But that wasn't what mattered.
The duke had brought him here, to a rival's home, that meant something.
Maybe the old man was testing him, seeing if he could hold his own off the field.
Gon straightened in his chair, the system's whisper a quiet hum in his head.
He'd prove himself, all right.
The marble floors shone, the tapestries hung heavy with old victories, the wine in his hand sat untouched, he was here to listen, not drink.
This was his chance to prove himself to his father, to show he could handle more than a battlefield.
The duke had brought him along after years of nothing, Gon wasn't about to let it slip.
The heavy door at the far end of the hall swung open, Ethan Veyris strode in, his boots scraping the floor with that same cocky swagger Gon remembered.
His eyes landed on Gon, he rolled them hard enough to make a point, exasperation etched into every line of his face.
"Oh, perfect," he said, voice thick with annoyance. "Why's he here?"
