The dining hall turned out to be nothing like Richard had expected.
When he had first heard the words “noble house,” familiar images had involuntarily come to mind: a grand hall, a lavish table, dozens of servants, the endless gleam of silverware, and people accustomed to receiving everything simply because they had been born one step above everyone else.
Here, however, everything was different.
The dining hall was indeed spacious—so spacious that the few people seated around the long table seemed almost lost within it.
The high ceiling disappeared somewhere above, fading into the gloom, while the thick stone walls bore the marks of time.
Once, they had probably looked imposing and magnificent, but now the stone had darkened in places, fine cracks ran across it here and there, and signs of age showed between some of the slabs.
Despite this, the room still stood.
Something of its former grandeur remained—not luxury, but rather the memory of it.
The old walls still seemed solid, the high ceiling still compelled one to look up, and the long wooden table standing at the center of the hall had surely once gathered far more people around it.
Now, however, the wood had darkened with age.
Its surface was covered in shallow scratches and the marks of countless years, yet the table remained sturdy and well made.
It looked as though it had already outlived more than one generation of masters and had no intention of surrendering to time just yet.
There was almost nothing on the walls to remind anyone of the wealth this house had once possessed.
There was none of the ostentatious luxury Richard had come to associate with the lives of nobles in his imagination.
Only a few old furnishings and the dim light filtering through the tall windows brought a little life to the room.
Only a handful of people sat at the table.
Richard let his gaze pass over them but did not linger on their faces.
Something else had caught his attention.
Not the people.
The emptiness.
Far too much space surrounding far too few people.
And that was what stood out most of all.
Richard slowly entered the dining hall, leaning on the cane Sebastian had offered him.
The butler walked beside him, remaining close enough to catch him should he need assistance, but he did not constantly try to support Richard by the arm.
He intervened only when it was truly necessary, leaving Richard free to control every step himself.
A strange detail.
Richard noticed it almost immediately.
Sebastian did not treat him like a helpless old man who needed to be led around.
There was neither pity nor excessive concern in his manner.
He treated Richard as a lord who had temporarily grown weak, but had not ceased to be a lord because of it.
And Richard felt that distinction particularly clearly.
They took a few more steps, and the attention of those present turned toward them.
Several people seated around the long table slowly rose from their chairs.
No one sprang to their feet.
No one made any unnecessary movement or tried to display their respect.
Everything happened calmly and almost naturally, as though each of them knew exactly what they were supposed to do.
“My lord.” A single form of address was enough.
Richard stopped near the entrance, lingering for a moment on the threshold.
He had not expected this.
Until now, his thoughts had been occupied by the dining hall itself—its vastness, the old stone, the wood darkened by time, and that strange sense of former grandeur that still lingered within these walls despite the passing years.
Now, however, all his attention was inevitably drawn to the people.
There were only a few of them.
Far fewer than Richard had imagined when he first heard of the noble house.
Too few for such an enormous room.
Too many unfamiliar faces for a man who had only just crossed its threshold.
He did not know who they were, why they had gathered here, or what they expected from him.
A multitude of questions immediately arose in his mind, but Richard did not have time to ask a single one.
Because every person present was looking at him in exactly the same way.
Without surprise.
Without pity.
With respect.
And somehow, that made it even harder for Richard to understand what awaited him at this table.
They were not looking at him as though he were a stranger who had happened to find his way among them.
Rather—as though he were someone they had genuinely been waiting for.
The thought created a strange tension within Richard.
He still did not understand who these people were, what connected them to him, or why there was not even a hint of doubt in their eyes.
But he had no desire to reveal his confusion.
“Sit.” His own voice sounded unexpectedly confident.
So calm and firm that even Richard was momentarily surprised by himself.
His body still felt foreign to him.
Every movement required concentration, his legs tired quickly, and without the cane he doubted he could have crossed the hall at all.
But something had remained unchanged.
The habit of keeping himself under control.
The habit of speaking calmly, without raising his voice, and never allowing those around him to notice his inner confusion.
