The Reapers : Sons of the Void

Moon Castle, Evening

As night descended, the vast stone hall of Moon Castle filled with flickering candles and a soft glow. Crystal goblets and delicate porcelain plates adorned the table, polished silver cutlery laid with care—this was more ritual than dinner.

First to arrive was General Felix, stiff and commanding as ever. Then Velora entered, elegant in purple hairpins, surveying the room with sharp, measured eyes. She took her seat and observed attentively.

When the doors reopened, Arwen entered, followed by Miller and Brien. Arwen walked confidently; Miller moved quietly; Brien looked around with a mix of tension and curiosity.

They seated themselves: Velora opposite Brien, Miller beside Arwen, and Felix at the head—surveying all. Velora cast Brien a brief glance, lips twitching in a hint of a smile—observing silently.

Dinner Begins

Warm roast lamb, spiced vegetables, and crystal carafes of water were served. For a few moments, only the sound of cutlery broke the hush. Then Arwen spoke first:

Arwen:
"Watching you in the courtyard was fascinating, Brien. Your moves were unexpected. Is that instinct or a conscious combat style?"

Brien set down his fork.
"I… just try not to fall. My head's fragile. Balance is essential so my thoughts don't scatter."

Arwen offered a slight nod, and Miller barely stifled a laugh.

Arwen:
"Your answers are as surprising as your fighting."

Brien:
"Call it 'creative,' or 'indecisive yet effective.' Both work."

Velora studied Brien as if reading a map—his words, his guarded humor, the subtle intelligence behind his smile. Internally, she reflected:

"His responses aren't sarcastic—they're sincere. Defensive, yes… but honest. There's something behind that grin, maybe even he's unaware."

Just then, Brien reached for his glass—but his wrist slipped, sending water flying directly onto his chest.

Brien:
(laughing at himself)
"The castle's performed a blessing! Maybe I stood too close to that Auren crest…"

Miller hid his smile behind lowered eyes. Arwen looked straight at Brien:

Arwen:
"If the castle grants water tonight, tomorrow might bring fire."

Brien:
"They gave me water—and stole my shirt. If that's your idea of 'balance,' it's overkill."

Miller nudged Arwen and muttered:

Miller:
"He hides nothing. That's exactly how he defends himself."

After a moment, Arwen continued:

Arwen:
"But what if your defense finally breaks?"

Brien paused, whispering with unflinching honesty:

Brien:
"Then who I really am becomes clear. And that's why I keep defending."

Velora's brow furrowed. She briefly glanced at Miller, then back at Brien, thinking:

"He speaks as though playing—but his words are deliberate. Not mistakes... but tempered truths."

Miller turned to Felix. Their eyes met, and Miller bowed slightly. Felix, after a heartbeat, nodded in return—unspoken understanding.

Taking advantage of the awkward moment, Brien joked:

Brien:
"If this shirt isn't dry by morning, have it warmed. I don't want my smile freezing."

Miller:
"If it does freeze, I'll wrap you in blankets—just hush up."

Brien:
"Silence isn't my element… but I may try."

Arwen studied him more deeply, then lifted her goblet:

Arwen:
"Tomorrow morning… I would like to walk with you. Some answers come from silence."

Brien:
"Walking is easy—just warn me before the silence hits, okay?"

Velora smiled softly, thinking:

"I enjoy lively personalities—but Miller's calm... I need to understand that."

Narrator (Voice‑over):

At Moon Castle's table, more was shared than food—silence spoke louder than words, and words served as shields. Velora watched in quiet depth; Arwen measured and teased; Felix upheld balance; Miller formed a quiet bond; and Brien… drenched in his own confidence, made us smile.

The Upper Corridor, End of Night

With dinner done and laughter fading, chairs sat empty with only half‑drunk goblets and candlelight remaining.

Felix rose first with a nod to Miller and Brien, then left quietly. Velora cast Brien a last look before gliding away silently—her grace inherent at every step.

Only Arwen, Miller, and Brien remained.

Arwen:
"Come. I'll show you to your rooms. This castle isn't kind to wanderers at night."

Brien:
(stretching)
"I have no sense of direction… here's hoping I don't sleepwalk into a wall."

Miller inhaled deeply, processing the evening.

Arwen led, footfalls echoing in the torchlit corridor. No one spoke.

On the stairs, Brien whispered to Miller:

Brien:
"This place is eerily silent—I'm half‑expecting talking portraits at midnight."

Miller:
"If you keep chatting, there'll be noise enough."

Brien:
"A fair point."

