Chapter 33: Pest control

The wheels of the carriage rattled steadily against the cobblestone road, the sound oddly soothing after months of living with the hum of mana engines and floating islands. The academy already felt like a distant memory, even though we had only just left it behind.

Rias sat beside me, her head tilted toward the window though her blind eyes couldn’t see the scenery rushing past. Sköll and Geri lounged at our feet, their massive bodies pressed close to the wooden panels, ears flicking at every sound from outside.

Across from us sat Henry, his posture as proper as ever despite the subtle sway of the carriage. His eyes lingered on us for a moment before softening into a smile.

“Well then,” he said, voice warm, “how was your first year?”

I glanced at Rias. She gave the faintest shrug, leaving the answer to me. “Eventful,” I said carefully. “Harder than I expected. But… not bad.”

Henry chuckled. “Not bad? I’ve heard a few rumors. You’ve done more than most students manage in a decade. Passing your classes with flying colors.”

Rias gave a quiet laugh of her own. “That’s one way to put it.”

Henry leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Still, I am thankful you both went. You’ve done more than grow stronger. You’ve given the Duke something he hadn’t had in years.”

I frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

His gaze shifted out the window, following the rolling fields that stretched toward the distant silhouette of Ikol’s walls. “Hope. Purpose. He’s been… different since you entered his life. Happier. More driven. He even spends more time walking the castle grounds, speaking with the guards, reviewing the city watch.” A pause. “He’s taken an active hand in what he calls ‘the pest problem’ in the capital.”

“Pest problem?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Henry only smiled faintly. “You’ll see what I mean when we arrive.”

The carriage continued on, the distant glimmer of Ikol’s marble towers growing sharper with every turn.

The gates of the royal palace loomed high, their black iron bars etched with silver that pulsed faintly in the dimming light. Beyond them stretched the familiar courtyard—only it didn’t feel familiar at all.

I frowned as the carriage rolled through.

There were more guards than I remembered. Dozens lined the walls and pathways, armor gleaming, eyes sharp, weapons at the ready. Their presence was like a weight pressing down on the air.

When we stepped out of the carriage, the wolves padded close, hackles prickling as if they too sensed the shift. The grounds themselves were strangely quiet.

No bustling servants carrying baskets of laundry. No wandering nobles trading gossip in the garden paths. Not even the stern presence of Count Grim Dolion, who was almost always at the kings side like a shadow.

The emptiness unsettled me more than the guards.

“Where is everyone?” I asked quietly.

Henry stepped down beside us, straightening his coat as he looked over the courtyard. “The Duke has tightened the circle. Every person entering these grounds now undergoes a background inquiry. Anyone not cleared of suspicion… is barred from entry.”

Suspicion. The word carried a sharp edge.

“And the others?” Rias asked softly.

“They’ve been dismissed. Even Count Grim Dolion has not been permitted inside.” Henry’s tone was even, but the implication was heavy. If Grim himself was not cleared, then the Duke trusted no one lightly.

I exchanged a look with Rias, her brows faintly furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Henry continued, gesturing for us to follow. “For now, the Duke has asked that you both present yourselves before the King. His Majesty wishes to see you in the throne room.”

My chest tightened as we walked. The last time I had stood in that room was a year ago, when I was still just a boy. A lot had changed since then—too much.

And I had a feeling this meeting would change even more.

The walk to the throne room felt heavier than usual. Guards lined the halls more densely than I remembered, their spears gleaming beneath torchlight, eyes sharp and restless. The echoes of our footsteps bounced off the black walls, filling the silence until the great doors swung open before us.

The throne room spread out like a cathedral, vast and cavernous, its ceiling painted with silver moons and golden suns. At the far end sat King Oscar upon his throne, his crown absent, his complexion sickly and pale. Without the makeup or illusions he’d worn during the festival, the years and disease showed in full.

He coughed violently, gripping the arm of his throne before forcing a weak smile. “Arthur. Rias. Welcome.” His voice rasped, but there was warmth in it. “I would have greeted you at your arrival, had this cursed affliction not stolen the strength from me. My doctors warn me that if I move too much, I’ll soon lose the ability to walk without aid.”

Rias and I bowed low. “Your Majesty,” I said, the words catching slightly in my throat.

He lifted a hand, dismissing the formality. “Enough of that. You are family as much as subjects.” His gaze flicked toward the wolves at our side. “I have gifts for your companions.”

He clapped his hands weakly, and a pair of guards wheeled forward a cart heaped with shimmering blue-white crystals. “Mana crystals,” the King said with a faint smile. “I’ve requisitioned them from the guild. A feast fit for beasts such as yours. Sköll, Geri—may they grow stronger still.”

At his gesture, the shadows behind the throne stirred.

I blinked, breath catching as the darkness unfolded into fur and muscle. Two enormous shapes rose to their full height, towering so high they made even the King’s throne look small. Paws like boulders struck the floor with a deep, resonant thud.

My heart stopped.

Not strangers.

“Hati…” My voice cracked.

Beside me, Rias whispered, “Freki…”

The Dire Wolves—ours, not the King’s—stood before us, larger than I remembered, their fur gleaming like midnight silver under the enchanted sconces. Their ice-blue eyes locked onto us, and a rumble rolled from their throats. Not anger. Recognition.

They stepped forward.

“Hati,” I choked out, moving a step before I could stop myself. The great wolf lowered his massive head, pressing his muzzle into my chest with a force that nearly staggered me. My hands sank into his fur, hot tears pricking my eyes. “You’ve grown… gods, you’ve grown.”

On the other side, Rias’s hands found Freki’s muzzle with practiced ease. Despite her blindness, she stroked him as though no time had passed at all, her trembling fingers tracing every line of his face. Freki leaned into her touch, closing his eyes, a low, soft rumble reverberating in his chest.

