"What kind of suggestions?" Dante asked as Lady Diana walked forward and guided his arms and legs into a few standing postures.
"There. With these postures and a few fighting stances I showed you, they might just help speed up your progress, Dante," she said, patting his head lightly.
"Huh? Thanks… I guess?" Dante muttered, finishing his training and heading out, leaving Lady Diana alone in the training hall.
From the shadowed corner of the room, she spoke to herself, "Strange how you're keeping a sharp watch on this bastard son of yours, my nephew…?"
A figure emerged from the shadows—Will Ruthwilfer, the current Patriarch. He stepped forward, took Lady Diana's hand, and gave it a respectful kiss.
"Second Aunt. Why are you taking an interest in him?" he asked.
"You tell me. Why do you plan to banish him once he turns eighteen?" she countered coldly.
Will sighed. "It was my mistake. The woman I had an affair with turned out to be a dark mage. Before my sister killed her on my order, she cursed me with a death mark."
Lady Diana's expression darkened with disappointment.
"Honestly… given your reputation as a playboy back then…"
"Second Aunt!" Will protested.
"Oh hush now, boy," she said with a snap.
"Yes, Second Aunt," Will muttered.
"So, the curse. Explain it again."
Will exhaled deeply. "To break it, I have to allow Dante—my illegitimate son—to live in this castle until he turns eighteen."
Lady Diana sighed, rubbing her temples. "Your first act as Patriarch, and you go and screw a dark mage. How far the Ruthwilfer name has fallen…"
"I'm sorry."
"Just be grateful the other family clans haven't heard of it. If they do, it'll trigger a civil war and summon the attention of His Majesty himself," she warned.
Then, without turning back, she called to the shadows, "Fina."
A cloaked woman stepped forward silently. "Yes, Lady Diana?"
"Keep a close watch on that child. Secretly."
"Lady Diana!?" Fina protested.
"You've served me loyally since I stepped down from the throne. Tell me—have my instincts ever been wrong?"
Fina slowly shook her head.
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off for my morning walk in the garden."
Lady Diana exited.
Unbeknownst to all of them, Dante had been eavesdropping from behind a training dummy.
"I knew trusting my gut was right. But... Mom was a dark mage?" He clutched the strange diamond pendant around his neck. "I need more answers. I need to find out what this thing really is."
---
Two Years Later
Dante was now nine years old. A new semester had begun for the Ruthwilfer children—and with it, their blacksmithing education.
A tall teen with dark brown skin and sharp eyes led them to the forge grounds. This was Sean Ruthwilfer, the first son of the Patriarch's third brother.
The Ruthwilfer family owned vast lands surrounding their castle—much of which was blacksmithing territory passed down from the First Patriarch.
"Damn, never thought we'd be allowed near the smiths," Dante muttered in awe. "I thought we couldn't even go outside till we were fourteen."
"Alright, you lot!" Sean yelled over the clanging hammers. "This is where Ruthwilfers get their weapons and shields made!"
Taka raised his hand. "When do we get to use mana?"
"Next year, Taka," Sean replied.
Taka groaned, folding his arms in disappointment.
"As I was saying, the smithers here will guide you in forging your main weapon of choice—be it one or two, depending on your style."
Dante raised his hand.
"What?" Sean asked, already sounding annoyed.
"Is it possible to choose three weapons?"
"Only if you have three arms, brat!" Sean barked. The crowd burst out laughing.
"But seriously," he continued, "you can choose as many as you want. Many Ruthwilfers collect weapons over time—even get gifted blades from other clans. Speaking of which, there's a ball tonight where you'll practice your social skills."
Suddenly the mood dropped. Kids groaned in unison.
"What!?"
"Noooo!"
"Socializing with other clans? Gross…"
Then Taka raised his voice, "Do trashes get invited too?"
Everyone went quiet. The jab was obvious.
"Yes," Sean replied, knowing full well who Taka meant.
Taka sneered. "Better not go, Dante. You'll just embarrass yourself."
Dante calmly fired back, "Like when you peed yourself two years ago when we sparred?"
"BURNED!" a kid shouted in the crowd.
"That... that was when we were seven!" Taka barked back.
"Keep talking, Taka."
Taka gritted his teeth. "Fine. Let's settle this with a challenge. Let's see who can forge the better main weapon."
"Taka!" Sean scolded. "Weapon forging is not a game."
"What if I allow it?"
All heads turned. Evan Ruthwilfer—Taka's father and the Patriarch's younger brother—entered. All the childrens greeted Evan.
"Second Uncle," Sean greeted.
"Father." Taka greeted him as well.
Dante merely gave a light bow. Evan scoffed.
"I like a bit of competition," Evan smirked. "Let it happen."
"Second Uncle!?" Sean protested.
"I'll take full responsibility."
"Oh my~ What's this ruckus?" Lady Diana's voice echoed as she entered.
Everyone bowed.
She walked past them and stopped before Dante with a smirk. "Dante."
"Lady Diana," he responded.
Their mutual familiarity left the others stunned.
Diana turned to Evan. "A challenge, hmm? Sounds like a Ruthwilfer thing. Let's raise the stakes. The winner attends the adult ball tonight. Loser stays with the children."
Taka's eyes lit up.
"I'm gonna win this!" he shouted.
Dante just rolled his eyes. "Are all royal families this childish?" he thought.
The challenge began. The smithers handed out drawing materials for the children to draft their weapon concepts.
Taka shrugged. "Draw? Just make me a sword that screams power."
The smithers rolled their eyes.
Dante approached his smither respectfully. "So I just draw the weapon I want to make?"
"Yes," the old man said, expecting more arrogance.
To his surprise, Dante drew with focus and detail. Lady Diana observed from a distance. While Taka rushed ahead with flair, Dante calmly and carefully designed every line.
Hours passed. Dante handed over his drawing.
The old smither's eyes widened. "What... is this?"
"A weapon," Dante replied.
"I've never seen anything like this."
"Let's call it a... brain spark."
"You're crazy, kid."
"And blacksmiths love crazy."
The old man burst out laughing. The entire forge turned to look.
"Haven't laughed like this in years, kid!"
"I bet the dwarves would go nuts over this," Dante said casually.
"They would!" the smither agreed. "You've got more?"
"This is just the basic version. The real deal needs special materials. I want to forge that one myself, with my own hands."
The smither looked at him with newfound respect. "You've got spirit. You're always welcome in this forge."
"Appreciated."
---
The Judgement
That evening, Lady Diana, Sean, and Evan gathered to judge the weapons.
First was Taka's.
"Beautiful craftsmanship," Diana said politely.
"As expected of my son," Evan added proudly.
"Sharp and flashy," Sean noted.
The smither who made it just sighed. He knew the kid had no hand in the process.
Then came Dante's turn.
"Where's the weapon, trash?" Evan asked coldly.
Dante said nothing. The old smither added the final touch and unveiled it.
"What the hell?" Evan blinked.
"What is this strange shape?" Sean asked.
Diana stepped closer, intrigued. "Dante… what is this weapon called? It feels… magnetic. Like it wants to be held."
Dante picked it up, pulled back the slide—click.
"It's called a gun."
Chapter 4 — End.