Chapter 11: Threads Among Nobles
The Agares estate shimmered under the evening light as carriages rolled through the grand gates, bearing the crests of various noble families. It was the season of courtship—not of love, but of politics.
Cultural showcases, youth exchanges, and formal banquets dotted the calendar. It was here that alliances were tested, enmities rekindled, and power delicately bartered behind masks of civility.
Volundr Agares, not yet a teenager, walked alongside Claudius and Lirien into the stately hall of House Amnios, where tonight's banquet was held. He wore deep blue robes embroidered with silver constellations—a reflection of his house's ancient link to time and order.
His face, calm and unreadable, held a maturity that unsettled many who met his gaze.
Claudius leaned down subtly. "You need not speak unless addressed, young lord. But watch them. Listen. Their words are tools... and traps."
Volundr gave a slight nod. "I intend to learn from both."
As they entered the banquet hall, the atmosphere was thick with old money and ambition. Lords and ladies of branch houses mingled with the Pillar clans. Volundr's presence was noted immediately—not because he was loud or flamboyant, but because of the way his gaze swept the room, dissecting each interaction with a strategist's lens.
He noticed how Lord Belial laughed just a little too heartily with a minor heiress from House Decarabia, clearly angling for her father's vote in the upcoming trade negotiation.
He caught a slight falter in Lady Barbatos' voice when she spoke to Lord Zepar—fear or frustration, it was hard to say, but it was a thread to file away.
The boy said little, but observed everything.
At the center of the hall, a display of magical artistry danced in the air—phoenixes sculpted from fire and elemental dragons woven from mist, each performance more grand than the last.
Nobles praised the beauty, but Volundr watched the enchanters themselves. Their techniques were precise, but their control varied.
"Spectacle before substance," he muttered to himself.
Lirien smirked. "You'll find that often among devils."
In the next chamber, Volundr was introduced to several young heirs and heiresses. He spoke politely, never revealing too much.
When one son of House Gamigin boasted of his martial training and dared Volundr to a friendly duel, the boy merely smiled.
"Some blades strike louder in silence," he said. "But I wish you well in your studies."
Later, Volundr crossed paths with Lord Phenex himself.
The elder devil's warm demeanor was as practiced as it was legendary. He leaned down and looked the young Agares in the eye.
"So this is the famous prodigy," Phenex said. "You do your house proud, young Volundr."
Volundr bowed slightly. "My house gave me a name. I must give it weight."
The noble chuckled. "A wise answer... for one so young. I shall watch your rise with interest."
But not all encounters were pleasant.
In the eastern wing of the estate, Volundr found himself momentarily cornered by a cocky heir of House Glasya-Labolas—a brash youth named Mordecai.
His tone was smooth, but his words barbed.
"Planning to lecture the elders with your famed insights?" Mordecai sneered. "Or perhaps you'll dazzle us all by quoting war strategy from the womb?"
Claudius moved to intervene, but Volundr raised a hand.
"I find that those who speak the loudest often fear silence," Volundr replied calmly. "But don't worry—when the time comes, even your voice will have a place in the future I build."
The tension between them thickened, but neither made another move. The moment passed, but whispers began anew.
Rumors followed Volundr wherever he appeared.
"He never blinks when he talks."
"He trains with his household warriors and reads war tomes at night."
"I heard he once predicted the outcome of a minor house feud before it even began."
Some called him strange. Others began calling him a potential tactician.
At another banquet, this one hosted by House Vassago, Volundr noted a brief moment when Serafall Leviathan, one of the Maou, entered the room in disguise.
Her magic was expertly veiled, but Volundr recognized her aura. Their eyes met for only a second, and her curious smile acknowledged what he saw.
Later, a server handed Volundr a folded note. It bore no name.
"You see more than your age allows. Be careful where you look."
He burned it before Claudius could ask.
As the gatherings continued over the weeks, Volundr began to speak more openly, testing reactions with cryptic comments:
"My future peerage will reflect not my strength, but my intent."
"I seek knights who sharpen not only their blades but their minds."
"Power is predictable. Loyalty is earned."
The responses were varied—confusion, intrigue, wariness. But Volundr noted them all. Each interaction a strand in the web he slowly wove.
By the month's end, Claudius reviewed his young charge's progress with Lirien.
"He's not just studying politics. He's shaping it," Claudius said. "Without even a piece on the board, he's begun the game."
Lirien nodded. "The other heirs play at status. He plays for future history."
And high above the noble halls, under the starless sky of the Underworld, Volundr stood atop his balcony.
He gazed outward, not at the present—but at the paths he would create.
A future not yet written, but already planned.
End of Chapter 11