The Veritas compound had transformed into something that would make the Emperor's palace look understated. Ice sculptures taller than buildings gleamed under mage-lights, each one depicting some glorious moment from the family's history - though Avian noticed they'd conveniently left out the failures.

Typical. History written by whoever can afford the best ice sculptors.

He stood at the entrance to the main hall, wearing formal robes that felt like wearing a tent made of money. The deep blue fabric was shot through with silver thread that moved like liquid mercury, probably enchanted by some Third Circle mage who charged by the breath.

This was the first time in six months Aedric had allowed him out of training for anything beyond sleeping and eating. "Family obligations," his father had said, though his tone suggested he'd rather have them both still in the training room. "Even I can't skip Winter's Descent without the elders having fits."

"Stop fidgeting," Elira murmured from behind him. She'd gone full political handler mode, wearing the formal uniform of a head attendant but somehow making it look like armor. "You're the heir. Act like it."

"The heir wants to burn these robes and go back to training." As much as Lysander's brutal sessions hurt, at least they were straightforward.

"The heir will smile and accept whatever insane gifts the other houses brought." She adjusted his collar with practiced efficiency. "The Blackstones brought something wrapped in lead. The Ashfords' gift is literally steaming. And House Rothven... theirs is making sounds."

"Sounds?"

"Scratching, mostly. Try not to open it near your face."

The massive doors swung open before he could respond, and the assault began.

The great hall stretched impossibly vast, every surface decorated with the kind of excess that suggested someone had asked "what if we spent all the money?" and then done exactly that. Hundreds of nobles milled about in their finest clothes, each conversation a careful dance of implications and threats disguised as pleasantries.

But what caught Avian's attention was the center of the hall.

A fighting ring.

Not a crude thing like the tournament arena, but an elegant circle of silver-traced marble, raised on a platform so everyone could watch. Already, young nobles were testing each other with "friendly" demonstrations that left blood on the pristine stone.

Of course. Can't have a Veritas gathering without violence. Probably take bets on who bleeds first.

"Young Lord Veritas!"

Lord Blackstone materialized from the crowd like expensive prejudice given form. The man looked like someone had carved arrogance from marble and taught it to sneer. Behind him, his son - a Third Tier warrior trying desperately to look impressive - carried a lead-wrapped package that required both hands.

"Such an honor to celebrate Winter's Descent with the... youngest heir in history." The pause before 'youngest' hung in the air like a challenge.

"Lord Blackstone." Avian's bow was exactly shallow enough to be insulting while technically correct. "How thoughtful of you to bring such a... heavy gift."

The younger Blackstone shifted the package, clearly struggling but trying not to show it.

"It's lined with lead for your protection," Lord Blackstone said smoothly. "A gravity aspected mana crystal. Incredibly volatile. We thought someone with your... claimed affinity for gravity magic might appreciate it."

A test. They want to see if I can actually manipulate gravity or if it was just arena showmanship.

"How generous." Avian gestured for the younger Blackstone to set it down. As the package touched the ground, he made it lighter with a subtle gesture - not enough to be obvious, but enough that when the young man straightened, he stumbled slightly from overcompensating for weight that wasn't there anymore.

"Volatile crystals can be tricky," Avian said mildly. "Best to handle them carefully. Thank you for the thoughtful gift, Lord Blackstone."

The message was clear - he had gravity magic, he could use it subtly, and he wasn't going to perform tricks on demand.

Lord Blackstone's smile never wavered, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Of course. We look forward to seeing what the new heir accomplishes."

They moved on, but the damage was done. Within minutes, whispers spread through the hall. The new heir had gravity magic. The new heir had just subtly demonstrated power without showing off.

"Smoothly done," Elira murmured as they walked deeper into the gathering. "Though you've definitely made an enemy."

"Already had plenty. What's one more?"

The gift presentations continued in a parade of increasingly insane offerings. House Ashford's steaming package turned out to be an alchemical bomb disguised as incense - "for meditation," they claimed, though it would definitely explode if lit. The Rothvens' scratching box contained what looked like a baby hydra with a bow around one of its necks.

"They're all trying to kill me," Avian observed after the seventh potentially lethal gift.

"Welcome to being heir," Elira replied. "The fun part is figuring out which ones are serious and which are just testing your reactions."

