Chapter 13: The Count’s Invitation

Count Prigith Rhaskel POV:

Morning sunlight filtered through the tall arched windows of the Rhaskel estate, gilding the room in a soft golden hue. Count Prigith Rhaskel stood by the balcony of his study, claws tapping idly against the railing as he gazed out over Willowshade. The town was just beginning to stir, shopkeepers setting up their stalls, patrols exchanging shifts, and the scent of freshly baked bread drifting on the breeze.

But his mind was elsewhere.

* “He’s strange, Grandpa,” Kaela had said a few nights ago, sprawled across his old armchair like she owned the place—she practically did. “Quiet. Kind. And ridiculously strong. But he doesn’t act like it.”

Prigith had chuckled at the memory, his tail swaying in amusement. Kaela rarely spoke so highly of anyone. In fact, she often found faults in adventurers twice her age—too arrogant, too careless, too loud.

But not this one. Jin.

She had told him everything: how Jin had stepped in to help without hesitation, how he treated her party with a gentle patience none of them expected. How he never bragged, never demanded praise, and yet seemed to draw people to him all the same.

* “He carries himself like a soldier,” she’d added thoughtfully, “but his eyes… there’s something older in them.”

That had stuck with Prigith. Kaela wasn’t the type to speak poetically. If she said something “felt off,” it meant she’d been paying close attention.

Then yesterday, whispers had reached the Count’s ears about glowing lamps appearing across the district—lamps that needed no flame, no fuel, and no maintenance. Townspeople spoke of it like magic, but the Count knew better. This was invention. Innovation.

And the name on everyone’s lips?

Jin.

A smile tugged at the corners of Prigith’s weathered mouth. So, he’s been busy.

He set his mug down with a soft clink, the decision already forming in his mind.

Of course, he could have sent a formal summons through the usual channels—guards, messengers, some herald with a booming voice. But no. That wasn’t how you treated a man who saved your granddaughter, earned her respect, and then gave back to the town without asking for a thing in return.

This called for something more personal.

He turned toward the doorway and called out, his voice deep, resonant, and warm. “Kaela!”

A moment later, soft footsteps padded up the hallway before she peeked in, brow arched, tail flicking lazily.

* “You’re up early, Grandpa.”

He gestured her in.

* “I’ve got a task for you.”

* “Oh?” she grinned, already intrigued.

* “I want you to go find your friend—the one who lights up the streets now, apparently—and bring him here. No guards, no formalities. Just you.”

She blinked. “Jin?”

* “That’s the one. Tell him I’d like to thank him. Over breakfast.” He paused, smirking. “And tell him it’s not a request.”

Kaela laughed, already turning to leave.

* “He won’t say no. He’s too polite for that.”

Prigith watched her go, his heart light. He’d always trusted her judgment—even more than she realized.

And this Jin… he was beginning to sound like someone worth knowing.

Jin’s POV

Three days had passed since the first streetlight flickered to life.

What began as a late-night experiment between Jin and the eccentric dwarf Grunmin had become something much bigger—something the townsfolk of Willowshade hadn’t stopped talking about.

It had started with just one lamp, standing proudly before Grunmin’s shop, connected to a thin, rune-inscribed wire of Vel’Aetherium that had been carefully laid beneath the cobblestone path. Then, with the hesitant curiosity of neighboring blacksmiths and craftsmen, the work had spread.

Jin remembered that night clearly—kneeling on stone with his sleeves rolled up, fingers aching from carving runic grooves. Grunmin had been humming some dwarven drinking tune while carefully embedding the glowing metal strands, laying them one meter out from the storefronts, keeping five meters clear in the middle for carts and horses to pass. The road was a standard seven meters wide, but now it looked anything but ordinary.

The Vel’Aetherium responded smoothly, drawing mana from embedded crystals and conducting it outward with minimal loss. Connected to softly glowing poles embedded with cultivated glowshrooms, each lamp stood three to four meters apart, emitting a warm, ethereal light. The mushrooms thrived in the casing, their glow steady and vivid—neither harsh nor dim.

