silverwoods and Christina, he returned to his own chamber. The candlelight flickered against the stone walls as Andras sat at his desk, his thoughts circling again and again around the Silver Knights.
Ha! he thought to himself. How easily swayed my dear noble lord father is. He would have let his rage toward Christina and his own foolish pride worsen the feud between the Wolf Knights and the Silver Knights. Yet the demons are at our very doorstep! I need allies, not more enemies!
A satisfied smile crossed his lips as he recalled how he had convinced his father that Christina was the one who had made the wrong choice, and that Bandorn had fared far better with Carla, Andras's mother.
Andras knew well the origin of the feud between the two houses. He had heard the tale from his mother, Carla. When Bandorn Wolfwood was young, he fell in love with the daughter of the Silverwood house, Christina Silverwood. Christina, however, was a skilled swordswoman, a female knight despite her noble birth. The beautiful fifteen‑year‑old warrior maiden had no interest in the scrawny, short Bandorn, two years her senior, who knew nothing of swordplay.
Nevertheless, through the influence of his father, Andor Wolfwood—known throughout the Kingdom as the Wrathwolf—the betrothal between the two houses was arranged. Christina despised the forced bond. Bandorn alone rejoiced in the engagement.
Then came the war against the Empire. Andor Wolfwood and the head of the Silverwood house both perished in battle. The Silverwoods had agreed to the betrothal only because of Andor's authority, and once he was gone, they immediately dissolved the bond. Bandorn was left abandoned, with no father's influence to shield him.
The breaking of the betrothal, however, came with a price. Christina renounced her right to inherit the House of Silverwood in favor of her younger brother and chose the path of a female knight. Through her talent, she soon rose to become captain of the Silver Knights. Her brother inherited the Silverwood estate, and to avoid offending the Wolfwoods, the family agreed that Christina could never marry another man without the consent of the Wolfwoods.
Andras's eyes gleamed with determination as he thought it through. This feud stems from old, deep wounds. But I cannot allow my father's foolish impulses to ignite it again. Against the demons, we need allies, not enemies. And I will be the one to show that the House of Wolfwood can rise—whether with the Silverwoods or without them.
Of course, if Christina ever wished to marry someone and the Wolfwoods withheld their blessing, the Silverwoods could demand the right of duel. Fortunately, Christina had never fallen in love; as captain of the Silver Knights, she served Silverwood faithfully, and thus no duel between the two houses had ever taken place.
Even so, relations between the Wolf Knights and the Silver Knights remained tense and hostile. And my idiot noble lord father would have worsened that hostility had he refused the Silverwoods' plea for aid against the monster. Luckily, I managed to pour some sense into his head in time. If all goes well, the feud between the two noble houses may finally end.
If it depends on me, then the Wolf Knights and the Silver Knights will fight side by side as allies against the Demon Army, not as enemies. Still, I hope Bandorn can swallow his damned pride and not ruin my plan.
Well, never mind. I'll be present when Christina Silverwood and her Silver Knights arrive at the castle to formally request the House of Wolfwood's aid in the knightly mission. I'll make sure my father behaves so everything proceeds according to my design.
Until then, I still have a little time. I'll go see if Noelle has baked my scones yet.
The Young Wolf walked slowly down the stone corridors of the castle toward the kitchen. From afar, the scent of freshly baked scones reached his nose: the cheese pastries were golden‑brown and crisp as Noelle pulled them from the glowing heart of the oven. The kitchen was filled with warmth and spice, turning the cold castle into a place of comfort.
At the table sat Ironclaw, the female wolf beastfolk, happily munching on the pork‑crackling scones baked earlier. The moment she saw her master, Andras, she leapt up and threw herself into his arms, as though greeting a long‑lost friend.
"I've told you before, Ironclaw, stop licking me all the time!" Andras scolded, trying to shake her off. "Bad dog!"
Ironclaw snorted indignantly, her eyes flashing.
"I'm not a dog! I'm a wolf!"
"Even so, stop licking!" Andras replied, his voice meant to sound stern, though a smile tugged at his lips.
"Then pet me, master!" Ironclaw shot back, playfully resting her head on the boy's shoulder.
At last Andras gave in, stroking his loyal companion while reaching toward the kitchen table.
