I was beginning to suspect that peace and I were fundamentally incompatible.
For nearly an hour, my room had been blessedly quiet. The curtains were half-drawn, evening sunlight stretched across the wooden floor, and a gentle breeze stirred the branches outside my window. Nothing was trying to kill me, possess my body, or reveal another inconvenient secret about my existence.
For once, I could sit on my bed without wondering what disaster would arrive next.
Asura occupied the warm patch of carpet beside the window. His black body was stretched out comfortably, his paws tucked beneath him, and his eyes closed. From a distance, he looked like an ordinary dog enjoying a peaceful evening.
The illusion fell apart the moment I remembered that ordinary dogs generally didn’t threaten to take over people’s bodies or speak about ancient kingdoms as though they expected someone to return the keys.
I leaned against the headboard and let out a slow breath. The past few days had been exhausting. I’d discovered an Ancient God Grimoire beneath my family’s estate, awakened an ability I barely understood, and nearly lost control of my body to an ancient being who had apparently decided that my existence was an invitation to move in.
My reward for surviving all that was a black dog with the temperament of a disgruntled emperor.
I had wanted a quiet life. Apparently, that had been too ambitious.
"Tomorrow," I declared to the ceiling, "I’m going to do absolutely nothing."
One of Asura’s ears twitched.
"Your declarations have a remarkable tendency to precede disaster," he remarked without opening his eyes.
"Thank you for your support."
"I was not supporting you."
"I know. That’s what made it convincing."
He finally opened one eye, regarded me with the deep contempt of a creature who had once commanded something far greater than a carpet, and closed it again.
I considered that the end of our conversation.
Then someone knocked on the door.
I stared at it for a moment before telling the person outside to enter. A maid stepped inside with a small bow, carrying a cream-colored envelope on a silver tray. She approached the bed and presented it to me with both hands.
"Young Master, a letter has arrived from the main estate."
So much for my peaceful evening.
I took the envelope. The wax seal bore the familiar crest of House Valerian, pressed cleanly into its surface. My name was written across the front, and the handwriting belonged to someone I recognized from the few official messages I’d received since arriving in this world.
Leon Valerian.
I broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
The royal family has specifically requested your presence at tomorrow evening’s banquet in the capital.
Come to the main estate tonight. You will travel with the family delegation.
—Leon Valerian
I read it twice, hoping the second attempt might reveal an explanation hidden between the lines.
It didn’t.
"A royal banquet," I muttered.
Asura raised his head. "Is that important?"
"That depends on how much trouble I can get into while wearing formal clothes."
"You are avoiding the question."
"I’m considering the question. There’s a difference."
He rose from the carpet and stretched, his claws briefly catching against the fabric. "The royal family has requested you specifically?"
I glanced at the letter again. "Apparently."
That was the part I disliked most.
An invitation addressed to House Valerian would have been ordinary enough. My family held considerable standing, and attending royal functions was hardly unusual for a noble house. But the letter made it clear that the request concerned me personally.
I was the third son. The original Kain hadn’t been someone whose presence at a royal gathering would have attracted particular attention, at least not as far as I could remember. I had no remarkable reputation, no known achievements that justified special treatment, and no reliable memory of an event that explained why the royal family might suddenly take an interest in me.
Of course, my knowledge of The Dragon Kingdom Slayer was incomplete. I couldn’t rule out an event simply because I didn’t remember it.
Still, the invitation was strange enough to deserve attention.
"Do you intend to attend?" Asura asked.
"The letter doesn’t leave much room for a creative interpretation."
"Then I shall accompany you."
I looked at him. "You weren’t invited."
"I do not require an invitation to accompany you."
"You’re supposed to remain inconspicuous."
"I am perfectly inconspicuous."
I glanced at his glossy black coat, pointed ears, and long tail.
"You’re a black dog who occasionally threatens to destroy the world."
"At present, I am a black dog."
"That’s the part I’m worried about."