His body had not forgotten that.
The people at the table obediently returned to their seats.
Richard took several steps forward and stopped beside the high-backed chair at the head of the table.
This time, he did not hesitate.
He did not look around for somewhere else to sit, nor did he wait for Sebastian to guide him.
He simply sat down.
And at that exact moment, a strange sensation arose within him.
As though his body remembered.
As though it knew this place better than he did.
Richard could not explain where that certainty came from.
He did not remember the room, did not recognize the chair, and had no memory of a single evening like this.
Yet the movement had been so natural, as though he had performed it hundreds of times before.
Another small trace of the former man’s past.
Another thing his body remembered better than his mind.
Meanwhile, without a word, Sebastian made sure a plate was placed before Richard.
The simple dish quietly touched the surface of the table, breaking the silence for a moment.
Richard lowered his gaze to the food before him, but the sensation of someone else’s memory did not disappear.
Quite the opposite.
Now it was even more noticeable.
The food was simple, almost ordinary, yet carefully prepared and without any sign of careless neglect.
Before Richard sat a bowl of hot soup, with fresh bread and a small portion of meat beside it.
Nothing elaborate.
No complicated dishes, expensive sauces, or excessive variety that he would have expected to see at the table of a noble house.
Richard stared silently at the food for a while, then looked over the other dishes.
There were not many.
Far too few for such a large table.
“Is this all?” The question escaped him on its own.
Richard had not even intended to say it aloud, but curiosity proved stronger.
After his words, the table fell quiet for a brief moment.
Several people exchanged barely perceptible glances, yet no one said anything.
Sebastian answered calmly, as though there were nothing unusual about the question.
“For your current condition, this is sufficient, my lord.” Richard frowned slightly.
That particular wording caught his attention.
Not, “We have nothing more.” Not, “This is all we can afford.” And not even an attempt to excuse the modest dinner.
Sebastian spoke as though the question had nothing to do with the household’s wealth at all.
As though it concerned Richard and Richard alone.
They were not serving him less because there was nothing else to serve, but because, in his present condition, they considered this amount of food sufficient.
Richard looked at the table again.
Strange.
The house looked as though time had long since stripped it of its former grandeur.
Yet there had been no trace of humiliation or the apologetic caution of someone accustomed to counting every coin in Sebastian’s words.
Instead, there was the confidence of a man who simply knew what his master required.
And for some reason, that made Richard think more deeply than the modesty of the meal itself.
Richard understood.
They knew how to conceal their problems.
And judging by everything he had seen, they did it very well.
Not one person at the table looked worried.
No one attempted to justify themselves or explain why the dinner was so modest.
Everything was presented as though this were simply how things were supposed to be.
Richard did not ask any more questions.
He picked up his spoon and held it for a while, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the metal.
Then he scooped up a little soup and took his first sip.
It proved unexpectedly significant.
Not because of the taste.
The food was perfectly ordinary, with nothing remarkable about it.
But the moment the soup touched his tongue, something stirred in Richard’s mind.
For a brief instant, a foreign memory seemed to flare before his eyes.
The same table.
The same hall.
But completely different.
It no longer seemed empty and silent.
People were sitting around the table.
A great many people.
Voices blended into one continuous murmur.
Someone was speaking too loudly, someone else was interrupting his companion, and laughter rang out somewhere nearby.
The scent of hot food filled the hall, and the air carried a living, almost homely warmth.
Richard could not see their faces.
He could not make out their words.
But the sensation was so vivid that for a moment he felt as though he had truly been transported there.
As though this table had once again become the heart of a great household, gathering people around it.
As though the emptiness he saw now had never existed.
And then…
Everything stopped.
The warmth vanished.
The voices fell silent.
The laughter dissolved as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind only the cold silence of an empty dining hall.
Richard froze, still holding the spoon in his hand.
For several seconds, he did not move.
He did not know what exactly he had seen.