"Avian!"

He turned to find Seren approaching through the crowd, wearing formal robes he'd never seen her in before - deep purple with silver trim, marking her as a scholar of noble standing. Her ever-present notebook was absent, but her sharp eyes were taking in everything.

"Seren. I didn't expect to see you here."

"House Lyselle may be minor, but we're old enough to warrant an invitation." She smiled, but there was something calculating in her expression. "Congratulations on becoming heir. Your performance in the arena was... illuminating."

That tone. She's figured out something.

"Thank you. Though I mostly just refused to fall down."

"Yes. That will of yours is quite something." She glanced around, then stepped closer. "We need to talk. After the demonstrations. There are patterns in the historical record that suddenly make sense after watching you fight."

Before he could respond, the crowd parted again. This time for Thane.

"Brother!" Thane's greeting was warm, genuine. The shadows around him moved strangely - not threatening, just wrong - but his smile was real. Six months had changed him. The soft edges were gone, replaced by someone who'd found his own path.

"Thane. You look good. The shadow training's working."

"Better than expected." Thane clasped his shoulder - a gesture that would have been impossible before Malethar. "Congratulations on becoming heir. You earned it."

"You could have had it."

"We both know I couldn't. Not really." Thane's expression was peaceful with that admission. "I found something better. My own path, not one carved by Father's expectations."

His shadow moved independently for a moment, and Avian caught a glimpse of too many eyes before it settled.

"Whisper's grown stronger," Avian observed quietly.

"Significantly. And he's been... chatty lately. Keeps mentioning things about you." Thane glanced around, then leaned closer. "We need to talk. After the demonstrations. Something's been bothering me since the arena."

"What about?"

"The way Father looked when you broke through to Seventh Tier. He wasn't just surprised by your power - he was looking at something else. Something around you." His expression grew serious. "And Whisper's been agitated ever since. Says something feels off about you, but it's... wrong somehow. Suppressive."

Before Avian could respond, a bell chimed. The crowd turned toward the main platform where Aedric stood, somehow appearing without anyone seeing him arrive. But he wasn't alone.

Three figures in white robes stood beside him, their faces hidden behind masks that reflected everything and showed nothing. Shepherds. The Church's hunters of divine anomalies.

"Family and guests," Aedric's voice carried without enhancement, though there was a tightness to it that suggested he wasn't happy about his companions. "Winter's Descent is upon us. The night when we remember that darkness comes for all, but the strong make darkness serve."

One of the Shepherds tilted their head toward Avian, and even from across the hall, he could feel their attention like cold fingers on his spine.

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"Tonight, we witness the growth of our youth. In the spirit of maintaining good relations with the Church, we have honored observers." The way he said 'honored' suggested he'd rather have plague. "The Church values its connections with the great houses, and we value... mutual understanding."

Politics. The Church needs noble support, nobles need Church approval. Everyone pretends to like each other.

"The ring awaits," Aedric continued. "Who will show us how they've grown?"

Several young nobles immediately moved toward the platform, eager to show off. One of them - a Rothven cousin - actually called out to Avian.

"Surely the heir will demonstrate? Show us what Lysander Crowe has been teaching you these six months?"

The crowd's attention shifted like a living thing, hundreds of eyes finding Avian with predatory interest. The Shepherds leaned forward slightly.

Avian looked at the ring, at the blood already staining the marble from "friendly" demonstrations, at the eager faces waiting to see him perform like a trained animal.

"No."

The word dropped into the silence like a stone into still water. Ripples of shock spread through the crowd.

"I'm sorry?" The Rothven cousin blinked. "Surely the heir—"

"The heir," Avian said clearly, his voice carrying to every corner of the hall, "doesn't feel the need to bleed for your entertainment. I already proved myself in the arena. I moved a Paragon Knight. That should be demonstration enough for anyone."

Gasps. Murmurs. Several nobles looked scandalized. How dare the heir refuse to participate in tradition?

But on the platform, Aedric's lips twitched. Just slightly. The ghost of a smile before his expression returned to neutral.

"The heir speaks truth," Aedric said, and his approval was like a blade cutting through the crowd's disapproval. "He has nothing to prove to this gathering. Those who wish to demonstrate may do so. Those who don't..." He looked directly at Avian. "Have that right."