Arwen glanced back with a discreet smile.

At the hallway's end stood three doors.

Arwen:
"This one is yours, Miller. Everything's ready—early wake‑up recommended."

Miller:
(bowing)
"Thank you, Arwen."

Next door:

Arwen:
"And this is yours, Brien. No lock—just please don't disappear."

Brien:
"As long as the castle doesn't teleport me overnight, I'll stick around."

Arwen (raising an eyebrow):
"Someone like you might cause trouble even while asleep."

Brien:
"I only cause polite trouble—no one even notices."

Miller stepped inside his room with a soft smile. Brien gave Arwen a nod and entered his.

Left alone, Arwen paused halfway down the hall, fingertip grazing carved stone vines.

Arwen's Inner Monologue:

"I had no equal—until they arrived."
"Miller… patient, stoic, resolute. Understanding him will take time."
"But Brien…"
"He doesn't fight with thought. He responds. Spontaneous, yet effective—maybe too magnetic."
"Tonight, he commanded attention—not with words, but with presence."
"I've trained myself with discipline—but his chaotic truth challenges it all."
"Is his raw authenticity worth more than my years of control?"
"Or… am I trying to unravel him?"

She leaned against the wall, eyes closed, and softly whispered:

Arwen:
"Maybe… it's time to redefine strength."

Early Morning in the Corridors

Sunlight filtered through western windows, gilding stone walls. A hush reigned, broken only by distant sounds of servants preparing for the day.

Brien lay in bed, tangled in blankets, half‑asleep.

Brien (murmuring):
"A lizard gave me a surname in my dream... then called me Reaper's tea‑boy. This castle is messing with my mind."

A soft knock, followed by Velora's steady voice:

Velora:
"Good morning, Brien. Miller and you should be downstairs shortly. There is a naming ceremony."

Brien:
(sitting up, rubbing his eyes)
"A naming ceremony? I was managing well with one name—no signatures, no taxes…"

Great Hall

A long, white‑draped table awaited them. Velora stood before the ancient stone backdrop, box in hand. Miller stood composed. Arwen watched from the side in shadow.

Brien entered—sleep‑rumpled but attentive.

Velora:
"I call you not just for honor… but to share a responsibility."

She unfurled the box, revealing golden brooches etched with the Auren crest.

Velora (continuing):
"Since arriving in Leonhardt, Pendragon has watched—and so have I. You now carry the name and duty of the Auren House."

Miller bowed respectfully. Brien squinted at his brooch and muttered:

Brien:
"So, I'm official now… even forgetting milk will raise eyebrows."

Velora:
"You are now Miller Auren and Brien Auren. With the name comes greater responsibility."

Bolbin Arrives

At that moment, the door opened and a jolly, plump old man waddled in—silver‑haired, glasses perched, hands folded before him.

Velora:
"This is Bolbin, your head steward. He'll oversee your daily comfort."

Bolbin:
(beaming)
"Ly guests! Good morning! Pillows, porridge, blankets—all fall under my care. Your ease is my delight!"

Brien (aside to Miller):
"I'm convinced this man's not steward… he's minor breakfast deity incarnate."

Miller (smiling):
"Bolbin's creed: believe in breakfast."

Assigned Personal Attendants

Velora:
"With your new status come personal attendants."

Bolbin snapped his fingers. A short-haired, resolute-eyed woman strode in.

Bolbin:
"This is Leyna, aide to Miller Auren. Strong, silent, and steadfast."

Miller nodded. Leyna inclined her head in silent assent.

Velora (continuing):
"And for Brien Auren—a unique assistant."

The door opened again. In strode a tall, broad-shouldered dark-haired man, scarred and imposing. He wore a rough leather vest and carried a sheathed dagger at his belt.

Bolbin:
"Meet Garron, former mercenary—quiet but commands respect."

Garron (low voice):
"I serve at orders. Speak once—no questions asked."

Brien nearly stepped back:

Brien:
"This man… my assistant? I expected a cheerful lad… not a Witcher at sunrise!"

Garron:
"A shield might be wiser than a towel for early mornings."

Brien:
"My morning plan? Prayer, water, silence. Now there's someone setting survival standards."

Miller stifled a chuckle. Arwen observed from the wall, thinking:

"This was my plan… Brien must gain control around him, before his unpredictability overwhelms."

No one knows yet Garron was Arwen's quiet orchestration.

Narrator's Final Note

New names and attendants were granted to the Aurens. But the deepest shifts lie not in brooches, but behavior.

And Brien… has gained not only a title—but a quiet shadow.