But for the first time, he felt that the body’s past was not simply a collection of someone else’s memories.
Sometimes, they returned on their own.
And apparently, they were not always willing to show him only the good ones.
Richard blinked.
The vision vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving behind only the ordinary silence of the dining hall.
Before his eyes were once again the old wooden table, the dim light from the tall windows, and the few people sitting across from him.
He slowly exhaled and set the spoon down.
Sebastian noticed almost immediately.
Of course he did.
The butler had already taken his place behind Richard—slightly to one side of his chair, close enough to be at his side at any moment, but not so close that his presence became intrusive.
He stood calmly and straight, his hands folded behind his back, as though this were exactly where he was meant to stand during his master’s meal.
There was nothing showy about the gesture.
Simply habit.
As though the place behind Richard had been assigned to Sebastian long before Richard himself had first sat there.
“My lord?” The butler’s voice was quiet.
Richard’s gaze lingered on the table for a moment.
“Nothing.” Sebastian did not ask any further questions.
He merely inclined his head slightly and returned to stillness behind him.
Richard turned his attention to those present.
He needed to learn more.
Who were these people?
What had happened to the house?
Why was the enormous dining hall now nearly empty?
And, most importantly, why did everyone look at him as though he were supposed to know the answers to these questions?
But asking everything directly would be dangerous.
There were too many things Richard still did not understand.
One careless question could reveal more than he wanted.
So he decided to start from a distance.
Calmly.
As though he were asking about something he ought to know already.
“How are things in the estate?” Silence descended over the table.
For only a second.
But Richard noticed it.
Too brief to call a hesitation.
And too obvious to dismiss as coincidence.
He did not move, merely narrowing his eyes slightly as he waited for an answer.
Sebastian spoke first.
“The estate is functioning.” Sebastian said it calmly, without the slightest hesitation.
“Formally.” A very proper answer.
Richard almost smiled.
He knew such formulations all too well.
When someone said that “everything was fine,” it did not always mean that everything really was fine.
Sometimes such words concealed far more than a direct admission of a problem ever could.
And now, after what he had seen, Richard was beginning to understand what was happening.
Richard slowly surveyed the dining hall, allowing his gaze to linger on things he probably would not have noticed before.
The tall windows let in too little light, and even during the day the room seemed immersed in soft gloom.
The heavy curtains had long since lost their original freshness; their fabric had faded in places, and the folds bore the marks of years of use.
Even the furniture around him seemed tired.
The chairs retained their solid construction, but the upholstery was worn in places, and some of the former sheen had disappeared from the carved details.
Here and there, the floor bore the marks of countless footsteps, as though this place had continued living by old rules for far too long, even as there were fewer and fewer people left to live by them.
There was no sense of abandonment here—rather, a sense of constantly struggling against time.
The house was still being cared for, and people were still trying to maintain it in respectable condition, but its former resources were clearly no longer enough.
Every object seemed to say the same thing: once, this house could afford much more.
And yet it continued to stand.
As though its inhabitants refused to let the past turn completely into ruins.
The room itself was an answer.
Once, life had flourished here.
Now, only a handful of people sat around the enormous table.
Richard looked ahead again.
If the dining hall was merely a reflection of the house’s current state, he wanted to know how far things had deteriorated beyond its walls.
“And without the formalities?” This time, Sebastian did not answer immediately.
He looked directly at Richard.
For the first time, something new appeared in his eyes—not merely the familiar respect he showed his master, but also the faintest hint of appraisal.
As though the old butler were testing him.
Watching to see whether the man before him was truly the same person he had once been.
Richard met his gaze calmly.
Only then did Sebastian finally speak.
“The House of Ravenhart is going through difficult times, my lord.” There it was.
No embellishment.
No attempt to soften the words or conceal the unpleasant truth behind polite phrasing.
Richard continued to look at him.
He had already understood the most important part: their situation was worse than they had tried to make it appear.
But how much worse?
“How difficult?” Sebastian paused briefly.
The dining hall fell silent again.
