"…What?"
The word slipped out before he could stop it—flat, quiet, utterly unprepared for whatever logic had just been thrown at him.
The boy didn't miss a beat.
"I declare you my rival," he repeated, just as loudly as before, posture proud, chin lifted as though he'd just made a formal proclamation before a court rather than cornered someone at a gathering.
Lux blinked once.
Then again.
"I—" He stopped, recalibrated, and tried again. "I'm… sorry. I don't believe I understand."
The boy clicked his tongue, disappointed—not at Lux, but at the situation itself. "It's simple. We're the same age. You're connected to House Achrion. I'm from House Fulgur." His grin sharpened. "Rival houses. That makes us rivals too. Naturally."
Naturally.
Lux felt like he'd skipped several steps in a conversation he hadn't agreed to have.
"That's… not how that works," Lux said carefully, though even as he spoke, he wasn't entirely certain. Nobility logic seemed to operate on rules that bent when it pleased them.
The boy waved a hand dismissively. "Details."
Lux opened his mouth, then closed it again. His gaze flicked briefly to the surrounding hall—still buzzing with conversation, laughter, quiet deals being made over crystal glasses. No one was paying them any real attention. That somehow made this worse.
Seeing Lux's expression—equal parts baffled and wary—the boy finally relented enough to introduce himself properly. He straightened, one hand crossing his chest in a gesture that was formal, if a bit theatrical.
"Dominic Fulgur," he announced proudly. "Youngest son of House Fulgur."
The name landed with weight.
Lux had heard it before. In one of Instructor Martin's classes. Not Dominic specifically, but the house—always mentioned alongside Achrion in the same breath.
Rivals.
Dominic's golden eyes gleamed as he continued, voice lowering just slightly. "Even if you're only a ward," he said, arrogance threading his tone but stopping just short of insult, "what I've heard about your progress makes you ideal."
"Ideal… for what?" Lux asked.
"For pushing me," Dominic replied simply. "For forcing me to surpass myself."
Lux stared at him again, this time with a different expression—less confusion, more disbelief.
This boy was serious.
Before Lux could formulate a response, Dominic leaned forward a fraction, studying him openly. "Now then," he said, "state your name."
Lux hesitated.
The request wasn't hostile. If anything, it felt ceremonial—as though refusing would violate some unspoken rule. He drew in a breath, straightened his posture, and answered.
"Lux," he said. He paused, corrected himself smoothly. "Lux. Ward of House Achrion."
Dominic's grin widened, satisfied. "Perfect."
Dominic didn't feel malicious or scheming like some of the older nobles he'd spoken to earlier. Sure he was a bit odd but that was only by comparison. There was no hidden hook in his words, no careful attempt to extract value.
Just raw confidence. And enthusiasm bordering on recklessness.
Before Lux could respond—or escape—the atmosphere shifted.
"—There you are."
The voice was sharp, controlled, and unmistakably irritated.
Lux turned as two figures approached from the main floor.
The first was a girl with striking red hair that fell down her back in soft, deliberate waves, each strand catching the warm light of the hall. Her emerald eyes were narrowed, fixed squarely on Dominic with the kind of look that suggested she'd been searching for him for some time. She wore a red-and-black dress that balanced elegance with authority—the darker tones grounding the vivid crimson, the cut refined without being restrictive. She looked about Lux's age, perhaps a touch older, and carried herself with a composure that felt practiced.
The second was a boy standing just behind her shoulder.
He was taller than both Lux and Dominic, likely two or three years older. His eyes were slanted or slit, Lux couldn't really tell, but they were observant and calm, missing nothing. His hair was spiky black with a distinct brown accent near the fringe, as though intentionally dyed or naturally marked. He wore pale green and brown—muted colors that blended rather than announced, tailored neatly to his frame. Where Dominic drew attention, this one absorbed it quietly.
The red-haired girl stopped directly in front of Dominic, arms folding.
"You ditched us," she said, pointing a finger at his chest, her eyes flashing. "Right in the middle of the game. We were winning. You had the best hand. The best hand, Dominic."
Dominic tilted his head, completely unbothered. "And?"
"And because you walked off," she snapped, "we lost. Do you have any idea how irritating it is to lose because your teammate just disconnects and disappears? And it's not even a video game!"
Behind her, the older boy let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Rese," he said mildly, tone easygoing, "it was just a game. No need to start a war over cards."
She shot him a look. "This is exactly how wars start, Vale."
He smiled anyway—soft and resigned—clearly having accepted long ago that calming Rese down was a losing battle. He took a small step back, hands raised in surrender, content to observe rather than intervene.
Dominic, meanwhile, puffed his chest slightly, completely unapologetic.
"That game was boring anyway," he said proudly. "I found something far more exciting." He turned dramatically, sweeping an arm outward. "Behold—my rival."
Lux stiffened as all attention snapped to him.
He offered a small, awkward smile, shoulders squared out of habit, posture still polished from hours of etiquette drills. "Ah… hello."
Rese's glare shifted from Dominic to Lux.
She studied him for a moment. His attire, the subtle silver accents, the unmistakable restraint of House Achrion's aesthetic. Her expression softened, curiosity replacing irritation.
"Oh," she said. "So you're the ward."
Lux blinked. "I…..Sorry?"
"The ward everyone's been whispering about," she clarified. "Lux, right?"
His brows lifted slightly. "Am I… really being discussed that much?"
Rese scoffed lightly. "Anything a house like Achrion does attracts attention. That's just how it is. Word spreads fast as well.
Lux absorbed that quietly. He wasn't sure how to feel about it.
She waved the thought away almost immediately. "Anyway—forget that." Her gaze snapped back to Dominic. "You still owe me for that loss."
Dominic crossed his arms. "I owe you nothing woman."
Rese stepped closer, fire returning to her eyes. "The Ardor family principle states that any loss must be repaid with a victory fifty times more glorious."
"That sounds made up," Dominic said.
"It's principle," she shot back.
Lux watched the two of them go back and forth—Rese pressing, Dominic refusing with stubborn pride—and for just a second, something tugged at his chest.
It reminded him of arguments without consequence. Of voices raised not in calculation, but in familiarity. Of friction that didn't carry weight behind it.
The feeling passed quickly.
Vale stepped forward before the exchange could escalate further, placing himself gently between them. He smiled, easy and disarming, and dipped his head slightly toward Lux.
"My apologies," he said. "They tend to… forget who they are."
Lux shook his head quickly. "It's fine. Really."
Vale extended a hand. "Vale Dolus. Second son of House Dolus."
Lux accepted the handshake, surprised by the firmness of Vale's grip. It was steady, grounded. Not forceful—but confident.
"Huh," Vale murmured, eyebrows lifting slightly. "Strong grip. Didn't expect that."
Lux flushed faintly. "thank….you?"
Dominic snorted. "Shouldn't you introduce yourself as well, Rese?" he said, glancing at her sideways. "He is my rival now, after all."
Vale nodded in agreement. "Fair's fair."
Rese clicked her tongue, clearly annoyed, but straightened nonetheless. Her posture shifted subtly—less fiery, more composed. Pride settled into her stance like armor.
"Rese Ardor," she said. "Youngest daughter of House Ardor."
She met Lux's gaze directly and a smile filled with nothing but pride crept upon her face.
"House to the strongest Therma-aspect Pathfinders in history."