The honey cakes were, as Celia had promised, exceptional. Edwin sat at the small table in the estate's informal dining area, a genuine smile replacing the carefully controlled expression he'd worn since arriving. His dark hair was slightly disheveled now, and the rigid posture drummed into him by years of courtly training had relaxed into something more natural for an eight-year-old.
"Cook makes them with real honey from our own hives," Celia explained, gesturing animatedly with a half-eaten cake. "And she uses this special spice that comes all the way from the southern provinces. Mother says it costs more than most people make in a month, but Cook insists it's totally worth it."
"They're incredible," Edwin said, taking another careful bite. "We have really good bakers at Ardenfall, but nothing quite like this."
I watched the interaction with quiet satisfaction. The tension that had marked Edwin's arrival was fading rapidly under Celia's natural warmth. My sister had always possessed an unusual gift for making people feel welcome, a quality that would serve her well in the political world we were entering.
"So what's Ardenfall like?" Celia asked, her curiosity overriding any sense of diplomatic caution. "Is it really different from here?"
Edwin considered the question seriously. "The mountains are way higher. And everything is built for defense—even the manor houses have thick walls and narrow windows. Father says it's because we guard the western borders."
"Do you miss it?" I asked quietly.
Something flickered across Edwin's features—too complex for easy interpretation. "I miss my father. And my tutors, even though they were super strict. But..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Things had been really tense lately. Everyone was always worried, always watching the horizon. It's peaceful here."
The admission revealed more than he probably intended. An eight-year-old shouldn't have to think about border tensions and military threats, yet Edwin spoke of them with the weary familiarity of someone who'd lived with constant background fear.
"Well, you don't have to worry about any of that here," Celia declared with the absolute confidence that only children possessed. "Mother is the strongest person in the empire, and this is the safest place in the world."
Edwin's eyes widened slightly. "Strongest person in the empire? Really?"
"Really," I confirmed. "Your father is incredibly strong too—people say he and Mother are the two finest warriors in the whole empire. But Mother could probably take on a whole army by herself if she had to."
"That's amazing," Edwin said softly. "Father is really strong, but I've never seen him fight seriously. He always says that the best battles are the ones you don't have to fight."
"Different kinds of strength," I explained. "Your father commands armies and wins battles through strategy and leadership. Mother is more... direct when she needs to be."
Celia giggled at something. "Do you think Mother has ever fought a dragon? She never talks about her adventures before we were born."
"Probably," I said, though privately I doubted there were actual dragons in this world. Still, whatever creatures existed here, I was confident Mother could handle them.
The conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Isadora returning from settling into her own room. She had brown hair tied back in practical braids and wore a well-made dress that showed signs of active use rather than pristine formal care. She paused in the doorway, clearly debating whether she should join us.
"Isadora!" Celia called out immediately. "Come sit with us! We're getting to know Edwin better."
Isadora stepped into the room with natural grace, though her bearing was less rigid than Edwin's formal posture. Her eyes were bright with intelligence and curiosity as she took in our small gathering.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said, offering a slight curtsy that managed to be both proper and unpretentious.
"Not at all," Edwin said, standing immediately and offering a formal bow. "Lady Isadora, it's an honor to meet you properly."
Isadora's eyebrows rose slightly at his formal address, but she responded with equal courtesy. "The pleasure is mine, Lord Edwin. I hope your journey to Silvaria was comfortable."
"It was, thank you," Edwin replied, though I noticed he remained standing until Isadora was seated, his courtly training asserting itself automatically.
"You can relax," Isadora said with a gentle smile. "We don't really do all the formal stuff when it's just us kids. Save the 'my lord' and 'my lady' business for when the adults are watching."
Edwin looked uncertain about this casual dismissal of proper etiquette. "Are you sure that's... appropriate?"
"Totally sure," Celia confirmed. "Isadora's been coming here for lessons for a while now. We figured out pretty quickly that all the fancy title stuff gets super exhausting when you're trying to have actual conversations."
"Besides," Isadora added, settling comfortably into her chair, "my mother always says that true nobility comes from how you treat people, not from the titles you use. Though she also says there's a time and place for everything."
"Your mother sounds really wise," Edwin said, though he still looked somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of abandoning formal address.
"She is. She had to be, coming from where she did." Isadora's tone was matter-of-fact rather than defensive. "Mother wasn't born to nobility—her family were successful merchants in the eastern provinces. She married into our house."
This revelation seemed to startle Edwin even more than the casual protocols had. "She... married up?"
"That's how she puts it," Isadora confirmed with obvious affection. "Says it gives her perspective on how both sides live. Father says it's one of the things he loves most about her—she never forgets what it's like for people who don't have titles and estates."
Edwin absorbed this information with the serious attention he seemed to give everything. In his world, I suspected, marriages were arranged based on political advantage and bloodline compatibility. The concept of marrying for love or personal compatibility was clearly foreign to him.
"That's... unusual, isn't it?" he asked carefully.