And this time, Richard had no doubt that the next answer would tell him far more than all the words that had come before.
“Difficult enough that many have already stopped considering us a great house.” Sebastian’s words hung in the air.
Richard did not answer immediately.
He slowly looked around the dining hall once more, but now with an entirely different perspective.
Before, he had noticed only what was missing.
Now he began to see what remained.
His gaze passed over the old crests, faded by time but still occupying their places.
Over the tall windows, heavy curtains, and the few furnishings that, despite their age, still retained traces of their former dignity.
Even the chairs around the table, having lost their former sheen, remained solid and well maintained to the extent the household’s current means allowed.
Then he looked at the people.
They were still sitting upright.
They did not slouch.
They did not try to make themselves seem smaller than they were.
There was no sense in their behavior of being accustomed to defeat, nor of resignation to their circumstances.
Yes, there were few of them.
Yes, the house was clearly going through difficult times.
But none of them looked like people who had already accepted defeat.
And then Richard understood.
This place had not been ruined.
At least, not yet.
There was no chaos here.
There was no sense of total collapse.
The house was still being maintained, people were still carrying out their duties, and the remnants of the old order were preserved with almost stubborn consistency.
The problem was something else.
It was as though this house had simply ceased to be noticed.
Once, people had spoken of it.
They had feared it or respected it.
People had come here, gathered around this very table, and expected the Ravenhart name to still mean something.
Now, all of that belonged to the past.
The house had not fallen.
It had simply slipped beyond the attention of others.
It had not been destroyed.
It had been forgotten.
“And who has been handling the affairs of the house all this time?” The question sounded perfectly natural, without a hint of suspicion or hidden intent.
Richard merely wanted to understand how the household had been managed all this time.
If he truly was its head, then someone had to have been making decisions in his absence, overseeing the estate, managing the finances, and dealing with whatever problems arose.
Yet the reaction of those present was far stranger than he expected.
Silence filled the room for several moments.
Someone subtly looked away, as though unwilling to meet Richard’s eyes.
Another person shifted awkwardly in his chair but still said nothing.
Sebastian, standing behind Richard’s chair, did not answer immediately either.
He simply looked ahead, as though choosing the most appropriate words before finally speaking.
“At present, most decisions still rest with you, my lord.” Richard frowned, not immediately understanding.
“With me?” Genuine confusion entered his voice.
He had expected to hear the name of the person who had effectively managed the house all this time, or at least to learn who had acted as its head in his absence.
Yet Sebastian’s answer seemed to rule out such a possibility entirely.
Sebastian inclined his head slightly.
“You are the head of House Ravenhart.” The sentence was spoken calmly and matter-of-factly, without the slightest pressure or attempt to emphasize what, in Sebastian’s opinion, was obvious.
But to Richard, those few words suddenly carried an entirely different weight.
The head of the house.
He had never before thought seriously about the title.
Until now, it had seemed like nothing more than part of the life of another person, a life he had unexpectedly inherited along with this body.
A surname, a position, a name that now belonged to him.
Yet, as it turned out, those words concealed far more.
The head of the house was not merely the man who bore the Ravenhart name and occupied the corresponding seat at the table.
He was the one who had to make decisions when everyone else waited for his orders.
The one responsible not only for his own actions, but also for the people under his protection.
For the household’s property, lands, and income.
For relations with other families.
For what would happen to this house today and what it would become years from now.
Richard slowly lowered his gaze to his hands.
They still felt foreign to him—the hands of a man whose life he could not remember and whose past he had yet to understand.
But now, for the first time since awakening in this body, he felt something new.
Responsibility.
Until this moment, he had regarded his situation more as a strange circumstance that he simply needed to figure out.
But now he was beginning to realize that along with the Ravenhart name came the duty of preventing this house from falling into ruin.
And the longer he stared at his palms, the clearer one simple, yet no less weighty truth became.
The fate of the entire House of Ravenhart now rested in these hands.
He had wanted a second chance.
