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Chapter 8 - Lord's men visit

The morning peace shattered when Jorgan's grandmother burst into the house, her voice trembling. "The lord's men are coming!" Her weathered hands shook as she smoothed her dress, fear evident in every movement.

Jorgan moved toward the window, his newly awakened Dracheron powers humming beneath his skin. His mother's hand clutched his arm, fingers digging into his flesh with desperate strength.

"Please," Sera whispered, "stay inside. Please."

He covered her hand with his own, feeling the slight tremor in her grip. "It's alright, mother. I'll just watch." The lie came easily, necessary to calm her fears. His enhanced senses had already identified who was approaching – the same powerful aura he'd detected two years ago.

Outside, the village had fallen into fearful silence. Villagers dropped to their knees along the dirt path, heads pressed to the ground as the procession approached. The village head led the way, his usual pompous demeanor amplified by the importance of his escort. Behind him walked the knight – tall, distinguished, his silver-streaked hair and battle-scarred armor speaking of decades of service.

Sera emerged from the house, freshly dressed, her mother beside her. Both women moved to kneel, but Jorgan stepped forward, positioning himself between them and the visitors. His hand gently caught his mother's arm, preventing her from lowering herself to the ground.

"How dare you!" the village head's voice cracked like a whip. "Show proper respect to Lord Kaidren's representative!"

But the knight wasn't looking at their lack of courtesy. His eyes, sharp with decades of battlefield awareness, had locked onto Jorgan's face. The colour drained from his weathered features as recognition dawned.

"By the gods," the knight whispered, taking an unconscious step forward. His eyes traced every feature of Jorgan's face with growing amazement. "I've served Lord Kaidren since he was a boy, watched him grow from child to man..." His voice trailed off as he continued to stare. He couldn't believe what he saw. The rumours were true, he indeed looked like his lord. 

Vale felt like he was watching young Kaidren. Not even one of his older children had this much physical appearance like their father. 

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken revelations. The villagers who had dared to raise their heads watched with wide eyes, sensing the weight of the moment.

Finally, the knight found his voice again. "What is your name, child?"

Jorgan met his gaze steadily, the Dracheron blood in his veins lending him an unconscious air of authority. "Jorgan."

The knight's eyes shifted to Sera, who stood trembling but upright behind her son. His next words fell like stones into still water: "Is it true that your child is Lord Kaidren's?"

The gasps were audible. The village head's jaw dropped his face cycling through shock, understanding, and calculation in rapid succession. The villagers who had gathered to watch forgot their proper poses, lifting their heads to stare at the family they had known for eighteen years, seeing them in an entirely new light.

The secret that had been kept for eighteen years, protected by a mother's love and a grandmother's vigilance, now lay exposed in the morning sun. Jorgan could feel his mother's distress behind him, and could sense the rapid beating of her heart. But he remained standing tall, letting the knight see the full measure of his resemblance to Lord Kaidren.

The truth hung in the air between them, waiting for someone to grasp it, to decide what would be done with this knowledge that could reshape the power dynamics of the entire region.

And Jorgan, with his newly awakened powers coursing through his veins, waited to see what moves would be made against his family now that their secret was exposed.