Elden moved at a leisurely pace, sipping orange juice with the relaxed pace of a lazy lion grooming itself.

  “Slow down,” he shot out, as he refilled his glass. “There’s still plenty of time before the ceremony.”

  “Plenty of time?” his mother snapped, snatching his arm and tugging him toward the door.

  A crust of toast dangled from his mouth as she dragged him along, the half-finished glass of juice abandoned on the table.

  “It’s nearly ten-forty. The Temple is more than twenty minutes away. If anything delays us, we’ll have only moments to spare.”

  Elden grumbled something through his toast, but his father’s voice cut across the room with calm authority.

  “Elden.” The man’s tone was stern, measured. “I have been waiting long enough. Discipline is not optional—it is the foundation of everything you will become. If you cannot master your own time, there is little you can achieve.”

  “But Father,” Elden protested, finally swallowing the toast, “the alarm never went off! I told Mother again and again to change the batteries, but she never did.” He jabbed a finger toward her, earning himself a fleeting blush across her cheeks before she smacked the back of his head with practiced precision.

  “That is no excuse for tardiness.” she says with the absolute confidence of a righteous mother imparting valuable wisdom upon her son, prompting Elden to stare at her with abject bafflement.

  His father exhaled through his nose, folding his arms. “Life will hand you setbacks time and again. Some will be your fault, others will not. But excuses do not change the outcome. You must learn to adapt and fulfill your task despite such setbacks—that is the mark of a successful man.”

  He straightened, his voice firm as he gestured toward the waiting carriage. “Now, enough delay. Get in. The ceremony won’t wait for you.”

  “Aren’t we taking the car?” Elden enquires.

  “The car?” his father scoffed, grimacing at the thought. “That contraption is too slow and jerky for a journey like this, we wouldn’t be able to reach there in time, and it cannot even hold all three of us and the driver. Quite honestly, I don’t understand why I even bought that piece of junk.” Says his father grimacing as he remembers being swindled into buying the novelty the sales man called a steam powered car.

  “I swear, I will knock some much needed honesty into that swindler if I ever catch him again.” He murmurs, while gesturing Elden and his wife to get in.

  Once the family was seated comfortably, the driver started the carriage.

  The wheels rattled against the uneven streets of Carthage, a city swollen by industry’s relentless advance. Elden gazed out the window, unimpressed by the scenery he had long grown accustomed to: rows of crowded houses, smoke-stained walls, and the restless hum of factories.

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  Industrialization had changed everything in the Empire. It brought new work for the unskilled, but at a heavy cost—skilled artisans, once renowned across the world, found themselves replaced by cheap, factory-made goods.

  Their proud traditions, passed from parent to child through generations, withered in the shadow of mechanical progress.

  Worse still, the swelling cities bore the price of this prosperity. Overcrowding, filth, and the reek of waste and smoke clung to the very street like a soap to a baby’s skin.

  “I don’t think I can ever get used to the smell.” Elden heard his father complain.

  “Don’t be so vexed, David,” Avery replied, her voice muffled by her handkerchief. “The city is wealthier now than ever before. In the end, its growth will only serve to strengthen House Talon.”

  “Bah Avery, I would say the prosperity is a poor reward for having to bear this stink. I wonder how these poor folk live right next to such revolting smell. You know back in my day...”

  And so began one of his familiar monologues, the kind that stretched long and wide whenever something offended his sensibilities.

  Elden tuned him out almost immediately. His mind was elsewhere—drawn toward the coming ceremony. Though excitement swirled within him, tension gnawed at its edges. This awakening would decide his future. His ambitions, his carefully imagined designs for the life ahead, all hinged on whether fate deemed him worthy.

  He dreamed of becoming like his father: a Guardian Knight of House Talon, strong and dependable, a shield against all who threatened its honor.

  He longed for his name—Elden Talon—to be etched into history alongside David’s, a man whose feats before he became accepted the title of Guardian Knight rang across the Empire and paved the way for the Empire’s later conquests on the Western Front.

  Yet as Elden’s gaze drifted to his father, who was presently grumbling about the decline of tradition and the good old days, doubt flickered.

  Was this the same man whose reputation struck fear across the Empire?

  While Elden was busy doubting the ability of a man he had long become accustomed to, yet never seen resorting to violence, the carriage slowed, then came to a halt.

  “The temple is before us, my lord,” the driver announced.

  David stepped down first, extending a hand to Avery. She accepted with a soft blush, and he drew her close, his eyes glinting with unguarded affection.

  Elden recoiled with an exaggerated groan. “Really? You do know today’s supposed to be about me, right? Save the romance for later—unless you’re planning on giving me another sibling before my awakening.” His face twisted with mock disgust.

  Both parents flushed, pulling apart in embarrassment. Avery quickly regained her composure and pounced on him, seizing his ear, while David coughs and pretends to look elsewhere.

  “You’re becoming cheekier by the day,” she scolded, tugging sharply. “And who taught you to speak in such a manner?”

  “Father did,” Elden gasped, rising onto his toes to relieve the pain. “He’s always muttering things like that when he’s talking to you!”

  Avery’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Is that so?” She turned her glare on David.

  David’s stern composure cracked instantly. He shot Elden a betrayed look, as if his son had just toppled an empire.

  “We’ll discuss this at home,” Avery declared, releasing Elden’s ear. She swept toward the temple with all the authority of a woman who would not forget a slight. Elden darted after her, sticking out his tongue at his father along the way.

  David exhaled a long, defeated sigh, watching his son’s retreat with something between resignation and despair. He followed after them, muttering under his breath about how the world seemed determined to conspire against him and how his own flesh and blood appeared to always be in the exact position to turn the conspiracy into reality.