"Fine, but let me have a few scones while I do," he said, already stretching for the steaming cheese pastries piled high in the bowl.
The kitchen filled with laughter and the fragrance of fresh baking. Within the cold walls of the castle, these moments gave a true sense of home: the boy, the wolf, and the warmth of friends together.
The Young Wolf sat down at the table, and Ironclaw immediately pressed close to him, as though drawing strength from his nearness. Andras could never resist the beast‑girl's beautiful brown wolf ears: he often stroked them, and Ironclaw always closed her eyes in bliss, savoring her master's affection. In that touch lay love, trust, and the rare bond that can form between human and beast.
Noelle, however, watched with envy. She too longed for the Young Wolf to gently stroke her head, but she never dared to voice the wish. So she only sat in silence, watching as Ironclaw nestled happily against Andras, while the boy's right hand caressed the beast‑girl's head and his left hand munched on a crackling scone.
"The cheese scones are baked too," Noelle finally spoke, her voice tinged with tension. "They're just still hot. I pulled them from the oven only moments ago."
Andras looked up, his eyes flashing with seriousness.
"The Silver Knights could arrive at any moment. I won't wait for the cheese ones to cool. For now, I'll eat only the crackling."
A momentary silence settled over the kitchen. The warmth of the hearth, the fragrance of fresh scones, and the thought of the coming encounter all filled the air at once. Andras knew that serious matters awaited him soon, but in this brief moment he could still enjoy the homely atmosphere—the taste of the scones, Ironclaw's closeness, and Noelle's quiet presence.
The Young Wolf had barely begun to bite into his crackling scone when the kitchen door suddenly burst open. Anita hurried inside, her face a mix of excitement and gravity.
"Young Wolf, the Silver Knights are here!" she declared, her voice echoing against the stone walls.
Andras sighed, the half‑chewed scone still in his hand.
"Couldn't they have waited until I finished a few scones?" he muttered, though his eyes gleamed playfully.
"Come quickly! You must receive them in the knight's hall!" Anita urged, already turning back toward the door.
Andras rose, then turned to Noelle, who still stood beside the freshly baked cheese scones.
"Noelle, place the scones on a fine tray and bring them after me to the knight's hall."
"Which ones should I take?" the girl asked, a little flustered but eager to obey.
"Both kinds," Andras answered firmly. "I'll offer them to the Silver Knights as well—let them taste the hospitality of the Wolves!"
Ironclaw, who had been silently watching until now, suddenly lifted her head and spoke in a near growl.
"The strength of the Wolves!"
Andras smiled, stroking the beast‑girl's head, then replied in a more serious tone.
"Calm yourself, Ironclaw. These are not bandits—they are knights."
The kitchen's warm, homely atmosphere shifted abruptly into tension. The fragrance of fresh scones still lingered in the air, but everyone knew: in the coming moments, within the castle walls, it would not be family peace on the table, but political alliances and old grievances.
Andras, Anita, and Ironclaw walked slowly, their steps firm, toward the knight's hall. Torchlight flickered along the corridors, casting shadows upon the stone walls, as though the castle itself watched the coming encounter. Behind the massive oak doors already waited Andrea Wolf, Andras's bodyguard, her face stern yet her eyes shining with pride.
Within the hall, everything was prepared for the guests' reception. Lord Bandorn Wolfwood sat at the high seat, beside him Master Florian, the wise counselor of the house. The captain of the Wolf Knights, Arpad, and his lieutenant, Janos, were present as well, with twenty armed Wolf Knights standing in formation behind them, their armor gleaming in the candlelight. The air of the chamber was thick with tense anticipation: all knew that the arrival of the Silverwoods was not merely a courtly visit, but a moment that could shape the fate of both houses.
Moments earlier, beyond the castle gates, the Silver Knights had reached their destination. The six female knights, led by Christina Silverwood, dismounted and led their steeds to the guest stables. A young boy, barely sixteen, eagerly took charge of feeding and watering the animals, stealing glances at the shining armored knights as though beholding heroes.
Once the horses were secured, Christina signaled to her companions, and the six Silver Knights set out toward the castle's main square. Their steps rang firmly against the stone, every movement marked by discipline and resolve. The gates of Wolfwood Castle slowly opened before them, and a new chapter in the history of the two knightly orders was about to be written.