The Steward

The sun had barely risen when a group of eleven, a muscular man with ashen wings in the lead, walked to the gate of the castle. The steward stood at the gate and was visibly disgusted at having to wake up this early.

The grey stones of the gate cast long shadows as the sun peeked through the mountains in the north. Eleven horses were neighing just outside the iron bars, neighing from time to time. The steward wore white on white. It seemed uncanny with the contrast of the grey stones in the background.

The squad of ten were wearing grey hoods, with basic armor underneath. Damien was still in the clothes he was given the day he arrived.

They stopped in front of the steward. The stern steward stood in the shadowy cover of the walls while Damien stood in the light.

"The insignia of the house."

The steward handed him a badge and a small metal cube.

"And that is something the noble should possess."

Silence. Damien did not want to speak to one of the people who made him suffer so much.

"The Baron asked me to reiterate this to you. Utilize the three years you have at the academy and find a noble lady to bear the heir of the barony. Otherwise, you will suffer a much stricter treatment. These are food, armor, and money that you will utilize and something that you will need to pay for by working if you are unable to find a spouse. A few matches have been made for you. The information is there," he pointed at the metal cube, "they will be waiting for your arrival in the academy. As for the rest, do whatever you want. Just don't show your face unless necessary."

The steward stood aside.

Damien finally spoke, "Basically fuck off, why did you learn all of that by heart?"

His team chuckled. Even some of the guards in the gate couldn't stop themselves.

The steward couldn't hold it in any longer and walked off briskly as if his honor would be trampled upon if he spoke to them any longer.

The group packed everything onto a carriage and left on the voyage.