Nathan’s - POV

  Spring finally arrived, and with it came a sense of relief I hadn’t realized I’d been holding onto all winter. The cold months had been harsh, and the old campsite would’ve turned into a muddy swamp by now. I was grateful, truly grateful, that we had managed to finish the fort before the spring rains rolled in. Living behind stone walls instead of canvas and logs felt like stepping from survival into civilization.

  Winter hadn’t been idle either. During those months, we recruited several adventurers and a handful of mercenaries. We made our expectations clear from the start: once they swore the vow and signed the contract, they would no longer be adventurers or mercenaries. They would become house guards and retainers of House Mayweather?Abensberg. A new identity. A new allegiance. A new future.

  Among them was a small but well?organized mercenary company that called themselves the Golden Company. The name made me smirk, how could it not? It was a reference to one of my favorite book series back on Earth. But unlike their fictional counterpart, this Golden Company numbered only thirty?five: twenty?five men and ten women, a balanced mix of warriors, archers, a few mages, and even priests. As expected, none of them had families. That, apparently, was the point. Their leader wanted a chance for his people to settle down, to stop wandering from battlefield to battlefield, and to build something lasting.

  When my father told them about our destination; remote, undeveloped, and dangerous; they didn’t even blink. That surprised all of us. Their captain, Warren Iridur, a level 40 human warrior, explained why.

  The Golden Company had been founded fifteen years ago by his father, a wandering knight; an actual knight, not just a title. A level 52 Knight, the real deal. Under his leadership, the company had grown to nearly a thousand strong at its peak. They fought in wars, border skirmishes, and succession conflicts, hired by various states and regional lords. But mercenary life was brutal. Their numbers dwindled with every campaign. Worse, when the employers lost, they didn’t get paid. Dead lords don’t settle debts, and ruined nobles can’t honor contracts. As Captain Warren put it, “You can’t bill the dead.”

  A year ago, his father succumbed to wounds from a losing battle. Before he died, he knighted Warren and the remaining members of the company. When Stanley scouted them, they saw a chance; not for glory, but for stability. All they asked was recognition of their knighthood and a small grant of land to settle.

  My father accepted immediately. He had been a knight himself before our family fell from power, and he understood the weight of the title. He formally acknowledged their knighthood and, in the same ceremony, knighted Anda and the rest of his party.

  My modern brain struggled with the idea. My father was an archer. Anda was a mage. Some were priests. How could they be knights?

  My mother explained it simply: knighthood wasn’t tied to the warrior class. It was a title of prestige, a legal elevation from commoner to nobility. Skilled combatants; regardless of whether they were warriors, hunters, priests, or mages; could be knighted by their lord. The title granted rights, protections, and status recognized across the feudal world. It wasn’t about the weapon in your hand; it was about the oath you swore and the responsibilities you accepted.

  With the new additions, our forces now numbered just over a hundred. Forty?five were knights; Anda’s group, the adventurers we recruited, and Captain Warren’s people. The rest were men?at?arms. Respectable, but far from formidable. And their levels were mostly in the mid?20s to mid?30s. We needed more strength, more training, more everything.

  In a few days, Jack and Serena would accompany my parents on a dungeon expedition. Meanwhile, Christine, Shive, and I would remain at the fort. Technically, my minions could raise my level for me, but I wanted to experience dungeon delving firsthand. I wanted to feel the danger, the thrill, and the reality of it. But I still had two years before I’d be allowed to join them.

  So, I turned my attention to something I could influence: weapons development.

  Composite bows, crossbows, ballistae; anything that could give our small force an edge. Our metallurgy was still leagues behind modern steel. Modern alloys were out of reach for now, but I could aim for something better: crucible steel. Wootz steel. The legendary material behind true Damascus blades. The best steel of the medieval era back on Earth, superior to anything Europe produced at the time.

  Once again, I silently thanked God for the “cheat” in my head. But even with that advantage, I couldn’t just hand John the formula and expect miracles. I had to guide him step by step, explaining concepts he had no frame of reference for. Carbon content, temperature control, slag removal, things that were second nature to modern metallurgy but practically arcane here.

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  Most of my days were now spent working with John and Brian in the forge. I still trained, of course, but I planned to increase the intensity once I turned ten. For now, building the foundation of our future military strength mattered more.

