The quiet of the corridor was heavy as they approached the large wooden doors of Lord Leor Morin's study. The faint scent of old books and polished wood lingered in the air, and each step echoed softly on the marble floor.
Klen stopped in front of the door and straightened his posture. "Shall I, milady?" he asked quietly.
Lyra gave a small nod. "Yes."
He knocked twice, firm and respectful.
"Enter," came a deep voice from inside — calm, but carrying an unmistakable weight.
Klen exhaled softly and opened the door for Lyra. She entered first, her steps measured and graceful, while Klen followed behind, closing the door carefully without making a sound.
The study was spacious but dim, lit mostly by the sunlight spilling through tall windows and the faint flicker of a lantern. Shelves of books lined the walls, their spines glinting with gold lettering. At the center sat Leor Morin behind a large oak desk, his eyes fixed on the papers before him.
He looked up slowly as they entered. His sharp blue eyes — colder than they used to be — examined them both in silence.
"Father," Lyra greeted softly, bowing her head.
Klen followed suit, his voice steady. "My lord."
Leor gestured lazily with his hand. "Sit."
They obeyed without a word. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor felt deafening in the otherwise still room.
After a moment, Leor set his pen aside and leaned back, folding his hands together. "You've both grown," he said at last, though there was little warmth in his tone. "It's been seven years since you came here, Klen."
Klen inclined his head slightly. "Yes, my lord."
Leor's gaze was unreadable. "And you've made yourself useful. Reliable, even. Fole speaks well of you. But reliability alone isn't enough."
Lyra frowned slightly. "Father—"
He raised a hand, silencing her. "You're both of age now. Which means it's time for the next step. You'll be attending Lightstar Magical Academy — a place of refinement, knowledge, and power."
Lyra blinked. "Both of us?"
Leor nodded once. "You will attend it and he shall too." his eyes slid toward Klen, "He will attend but— on one condition."
Klen's expression didn't change, though he felt his chest tighten. "My lord?"
"You'll first prove yourself worthy of that title," Leor said, voice smooth but cold. "You've trained under Fole for years, but words and loyalty mean little without proof."
He stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the desk. "You will take my test. Three trials — all designed to measure your strength, your resolve, and your worth."
Lyra turned toward him in concern. "Father, that's unnecessary—"
"This is not for debate," Leor cut in sharply. His eyes met hers, and she fell silent under the weight of his gaze.
He turned back to Klen. "Your first trial will test your discipline. You'll be given a day's worth of work — tasks meant for more than one man. Complete them all before nightfall."
Klen nodded silently.
"The second trial will test your strength," Leor continued. "You will face me in combat. Twice. Once armed, once barehanded. I'll see if Fole's lessons have truly made you stronger."
A faint tremor passed through Klen's hand, but he clasped it behind his back before anyone noticed.
"And the final trial," Leor said, pausing for a moment as if to let the words sink in, "will be the most important. You will escort my daughter to Lightstar Magical Academy. On foot."
Lyra's eyes widened. "On foot?"
"You will protect her along the way," Leor said flatly. "If danger arises, you will deal with it. If she falls, you fail. This is not a journey of comfort. It is a test of endurance, vigilance, and loyalty."
He let the silence linger before finishing, his voice quieter but sharper. "Succeed, and you will be recognized as an official Morin butler — a member of this household in full standing. Fail…"
His gaze hardened. "And you will be hunted. The Morin family cannot afford to let a trained failure wander free."
Lyra stood abruptly, anger flashing in her eyes. "Father, that's cruel!"
Leor didn't flinch. "That's reality, Lyra. The world won't soften itself for sentiment. If he cannot pass my tests, that means that we have wasted our time and resources for someone who can't even perform what he tasked with."
The room fell silent again. Klen lowered his head respectfully. "Understood, my lord."
Leor studied him for a moment — unreadable, but faintly approving. "You have one month. Fole will oversee your preparations. That will be all."
Klen rose from his seat and bowed. "Yes, my lord."
Lyra followed him out, her steps quick and tense. The moment the doors shut behind them, she turned to him, frustration spilling into her voice. "He's being too harsh! You've served him loyally for years!"
Klen shook his head slightly, keeping his tone calm. "He's not wrong. This family demands strength. If this is how I prove mine, then so be it."
Lyra's expression softened. "You always pretend like you're fine…"
"I'm not pretending," Klen said quietly. "I'll be ready. You don't need to worry, milady."
She crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks a little. "You always say that too."
He gave a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Because it's true."
They began walking down the corridor together. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting the floors gold and white. Lyra glanced at him again, her worry still lingering.
"Just… promise me one thing," she said softly.
Klen looked at her. "Anything."
"Come back. No matter what happens."
Klen paused, then nodded once. "I promise."
And though his face stayed calm, deep down, a quiet unease stirred. The words of Lord Leor echoed in his mind like the toll of a bell.
One month.