Nathan – POV

  The next day dawned bright and busy. Father and Mother set themselves to teaching Jack and me the intricate choreography of aristocratic etiquette, and by noon my head was a whirl of rules and rituals. Every bow, every measured step, every carefully modulated tone felt like a new law to memorize. No wonder nobles on Earth were said to go mad with the weight of their own customs; there were so many tiny, exacting demands that it seemed impossible to breathe without committing a faux pas.

  Our butlers proved to be godsends, especially for the two of us. They fussed over us with a kind of professional tenderness: scrubbing away the grime of our rougher days, coaxing our hair into obedient shapes, and correcting the awkward ways we carried ourselves. When Sebastian reached for the scissors, I protested loudly. “I want my mane long and full,” I insisted, clinging to the last vestiges of the peasant boy I’d been.

  Mother heard me and, with the decisive air she reserved for household matters, intervened. “Sebastian knows what he’s doing,” she said, and that was the end of my argument. The butlers worked with quiet efficiency, and when they were finished Jack and I looked, astonishingly, like boys of rank. I have to admit that I was impressed. They knew their craft, particularly when it came to male grooming: the subtle taper of a cut, the way a lock should be smoothed back and held in place. Sebastian explained, almost apologetically, that the gel he used was a mixture of honey, water, and other household ingredients. It smelled faintly sweet and held my hair in a neat sweep.

  “Wow, my boys are so handsome,” Dianne cooed, fluttering her hands as if she could arrange our faces like ribbons.

  “Wow indeed! Jack looks like a person now,” Serena added, and Christine giggled behind her.

  “You little twerp!” Jack snapped, though there was no real heat in it.

  “Enough of that! Young lady, don’t think you will be spared from this makeover,” Dianne warned, turning her attention to the girls who had been watching from the edge of the pavilion.

  “But… I am not going to the party,” Serena stammered.

  “That will include you too, Christine,” Dianne said, as Christine tried to slip away, only to be caught by a maid’s gentle hand.

  Shive, who had been leaning against a column with an amused expression, observed dryly, “It is certainly nice to look good and not like a wildling girl from the woods.”

  “What does that supposed to mean, Shive?” Serena protested as she was shepherded away, while Shive hummed a tune and followed them with a mischievous smile.

  Dianne turned back to us. “You boys don’t do anything strenuous, so don’t mess up your clothes or hair. Your father will be along soon.”

  We sat very still, trying to be statues of propriety, while distant shrieks and laughter from the back of the pavilion told of Serena and Christine’s reluctant transformations. Mother had purchased a full-length mirror during one of her many trips to the city markets, and I took the chance to study myself.

  I looked…good for a seven-year-old. My blonde hair was combed back and held by that honeyed gel; the cut was neat and surprisingly grown-up. The clothes were of fine material...nothing like the modern textiles I remembered from Earth, but they suited me, accentuating my blue eyes and lending a gravity I had never felt before. Jack stood behind me, and I saw that he, too, had been transformed: his auburn hair styled similarly, his blue eyes bright. He was a head taller than me, which felt absurd; he was nearly twelve, and I was still seven.

  “You’re almost as tall as me, Nathan,” Jack said, sounding pleased.

  “Must be the mana,” I replied, half-joking.

  “Hmm… that could be it. By the way, I think it’s time I learn mana sense and create my own mana core,” Jack said, the practical side of him already turning to training.

  “It’s about time, brother,” I said. He put an arm around my shoulders, and for a moment we were just two brothers, small and proud in our borrowed finery.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “We do look like nobles now,” he murmured.

  “Yeah… who would have thought that peasant, dirty boys could become noble boys?” I said, and he smiled at me in a way that made the whole ridiculous transformation feel like a private victory.

  We returned to our seats and moved with exaggerated care, as if a single careless gesture might undo the work of the butlers. An hour later Mother reappeared with the maids in tow.

  “Jack, Nathan… I present to you Serena, Christine, and Shive,” Dianne announced, and the three girls entered like a small court.

