"Gods, how long can that old man talk for?"
Thierry was growing irritated by the veterans' speeches. They always dragged on and on. After a while, Magnus dismissed them, collecting their weapons. Thierry stepped outside the estate and saw numerous carriages with different crests taking the young recruits home.
He threw a glance over his shoulder, sneered, and shoved his hands into his pockets, drifting toward the nearest bar. Looking around for Gallagher and his group, he found no sign of them. With a sigh, he took a seat at a table and rested his head down.
"What's your order, sirs?"
Sirs? It's just me.
Thierry looked up to see two familiar faces. The first was Veron, and the second was Emma, the waitress from yesterday. Thierry's expression crumbled.
Out of everyone... why him?
Emma repeated her question. Veron smiled at Thierry, his expression as carefree as ever.
"I'll take some ribs with mashed potatoes on the side," Veron said.
"I'll have what he's having," Thierry muttered.
Veron's grin widened. Emma lingered for a moment, flustered. Thierry just stared at him.
Just what have I done to deserve this...?
"Come now," Veron said, his voice light. "A face like that—you'd think we were enemies, not friends."
Friends? Thierry thought, his mind recoiling. No way in hell.
Before he could retort, Veron sighed and glanced at the limping waitress, who was bringing their orders. He quickly got up to help her.
"You shouldn't be working so soon after being initiated, and especially after I injured you. Take a seat and order food. Don't worry—it's on me."
Thierry watched as Emma blushed, following Veron to the table but not sitting down. Veron eagerly dove into his food. It was awkward—no one spoke as they ate. Emma glanced at Veron from time to time, waiting for permission to sit.
Gods, I can't take this, but I don't want to be the first to talk.
Thierry felt trapped in the suffocating silence. Veron continued eating with enthusiasm. Emma, now seated, stole glances at him, unsure of what to do next. Thierry just wanted to sink into the floor and disappear, but the longer he stayed, the more it felt like the walls of the bar were closing in on him. He hadn't expected the day to take this turn. He'd only come here to escape Magnus's speeches, not to be stuck in this awkward situation with strangers.
Why them? Why these people?
The question lingered in his mind as he absentmindedly picked at his plate. He wasn't particularly hungry but had no idea what else to do. It was hard to focus on the food when his thoughts were racing.
"Come on, you're not serious about this, huh?" Thierry finally asked, his voice rougher than intended. He glanced up at Veron, who hadn't stopped smiling since his arrival. "About the whole 'friend' thing?"
Veron didn't seem to notice Thierry's discomfort. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, still grinning as if everything was perfectly normal. "Of course I am. You've got a lot of potential, Thierry. More than you realise. After all, you beat me at single combat."
Thierry coughed, narrowing his eyes. Potential? What the hell is this bastard talking about?
"I don't know if that counts," Thierry muttered. "I surrendered in the end, only landing one clean hit."
Emma, who had been silent until now, glanced at Thierry. Her voice was small. "When I thought none of us common folk could match the clansmen, watching you keep up with him gave me hope... Maybe I can do the same."
Thierry's calm expression hid his ridicule. Did she honestly think that bastard was easy to fight? I had to give it everything I had!
He gave her a reassuring smile.
His eyes drifted to Veron, who was tearing into his food as if starved. Thierry sighed and followed suit, not wanting to stay part of this awkward gathering any longer. Time always seemed to crawl in moments like this. What felt like an hour later, he finished his meal.
No words were spoken between the three of them during that time. Thierry stood and headed to his room. Veron left just as quickly, not even bothering to say goodbye to Emma, who had gotten up to serve other patrons.
Thierry lay in his bed in silence. He was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. The weight from today and yesterday had worn him down more than he cared to admit. The initiation. The speeches. The expectations. The pressure. It was all too much. And yet, here he was, still going through with it. It felt foolish. He fell asleep in seconds.
***
Under the cover of night, Thierry awoke. He stared out the window at the starless sky, the bright moon replacing where the gaping hole of the dead sun had once been. Thierry squinted, watching the celestial rays swirling within the moon's surface.
He didn't have time to ponder the moon or the dead sun. Instead, he grabbed his things and left the bar, heading out into the night. He found a carriage heading to Roldun. All the while, his gaze flickered to the squirming rays of light that filled the hole in the dead sun. He wondered, for a brief moment, if things had always been like this—stuck with only three seasons.
"That'll be fifteen lutes, sir," the coachman's voice interrupted his thoughts. As if in a daze, Thierry paid him and looked back at the dark sky, his thoughts drifting further. He soon made out the shape of the estate in the darkness.
"Sir, you'll have to get off here. There seems to be traffic."
Thierry, however, was unperturbed, seeing how hectic it was in the evening. They even got inquisitors from the order. The closer he got to the estate, the more inquisitors he saw. This time, he went through the guest gate after having his anchor checked.
The clansmen and inquisitors guided Thierry and the youths to a hall. It seemed more like a social gathering than an assembly.
"Thierry, is that you?" A weak voice came from behind him. He looked down to see Emma.
Before Thierry could respond, the door to the hall opened, and Magnus stepped up to the front, his commanding presence silencing the room.
"Everyone, settle down." Magnus said, his eyes swept over the youths as they took their places. "Today marks the beginning of your journey. We'll begin with the announcement of the young master's cohort members."
A murmur ran through the hall as people adjusted in their seats. Thierry's gaze flickered around the room, but he quickly found his focus on Magnus.
"Lee of Clan Huthor and Esther of Clan Lizer, come forward," Magnus announced.
The two youths stepped forward, their expressions proud but stiff as the room watched them.
Before Magnus could continue, Veron interrupted. Holding a glass of juice in one hand, he stood, his eyes locked onto Thierry across the room. The air grew tense.
"I want them in my cohort as well." Veron said, his voice clear and loud.
The hall went silent, all eyes turning to Thierry and Emma, both of them caught in the sudden spotlight.
Thierry's gaze met Veron's, and he couldn't help the scorn that bubbled inside. Bastard.