  Spring had come, and with it, the first real stirrings of growth, our people and our ambitions. And I intended to make sure that when the next winter arrived, we would be stronger than ever.

  Serena – POV

  I could barely keep still. Every time I thought about it, my stomach fluttered with excitement, we would be exploring an actual dungeon soon. A real one. Not the training caverns near the fort; not the shallow monster dens the adults cleared for practice, but a true dungeon. The kind bards wrote songs about.

  Lady Belle; yes, Lady Belle now; has been preparing us for weeks. It still felt strange calling her that, but she had earned her knighthood, and she carried the title with a quiet dignity that made it feel natural. When she first offered to teach us magic, I honestly thought it would be pointless. She was a water mage, and I was a fire mage. What could she possibly teach me besides how to splash someone really hard?

  But then she brought out the spellbooks.

  I remember the moment clearly: she set down a stack of thick, leather?bound tomes, and when I opened the first one, I nearly dropped it. Fireball. Fire tornado. Flame burst. Dozens of fire?aligned spells, all meticulously written and diagrammed. And the next book had earth spells. The next, wind. The next, even light and shadow.

  That was when I learned something important; affinity didn’t mean exclusivity. My fire affinity simply meant I was better at fire spells, not restricted to them. I could cast water or earth magic if I wanted, but the mana cost would be ridiculous. Still, the idea thrilled me. Magic was so much bigger than I thought.

  But then there was Nathan.

  I still couldn’t get his strange fire spell out of my head. That enormous fireball he cast, if you could even call it a fireball, had a weird color, almost alive. And the mana he must have used… how did he not collapse? What did he call it again? Soul… fire?

  I could ask Lady Belle, but that felt like snitching. Nathan trusted me. I wouldn’t betray that.

  Days passed quickly as Jack and I prepared for our first dungeon delve. I spent most of that time teasing Christine and Nathan. Christine was easy; she flared up like a startled cat every time I poked at her. Nathan, though… he just smiled. Calm. Unbothered. Sometimes he’d say, “Be careful,” or “I’ll catch up.”

  Catch up? In two years? Impossible.

  Then again… this was Nathan. My prodigy brother. The boy who learned swordsmanship faster than adults. The boy who cast strange spells no one had ever seen. The boy whose demon companions could manipulate shadows like they were silk threads and kill without even flinching, like it was breathing.

  Wait… did he have some insane spell that could instantly kill a monster? Or maybe his minions could? No, that didn’t feel right. Maybe he was just acting cool.

  Ugh. I was even starting to copy his way of speaking. But I have to admit... it was catchy.

  Jack – POV

  I could feel it; my body was stronger, my stance steadier, my movements sharper. All the training from the old baron’s school, combined with Nathan’s strange but effective lessons, had finally begun to click. The dungeon delve would be my chance to prove myself, not just to others, but to me.

  Still, it was bizarre. Nathan was eight. Eight. He could barely lift a real steel sword, yet he moved like someone who had trained for years. His techniques were precise, efficient, and deadly. When I asked where he learned them, he always gave the same answers: “I’ll tell you later,” or “It just popped into my head.”

  Popped? Like a bubble? What kind of answer was that?

  I loved Nathan, he was my brother, but sometimes he acted like he was already an adult trapped in a child’s body. Did Mother drop him on his head as a baby? No… I would’ve remembered something like that.

  But the truth was undeniable: he was gifted. The way he spoke to adults, the way he analyzed problems, the way he carried himself, it was all beyond his age. And that’s when the doubt crept in. Not doubt in him… doubt in myself.

  Nathan was more talented than both me and Serena. What if Father named him the successor? Would I be okay with that?

  The fact that I even asked myself that question told me the answer.

  Being the firstborn didn’t guarantee anything. Shaxaian tradition valued skill and capability over birth order. And in that regard… I was already behind.

  This dungeon delves would put me ahead of Nathan. That was my first thought. And then I realized how ugly that sounded. What was wrong with me? We didn’t even know if we could reclaim our lands, and here I was worrying about succession and comparing myself to my own brother.

  Stupid. Truly stupid.

  I needed to better myself first. Strengthen myself. Become someone worthy of the future I wanted. Only then could I face whatever came next; whether it was monsters, politics, or my own insecurities.