BLOOD & SIGILS

Chapter 3: The Mocking of a Veyrin

The grand hall of Count Rathmore's estate buzzed with conversation, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and candle wax. Nobles draped in fine silks and embroidered coatsmoved in groups, their laughter and whispers a carefully curated performance of grace and power.

Kael stood near the edge of the gathering, his posture stiff. His siblings, Rheon and Elira, had already dispersed—Rheon speaking with other heirs of the Great Houses, while Elira charmed a group of young noblewomen with effortless poise.

Kael?

He was alone.

It was better this way.

Here, among the most powerful bloodlines of Eldoria, he was an oddity. A Veyrin by name, but not in strength. If he tried to mingle, they would only remind him of it.

He exhaled slowly, adjusting the **high collar** of his deep red tunic. Perhaps if he kept to himself, the night would pass without incident—

"Well, well, if it isn't the weakest Veyrin."

Kael turned sharply.

Three boys stood before him, dressed in noble attire marked with the insignia of House Rathmore—a golden falcon clutching a sword.

The eldest, a boy around twelve years old, stood at the center with an arrogant smirk. His golden-blond hair was slicked back, his sharp blue eyes filled with amusement.

Cedric Rathmore.

The heir to House Rathmore, son of Count Armand Rathmore. A lesser noble compared to the Veyrins, yet powerful enough to demand respect from lesser lords and knights.

And, unlike Kael, he was known for his talent in swordplay.

At his sides stood his younger twin brothers, Derris and Callen, both eleven like Kael. Though smaller than Cedric, they mirrored his smirk, their eyes gleaming with the same mocking amusement.

Kael's fingers twitched at his sides.

He had barely been here for an hour, and already, this.

Cedric tilted his head. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

Kael kept his voice even. "What do you want, Cedric?"

The boy chuckled, shaking his head. "Come now, no need to sound so stiff. I just wanted to see the prodigy of House Veyrin up close."

The mockery in his tone was unmistakable. Behind them, a few other young nobles paused their conversations, their eyes flicking toward the scene.

They were watching.

Waiting to see what Kael would do.

His stomach twisted, but he refused to look away.

"You know," Cedric continued, taking a casual step forward, "I always wondered—how does it feel? Knowing you're a disappointment? That even among lesser nobles, we laugh at you?"

Kael felt his heartbeat pound in his ears.

He knew what Cedric was doing.

This wasn't about conversation. It wasn't even about personal hatred.

It was about power.

Cedric was making a show of belittling him—because he could.

Because he knew Kael wouldn't fight back.

Or so he thought.

Kael forced himself to unclench his fists. "If you're done, I'd like to leave."

Derris snorted. "Leave? Running away already?"

Callen grinned. "That's fitting. You weren't going to do anything anyway."

A few chuckles rippled from the onlookers.

Kael turned away.

But Cedric's hand shot out, gripping his shoulder.

"Not so fast," he said, his grip tightening. "If you want to leave, you need to prove you deserve to be here first."

Kael's breath hitched.

He knew what was coming.

A duel.

It was the way of noble heirs—disputes were settled with swords, not words. And in the eyes of the aristocracy, a boy who could not wield either wasn't worth acknowledging.

Silence fell over the hall.

Then, Cedric grinned. "What do you say, Kael Veyrin? Show us the power of your great house."

Kael's fingers twitched.

He wanted to refuse.

But if he did, the whispers, the ridicule, would never end.

For a moment, he hesitated.

Then, a new voice cut through the tension.

"That's enough."

Kael turned, relief flooding his chest.

Rheon.

His older brother strode toward them, his expression cold. He was taller than Cedric, his presence immediately overpowering. The moment Rheon spoke, the gathered nobles stiffened.

He didn't raise his voice, but his mere presence demanded silence.

Cedric, however, held his ground—barely.

"We're just having a friendly spar," he said, his smirk faltering only slightly. "Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Rheon's crimson eyes bore into him. "A spar implies both sides have something to gain. Tell me, Cedric, what exactly does my brother gain from this?"

Cedric opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Rheon took a step closer, his voice lowering.

"If you have a problem with House Veyrin, you can settle it with me instead."

Cedric froze.

A duel with Kaelwas an easy victory. A duel with Rheon?

That was suicide.

The boy took a small step back, forcing a chuckle. "Of course not. Just a misunderstanding."

Rheon didn't answer.

But his silence carried more weight than words.

Cedric and his brothers turned, vanishing into the crowd.

Only when they were gone did Kael release the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Rheon glanced at him. "You alright?"

Kael nodded, though his pride stung.

Rheon studied him for a moment longer. Then, with a small sigh, he placed a hand on Kael's shoulder.

"You don't have to prove yourself to people like them," he said quietly.

Kael wanted to believe that.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

As long as he remained weak, this would never stop.