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t immediately launch into another speech about his former glory. Instead, he regarded me with an unusually serious expression.
"I have no intention of leaving you unattended until I understand what happened when I attempted to take your body," he said. "Your strange system interfered with something that should not have been possible. I still do not know why."
The reminder took some of the humor out of the conversation. Whatever else Asura was, his failed possession had raised questions neither of us could answer. His curiosity was one reason he remained near me, and I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that his concern was entirely for my safety.
"Then try not to cause a diplomatic incident," I said, folding the letter. "No threatening nobles, no announcing your former titles, and absolutely no attempting to conquer the palace."
"I make no promises concerning the competence of its occupants."
"That is not a reassuring answer."
"It was not intended to be."
I slipped the letter into my coat pocket. Having Asura accompany me was probably a terrible idea, but leaving him behind might have been worse. Besides, I had already learned that telling him what to do and convincing him to obey were two entirely different activities.
By the time I left my room, the carriage was being prepared. Edwin stood near the entrance, speaking to one of the servants. He turned when he noticed me approaching, his gaze briefly settling on the letter in my hand.
"The main estate, Young Master?"
"Apparently, my father has decided that my evening needed some excitement."
"How considerate of him."
I gave him a flat look. "You could at least pretend to sympathize."
"I would, but I fear it might give you unrealistic expectations."
I handed him the letter. Edwin read it without changing expression, though his eyes paused briefly over the line mentioning the royal family’s specific request.
"An invitation to the royal banquet," he observed. "That is unexpected."
"You’re the second person to tell me that. Neither of you has been particularly helpful."
"Perhaps the third person will offer a more satisfactory answer."
"That sounds suspiciously like an excuse to leave the difficult conversation to someone else."
"It may be a professional habit."
Despite his dry response, Edwin’s gaze drifted toward Asura. It lingered for a moment longer than usual before he returned the letter to me. His expression gave nothing away, and I couldn’t tell whether the pause meant anything.
I remembered his earlier reaction to the dog, but I had no useful explanation for it. For the moment, there were more immediate questions demanding my attention.
I tucked the letter into my pocket and climbed into the carriage. Asura followed without waiting for permission, settling beside me with the air of someone who had already decided that the carriage belonged to him.
Edwin closed the door after offering a final bow. The wheels began turning, and my estate slowly disappeared behind us.
The main Valerian residence lay roughly two hours away. The countryside passed beyond the window as the carriage followed the road, moving between low stone walls, scattered farms, and stretches of woodland. The journey would ordinarily have offered an opportunity to rest, but the letter had given my thoughts something unpleasant to chew on.
The royal family had requested me by name.
I tried to recall whether the original novel contained a royal banquet around this point in the story. Nothing useful surfaced. I remembered major characters, important conflicts, and fragments of events that had once seemed significant, but a world was much larger than the scenes an author chose to write about. There could have been a dozen royal gatherings that never appeared in the story.
My memory could not prove that the invitation was dangerous. It could not prove that it was harmless, either.
Beside me, Asura watched the countryside pass with unusual interest.
"You have been quiet," I remarked.
"I am observing."
"That field has been there for the last ten minutes."
"Perhaps you should learn to appreciate your surroundings."
"I appreciate them perfectly well. I’m just not trying to intimidate the crops."
His tail flicked once, but he didn’t bother answering.
I returned my attention to the passing landscape. The road gradually widened as we approached the main estate, and the scattered buildings gave way to a more orderly stretch of land. Before long, the tall iron gates of House Valerian’s principal residence appeared ahead of us.
The gates opened as the carriage approached.
The main estate was larger than mine, its pale stone buildings arranged around a broad courtyard. Neatly maintained gardens lined the entrance road, while servants and guards moved through the grounds with the efficient rhythm of a household accustomed to handling important visitors. There was little of the neglect I had found in my own estate before beginning the repairs.
The contrast was difficult to miss.
A servant opened the carriage door and bowed. I stepped down, followed by Asura, who surveyed the courtyard with the expression of a king inspecting territory that had disappointed him.