"Not as unusual as you might think," I said. "Mother says the smartest noble houses have always welcomed talented people from lower ranks. That's how you keep the bloodline strong and avoid stagnation."
"Our parents married for love too," Celia said, glancing at me with a slightly sad smile. "Mother and Father, I mean. Before he died."
I nodded. "It was apparently quite controversial at the time. Father wasn't born noble—he earned his position through service to Silvaria."
"But they were happy," Celia added firmly. "You can tell from the way Mother talks about him, even now."
Edwin listened to this exchange with growing fascination. "Where I come from, marriages are... different. More formal. More about alliances and strategic advantage."
"They can be that here too," Isadora said diplomatically. "But the best marriages serve multiple purposes. Political alliance, personal compatibility, mutual respect—the smart families look for all of those things together."
"Is that what your parents have?" Edwin asked.
"I think so," Isadora replied. "They seem really happy together, even when they disagree about things. And they make a good team—Father handles the military and administrative side of governing our lands, while Mother manages trade relationships and keeps everyone connected to the broader community."
"That sounds... nice," Edwin said wistfully. "Father never talks about things like that. Everything is always about duty and responsibility and preparing for threats."
"Well, you don't have to worry about any of that here," Celia declared, clearly deciding that the conversation had gotten too serious. "Here we focus on the important things—like honey cakes and adventures and figuring out which servants can be convinced to tell us stories about the old days."
Isadora laughed, a bright sound that seemed to lighten the entire atmosphere. "Has she started planning adventures for you yet?" she asked Edwin. "Because if not, it's only a matter of time. Celia has very strong opinions about the proper way to explore an estate."
"We were discussing the old watchtower," I said. "Celia thinks Edwin should see the view from the top."
"And we should look for the hidden room!" Celia added enthusiastically. "I heard the groundskeepers talking about it, and I think I know where it might be."
Edwin looked between the three of us with obvious uncertainty. "Hidden room? In the tower?"
"Supposedly," Isadora confirmed. "Though it might just be groundskeeper gossip. You never know with these old buildings—they all have stories about secret passages and hidden chambers."
"But that's what makes it an adventure," Celia insisted. "If we knew for sure what we'd find, it would just be a boring tour."
"I suppose that's... logical," Edwin said slowly, though his tone suggested he was still grappling with the concept of deliberately seeking out uncertainty.
"You've never been on an adventure, have you?" Isadora asked, her voice gentle but perceptive.
Edwin shook his head. "Not really. My education has been quite structured. Father says that proper planning prevents problems, and that unnecessary risks are... unnecessary."
"He's not wrong," I said carefully. "But there's a difference between unnecessary risks and calculated exploration. The watchtower has been standing for centuries—it's not gonna collapse just because we visit it."
"And we'll be careful," Celia added. "No climbing on crumbly walls or anything dangerous like that."
"Well," Edwin said after a moment's consideration, "I suppose if it's truly safe... and if you think it would be educational..."
"It will be," Isadora assured him. "Even if we don't find any hidden rooms, the view really is spectacular. And the architecture is fascinating—it's one of the oldest structures on the estate."
"Educational and adventurous," Celia said with satisfaction. "The perfect combination."
As we finished our honey cakes and prepared to leave the dining area, I found myself observing the dynamic that was already forming between the four of us. Edwin brought a careful formality and deep knowledge of political realities. Celia provided enthusiasm and natural leadership. Isadora offered a balanced perspective that bridged noble training with practical wisdom. And I... well, I brought the strange advantage of adult experience in a child's body, along with knowledge from a completely different world.
It was an interesting combination, and I suspected it would serve us well in the years to come.
"Should we go now?" Celia asked eagerly. "The afternoon light is supposed to be perfect for seeing the distant mountains."
"After we tell someone where we're going," I said, earning a grateful look from Edwin. "Mother will want to know where we've gone, and it's only polite to let the staff know we'll be away from the main house."
"Always the responsible one," Isadora said with fond exasperation. "But you're right. No point in causing unnecessary worry."
Edwin nodded approvingly. "Father always says that good planning and clear communication prevent most problems before they start."
"See?" Celia said, grinning. "We can be adventurous AND responsible. It's not like we're gonna do anything actually dangerous."
As we made our way toward the main hall to notify the appropriate people of our planned expedition, I reflected on how naturally the four of us seemed to fit together. Despite our different backgrounds and upbringings, there was an easy compatibility that suggested genuine friendship rather than mere political convenience.
Edwin was clearly beginning to relax, his formal training giving way to the natural curiosity of an eight-year-old. The careful diplomatic language was still there, but underneath it I could see glimpses of someone who desperately wanted to just be a normal kid for a while.
"Lance," Edwin said quietly as we walked, "thank you. For making this feel... normal. I wasn't sure what to expect when Father said I was coming here."
"We're friends now," I replied simply. "That's what friends do—make each other feel welcome."
The smile that crossed Edwin's face was genuine and unguarded, the first truly natural expression I'd seen from him since his arrival.