The crimson gates sealed shut behind them with a clang, and Piera couldn't help but glance around the absurdly large hallway. Velvet carpets, trimmed frames, and mana-lit chandeliers dripping from the ceiling—it was like walking into a palace he, someone who percieved himself as belonging to the woods had no business being in.
"Don't look so impressed," Auren muttered beside him. "You'll get used to it." "I doubt it," Piera replied under his breath, adjusting the torn edge of his cloak. A servant passed by, giving the dried blood on his boots a quick, judgmental glance.
They moved through the winding corridors until they reached an arched hall that opened into a wide lounge with glass walls overlooking a midnight-black garden. Auren shoved the doors open without ceremony.
Inside were three people.
The first was a girl, probably around seventeen, lounging on a velvet couch with one leg crossed over the other. She sipped deep red tea from an unnecessarily stylish cup by Piera's standards, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement as she caught sight of Piera. Her jet-black hair flowed neatly over the collar of her regal blazer. Elegant. Sharp. And vaguely terrifying.
Next to her stood a silver-haired boy—tall, lean, and a few years older than Auren. A leather-bound book floated beside him, suspended in a quiet whirl of black mist. He didn't even spare Piera a proper look. Just a sideways glance, then back to the book.
The third was a lanky-looking boy. Pale-skinned with glowing red tattoos pulsing under his sleeveless shirt. His arms were folded, and his eyes half-lidded. But the second they stepped in, he cracked his knuckles loud enough to echo through the room.
Auren casually waved. "Sup. This is Piera. He's gonna be part of the family now."
The girl raised a brow without standing. "Really. Father gave his blessing already?"
"More or less," Auren said. "I asked. He agreed. Piera's officially our newest brother."
Piera blinked. "Wait, brother?"
"You got a problem with that? Because I'm telling you if you ever give my brother an issue, I'll beat you half-dead" the girl asked, setting her cup down and rising to her feet with practiced grace. Her lumiera rolled off her like heat—controlled but almost like a wave of fire.
"I'm just trying to catch up," Piera muttered, standing his ground as the pressure flared.
She stepped closer until they were barely a foot apart. "Hmm. You've got a dangerous aura for such a fine face."
Piera stared back. "Nice to meet you too"
She smirked. "I'm Nysera Valemir. Oldest sibling. If you screw up, I'll be the first to tell Father to toss you."
Piera nodded. "Piera."
"Ignore her. She's the second, she's supposed to be at Kriel with Adam, but she's on a leave."
"What a nice dynamic."
The silver-haired boy finally spoke, voice flat. "If he even breathes near my lab, I'll liquefy him."
Piera glanced at him. "My name's Piera. You seem like a nice guy, I'll be taking visits to your lab once in a while, Big Brother."
"That's Veyr," Auren said, grinning. "He's obsessed with dead things, forbidden alchemy, and muttering to himself."
Veyr didn't look up. "I don't mutter."
"Sure you don't," Nysera said dryly.
"And this tree of quiet doom is Gorran," Auren continued, pointing to the tattooed fellow. "He's the oldest but built like a damn twig. Don't try to impress him. He only respects arm-wrestling and headbutts. Don't insult him to his face, otherwise you're dead"
Gorran grunted. "Tch."
"...I see, Who will Insult a guy as lanky and as tall as he is" Piera said.
"You don't. Not yet," Nysera replied. "But you will."
A voice interrupted from the side. "I certainly hope so." Piera turned sharply.
Two women stood at the entrance, watching the exchange.
The first woman—Adam and Auren's mother—was dressed in dark velvet robes, her posture like a dagger poised for a strike. Her red eyes carried the weight of sharp intellect, dissecting Piera without a word, although her face looked like that of a five-year-old looking at a beautiful new toy.
The second woman—Nysera, Gorran, and Veyr's mother—was nothing like her. She stood with arms crossed, wearing a high-collared black coat over fitted combat attire. Her presence wasn't just regal; it was commanding, the kind that made warriors straighten their backs instinctively. A long scar ran down her left cheek, but her expression was unreadable.
"Piera, was it?" The first woman spoke, voice measured and cool, contrary to her facial expression.
"Yes."
She hummed, studying him as if searching for cracks. "You were raised outside nobility. That much is obvious."
The second woman scoffed. "Tch. Doesn't matter. The boy has survived worse than most aristocrats ever will."
Veyr closed his book with a soft thud. "You're both being dramatic."
"Silence, Veyr," his mother murmured, but it wasn't a scolding—just a fact.
Nysera sighed. "Piera, meet our mothers. Lady Silver Valemir, High Mistress of Diplomacy and the true mind behind our father's strategies." She gestured to the first woman.
Silver merely gave a small nod. "I expect you to behave accordingly."
Nysera then gestured to the second woman. "And Lady Miel Valemir, Head of the Crimson Guard. She's the reason Auren and Adam are the way they are."
Miel scoffed. "They're lucky they weren't worse."
Piera hesitated, then bowed slightly. "It's an honor."
Silver nodded, her gaze lingering a moment longer as if already calculating where he fit into the grand design of House Valemir. Miel, on the other hand, simply exhaled, rolling her shoulders like a commander assessing a new soldier.
"Honor won't mean much if you don't pull your weight," Miel remarked. "And Auren, why are you still a Stage 2 Sword Trainee while Piera is a Stage 3."
Auren kept his gaze on the ground. "Experience, it's experience, I'll reach him within one month, give me some time"
Croti's voice echoed faintly in Piera's head. These aren't just some blood-crazed blood suckers, at least they're not trying to drain your blood. Yet.
Piera exhaled. "This family's… intense."
Auren clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome to House Valemir."