Raizen followed Ricardo through the manor's shadowed corridor, sunlight filtering through cracked windows, dust swirling faintly in their wake.
His patched shirt stuck to his back, arms aching from yesterday's drills, but Ricardo's steady pace pulled him along.
"We're training hard today, Rai," the soldier said over his shoulder, gray hair catching the light. "Keep up."
Raizen's jaw tightened, hands flexing as they stepped into the courtyard, gravel crunching underfoot, the marquessate's sagging walls brooding overhead.
'He's got an edge today,' Raizen thought, 'he feels something shifting too.'
Ricardo tossed him a wooden sword. "High cuts first. Go." Raizen caught it, grip firm, and swung, the wood slicing through the air, thudding against a post.
"Faster," Ricardo said, circling with a rough edge to his voice. "No half-measures out there."
Raizen's arms burned as he pressed on, strikes clacking loud, sweat beading on his brow. "Good," Ricardo grunted, stepping in to block, their swords meeting with a sharp crack that jarred Raizen's wrists.
"Defend now." They clashed, Raizen's boots sliding on gravel, breath catching fast—hours stretching under the rising sun.
"Again," Ricardo barked when Raizen stumbled, eyes unrelenting.
His legs quivered, but he swung until Ricardo called it. "Enough," the soldier said, clapping his shoulder firmly. "You're close, kid. Rest up. Lira's got food waiting."
Raizen leaned against a post, chest heaving, watching Ricardo head off. 'He's making me tough for a reason,' he thought, 'I feel I'll need it soon.'
Servants moved past, hauling buckets, their whispers cutting through the quiet. "Teriel's brother's visiting," one muttered, voice low and tense. "Viscount Rossain."
Another glanced at Raizen, adding, "Marquess looks worse—cough's heavy now," before hurrying off.
"Rossain's coming here?" Raizen wondered, a knot forming in his gut.
'Viridian's condition is worsening, and Teriel's kin picking now to show up feels off.' He turned toward Lira's annex, the promise of stew drawing him against the manor's creeping chill.
Lira stood inside, kneading dough, flour dusting her gray-streaked hair as she glanced up. "Sit," she said, sliding a bowl of thick, meaty stew across the table.
"You're a scarecrow after Ricardo's ruthless drills." Raizen spooned it quickly, the warmth sinking deep into his bones. 'This beats anything the hall churns out,' he thought, 'keeps me from crumbling.'
Marvin burst in, grinning wide, snatching a hunk of bread. "Father's a beast, Rai's half-dead!" Lira chuckled low.
"He's building him up. Good thing too." Raizen tore into the bread, chewing slowly, then asked, "Who's Rossain?"
Lira's hands paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Teriel's brother. Quiet and sharp—like a snake in the grass. Him visiting now feel amiss, something's brewing, I'd bet."
Marvin piped up. "Father says he's trouble!" Lira nodded, her voice steady. "Likely so. Stay clear, Rai—something's stirring with that one around."
Raizen swallowed, the warmth fading into unease. 'Viridian's getting weaker,' he thought, 'and Teriel's brother showing up now doesn't sit right.'
A horn blared outside, sudden and shrill, making Raizen's spoon clatter against the bowl. "That's him," Lira muttered, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Stick close." He followed her out, the courtyard humming with nervous energy as servants scattered, a sleek black carriage rolling in.
Viscount Rossain stepped down—tall and lean, dark hair slicked tight—his eyes cold and unblinking, offering no words.
Teriel met him, Sylvia cradled in her arms, white hair stark against her cloak, gold eyes wide. "Brother," she said, her voice carrying a faint edge.
Rossain nodded once, his silence heavy, his gaze sliding to Viridian, who sat slumped on a bench by the manor steps, face pale, a wet cough rattling from his chest.
"Marquess," Rossain said, his voice low and flat, stepping closer with measured steps—his eyes locked on the frail man. Viridian wheezed, "What brings you here?"
His words came thin and strained as Sylvia wailed, Teriel shushing her sharply. 'He's wasting away,' Raizen thought, lingering near the annex shadows, 'and Rossain's just watching, like he's measuring something.'
Teriel's glare flicked over, cutting through the air. "Move along, filth," she spat, her tone venomous.
Rossain's eyes shifted, cold and assessing, settling on Raizen briefly before drifting back, still wordless. Ricardo stepped forward, his voice gruff. "Leave the kid be."
"Rossain," Viridian rasped, his cough breaking the words, "state your business." Teriel cut in, her tone tight but guarded.
"He's visiting—family matters. That's all." Rossain remained quiet, his gaze steady on Viridian, who slumped further as the servants flinched at another raw, hacking cough.
'He's a snake,' Raizen thought, 'silent and still, waiting for something—Teriel's up to no good with him here.'
Later, in the dining hall, the shadows stretched long, the air stale and heavy. Raizen sat quietly, Teriel across from him with Sylvia in a cradle beside her, Rossain next to her—silent, holding a cup without drinking.
"How's the marquess feeling?" Rossain asked, his voice low, the first words he'd spoken in hours—Teriel's lips twitched faintly.
"He'll manage," she said, her eyes flicking to Viridian. Sylvia cooed, her gold eyes peering over the cradle's edge as Raizen watched.
'It's not her I mind,' he thought, 'just this place—it's starting to feel like a trap closing in.' Viridian slumped at the head of the table, his breath rattling with a wet cough, his quill lying idle beside a trembling hand.
'He's barely holding on,' Raizen thought, 'and they're sitting here like it's normal.'
Ryan shifted beside him, scarf loose, muttering under his breath, 'Great meal—ghosts and cold stares.'
Raizen slid him a piece of bread, thinking, 'Ryan's feeling it too.' Rossain's gaze lifted, his voice cutting low.
"Hush." Raizen rasped back, "He's still here." Teriel snapped, "Mind yourself—stay clear of her."
Sylvia stirred in the cradle, and Raizen's jaw tightened. "Didn't touch anything," he said, his voice flat.
'She's on edge about Sylvia,' he thought, 'but it's this manor I can't stand—it's pulling us all down.'
Viridian coughed again, a harsh, grating sound, his head dipping forward—Teriel called out, "Water, now!" A servant hurried over, Rossain watching with that same still, unblinking stare.
He stood, his chair scraping against the floor—Teriel's eyes flashed. "Where are you going?" she hissed. "Out," he said, boots thudding as he left, Rossain's gaze trailing him faintly.
'Viridian's weakening every day,' he thought outside, the dusk settling cool around him, 'and with Rossain here, this place feels like it's teetering—Ricardo's training is all I've got to hold onto.'