He had wanted the opportunity to start over, to correct mistakes that could no longer be undone, and to live his life differently—not constantly looking back with regret over what he could have done but failed to do.
Yet fate, it seemed, had no intention of giving him a blank page.
It had given him a book already written.
A book begun by another hand and filled with someone else’s decisions, mistakes, and unfinished stories.
With someone else’s debts.
With someone else’s obligations.
With people who now looked at him and believed that he could become the man the former Richard Ravenhart had been meant to be.
He had not asked for this.
He had chosen neither this body nor this house nor the fate that had suddenly settled upon his shoulders.
But perhaps a second chance never looks the way we imagine it will.
Sometimes, you are not given a clean slate.
Sometimes, you are given someone else’s story and asked to decide how it will end.
Richard looked at his hands once more, then slowly curled his fingers into a fist.
For the first time since awakening in this world, he felt something other than confusion.
A strange, almost imperceptible sense of purpose began to take shape within him.
Perhaps he really had not ended up here by accident.
Perhaps this world, this name, and this house were not a punishment for his former life, but one final opportunity to do what he had once been unable to do.
To make things right.
To protect.
And finally—to stop running from responsibility when it fell into his hands.
Richard raised his eyes.
Ahead of him lay someone else’s debts, unknown enemies, secrets of the past, and a house that, judging by everything he had seen, had long been in need of a master.
He did not know what awaited him next.
He did not know how many mistakes he would have to correct or how many people would cross his path.
But now, none of that mattered.
Because for the first time in a long while, he did not want to change anything about his fate.
He wanted to know what would happen next.
And perhaps…
That was exactly why fate had brought him here.
Richard sat in silence for a while, watching the candle flame before him.
Today, he had learned far too much.
And at the same time, almost nothing.
The house.
The people.
The Ravenhart name.
A stranger’s life that had somehow become his own.
It was all still only a collection of fragments that refused to come together into a single picture.
But he had no intention of remaining ignorant any longer.
After the main dishes were cleared from the table, dinner continued for a while.
Cheese, fruit, and small sweet pies replaced the hot food.
The conversation gradually became calmer.
Someone continued discussing the affairs of the house, while others barely participated, limiting themselves to the occasional remark.
Richard listened more than he spoke.
Now that his initial confusion had somewhat subsided, he could examine those around him more carefully.
Only a few people sat at the table, and they differed noticeably from one another.
Knights.
People involved in managing the estate.
Others whom Richard could not yet properly identify.
And yet they had something in common.
In one way or another, all of them belonged to this house.
The dinner gradually came to an end.
One of the knights finished first.
He rose, pushing his chair back, and gave Richard a short bow.
“My lord.” “Good night.” “Good night.” The others began to rise soon after.
Some lingered to exchange a few words with their neighbors.
One of the knights stopped by the door and quietly spoke with another, after which both left the dining hall.
Meanwhile, the servants began clearing the table.
Plates disappeared one after another from the long tabletop, silver utensils were gathered onto trays.
The remaining food was carried to the kitchen, and the candles were replaced with fresh ones.
Gradually, the noise faded.
The people did not leave all at once.
Some remained by the exit for a while, discussing the following day’s business.
Others said their goodbyes to Richard, while some simply left the hall in silence.
Soon, the heavy door closed behind the last of them.
The enormous dining hall became unnaturally quiet.
Only Richard and Sebastian remained.
Richard stared at the emptying table for several seconds.
Voices had filled the room only moments ago, but now there were only candles softly illuminating the tabletop and the faint crackle of their wicks.
He slowly turned his gaze toward the butler.
“All right,” Richard said.
“Then let’s start with the simplest thing.” “Of course, my lord.” “How many people does the house still have?” Sebastian immediately understood what he meant.
Richard was not asking about the inhabitants of the town or everyone living on Ravenhart lands.
He wanted to know how many people directly served the house and continued to carry it on their shoulders.
The butler thought for a moment.