But what stunned everyone most wasn’t just the lamps.

It was the street itself.

Wherever the Vel’Aetherium had been embedded into the stone, a faint shimmer followed—like moonlight trapped in the veins of the road. At night, it looked like stardust had been swept across the path. Every footstep caught a glimmer, every carriage wheel trailed a faint glow. It was quiet magic—not flashy, not blinding, but elegant in its subtlety.

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Children chased their glowing footprints in laughter. Shopkeepers extended their hours, delighted to have light without flame. Even the guards started patrolling more leisurely, comforted by the illuminated streets.

Jin stood now just outside the last connected shop, watching as a young girl skipped past, her boots flashing silver-blue with each step.

He exhaled slowly, arms crossed, heart light.

It wasn’t a weapon. It wasn’t a battlefield. But it made people smile.

That… felt good.

* “Oi, starborn!” came Grunmin’s voice from behind, gruff but oddly fond. “Yer just gonna stand there brooding like a statue, or are ya gonna help me tweak the amperage flow runes?”

* “You tweaked them twice already.” - Jin replied without turning around.

* “Aye, and the third time’s the charm!”

Jin was about to reply when he noticed a familiar figure approaching from up the street—Kaela, dressed in her usual adventuring gear, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she weaved past townsfolk and stepped into the soft light around him.

* “Let me guess,” Jin said as she reached him. “You’re here to check if I’m glowing too.”

Kaela raised a brow.

* “No. But now that you mention it, you do look more radiant than usual.” Kaela raised a brow and grin widened. “Actually, I’m here with a message from my grandfather.”

* “Count Rhaskel?”

* “He wants to invite you to the manor.” - She nodded - “Said he’d like to meet you—properly this time. Something about hospitality, gratitude, and... roasted lamb.”

* “I haven’t even met him and he’s cooking?” - Jin tilted his head.

* “Only when he’s either furious or trying to impress someone,” Kaela said with a laugh. “Lucky for you, it’s the second one.”

At that moment, Lyrderu emerged from around the corner, having returned from the market with a basket of herbs and fruits. Hearing Kaela’s last sentence, his ears perked.

* “Oh? That rascal…finally…see us now?” Lyrderu chuckled, flicking his tail as he approached. “Four days Lyr’s here, and now…remembers…he is? Hells, last time we met, wrestle me…he swore…if Lyr steps foot here!”

Kaela giggled.

* “He did say something like that… but don’t worry, he’s in good spirits. And yes, he knows both of you are coming.”

Jin exchanged a glance with Lyr, who shrugged with a grin.

* “Well,” Jin said, brushing dust off his coat. “I suppose we shouldn’t keep the Count—or the lamb—waiting.”

The three of them walked side by side down the glowing path, the soft shimmer of Vel’Aetherium beneath their feet lighting each step. The streets were quiet this early in the day, save for a few vendors setting up carts and sleepy-eyed townsfolk yawning beneath the lamplight.

Kaela walked a few steps ahead, her hands behind her back as she glanced toward the tall white manor peeking over the rooftops in the distance.

* “You seem unusually quiet,” Jin said, glancing at her. “Second thoughts about bringing us to your family?”

Kaela let out a light laugh:

* “Oh no. I’m just mentally preparing myself for the dramatic entrance he’s probably rehearsed.”

* “Dramatic entrance?” - Jin raised an eyebrow.

* “Heh. Actin’ noble… that rascal?”- Lyrderu snorted while crossed his arms - “Four days. Lyr’s here four days…not a word…now he remembers?”

Kaela laughed:

* “He remembered. He just wanted to see how long you’d sulk.”

Jin tilted his head. “So… what kind of man is he?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” She grinned, then softened. “My grandpa... he’s two very different people depending on who’s watching. In front of the townspeople, he’s all dignity and wisdom. The honorable Count Prigith Rhaskel. Always calm, always composed.”