"Try to look less judgmental," I murmured.
"I am not responsible for the quality of what I observe."
"Your diplomatic career is going to be spectacular."
He ignored me.
A servant informed us that Duke Leon Valerian was waiting in his study. I had barely enough time to straighten my clothes before being led through the main residence.
The corridors were spacious and carefully maintained, with polished wooden floors, framed paintings, and decorative pieces that looked expensive enough to warrant their own security detail. Servants stepped aside as we passed. A few recognized me and bowed, though their expressions suggested that my arrival had not been the most important event of their evening.
That suited me perfectly well.
Leon was seated behind his desk when I entered his study. Several documents lay arranged before him, and a lamp illuminated the papers nearest his hand. He looked up as I approached, then gestured toward the chair opposite him.
"Kain. Sit."
I did as instructed.
Leon wore the same composed expression I remembered from our previous meeting. He looked like a man accustomed to making decisions and expecting them to be carried out without unnecessary discussion. Whether that made him an effective family head or simply an intimidating one remained to be seen.
"You received my letter," he said.
"I did. Although I was hoping it might contain a little more explanation."
"Unfortunately, I have very little to add."
That was not the answer I had hoped for.
Leon folded his hands on the desk. "The royal family sent a request for your attendance at tomorrow’s banquet. Your name was specified. No reason was provided."
"So you don’t know why they want me there?"
"Correct."
His answer came without hesitation. I studied his face, searching for some indication that he was withholding information, but his expression offered nothing useful. That didn’t mean he was telling me everything. It simply meant I had no evidence to conclude otherwise.
"Is this unusual?" I asked.
"Your inclusion is unusual enough that I took notice of it. Royal banquets often bring together influential families, but the royal household does not usually explain every guest’s invitation to the families involved."
"That sounds convenient for the royal household."
"It is."
I had expected Leon to be more dismissive, but he seemed willing to answer reasonable questions. It was a small relief, even if his answers did little to make the situation clearer.
I leaned back in the chair. "Then I suppose I’ll have to attend and find out for myself."
"You will attend," Leon confirmed. "And you will behave appropriately. You are representing House Valerian, regardless of whether you understand the reason for the invitation."
There it was. The reminder that, in a room filled with nobles, my actions would not belong entirely to me.
"I understand."
Leon studied me for a moment before shifting his attention to another document. "I have also received reports concerning your estate."
That caught my attention for an entirely different reason.
"The repairs?" I asked.
"The repairs, the workers you hired, and the other arrangements you have made since taking responsibility for the property." He glanced at the page in front of him. "The reports suggest that progress has been satisfactory."
I hadn’t expected him to be following the work so closely. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised. Whatever Leon thought of me personally, the estate remained part of House Valerian’s holdings.
"There’s still a great deal left to do," I admitted. "Some sections need more work than I initially expected, and a few of the improvements have taken longer than planned."
"Then continue with them. If additional resources are required, inform me rather than allowing the work to stall."
The offer was practical and straightforward. There was no praise, but neither was there any attempt to belittle my efforts. Leon appeared interested in whether the estate was improving, not in giving me an emotional reward for doing my duty.
"I’ll let you know if I need anything," I replied.
"Good."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The lamp hummed softly, and the faint sound of footsteps passed in the corridor beyond the study door.
I had expected this meeting to be little more than a confirmation of the invitation. Instead, Leon had taken the time to ask about the estate and offered assistance if I needed it. It was not the sort of conversation I might have expected between a father and son who shared an uncomplicated relationship, but it was something.
I was still learning how to occupy the place the original Kain had left behind. I knew the family name, the responsibilities, and the shape of the life I had inherited. The memories that should have made those things familiar remained incomplete, leaving me to build my own understanding through each new interaction.
There was no point pretending otherwise.
Leon set the document aside. "One more thing. Be careful tomorrow."
The words made me sit a little straighter.