“If we are speaking of those who directly serve the house and reside at the estate permanently, there are around ten servants.
There are also workers responsible for the stables and household duties.
The permanent garrison consists of five knights and fifteen squires.” He paused briefly.
“In addition, there are several mages residing with the household.” Richard was about to ask his next question when he stopped.
“Excuse me.” Sebastian looked at him.
“My lord?” “You said…
mages?” “Yes, my lord.” Richard was silent for several seconds, trying to determine whether he had heard correctly.
“People who use magic?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Precisely.” He said it completely calmly.
As though they were discussing blacksmiths or stable hands.
“So magic exists.” “Yes.” Richard turned his gaze toward the candle flame.
For some reason, he had expected to see at least a hint of a smile on Sebastian’s face, some indication that it was a joke, or perhaps an explanation.
Nothing.
The butler was completely serious.
“And you are telling me this so casually?” “How else should I tell you?” Richard opened his mouth, but found no answer.
Exactly.
How?
He had only learned today that this world existed.
He had learned that he was the head of a noble house.
He had learned about knights, lands, a garrison, and debts.
But he had not been prepared for magic.
Not at all.
“How many are there?” “At the estate?
Several.” “And they can actually use magic?” “My lord, that is precisely why they are called mages.” Richard could not help but smile.
“Logical.” He thought for a moment.
“And that’s…
normal?” “For our world, yes.” The answer was so simple that it only made Richard feel stranger.
For their world.
So magic was not a legend.
Not a fairy tale.
Not something people told children.
It existed.
And several people capable of wielding it were currently under his authority.
Richard slowly ran his fingers along the rim of his glass.
“All right.
We’ll come back to the mages.” He paused briefly.
“Now tell me about the others.” Sebastian inclined his head.
“Of course, my lord.” “Do we have a knight-captain?” At those words, Sebastian’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“Ser Lloyd.” Richard immediately remembered the man he had seen at the table.
Tall and composed, with short-cropped dark hair and a broad bandage covering his left eye.
Even while sitting among the others, he carried himself like a man accustomed to keeping constant watch over everything around him.
“The man with the bandage?” “Yes, my lord.” Something unusual flickered in Sebastian’s voice.
Respect.
And alongside it, the faintest shadow of regret.
“How long has he served the house?” “For a very long time.” Sebastian paused for a moment.
“Once, Ser Lloyd was one of the finest knights of House Ravenhart.” Richard looked toward the door through which the captain had recently disappeared.
“And now?” “Now he commands those who remain.” “What happened to him?” The butler was silent for a moment before answering.
“The war took his left arm.
Later, he lost his eye.” Richard involuntarily remembered his face.
Strange.
A man who had suffered such losses still continued to serve a house that, judging by everything Richard had seen, was going through anything but its best days.
“And he is still here?” “Yes.” “Why?” Sebastian looked at Richard as though the answer were obvious.
“Because this is his home.” Richard said nothing.
Only a few words.
Yet for some reason, they seemed like the most sincere words he had heard all evening.
He lowered his gaze, then asked again: “And the others?
How reliable are they?” “Those who remained know whom they serve.” The answer came without hesitation.
“Some are quite young.
Some have served for many years.
Others came later.
But they all remain here, for now.” Richard nodded.
He did not press for more details.
For now, it was enough to know the essentials.
There were few people.
But those who remained were, for some reason, still holding on to this house.
He thought for a moment, then moved on to the matter that concerned him no less.
“All right.
What about the house itself?” Sebastian looked at him attentively.
“In what sense, my lord?” “Lands.
Property.
Income.” Richard frowned slightly.
“I want to understand exactly what the Ravenharts still own.” This time, Sebastian did not answer immediately.
“Once, our holdings were considerably larger.” He spoke calmly, but there was a faint weight in his voice.
“Now we retain one town, several villages, part of the forest, and the lands we have managed to preserve.” Richard was silent for a while.
“And the rest?” “Lost.” “Sold?” “Partially.” Sebastian paused.