King Oscar wheezed another laugh. “They have missed you. I fed them mana crystals in your absence. This palace was built with their kind in mind—its halls wide enough, its foundations strong enough for Dire Wolves to wander freely. They have thrived here.”

Sköll and Geri, normally so possessive, stood silently at our sides. Their ears flicked, their eyes steady, as though they knew these two were no rivals. They were kin.

For the first time in years, it felt like a piece of home had been returned.

Rias leaned against Freki’s muzzle, her face calm, almost radiant. I pressed my forehead to Hati’s fur, breathing in the scent of him, old memories of are first meeting came flooding back.

“It’s good having you back Hati.”

The King’s coughing fit subsided, though his complexion seemed paler than when we had entered. He waved a hand weakly, though his voice carried more strength than his body suggested.

“There will be time enough for us to speak further, Arthur, Rias,” he said. “For now, you should get settled in. You’ve been away long, and the palace is yours as much as mine. But before you rest… go to the stables.”

“The stables, Your Majesty?” I asked.

His lips tugged into a faint smile. “You’ll find something there of interest. I’ll have the mana crystals brought down for Sköll and Geri, as they shouldn’t be left behind. Additionally, there’s gear in those stables, intended for Dire Wolves, from an era when kings rode them into battle. It’s been left untouched for far too long. Go and see it for yourselves.”

I bowed low. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Sköll’s ears twitched at the mention of crystals. Geri’s tail gave an eager thump against the floor.

The King’s laugh wheezed through another cough. “It seems they understand well enough. Go on, then. Let them be fed, and see what waits.”

The air grew warmer as we crossed into the stables, carrying the earthy scent of hay and animal musk. But these were no ordinary stables. The halls were wider, reinforced with beams thicker than tree trunks, the floors worn smooth by claws as much as hooves.

A young woman awaited us near the entrance, her auburn hair tied in a neat braid over one shoulder. She wore leathers marked with soot and oil stains, a stablehand’s gloves tucked into her belt. When she bowed, it was practiced but not stiff — more like she was used to bowing with hay on her boots.

“Young prince. Lady Rias. I’m Stella, keeper of the palace stables.” Her voice was steady, carrying a kind of no-nonsense warmth. “I was told to expect you.”

I nodded. “We were told that there was gear for are wolves.”

“Indeed.” She gestured for us to follow, her boots crunching softly over straw. “Come.”

We turned a corner, and Sköll surged forward before I could stop him. Ahead, guards dropped off a wagon, which was piled high with shimmering blue-white crystals that glowed faintly in the torchlight.

Sköll dove in with reckless hunger, crunching the crystals between his teeth so hard sparks flew. Geri followed more gracefully, though no less eagerly. Stella crossed her arms, watching with a faint smile.

“Jealous, is he?” she said, nodding toward Sköll.

I grimaced. “Maybe. He doesn’t like being smaller than Hati.”

“Well, that won’t last long,” she said simply.

As the wolves devoured their feast, Stella led us further down the stable. In the back, separated by tall reinforced gates, loomed a special wing. Wide stalls, iron hooks in the walls, and above them — a massive steel crane hanging from the rafters, its chains still glinting faintly in the lamplight.

“These,” Stella said, pointing, “are the Dire Wolf stalls. They were built in the reign of your great-grandfather, when his riders still took Dire Wolves into war. Haven’t been used in years… but they’re still sound.”

On the far wall, massive saddles hung from the hooks. They were enormous things — thick leather reinforced with steel bands, rope ladders draped along the sides. Dust clung to them, but they looked as if they’d been waiting.

Stella stepped forward, placing a hand on one. “These were made for beasts like Hati and Freki — and now, for Sköll and Geri as they grow. Each saddle holds multiple riders. Ropes on every seat for binding in tight, and ladders to climb up. The crane’s there to lift them onto the wolves, since no man could shoulder their weight.”

Her eyes met mine. “Would you like to give it a spin, young prince?”

I turned to Hati. He stood tall, ears pricked, his massive frame filling the stall. His eyes met mine, sharp and eager. I didn’t need words to know what he wanted.

“Why not,” I muttered.

Stella gave a brisk nod and set to work. With practiced hands, she attached the saddle to the crane. The chain rattled as the crane hoisted it high, swinging it carefully over Hati’s broad back. She fastened the straps down quickly and firmly, the leather hugging into place across his shoulders and chest.

“Now then.” Stella stepped back, wiping her hands. “Climb up. The rope ladder’s there — once you’re seated, pull on that black cord to bring it up and fasten it. Keeps it from dragging.”

I climbed, hand over hand, until I reached the seat. Sitting astride Hati felt… surreal. I was small on his back, like a child sitting atop a living mountain. The saddle creaked under my weight, but it was built for far more. I gripped the rope tight, heart pounding with excitement and nerves.

“But how do I steer—”

Before Stella could answer, Hati shifted. His muscles bunched beneath me, the saddle groaning under the strain. Then, with no warning, he bolted forward.

“Wait—Hati!”

The force slammed me back into the seat as the Dire Wolf charged through the stables. My knuckles whitened around the rope, teeth gritted as wind roared past my face. We shot out into the open grounds, hooves scattering, guards shouting in alarm as the ground thundered beneath Hati’s paws.

Behind me, Stella’s voice rang out, half amused, half exasperated. “Hold on tight, young prince!”

Sköll barked furiously from the stable, Geri howling with him — whether jealous or excited, I couldn’t tell.

But Rias’s laugh carried faintly after me, clear and bright. “Of course this would happen to you, Arthur.”

And despite the panic, despite the blur of motion, I found myself laughing too.