CHAPTER 40: RAGNA

Eldrun folded his arms, the glow from the binding circle slowly dimming. "That beast will hatch within the next twenty-four hours," he said. "Until then, keep it near. Let your mana settle around it."

Fenric nodded, scooping the egg into the special velvet-lined container provided. Its surface still shimmered faintly—warm to the touch, alive with anticipation.

Roman silently stepped beside him. The two left the chamber, and Eldrun gave them a parting nod of respect. "Good luck, Prince. You’ll need it."

Later that day...

Fenric, rather than returning straight to the palace, decided to detour. He hadn’t eaten since morning, and the soft hum of mana usage left his body aching for something real. Something warm.

He stopped at The Sun King’s Rest, a renowned high-tier restaurant nestled between noble plazas. Built with radiant goldwood beams and sun-crystal windows, it was famous not only for its cuisine, but for its private upper floors, which catered to the elite.

He entered, cloak drawn low, and spoke to the maître d’.

"I’ll dine alone. A private room, second floor."

"Yes, Your Highness," the host bowed deeply. "We have a corner balcony open."

Within minutes, Fenric was seated atop the second floor, shaded from the bustling midday crowd, sipping a warm citrus elixir while waiting for his order. The palace could wait. For once—he wanted quiet.

But the gods were not kind today.

The door to the private floor suddenly slammed open. Loud footsteps echoed as a group of laughing nobles barged in without grace or invitation. At the center of the group was Lex Granda, second son of the Grand Duke from the Fourth Seasonal House—House Siehus, famed for their winter-dominant Aura and sharp politics.

Lex froze the moment he saw Fenric.

Then he grinned, the kind of grin only a man born into security and arrogance could muster.

"Well, well," he said loudly, just so the entire floor could hear. "If it isn’t His Invisible Highness. The third prince... or was it third wheel?"

A few of his cronies chuckled, although Roman—who had silently taken a seat two tables away—did not.

Lex strolled closer, arms spread like he owned the sky.

"Dining alone, Fenric? No guards, no knights, no royal decorum? You must be celebrating something. Or hiding something."

Fenric calmly sipped his drink, not even raising his eyes. "Some of us enjoy peace and quiet, Lex. You should try it sometime."

Lex snorted. "Peace and quiet? Is that what the unblessed call it now? I heard you finally left the castle. We thought you’d grown roots in the royal garden."

A low snicker followed from his entourage.

Fenric finally raised his eyes. They gleamed with calm disinterest—but there was something sharp beneath the surface. Something dangerous.

"I see your tongue still outruns your mind," he said coolly. "Must be exhausting."

Lex’s smile twitched—just slightly.

He wasn’t used to getting pushed back. Especially not from Fenric, who was once nothing more than a sickly royal footnote.

But this Fenric... seemed different.

Lex’s smirk twitched again, faltering for the briefest moment. But arrogance, like old wine, was hard to let go of. He leaned on the edge of Fenric’s table, uninvited, eyes scanning the velvet container resting near the prince’s hand.

"What’s this?" he asked, tapping the box lightly. "Don’t tell me you bought yourself a plaything. How adorable. Does the palace not offer you enough company?"

Fenric didn’t flinch. He merely placed his hand atop the box, fingers resting lightly on its edge. "It’s fragile," he said. "Much like your reputation would be, if you keep testing my patience."

The air shifted.

Subtle, but sharp—Roman’s aura flared just slightly from where he sat, a silent warning to the wolves.

Lex laughed, but it was tighter now. "You think you’re someone important just because you’re carrying a beast egg? Even if it hatches, what are you going to do with it—paint it?"

Fenric stood, slow and measured. Not rushed. Not rattled. He looked Lex in the eye, and this time, his presence didn’t feel like that of a prince ignored.

It felt heavy.

Intentional.

And something in his gaze made Lex hesitate—for just a second.

"I didn’t buy it," Fenric said quietly. "I earned it."

He paused, then added casually, "You must’ve heard of Eccentric Eldrun? I got it from him."

A sharp murmur rippled through the crowd. The nobles standing behind Lex looked stunned. The name Eccentric Eldrun carried weight—absurd, chaotic, unpredictable weight. The man was infamous for his erratic behavior. One day he might sell a wyvern egg to a king... and the next, gift a phoenix feather to a beggar just because he liked the way they walked.

But one thing was universally known—he never sold his top-tier eggs unless he felt the candidate was worthy.

Even Lex had once tried to secure a beast from Eldrun and failed.

And now this "forgotten prince" had one?

The irritation across Lex’s face deepened into a scowl.

He snorted. "You talk like a hero in a bard’s tale," he scoffed, grasping at the last shreds of his dignity. "But you’ll always be the one they forget to mention."

Fenric turned slightly, his voice low but certain.

"Then be sure to remember me," he said. "Because history won’t be kind to those who mocked me before the fire rose."

He walked past Lex without another glance. Roman followed behind him, offering only a brief nod to the stunned nobles.

As the two descended the steps, silence fell across the upper hall like an unexpected frost. No more laughter. No more snide comments.

Lex didn’t say another word.

He couldn’t.

Because for the first time... he wasn’t sure he was looking at the same Fenric.

"What was with that bastard?" a sharp voice muttered.

It came from a tall youth with crimson hair, lounging with one leg crossed over the other. He wore the blazing crest of House Ignivale, the Western Seasonal House—Autumn’s Blaze, renowned for their aggressive combat styles and fiery tempers.