Chapter 3 — The First Test

“Lady Hilda has been waiting.”

Sir Garther’s voice was gentle.

That made it worse.

For the first time in the two years he had trained us, I had heard Sir Garther speak in a tone that was not sharp enough to cut wood.

It should have been comforting.

It was not.

Rory stood beside me, frozen in place, sweat still beading along his forehead. His hand trembled slightly at his side, and for once, his mouth remained closed.

That alone was enough to tell me the situation was serious.

Sir Garther straightened from his shallow bow and turned toward the mansion door.

“Follow me.”

The door opened before he touched it.

I had no idea how.

Magic, probably.

Everything in this mansion was probably magic.

Rory leaned slightly toward me as we followed him inside.

“Do you think he is sick?” Rory whispered.

I stared at him.

“What?”

“He sounded gentle.”

“That does not mean he is sick.”

“It might.”

“You are going to get us killed.”

Sir Garther did not turn around.

“Rory.”

Rory’s face went pale.

“Yes, sir?”

“If I were sick, you would still be running laps.”

Rory swallowed.

“Yes, sir.”

“And if you continue whispering, you will be running them before sunset.”

Rory’s mouth closed.

I looked straight ahead and pretended I had never been part of that conversation.

The entrance hall was cool and quiet, filled with the faint scent of old wood and flowers. A chandelier hung above us, its crystals catching the morning light in soft colors. Paintings lined the walls, though most showed landscapes and symbols I did not recognize. The floor was polished stone, so clean I felt guilty stepping on it with village boots.

Rory looked around despite himself.

“This is the first time we’ve been invited into Lady Hilda’s study, huh?” he whispered.

Sir Garther stopped walking.

Rory stopped breathing.

Without turning around, Sir Garther said, “Rory.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You still owe me thirty laps around the village from last week.”

Rory’s face turned pale in a different way.

“I thought you forgot.”

“I do not forget.”

“That is… good to know.”

Sir Garther resumed walking.

I stared at his back.

He moved like someone who had trained for battle his entire life. Each step was measured. Each movement controlled. Nothing about him seemed wasted.

The butler uniform did not make him look softer.

It made him look more dangerous, like a blade hidden in a black sheath.

Why was someone like him here?

In Eld?

A rural village where the most dangerous daily event was Mr. Bell catching children near his cabbages?

The thought had crossed my mind many times before, but I had never been brave enough to ask.

Sir Garther led us up a staircase, down a long hallway, and finally stopped before a pair of dark wooden doors.

He knocked twice.

A woman’s voice answered from within.

“Come in.”

Sir Garther opened the doors.

The study beyond was warm with golden light.

Tall bookshelves covered the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with old tomes, rolled maps, sealed boxes, and strange objects I could not name. A large window behind the desk looked out toward the ancient hero monument, its stone figure visible through the glass like a silent guardian.

At the center of the room sat Lady Hilda.

She was behind a large wooden desk, one hand resting lightly against her cheek as if she had been waiting for us for a long time.

Her dark green hair fell in smooth waves over her shoulders, shining like leaves after rain. Her eyes were calm and sharp, carrying the kind of confidence that made the entire room feel like it belonged to her.

From head to toe, she was decorated with accessories.

A golden hairpin shaped like a blooming flower rested above her left ear. Thin chains of silver and emerald draped elegantly around her neck. Rings decorated her fingers, each set with stones that caught the light when she moved. Even her dress, deep black with green embroidery, looked simple at first glance, but the longer I looked, the more details I noticed.

Nothing felt excessive.

Nothing felt misplaced.

Every jewel, every thread, every small ornament seemed to belong exactly where it was.

Lady Hilda was beautiful in a way that made it difficult to look at her directly.

Not because she was gentle.

Because she was overwhelming.

Her appearance was young, yet the air around her carried the weight of someone much older. Someone who had seen more of the world than anyone in Eld ever would.

Her gaze moved to us.

Then she smiled.

“My, my. Look at the two of you.”

The tension in my shoulders eased a little.

Her tone was familiar.

Almost playful.

“Good morning, Lady Hilda,” Rory and I said at the same time.

Lady Hilda’s smile widened.

“Good morning, Azoth. Good morning, Rory. My, what well-behaved children you have become. It looks like Garty did a very good job.”

Rory and I froze.

We had heard Lady Hilda call him that before.

Once.

Rory had laughed.

Sir Garther had made us run until sunset.

Neither of us laughed this time.

For some reason, I felt as if thousands of blades were waiting to stab us in the back.