“Some lands had to be surrendered.
Certain holdings passed to other people over time.
Some were lost because of debt, others because of a lack of proper management.” Richard slowly leaned back in his chair.
Now the picture was beginning to take shape.
This was not simply an old noble house.
Nor was it merely a family that had grown somewhat poorer over the past few years.
The Ravenharts had once possessed far greater influence and far more land than they did now.
And now, only a small portion remained.
Richard stared at the candle for several seconds.
“Is there enough money?” Sebastian allowed himself a faint smile.
“If you want the honest answer?” “Yes.” “There is almost no money left, my lord.” Richard was not even surprised.
For some reason, it was exactly the answer he had expected.
“How bad is it?” “Not bad enough to speak of immediate ruin.” Sebastian spoke evenly, as though listing ordinary household expenses.
“The house still receives income from the lands that remain.
There are several farms, forest holdings, a mill, and other sources of revenue.
It is enough to maintain the estate and pay wages.” “But?” “But our reserves are nearly exhausted.” Richard nodded.
Now he understood.
The house was not standing on the edge of a cliff.
But neither could it be called financially secure.
It existed.
For now.
“And the expenses?” “Maintenance of the estate, wages for servants and workers, food, the stables, repairs, maintaining the garrison, and other obligations.” Sebastian listed them calmly, yet to Richard every word meant new figures, new expenses, and new problems he would have to understand.
He ran a hand over his face.
Only a few hours ago, he had not even imagined that he would have to worry about maintaining knights, the state of the treasury, or the harvests on lands that were completely foreign to him.
Now, somehow, all of it had become his responsibility.
“When can I see the accounts?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow slightly.
“The accounts?” “Income and expenses.” Richard looked at him with greater confidence now.
“For the past few years.
Everything that has survived.” Sebastian was silent for several seconds.
Then he inclined his head.
“Everything will be prepared by tomorrow morning.” “Good.” Richard looked at the table again.
All of this seemed unbelievable.
A stranger’s house.
Strangers.
Strangers’ obligations.
And yet he was beginning to understand one simple thing.
These people truly depended on him.
Not on the Ravenhart name.
Not on its former glory.
On him.
Richard slowly raised his eyes.
“Sebastian.” “Yes, my lord?” “Why are they still here?” The butler did not immediately understand.
“My lord?” “The knights.
The servants.
The others.” Richard frowned slightly.
“If things are really this bad, why haven’t they simply left?” This time, Sebastian did not answer immediately.
He looked at the flame of the nearest candle, as though for a moment his thoughts had wandered somewhere far away.
“Because many of them remember what the Ravenharts once were.” Richard remained silent.
Sebastian continued: “They remember the time when this name meant something.
When the house was strong, and the people beneath its banner knew that there was truly someone standing behind them.” He paused briefly.
“And perhaps that is why it is still difficult for them to leave.” Richard lowered his gaze.
“Even now?” “Even now.” Silence once again filled the dining hall.
The only sounds were the crackling of the candle and the faint rustle of wind beyond the windows.
Richard looked at the long table where people had been sitting only moments ago.
Five knights.
Fifteen squires.
Servants.
Workers.
Mages.
Far too few for a house that had once controlled vast lands.
And yet they were still here.
And, for some reason, they still believed.
“Because this is their home,” Richard said quietly.
Sebastian said nothing.
Richard raised his eyes.
This time, there was no trace of his former confusion in them.
He still knew nothing about this world.
He knew nothing of the Ravenharts’ past.
He did not know why the house had fallen into such a state.
He did not know what had happened to its former master.
And he had no idea what awaited him ahead.
But for the first time that day, he felt that he had found a place from which he could begin.
The house was not dead.
It had simply lived without the man who was supposed to lead it forward for far too long.
Richard slowly tightened his hand around the armrest of the chair.
If people were still here, then the Ravenharts still had something worth fighting for.
And if fate had truly given him a second chance…
Perhaps now it was up to him to decide whether this house deserved one as well.