Chapter 109: Ch109 – Tradition

The servants moved in quietly, clearing the second course plates efficiently, and doing their best to stay invisible. Jared watched his plate leave solemnly.

“Your cook,” he said to Lord Blackwood. “Has he been here long?”

“She,” Lord Blackwood corrected. “And she’s been here thirty-one years,” Lord Blackwood said. “Her mother cooked here before her.”

“Thirty-one years.” Jared set his elbows on the table. “I want to meet her.”

“She doesn’t meet guests usually,” William said, he turned to his father joyfully. “Remember when Lord Gerald visited and went to meet her!” He let out a chuckle, “She told him his opinions on seasoning were all wrong.”

“Was she right?” Eleanor asked.

“Oh, most definitely,” Lord Blackwood nodded. “Which made it worse.”

Ryan smiled. Across the table James had relaxed into his chair, more at ease than he’d been since they arrived, the wine and the food and the warmth of the room were doing their work. James was tearing a piece of bread apart.

Edward had not said a word since his, interesting question. He ate, refilled his glass once without waiting to be offered, and looked out the window at intervals, probably hoping to be somewhere else, and covered in blood.

The third course arrived.

It was two dishes per person. One, a thick pastry parcel, golden and flaking. The other a cut of something darker than the venison, and seemingly more muscled, accompanied by a sauce in a small vessel beside it. The smell reached Ryan before the plate did.

“This is our forest boar,” Lord Blackwood said, before anyone asked. “The pastry preparation is a Blackwood recipe. It is older than most things in this castle.”

James cut into his pastry immediately, he then cut off part of the meat, and combined it with the pastry into on bite.

“I take back everything I said about the soup,” he said. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“You said that about the meat as well,” Jared pointed out.

“I was wrong about the meat too. This is the best dish yet.”

“You’ll say the same about dessert.”

“Probably.” James didn’t seem troubled by this.

Edward sighed.

William leaned forward. “Last time we had this, I ate four portions and was sick for two days.”

“William,” Lord Blackwood said.

“What. I’m just saying it’s very good.”

“There are ways to convey that which don’t involve your digestive history.”

William considered this. “Four portions though,” he said, quieter, to James.

Ryan ate and listened and said little, because he was too busy eating. The pastry was extraordinary—the sauce sharp and rich, that made each bite better than the last.

Eleanor had abandoned her measured pace and was eating ravenously, which Ryan took as the highest possible endorsement.

“The forest,” James said, after a while. “You said it can’t be fully mapped. Has anyone tried recently?”

“We tried three years ago,” Lord Blackwood said. “It was a team of six experienced trackers, with provisions for two weeks. They returned after four days.”

“What stopped them?”

Lord Blackwood was quiet for a moment. “They couldn’t agree on what they’d seen. Each of them gave a different account of the same stretch of forest.” He refilled his water glass. “There are sections of it that behave unusually… We have learned,over generations, not to push past a certain point.”

“What point?” Ryan asked.

“You’ll know it when you reach it,” Lord Blackwood said, cutting another piece of the boar. “The trees change, they grow larger and darker in colour. Then the canopy grows and the light goes.” He set down his glass. “The outer sections are perfectly safe. Beautiful, especially in this season. The estate has hunted there for two hundred years without difficulty.”

“What lives in the deeper sections?” Eleanor asked.

“Many monsters, some of which are more powerful than me.” Lord Blackwood said. “Which is, in itself, sufficient reason not to go.”

Ryan looked out the window. Beyond the inner ward wall, the top of the treeline was just visible, the black crowns of the outermost trees catching the afternoon light. From here they looked… ordinary.

He looked back at his plate and finished the pastry.

The fourth course arrived as soon as the third was cleared.

William nearly jumped off of his seat with excitement.

Dessert. It was a tall sponge cake, with pale cream pooled around the base.

The cream cut through the sweetness.

“My wife’s recipe,” Lord Blackwood said, looking at his plate. “She made it every year. Helen, our cook, has reproduced it well.” He took a bite. “Almost exactly.”

Nobody said anything for a moment, they were too busy.

The cake was remarkable — dense without being heavy, the cream doing precisely what it was supposed to do.

The conversation drifted—William was telling Eleanor something about the city market, Cedric Blackwood corrected two details in the timeline William was recounting. He knew his history well. Jared had his fork in his hand, half listening, half focused on the cake. James was watching William genuinely entertained.

It was, Ryan thought, a good table. Strange circumstances for sure, and one of them were… strange company, but a good table.

Edward set down his dessert fork.

He had been silent for the entirety of the third and fourth courses. He hadn’t sulked, made a fuss or withdrawn, just eaten, occasionally looked out the window, and refilled his glass a second time.

“I could take you into the forest,” he said.

He was looking at Ryan, beside him.

The conversations didn’t stop immediately. But Lord Blackwood’s attention shifted.

“I know it better than any of Adrian’s guides,” Edward continued. “Better than anyone in this country, probably.”

He said it without any arrogance. It was simply a fact he had established through practice. “I’ve been walking it since I was six. I know which sections are worth seeing and which aren’t.” His eyes stayed on Ryan. “I could show you the parts that don’t appear on any map.”

“That’s a kind offer, Edward, but Adrian can arrange a guide,” Lord Blackwood said.

“Adrian’s guides only know the outer paths,” Edward said. “They know where it’s safe and they stay there.” He looked at his father briefly, then back at Ryan. “I could show you further than that. If you wanted.” A pause. Just long enough. “I could even show you some of my family’s oldest, traditions.” The corner of his mouth moved.

Every other conversation had stopped.

Lord Blackwood had put down his spoon at some point.

William was looking down at the tablecloth again.

Ryan looked at Edward. Edward looked back at him with that same expression—pleasant, open, giving nothing away and somehow giving everything away at once.

“What traditions?” Ryan said.

Edward smiled. “Old ones.”

Lord Blackwood’s voice came out. “We will not be revisiting any of our family’s old traditions. In the forest or otherwise.”

Edward looked at his father. The smile stayed exactly where it was.

“Of course,” he said. “I only meant the hunting methods.” He picked up his spoon and looked back at his dessert. “The family has always hunted a certain way. It’s worth preserving, I think. Things that get passed down.”

Edward let out a laugh, not a genuine one, it was forced. “You saw a glimpse of our tradition when I first came in.” He then winked and ate his sponge cake.

Nobody else spoke for a moment.

Then James said, to no one in particular, “This cake is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” William laughed awkwardly.

A couple minutes later, Cedric Blackwood folded his napkin and set it beside his plate.

“I’m afraid I won’t be joining you for dinner this evening,” he said. “I have estate business that requires my attention before nightfall. Adrian will ensure you’re looked after.” He looked around the table. “I hope the afternoon treats you well. The garden is worth walking if the weather holds.”

The meal was over.

Edward left first, without a word, the door closing behind him before anyone had properly stood. William lingered and said something to James about showing him the city tomorrow, to which he received a nod, and was then ushered out by a servant who had clearly been assigned to him for exactly this purpose.

Ryan excused himself, and thanked Cedric for the meal. He then went back up through the castle alone.

The entrance hall, the staircase, the second floor corridor, past the library then the third. The light through the narrow window at the far end had gone golden now, the afternoon properly into itself.

He passed by the black door without slowing.

Keep my brother safe.

Watching William go still at the second Edward would speak…

He must have meant William.

But from what? From who?

He stopped outside his door.

Edward’s face appeared in his mind

Ryan pushed open his door and went inside.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, looking back at the black door.

A moment later, he closed his door.

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