Thane laughed - actually laughed out loud. "You know what? He's right." He looked at the crowd with amusement. "We're not dancing bears. If you want to see our progress, wait for something that matters."

The crowd didn't know how to respond. Two Veritas sons refusing to perform? But with the Patriarch's approval?

"Interesting," one of the Shepherds spoke, their voice neither male nor female. "Such confidence. Or perhaps... wisdom? Knowing when to reveal one's capabilities and when to withhold them."

They stepped forward, and several nobles backed away.

"Young heir," the Shepherd continued, mask reflecting nothing but Avian's face. "Your restraint is... noted. As is your spirit companion's absence. She rests, perhaps?"

At the mention of Lux, the ring on Avian's finger sparked with indignation. The wolf had opinions about being called absent.

Before Avian could respond, Lux burst from her ring form in an explosion of lightning. She materialized mid-leap, landing on the platform with electricity crackling through her fur. Several nobles yelped and scrambled back.

The lightning wolf sat primly, tail wagging, looking tremendously pleased with herself. Then she noticed the Shepherds and her hackles rose slightly - not aggressive, but wary.

"Not absent," Avian said dryly. "Just selective about her appearances."

"A lightning spirit of remarkable strength," the Shepherd observed. "Ancient, if the signs are correct. How did a child come to bond with such a being?"

"Mutual stubbornness," Avian replied, which got another ghost of a smile from Aedric.

Lux, apparently bored with the tension, decided to investigate Thane's shadow. Whisper partially manifested - curious about the lightning wolf sniffing at his essence. The two spirits regarded each other with interest. Shadow spirits had a reputation for being dangerous, but Lux just tilted her head and sparked with amusement. Whisper's form rippled, almost like laughter.

"Your wolf has interesting taste in friends," Thane murmured.

"She's always been weird about shadow spirits. Finds them funny."

The demonstrations continued without them. Young nobles showed their techniques, drew blood, proved their worth to each other. But the real attention stayed on the two brothers who'd refused to perform, standing apart with their spirit companions visible.

"Such a curious thing," the lead Shepherd said, approaching them directly. "The heir who moved a Paragon Knight through will alone. Who shattered divine chains in front of thousands. Who killed a five-hundred-year-old death mancer at twelve." They tilted their head. "One might think you had done this before."

The threat was subtle but clear.

"One might think many things," Avian replied evenly. "Thinking and knowing are different beasts."

"Indeed. We think quite a lot about you, young heir. We think about patterns that repeat. We think about those who break limits thought unbreakable."

"Sounds exhausting. All that thinking."

The Shepherd actually chuckled - a sound like glass chimes in a graveyard. "You're very much your father's son. But remember, young heir - the Church has a long memory. We remember things others forget. We watch patterns others miss."

They turned to leave, then paused. "Power always comes with a price. The stronger you grow, the more attention you draw. Consider that a gift, from one servant of order to another."

The Shepherds didn't depart immediately. Instead, they dispersed into the crowd, speaking with various nobles, building their networks. One lingered near Lord Blackstone, discussing something that made the lord's face grow increasingly pale. Another chatted pleasantly with a group of minor houses about "supporting the spiritual education of their children." The third simply observed, mask turning to track different conversations.

"Well," Thane said into the sudden quiet. "That was ominous."

"The Church is always ominous," Avian replied. "It's practically their brand."

The feast that followed was subdued, at least around Avian. Nobles didn't quite know how to handle an heir who refused to perform, who spoke casually to Church Shepherds, who had a Patriarch's approval to ignore tradition.

Seren found him during the third course.

"That was brave or stupid, refusing to demonstrate."

"Probably both."

"The Shepherds are very interested in you. That's not usually a good thing." She studied his face. "I've been... busy since we last spoke. Remember when I mentioned those contradictions in the Demon War timeline?"

"Vaguely."

"Well, I may have done something slightly illegal. I've been sneaking into the Church archives at night. And I found something - traces of where Report 452 should be. You know, the missing one between Commander Dex entering the Demon King's fortress and Vaerin emerging?" She leaned closer, voice dropping. "The pages were torn out, but I found fragments caught in the binding. Just a few words - 'Commander D. alone' and 'truth of victory' were legible."

