The child of wolves (English version)

Training Part 2.

Upon waking, Astral went to the dining room to have breakfast. Unlike the last time, when the servants performed their tasks with apparent serenity, this time, everything seemed imbued with tension. Furtive glances, hurried gestures, and even a pitcher knocked over by a young maid betrayed the unease. A woman in an apron, visibly stressed, hastily wiped the floor, casting nervous glances toward the door as if dreading someone's arrival.

Astral observed the scene attentively. He remembered the almost majestic atmosphere during their first stay here: efficient servants, relaxed faces, a lively yet harmonious household. Today, everything seemed off. Even the light streaming through the large windows appeared dimmer.

After eating, he didn't linger any longer. Once he had finished grooming himself, he joined Virion in the gardens, where his father was calmly contemplating the neatly trimmed hedges. Unlike Astral, who felt on edge, Virion displayed a controlled calmness—a facade Astral knew to be deceptive.

"—Astral, you're awake! Did you sleep well?" Virion asked in a calm voice.

"—Yes, well enough. Although this house always feels cold. Back home, it's always warm in the morning. It's probably because of the ice stone it's made of," Astral replied, trying to mask his unease.

Virion smiled faintly. "—You're not wrong. But the cold here isn't just about the stone. This house reflects the spirits of those who inhabit it. You've noticed something, haven't you?"

Astral nodded. "—Yes... The servants. They seem stressed. And... the atmosphere. Last time, everything seemed more... organized."

Virion crouched down to be at his son's level, his gaze serious, almost intense. "—You have a sharp eye, Astral. That's a valuable talent. But what you're sensing isn't just an impression. Things have changed here. And I'm not talking about the decor."

Astral frowned. "—Why has it changed?"

Virion shrugged slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on the gardens before them. "—Because power always changes. Alliances, agreements, even smiles... Everything has a cost, and here, that cost is starting to weigh heavily."

He paused before continuing, his tone graver. "—Today, you'll be by my side. You'll see what a negotiation truly means. It's not about friendship or goodwill but about strength and needs. And sometimes, you must fight not to lose more than you're willing to give."

Astral detected a new tension in his father's voice. "—And what if it goes wrong?" he murmured.

Virion placed a firm hand on Astral's shoulder. "—Then we'll do what needs to be done. But listen carefully, Astral: keep your eyes open, observe everything, but most importantly, stay calm. If you lose your calm, you lose the game."

Astral nodded, his gaze gleaming with newfound determination. "—I'll be careful."

Virion straightened, his face resuming its mask of calm. "—Good. Then let's go."

Hakon's office was as imposing as ever: vast and adorned with discreet opulence. Yet, this time, Astral noticed something different. The curtains were slightly drawn, dimming the room. A faint smell of wax and metal lingered in the air. Hakon awaited them behind his desk, a smile on his lips, but his eyes betrayed a nervousness Astral picked up on immediately.

"—Virion, come in," Hakon called, rising from his chair. "And you as well, Astral. Sit down."

Virion responded with a slight nod before taking a seat, his face impassive. Astral, hanging back a little, observed in silence.

"—Did you sleep well?" Hakon asked, his tone deceptively light.

"—As well as one can in this icy house," Virion replied with a faint smirk. "But I doubt you invited me here to talk about comfort."