She paused for a moment, then added, “But when it’s just us? He turns into the most annoying, nosy, loud, stupidly doting grandpa you’ll ever meet.”

Kaela clasped her hands behind her back, thoughtful. “To the town? He’s all dignity. Graceful, wise, always in control. But at home? Total menace. He hides the sweets, then eats them all himself. Gets grumpy if I go on a quest without telling him, then brags to everyone when I come back with something cool.”

She smiled warmly. “He’s annoying. Loud. Nosy. But… he’s also the only one who listens. Truly listens. I tell him everything from my adventures. He’s the only one who never laughed when I said I wanted to be a proper adventurer. My only real friend growing up.”

“Same old cat…brave…loud. Never quiet…but good heart.” - Lyrderu nodded slowly, then glanced at Jin. “Side by side, we fight. I never worry. He’s there, always.”

Lyr jabbed a thumb toward Kaela.

“Brought her into the Veil. Just to brag. ‘Look, Lyr! My girl! Strong like me!’”

He shook his head. “Baby was in basket. Still bragged.”

Kaela laughed. “Three months old. He bounced me while hiking like a hero in a story.”

Lyr chuckled. “Dumb old cat. But proud. Loud. Like dwarf, not cat. Always tinkerin’. Tools, gadgets, ideas. Head full of them.”

Jin raised a brow. “He invents things?”

Lyr nodded. “Like you. Weird stuff, he likes. Curious, always.”

Kaela leaned toward Jin, mock-whispering. “That’s a compliment from Lyr, by the way.”

Lyrderu snorted again. “Say what I mean.”

Jin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sounds like I’m walking into a very loud, very chaotic reunion.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Kaela said with a mock-serious tone. “He only yells when he’s happy. Or bored. Or sleepy. Or hungry.”

“...So, all the time?” Jin asked.

“Exactly.”

They turned a corner, and the manor gates finally came into view, rising tall and elegant with golden filigree and a pair of sleepy-looking guards standing watch. Beyond them, the large estate shimmered softly under the morning light, already stirring with activity.

Kaela stopped just before the gate and turned to the two men beside her. “Well. Ready to meet the loudest noble in the Radiant Kingdom?”

Lyr cracked his knuckles. “Only if he’s ready for a hug that’ll crack his ribs.”

Jin took a breath. “Let’s hope he doesn’t yell before the food.”

As the gates creaked open with a faint metallic groan, Jin stepped into the manor grounds—and immediately slowed his pace.

The front yard stretched wide, paved in interlocking stone tiles shaped like overlapping leaves, glinting subtly with enchantments that shimmered under sunlight. On either side, trimmed hedges framed rows of flowering mana orchids and hummingbird blossoms that changed hue with the wind. Servants moved with a calm rhythm, well-trained and respectful, bowing slightly at Kaela's presence but casting curious glances at Jin and Lyrderu.

The manor itself loomed ahead like a fortress of polished wood and carved marble—elegant yet solid, with columns etched with old adventuring insignias and beastkin runes. A great emblem of a roaring feline, proud and regal, hung just above the arching doorway.

Jin exhaled, stepping up the gentle slope toward the porch.

And that’s when he saw him.

Standing just outside the entrance, arms crossed, tail flicking lazily behind him, was a towering Catfolk whose presence was impossible to ignore. Easily over six feet tall, built like an old war general carved from oak, he had the stature of someone who had once charged through monster hordes without flinching—and could still do it, if the mood struck him.

His fur was a sleek steel-gray, dusted with streaks of silver at the temples. One ear bore a notch, his jawline framed by neatly trimmed facial hair. His eyes—sharp gold, lined with age but crackling with energy—locked instantly onto Jin, narrowing with thoughtful focus.

And then, as if all that gravity and poise never existed, the man’s face broke into a massive, toothy grin.

“Well, well,” he rumbled, voice deep and rough like boots on gravel. “This the rascal who lit up my streets and dragged my granddaughter back from the forest with stories in her mouth and stars in her eyes?”