I quickly turned back to Lady Hilda and did not dare to look behind me again.

Then Lady Hilda’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at Rory.

“Rory.”

“Yes?”

“Did you fight a ghoul on the way here?”

Rory made a wounded sound.

I covered my mouth.

Lady Hilda tilted her head.

“Or did you lose to your pillow?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Rory muttered.

“I can see that.”

“It was because of today.”

Lady Hilda’s expression softened.

“Then I suppose I cannot tease you too much.”

Rory lowered his head in defeat.

I tried very hard not to laugh.

Sir Garther stepped quietly to the side of the room, standing near the door with his arms folded across his chest.

Lady Hilda rose from her chair.

The moment she did, the atmosphere changed.

It was subtle at first.

The warmth remained. The sunlight still poured through the window. The bookshelves still stood silently around us.

But something in her expression became serious, and the room seemed to grow heavier.

“You both know why you are here today.”

Neither of us answered.

Of course we knew.

Today was the day Rory and I would be sent outside the village for our first real combat test.

Not sparring.

Not running laps around Eld.

Not Sir Garther knocking us into the dirt with a wooden sword and calling it “basic correction.”

Real combat.

Against a real monster.

My stomach tightened.

Lady Hilda walked slowly around the desk.

“For the past two years, Garther and I have trained you. We have watched your growth, your failures, your stubbornness, and your desire to move forward.”

Her eyes rested briefly on Rory.

“Some of you move forward very loudly.”

Rory straightened.

Then her gaze shifted to me.

“And some of you move forward quietly, even while pretending you are not hurt.”

My breath caught.

I looked down.

Lady Hilda stopped in front of us.

“Today, you will take your first step beyond training.”

Rory and I swallowed.

“Your task is simple,” Lady Hilda said.

Simple.

Whenever an adult said that, it usually meant the opposite.

Lady Hilda raised one finger.

“Outside the village, near the edge of the eastern woods, a D-rank monster has been sighted. You two will locate it, defeat it, and return before sunset.”

My mouth went dry.

A D-rank monster.

The second lowest rank of monster.

Adults in the village often spoke about D-rank monsters as if they were troublesome chores. Dangerous, but not impossible with enough preparation.

Rory and I had been training for this day for the past two years, ever since we were ten.

Now, we were twelve.

Rory’s eyes widened.

Then, slowly, excitement began to crawl across his face.

“A real monster…”

Lady Hilda continued.

“This is not a game. You are not going out there to prove how brave you are. You are going out there to prove whether you can use what you have learned in the past two years to survive in the outside world, making real decisions when your life is at risk.”

The room quieted.

The excitement in Rory’s face dimmed, but it did not disappear completely.

I understood him.

Part of me was terrified.

Another part of me wanted to know.

After two years of training, after all the bruises, failures, and mornings where my body hurt before I even got out of bed, I wanted to know if I had changed.

Even a little.

Lady Hilda walked back behind her desk and picked up a small folded map. She placed it on the table, then pushed it toward us.

“The monster was last sighted near the eastern woods, close to the old stone bridge. It is likely alone. You are to confirm the target, defeat it, and return together.”

“Together,” Sir Garther repeated.

His eyes moved to Rory.

“That means not charging ahead alone.”

Rory looked offended.

“I would never.”

Sir Garther stared at him.

Rory looked away.

“…again.”

I picked up the map.

The paper felt heavier than it should have.

Lady Hilda’s expression remained serious.

“If the situation becomes dangerous, retreat. Passing this test does not matter more than your lives.”

Rory nodded.

I nodded too.

Sir Garther opened the study door.

“Your supplies are prepared at the entrance. You will leave immediately.”

Rory straightened.

“Yes, sir.”

Sir Garther’s eyes rested briefly on Rory’s sword.

“At least one of you remembered to maintain your weapon.”

Rory blinked, then quickly placed a hand on the sword at his waist.

“Oh. Thank you, sir.”

I looked down at my own dagger.

The small blade rested at my side, plain and quiet.

Unlike Rory, who had his sword sharpened by a craftsman, I had sharpened my dagger myself the night before. I had checked the handle twice. I had even polished away the scratches from training.

But unlike Rory’s sword, it did not shine.

Sir Garther’s gaze passed over it for less than a second.

He did not say anything more.

I folded the map and held it tightly in my hand.

A real monster.

A real test.

A real chance to prove that the past two years meant something.

And yet, outside the window, the village of Eld still looked peaceful.

Normal.

Safe.

For some reason, I thought of my house.

Mother’s smile.

Father’s workshop.

Elene’s bright eyes.