Avian's attention sharpened, though he kept his expression neutral. "What else?"

"Whoever removed it was careful everywhere else but rushed with this one. Like they had to destroy it quickly. The removal is old, maybe contemporary to the events." She studied his face. "Whatever happened in that throne room, someone wanted it erased immediately. While the ink was still fresh."

"Any other fragments?"

"One more - partial word that looked like 'betrayal' but I can't be certain." She paused. "Your interest in this particular report is... notable."

"It's the pivotal moment of the war. Of course it's interesting."

"Interesting enough that you fight like the Commander described in those dispatches? Applied violence, brutal efficiency?" She met his eyes steadily. "I'm a historian, Avian. I see patterns."

"Coincidence."

"Historian's don't believe in coincidence. We believe in patterns." She paused. "I'm writing a new treatise. About the Demon War. The real one, not the sanctified version. When I finish, you might find it... illuminating. I'll keep you informed of what I discover - discreetly, of course."

"That would be... appreciated."

"Good. Expect letters. Coded, naturally - can't have the Church intercepting academic correspondence." She glanced at the Shepherds still mingling with nobles. "Be careful, Avian. The Church doesn't just watch - they act when they think someone's become too dangerous."

Later, on the balcony with Thane, watching dawn break over melting ice sculptures.

"You really don't care anymore, do you?" Thane observed with something like admiration. "Just told an entire hall of nobles to leave you alone, politely."

"I'm tired of performing. I did it for years in the branch family. Now I'm heir - I thought that meant I could stop."

"It means you get to choose when to perform. There's a difference." Thane was quiet for a moment. "Those Shepherds. They were hunting."

"I know."

"Whatever they think you are, they're not going to stop watching."

"I know that too."

"About what Whisper's been saying - he keeps mentioning something feels off about you. Not bad, just... wrong. Like something's suppressing your natural state."

"Suppressing?"

"His words were 'like watching a bonfire trying to burn underwater.' Something's actively dampening you." Thane met his eyes. "He can't tell what - says getting too close to it makes him uncomfortable. But whatever it is, it's not natural."

"That's... ambitious of whoever's doing it. And dangerous. If Father finds out someone's been tampering with his heir..."

"He might already know. You said he was looking at something during the arena fight."

"He saw the chains break." Thane's expression was grim. "Which means he knows they were there. Question is, why hasn't he done anything about it?"

"Maybe he can't. Or maybe he's playing a longer game."

They stood in comfortable silence, watching the sun paint the sky in shades of gold and blood.

"I should head back," Avian said eventually. "Lysander will be expecting me at dawn, and she gets creative when I'm late."

"Creative?"

"Last time she had me fight her blindfolded. While she wasn't."

"That sounds..."

"Educational. Very educational."

Thane laughed. "Father really did find you the perfect teacher. Completely insane but effective."

"Story of my life, apparently."

As they parted ways, Thane paused. "Avian? That thing you did tonight - refusing to perform? Father approved because you showed you understood power. Real power doesn't need to prove itself constantly. It just is."

"Philosophy from you?"

"Whisper's been chatty. Shadow spirits think about power differently than humans. To them, the ones who display it constantly are the weakest. The truly powerful can afford to be still."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Do. And brother? Whatever the Church wants with you, whatever game they're playing - you're not alone in it. Malethar taught us that much."

"I know. Thanks, Thane."

Back in his quarters, Avian found Elira waiting with fresh training clothes and medical supplies.

"How bad was the political damage from my refusing to fight?"

"Significant with the lesser houses. Negligible with the ones that matter." She smiled slightly. "Lord Veritas seemed pleased, actually. Said something about his heir finally understanding the difference between strength and display."

"Small mercies."

"Indeed. Lysander sent word - she has something special planned for this morning."

"Of course she does."

"She mentioned something about 'gravity resistance training' and 'how much weight can a body take before it liquefies.'"

"Fuck."

"Language, young master."

"Fuck politely?"

"Better."

As dawn broke properly, Avian headed to the training grounds where six months of brutal education awaited. The Winter's Descent celebration already felt like a dream - a brief glimpse of the political world he'd have to navigate eventually.

But for now, he had a psychotic knight commander to survive.

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