The following day was just as busy as expected, with the manor bustling with visitors throughout the afternoon.
To celebrate the birthday of the Saint, Licia, merchants based in Clausel, old friends of Lezard’s, and civil officials from various local institutions all made the trip to pay their respects.
Watching the festivities from a distance, Ren mused to himself.
(Birthdays are quite the ordeal for nobles,) he thought privately.
The thought had only occurred to him because he was comparing it to his own experiences. Back in his village, things were never this crowded. Aside from the apothecary, Granny Rigu, and a few villagers bringing by vegetables or other small tokens, there was nothing formal about it. By the time evening rolled around, it was just Ren and his parents sharing a quiet meal. It couldn't have been more different from Licia's celebration.
Eventually, the sun began to sink toward the horizon.
Ren hadn't seen Licia once all day. He knew where she was, of course, but the constant stream of guests had made it impossible to catch her for even a moment. He had also been busy assisting the attendants with their duties, so they had likely just missed one another.
(Is she holding up okay?) he wondered.
Ren was currently in the Old Wing, preoccupied with changing his clothes.
"I never thought the day would come when I’d actually need this."
He was referring to the outfit Licia had given him before the summer. He slipped into the jacket, which had been tailored specifically to his measurements, and stood before the full-length mirror left in the room.
The black fabric featured a subtle, overlapping check pattern; it was perhaps a bit too casual to be called a formal tailcoat, but when paired with the matching slacks, he looked every bit the part of a young nobleman.
"And I can't forget this."
He carefully tucked a long, thin box into his inner jacket pocket. This was the container the shop owner had prepared specifically for the presentation, replacing the sturdier outer box used for transport. It created a slight bulge in his chest, though it wasn't particularly unsightly—only noticeable if someone was looking for it.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let’s go."
He said it once more, as if to steel himself, and stepped out of his room. Opening the door of the Old Wing, he found the sky already beginning to dim as the veil of night descended. The lights spilling from the windows of the Main Building cast a warm glow across the grounds, creating a scene that felt almost ethereal.
Ren took a moment to appreciate the view before heading toward the main house. His leather shoes, stiff and unfamiliar, clicked against the ground with every step. The thick, sturdy fabric of his slacks felt smooth against his skin, though the jacket—which he had only worn a handful of times—felt a little tight across his shoulders.
"Oh?"
The voice belonged to Weiss, who spotted Ren the moment he entered the Main Building. Several other knights turned to look as well, and Ren found himself scratching his cheek in embarrassment.
"It suits you," Weiss said. "You look quite dignified—almost like the Hero, Lauren."
"I thought a young lord had wandered in by mistake," another knight added.
"It’s a good look for you."
"You should show your parents when you get the chance."
Bathed in their praise, Ren gave a deliberate cough and straightened his posture. "And you all look quite different yourselves today."
They were wearing what could only be described as Knight's Uniforms. They resembled military attire, though they still carried their swords at their waists as usual. Weiss explained that it was customary for the knights to dress this way for a party of this nature.
Ren began walking toward the Great Hall with Weiss.
"I was actually waiting for you, boy," Weiss said.
"For me?"
"Umu. I haven't heard what you decided on for a gift, but I see that bulge in your jacket. You've got it hidden away, haven't you?"
Ren didn't particularly mind him knowing, but he was impressed by how quickly the older man had caught on.
"As you suspect. But what does that have to do with you waiting for me?"
Weiss gave a knowing smirk. "In years past, I would step forward as the Representative of the Knights, and the butler would act for the servants. We would present our gifts to the Young Lady together."
"I see. So I should go before you then—"
"No. You're going after us."
"Wait... what?"
Caught off guard by the unexpected change in protocol, Ren let out a confused noise. A strained, wry smile touched his lips.
"This is a gift from you," Weiss emphasized. "I didn't think it was appropriate for you to present it alongside us common servants."
(What on earth is he talking about?) Ren thought, his mind reeling.
"Usually, the Head of the Family is the final person to present a gift. I want you to take the slot immediately before him."
"I have several objections to that," Ren countered. "Primarily the fact that you seem to have forgotten I’m also in service to House Clausel."
"Hmm? Well, you're the boy. That makes you special," Weiss replied vaguely.
The nearby knights chuckled. Ren’s wry smile didn't fade as he pressed the issue. "Are you actually serious about this?"
"Quite serious. I apologize for thrusting such a prominent role on you so suddenly, but... well, this is the Young Lady's birthday party, isn't it? We should do whatever will make her the happiest."
Ren couldn't argue with that. If his being the penultimate presenter would bring a smile to Licia's face, then that was clearly the right course of action. As Weiss said, the guest of honor's happiness was the priority.
(This is weird. I'm almost as nervous as I was when I fought the Thief Wolfen. Okay, that's definitely an exaggeration, but I'm still terrified.)
A pathetic, low groan escaped his throat. He felt like the nerves might actually give him heartburn, and his hand moved instinctively to rub his chest.
Seeing Ren fumbling with his jacket, Weiss let out a soft, warm laugh. "It’s nice to see you acting your age for once."
"...Don't get the wrong idea. I am still a child," Ren shot back, his tone slightly more provocative than usual, though his hand continued to rub at his chest.
The usual dignified composure he wore like armor was nowhere to be found. In its place was a boy who was so visibly anxious it was almost endearing.
"No, it's just that seeing how you usually carry yourself, I tend to forget you're still a child."
"Well, feel free to use this as a reminder then."
He was being a bit cheeky—more so than usual—but he was too frazzled to notice his own tone. Weiss and the other knights only smiled wider.
Licia often boasted about him—the hero, Ren Ashton, who had survived a harrowing escape and defeated the assassins sent by Viscount Given. But the boy standing before them now was far more relatable. He was simply a child, acting exactly as a boy his age should.