  They were breathtaking. Serena wore a gown that softened the sharpness of her features; her auburn hair was swept into an elegant bun. Christine looked like a storybook princess, her green eyes luminous against platinum hair. Shive was striking in a different way...milk-white skin, dark hair, and eyes that seemed to hold a secret light. They moved with the practiced grace of girls who had been taught to be seen.

  Jack broke the silence with his usual bluntness. “Who are you and what have you done to my ogre of a sister?” he demanded, pointing at Serena.

  “Who are you calling ogre… you ogre!” Serena shot back, and the spell of the princess's image shattered into laughter.

  “Serena… Christine… Shive… you girls look amazing,” I said, genuinely awed.

  “At least my cute little brother knows how to appreciate beauty!” Serena declared, grinning like an idiot, hands on her hips. Christine blushed prettily, and Shive winked at me, too flirty for a seven-year-old, but then Shive was a succubus, a fact that made her gestures both dangerous and oddly charming.

  “My children are so cute…” Dianne sighed, eyes misting with pride.

  “Let me look at my children,” Father’s voice said, and we all turned as he entered. He had been transformed, too; no longer the rougher man who had hunted dangerous beasts, but a proper lord. His beard was neatly trimmed; his hair combed, and his bearing had acquired a new, quiet authority. Mother blushed at the sight of him.

  “My… my love, you look dashing!” Dianne exclaimed.

  Father kissed her lightly. “Now it’s your turn while we wait here. I know you will not be coming along, but I wanted to see us all dressed like this,” Jakob said.

  Mother hurried away to change, and we exchanged compliments and small, embarrassed smiles. Another hour passed before she returned. She wore a low red gown that hugged her in all the right places; her platinum hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she seemed more luminous than ever.

  “Wow!” we said in unison.

  “My love… you look… you…” Jakob stammered, unable to find words.

  “I know, dear,” she replied, and kissed him.

  Our reverie was broken by Sebastian’s entrance. “My lord, my lady. You and your family are quite gorgeous,” he announced with pride.

  “Thank you, Sebastian. I gather the knights of the count are here to escort us?” Jakob asked.

  “Yes, my lord,” Sebastian confirmed.

  “Okay, we are off now,” Father said, rising.

  “Be careful,” Mother said as we bid them goodbye.

  We wanted the women to go with us...wanted to be part of that glittering procession, but we held back. There was a darker reason for our restraint: the count we were to meet was known to traffic in slaves. We could not risk exposing Mother and the girls to his appetite. Their beauty, now so plainly on display, might draw the wrong kind of attention. So, they watched us leave, our hearts full of pride and a new, uneasy caution, knowing that appearances could be both armor and a danger in equal measure.

  The sun was already sinking when the count’s knights arrived to escort us into the city. Our procession was modest, but our finery made us impossible to ignore. Beside my father and brother rode Aden, Belle, and Krizek in polished armor that caught the last light and threw it back like small suns. I was quietly glad I had taken horse-riding; sitting tall in the saddle made the whole affair feel more real, and the steady clip of hooves drew every eye.

  People in the streets made way without hesitation. Even at sundown the marketplace thrummed with life; vendors calling, children darting between stalls, lanterns beginning to wink on; and yet a clear path opened for us as if the city itself acknowledged our passage. The sensation was surreal. As we moved, I watched faces tilt toward us: curiosity, reverence, a flicker of envy. It struck me then how absolute the nobility’s influence could be here. The commonfolk regarded us with the same mixture of awe and distance I had seen for celebrities back on Earth.

  We passed through the noble quarter, thankfully thin with pedestrians, where well-dressed riders were already heading toward the castle, likely other guests bound for the evening festivities. The castle came into view soon after, rising from the city like a memory of older wars. Its stone walls were sober and gray; banners were the only bright punctuation against the dusk. It was a familiar sight, the kind of medieval fortress I had read about: practical, imposing, designed to withstand sieges rather than delight the eye.

  Standing there, I felt a small, stubborn rebellion take shape. If we ever managed to win a title and a holding of our own, I would not build another colorless stronghold. I pictured something unexpected and alive...an Alhambra of my own, full of color, light, and ornament, a place that would astonish as much as it defended. The thought warmed me more than the last rays of sun. That, I decided, would truly blow their minds away.