"Careful of what?"
"Nothing specific has been brought to my attention. I am not aware of any particular threat against you." He paused before continuing. "But a royal banquet is not merely a gathering where people eat and exchange pleasantries. Everyone present will be watching everyone else. A careless remark can be remembered long after a pleasant conversation has been forgotten."
"So I should avoid offending anyone."
"You should understand when a conversation is no longer as harmless as it appears. There is a difference."
That sounded uncomfortably like advice I would have preferred to receive from someone with less reason to judge my competence.
I considered asking whether he suspected the royal family had a particular motive for inviting me, but his answer had been clear. He knew no more about the request than I did. Whatever concern lay behind his warning came from experience with royal politics, not secret knowledge of the invitation.
"I’ll keep that in mind," I said.
"See that you do."
The meeting had reached its natural end. I rose from the chair, and Leon returned his attention to the documents on his desk.
"That will be all, Kain. The servants will show you to your room. We leave for the capital tomorrow afternoon."
I bowed my head slightly before leaving the study.
The corridor seemed quieter on the way out. I had arrived hoping my father might provide an explanation for the royal invitation. Instead, I had learned that he was as uncertain as I was, though considerably less bothered by that fact.
At least the warning now made sense. Leon wasn’t hinting at some hidden danger. He was reminding me that the royal court operated by rules I barely understood.
Which was not especially comforting, but it was useful.
Asura was waiting outside the study, sitting near the wall with his tail wrapped around his paws. He rose the moment he saw me.
"Well?" he asked. "Has your father revealed the grand secret behind this summons?"
"No."
"How disappointing."
"He knows the royal family requested me specifically, but he wasn’t given a reason."
Asura’s ears shifted forward. "And he allowed you to leave with that answer?"
"I don’t believe he had another one to offer."
"Hmm."
For once, he seemed to consider the matter rather than immediately filling the silence with another remark about his former greatness.
Then his gaze moved toward the windows at the far end of the corridor. Beyond them, the main estate’s gardens were illuminated by the last of the evening light.
"At least the capital should provide a more interesting view," he said. "And a proper meal."
I stared at him. "We’ve just discussed a royal summons, and your main concern is dinner?"
"A banquet is a gathering where nobles use expensive food and elaborate manners to determine which of them dislikes the others."
"That sounds like an excellent reason to avoid attending."
"And yet you are going."
"Because I have no choice."
"Then I see no reason we should suffer without eating well."
I couldn’t argue with that logic without contradicting my own long-held belief that food was one of life’s few reliable comforts.
"Fine," I said. "But you’re not embarrassing me in front of the royal family."
Asura lifted his chin. "I have attended courts far more refined than this one."
"You currently sleep on a carpet."
"An unfortunate arrangement that reflects poorly on your hospitality, not my standards."
I left him to nurse his grievances and followed a servant toward the guest rooms.
The main estate was quieter than it had been when we arrived. Most of the household seemed to have settled into its evening routine, and the corridors were lit by warm lamps that cast soft pools of light across the walls. My room was prepared and comfortable, with clean sheets, a writing desk, and a window overlooking the garden.
I set my belongings aside and sat on the edge of the bed.
Tomorrow evening, I would be attending a royal banquet for reasons no one had explained. I could spend the night constructing theories, but without more information, they would remain theories. My knowledge of the novel had already failed me several times, and there was no guarantee that forcing my memory would produce anything useful.
For now, the sensible choice was to rest.
Asura settled near the window, his attention drifting toward the garden. I watched him for a moment before lying back on the bed.
"If anyone asks," I said, closing my eyes, "you’re a perfectly ordinary companion."
"Then I shall expect to be treated with the corresponding level of respect."
"Don’t push your luck."
His low, displeased rumble followed me into sleep.
The following afternoon, the Valerian delegation departed for the capital.
Our carriage traveled with several others, accompanied by guards in the colors of House Valerian. The road was busier than the one leading to the main estate, with merchants moving goods toward the city and travelers making their way in the opposite direction. The farther we went, the more frequent the traffic became.