Then, quietly, the dream returned.

Rain.

Mud.

Fire.

My fingers reaching for something I could not save.

I clenched the map in my hand.

No.

That was only a dream.

Rory stepped beside me, his usual grin slowly returning.

“Come on, Azoth,” he said. “Let’s go slay our first monster.”

I looked at him.

He looked excited.

Terrified too, probably.

But mostly excited.

That was Rory.

I forced myself to smile.

“Try not to trip before we get there.”

“Try not to scream ‘ghoul’ if you see my face again.”

“No promises.”

Rory laughed.

We stepped out of the study.

Just before the door closed behind us, Lady Hilda’s voice followed.

“Come back safely.”

I turned.

For a moment, Lady Hilda no longer looked like an overwhelming noble lady from another world.

Something unreadable passed through her eyes.

Then the door closed between us.

And our first real test began.

The hallway felt longer on the way out.

Rory walked ahead of me, already talking about what kind of monster it might be.

“Maybe it has claws,” he said. “Or horns. Or poison breath. Actually, poison breath would be bad. I hope it does not have poison breath.”

“That is your first smart thought today.”

“I have smart thoughts all the time.”

“You once tried to cook an egg by putting it under your pillow.”

“That was an experiment.”

“That was breakfast.”

“A failed experiment, then.”

I laughed despite myself.

His voice filled the hallway, bright and familiar. It made the mansion feel less strange. Less impossible.

A maid opened the mansion doors.

Morning light rushed in.

Rory stepped outside first.

I followed.

Behind us, the doors closed with a heavy sound.

…

Inside the study, silence returned.

Lady Hilda remained standing beside her desk, her gaze fixed on the closed door.

For a long moment, she said nothing.

Sir Garther stood by the window, watching the two boys cross the courtyard below.

“They believe it is a D-rank monster,” he said.

Lady Hilda smiled faintly.

“That is what they were told.”

Below, Azoth and Rory passed through the iron gate and stepped onto the village road. They looked small from above, almost painfully small, as they walked side by side toward the eastern woods.

Sir Garther’s expression did not change.

“The target is a B-rank.”

“Yes.”

“Rory can handle it.”

Lady Hilda’s smile remained faint.

“Perhaps.”

“Azoth cannot.”

“No,” she said. “He likely cannot.”

Below, the two boys passed through the iron gate and stepped onto the village road. They looked small from above, almost painfully small, as they walked side by side toward the eastern woods.

Sir Garther watched them in silence.

“If Rory is truly a candidate, this will draw it out of him.”

“And if Azoth dies?”

“Then his death will not be meaningless.”

Lady Hilda’s gaze moved toward the ancient hero monument outside the window.

“In our work, the weak have always existed to sharpen the strong.”

Sir Garther did not flinch.

“That is the doctrine.”

“At the very least,” Lady Hilda said, “today will show us whether Rory is worth cultivating.”

Sir Garther looked back toward the road.

“Rory is by far the most promising candidate.”

“His instincts are sharp. His body adapts quickly. His confidence pushes him forward. If anyone among the children of this village can awaken it, it will be him.”

Lady Hilda’s smile remained.

“And Azoth?”

Sir Garther’s answer came without hesitation.

“He has no talent for combat.”

The room became still.

“His stance is learned, not natural. His movements are corrected, not instinctive. His reactions are always half a breath too slow. He can repeat what he has been taught, but he cannot feel the flow of battle.”

Lady Hilda said nothing.

Sir Garther continued, his voice calm and almost merciless.

“Effort may make him competent. It will not make him an Inheritor.”

Outside, the two boys disappeared past the village houses.

Sir Garther’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“If the monster kills him, Rory will be forced to awaken. Loss is often the cleanest trigger.”

Lady Hilda’s fingers tapped once against the window frame.

“And if Azoth survives?”

Sir Garther turned from the window.

“Then I will admit my judgment was wrong.”

He turned toward the door.

“I will observe the battle from a distance.”

Lady Hilda nodded.

Sir Garther walked toward the door.

Before leaving, he paused.

“Shall I interfere?”

Lady Hilda’s eyes remained on the road.

“Interfere as you see fit.”

Sir Garther bowed.

The door closed behind him.

Lady Hilda remained alone in the study.

For a while, she watched the empty village road.

Then her smile widened.

Not warmly.

Not gently.

Expectantly.

“Now then…”

Her eyes gleamed beneath the morning light.

“Let’s see whether these two years were a waste of time…”

She looked toward the eastern woods.

“…or whether we have finally found what we were searching for.”