Asura sat beside me, occasionally turning his head toward something that caught his attention. I had expected him to spend the journey complaining about the seats, the road, or my decision to bring him along. Instead, he seemed content to observe the growing bustle outside.
Perhaps the prospect of a royal banquet had given him something to look forward to after all.
The capital’s outer walls appeared in the distance, rising above the landscape like a line drawn across the horizon. Towers stood at intervals along the stonework, their banners visible even from the road. As we approached, the traffic thickened into a steady stream of carriages, wagons, and people on foot.
The gates were wide enough to admit several wagons side by side. Guards checked incoming traffic, directing merchants toward one lane and noble carriages toward another. Our escort presented the necessary papers, and the carriage passed through without delay.
Then the capital opened around us.
Buildings stretched along broad streets, their upper floors rising above rows of shops and workshops. Merchants called out their prices from beneath striped awnings, vendors carried baskets between clusters of customers, and travelers paused at street corners to consult maps or argue about directions. The sound of wheels on stone blended with the chatter of the crowd, creating a constant hum that seemed to fill every street.
The city was busy, but it wasn’t chaotic. Guards guided traffic at crowded intersections, workers moved goods between shops and storage buildings, and signs marked the entrances to businesses. People had places to be and work to finish, and they went about it with the practiced urgency of those who couldn’t afford to spend their day staring at passing nobles.
What caught my attention most was how casually magic had been woven into ordinary life.
A row of enchanted lamps hung above a shop entrance, their soft glow remaining steady despite the daylight. Near a food stall, a merchant opened a small storage cabinet, releasing a brief curl of cold air as he retrieved a container. Farther down the street, several wooden crates floated above the ground, guided by a worker who steered them around pedestrians with a series of small gestures.
No grand incantations. No dramatic flashes of light. Just useful magic doing everyday work.
I watched the floating crates disappear into a warehouse doorway.
"You’re staring," Asura observed.
"I’m appreciating the scenery."
"You were appreciating a stack of boxes."
"They were floating."
"And?"
"And where I come from, people generally require something more substantial than a hand gesture to make that happen."
He gave me a sideways glance. "You have seen considerably stranger things since arriving here."
"That doesn’t mean I have to stop finding them interesting."
The answer came more honestly than I expected. I had spent so much time worrying about survival, the Grimoire, and the mysteries surrounding my Awakening that I hadn’t given myself many opportunities to simply observe the world. The capital was more than a collection of locations from a story I vaguely remembered. It was a place full of people whose lives continued whether or not I understood them.
A merchant argued with a customer over the price of a brass device. A child darted around a cart before being caught by an exasperated parent. Two workers struggled to maneuver a large crate through a narrow doorway while a third offered advice that clearly wasn’t helping.
None of them cared that a transmigrator sat in a passing carriage, wondering how much of his supposed knowledge could still be trusted.
For once, that was strangely comforting.
The carriage continued deeper into the city. Streets that had initially seemed crowded widened as we approached the royal district, and the buildings gradually changed in character. Shopfronts gave way to imposing residences, their facades decorated with carved stonework and polished metal. The sidewalks were cleaner, the traffic more orderly, and the guards stationed along the road wore better-maintained armor.
The change was unmistakable.
We passed the entrance to a private courtyard where servants unloaded luggage from a noble carriage. A little farther on, a pair of mounted guards directed a wagon away from the road to make room for a procession. People still moved through the streets, but they gave the passing noble carriages more space.
Our own crest drew its share of attention. A few pedestrians stepped aside when they noticed it, while a shopkeeper paused in the middle of speaking to a customer to watch our carriage roll past.
I had known that the Valerian name carried weight. Seeing it influence the behavior of people who didn’t know me personally made the fact more tangible.
The crest wasn’t merely a symbol on a letter or a decoration on a carriage. It was a shorthand for reputation, resources, and expectations. People reacted to it before they had any reason to form an opinion about the person sitting behind the window.
I wondered how much of that attention belonged to me and how much belonged to the family.
Then I decided that wondering wouldn’t change anything.
The royal palace stood at the far end of the district, visible above the surrounding buildings. As the carriage approached, its towers rose higher, their pale stone catching the late-afternoon sunlight. The outer walls enclosed a vast complex of buildings, and banners bearing the royal crest hung from the towers and gates.
The palace was not merely larger than the noble residences we had passed. It occupied the center of the district as though the streets had been arranged to lead toward it. Wide roads converged at its entrance, where guards stood in disciplined formations beside the gates. Beyond them, the inner grounds revealed glimpses of manicured gardens, fountains, and long stone walkways.
For a moment, I forgot about the invitation.
It was difficult not to. Whatever else the royal family might be, their authority had been built into the city around them. The architecture, the security, the ordered movement of people and carriages all pointed toward the same conclusion.
This was the center of power.
And I was about to walk into it with no idea why I had been summoned.
The carriage slowed as we joined the line of arriving guests. Attendants moved between the vehicles, checking invitations and directing members of the noble families toward the appropriate entrance. A guard approached our carriage, inspected the crest, and asked for the necessary documents. Once they had been verified, he stepped aside and motioned for us to proceed.
When the carriage came to a stop, I straightened my coat and stepped out.
Asura jumped down beside me, landing lightly on the stone pavement. His gaze traveled over the towering walls and the guards stationed nearby.
"Impressive," he remarked privately. "Though I have seen fortresses with better defensive arrangements."
"Please don’t critique the palace defenses where anyone can hear you."
"They cannot hear me."
"That’s not the point."
A nearby guard glanced down at Asura. "Your companion?"
"Yes," I replied.
The guard studied the black dog for a moment, perhaps checking for a collar or some indication that he belonged with the delegation. Asura sat perfectly still, radiating the dignified patience of a creature who considered the entire inspection an inconvenience.
"Keep him close and make sure he causes no disturbance," the guard instructed before returning his attention to the other guests.
"I’ll do my best," I answered.
Asura gave a soft bark.
The guard’s eyes flicked toward him, but he seemed satisfied that the animal was under control and moved on.
"What did you say?" I murmured once he was out of earshot.
"That I have endured the indignity of this inspection with considerable restraint."
"Your restraint is an inspiration to us all."
We joined the arriving guests and followed the attendants toward the palace entrance. The doors stood open beneath an arch carved with the royal crest, revealing a spacious interior illuminated by crystal lamps. Servants moved between the entrance and the adjoining corridors, guiding guests toward the banquet hall.
I could hear the gathering before I saw it: the low murmur of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter, and the soft music drifting from somewhere beyond the doors.
My stomach tightened.
I adjusted my cuffs, reminding myself that I had done nothing to justify being nervous. I had received an invitation, traveled to the capital, and arrived at the appointed place. Whatever awaited me inside, I would deal with it when it happened.
That was the plan, at least.
An attendant at the entrance checked my invitation and looked up. "Young Master Kain Valerian. Your arrival has been recorded. The banquet hall is just ahead."
He stepped aside.
I crossed the threshold with Asura at my heels.
The hall opened before me in a sweep of polished marble, glittering chandeliers, and long tables arranged beneath the high ceiling. Nobles gathered in carefully dressed clusters, their silks and formal coats catching the light as they spoke. Servants moved between them with trays of drinks, while musicians played from a raised platform at the far end of the room.
For one brief moment, the scene seemed almost unreal.
Then a nearby conversation faltered. Someone glanced in my direction, followed by another guest a few steps away. Their attention shifted toward the entrance, and I became acutely aware of the Valerian crest on my clothes and the black dog walking beside me.
I had spent the journey wondering why the royal family had requested my presence.
Now, standing inside the banquet hall, I had the uncomfortable feeling that I was about to find out why being invited was only the beginning of my problems.