Reading time: 60 min.
Small puffs of cold air escaped the Redwind rogue’s mouth as he stood on top of a carved stone pillar. The blizzarding frost and constant snowfall always blanketed the winding mountain paths this far up the carved trail. Still, he had grown accustomed to the harsh cold. Vendin, Raven of Trost, stood watchful over an essential target. A lone wanderer traveling the slippery crevices and crumbling roads, inching steadily toward his next destination.
One light-armored stallion, one small bag, a large leatherbound book, and an intricate sword with fiery designs coated the man’s figure. He stood with watchful eyes, ensuring he had been readily prepared for his next steps. The traveler had the needed information he wanted and a price to pay for his treachery against his employer. He could not make any mistakes.
Three Windstreak Hawks perched by the Redwind rogue’s side, their sharp eyes fixed on the lone traveler. One was on his shoulder, one on his fingertips, and the third stood lookout on another stone pillar. With their dark bodies and bright maroon feathers at the tips, the native birds of the Vasir Mountains were his eyes, helping him to identify any weaknesses. They were a constant companion, aiding him wherever he went.
Vendin looked down attentively. The traveler had already realized his whereabouts, so he had no reason to use underhanded tactics. No amount of scheming would give him an advantage, regardless. Not against this person. The wanderer kept his movements steady, but his hands were poised, ready for anything the rogue might have planned.
As he gracefully landed on the rocky ground, Vendin brandished his Dual Ravens – two magesteel daggers that gleamed menacingly in the snowy surroundings. The traveler, sensing Vendin’s hostile intent, swiftly unsheathed his great sword, Dragon’s Tooth, preparing to defend himself against the formidable attack.
Despite their stillness, the intensity of their gaze made it evident that they had no intention of engaging in idle conversation. The traveler was the first to take action, darting towards Vendin with lightning speed. However, Vendin was quick on his feet, easily outpacing the traveler as he raced forward.
As they exchanged blows, the Redwind Rogue remained calm and composed, his keen senses and “Third Vision” ability allowing him to detect abnormalities in his opponent’s stance. With the power to peer through the eyes of his trusted companions, he could sense whatever they sensed and see whatever they saw.
“Who sent you?” The traveler grunted, clearly annoyed.
“Could you not tell?” Vendin spat out, “You are still to pay your debts.”
“And they send a mere rogue to test me?”
“Enough chit chat.”
In a sudden and unexpected move, Vendin hurled one of his gleaming daggers toward the traveler. But instead of aiming for the person, he targeted the horse, seeking to disable the animal and trap the traveler like a cornered beast.
As the traveler expertly caught the dagger that approached his horse, Vendin seized the opportunity to close the distance between them. The assassin’s blades began to glow with pulsing blue energy as an aura of electrical charge surrounded his hands.
Lightning Strikes Twice.
The ability paralyzed the traveler as the daggers were coated with a lightning aura. They pulsated a light bluish glow, transmuting the air around them. This caught the traveler off guard, and he dropped the dagger onto the floor — another mistake.
The crackling lightning spread through the snow, stunning the traveler and his horse for a few precious moments. Vendin’s devilish grin widened, sensing an opportunity to strike. This was his chance! His eyes glinted with fierce determination as he aimed straight for the traveler’s heart, intent on delivering the killing blow.
…..
At least… that was what he envisioned to happen.
Instead, the traveler gave a booming bellow and surrounded himself with a bolden aura of blazing fire. His whole body lit bright flames with intensifying heat, radiating outwards like an enraged dragon. His eyes had an undertone of crimson, and his veins could be seen through his skin as streaks of glowing red lines. He took a large breath and exhaled a massive heave of fire directly in his vicinity.
With lightning-fast reflexes, Vendin seized his Dual Ravens and drew upon his Windstreak Hawks training to make a rapid retreat. With a deft leap, he evaded the traveler’s deadly strike, expertly navigating the treacherous terrain with the grace and agility of a seasoned acrobat. As he caught hold of a nearby rock pillar with a hook line, Vendin paused to catch his breath, his heart pounding. He knew that the traveler was now beyond his level of expertise and that this battle would require all of his skill and cunning to survive.
“It has been a long time since anyone has pushed me to use this ability,” the traveler remarked, his breath still ragged from the fierce battle. “Most rogues don’t possess the intellect to devise a plan of attack as complex as yours, but I have to commend you for your skill and cunning.”
The traveler lifted his sword to his chest, igniting the blade into a layer of bright molten glow. Vendin didn’t know what the traveler had just done, but he knew if he got hit head-on by the sword, it would severely burn him to the touch, sending him to an early grave.
“This is a Circle Three, Single Attribute, Mixed Magic ability,” the traveler spoke with authority, stretching his arms outward. “With this ability, I can shroud myself in a blazing aura of fire-attributed mana, both within and outside my body. Any object that comes into contact with me within this aura will be burned or singed, and my weapons will gain increased strength and durability.”
Vendin widened his eyes with such intensity that he almost glared at the oversight he had made. He’s revealing his technique. That must’ve been one of the many conditions he set within his soul. How else would he have obtained an ability with that much ferocity?
For a moment, he tried to process the traveler’s words. Still, the traveler didn’t give him time to comprehend his explanation. He closed the distance between them in a flash. Vendin jumped back in surprise, caught off by the quickening speed. He narrowly dodged his sword’s swing but still received minor burns.
His speed has almost tripled.
Vendin grimaced, realizing it was futile for him to try to best the traveler in one-on-one combat, so he had to change his plans immediately. Putting his hands together, he activated his trump card, Lightning Step. He didn’t want to use his ability so soon but was forced into a tight corner. He surrounded himself in the attributed lightning aura. The air around him electrified, increasing his speed and reflex. Speed was his one advantage, and his ability invigorated his lower body.
The assassin charged at the traveler, sidestepping his massive sword swing at the last moment. Several blows were exchanged with quick precision, but the Redwind rogue had the upper hand. He could dodge or counterattack most of the travelers’ sword attacks while simultaneously landing in thin but damning cuts around his body.
Although the cuts inflicted upon him were relatively minor, they still managed to slow down the traveler. As each wound was cauterized shut, he winced in pain, unable to endure the relentless assault much longer. Finally, with a mighty sweep of his sword, he released a circular wheel of flames that radiated outwards from the point of origin, indicating that he had had enough of Vendin’s tricks and was ready to fight back with all his might.
The force of the traveler’s attack sent Vendin hurtling backward into the snow, his body skidding across the icy ground as he struggled to regain footing. But the traveler was relentless, his animalistic ferocity propelling him forward with a primal determination that left Vendin reeling. With a mighty kick to the abdomen, the traveler sent Vendin crashing to the ground in a burst of searing pain.
Blood spilled from his mouth as he lay there, writhing in agony and gasping for breath. Slowly, the traveler approached him, his movements deliberate and measured as a sense of fear washed over Vendin. Despite his terror, Vendin’s training with his Windstreak Hawks allowed him to sense that the traveler had no immediate intention of killing him.
“Tell me,” He said, “Why have you come for my assassination?”
“Assassination?” Vendin questioned, his eyes giving a double take. The traveler was much too dangerous to assassinate by his lonesome.
“My goal is not your assassination,” He coughed, “I just need the debts you have taken from my employer. I just want what you have… What you owe.”
“I have many debts with many people; you must elaborate.”
“House of Aevum.”
Upon hearing those words, the traveler was struck dumb, his emotions becoming a jumbled mix of shock and confusion. He had always assumed that the assassin was after his head, as every encounter thus far had escalated into a deadly battle. How could he know the assassin was actually from the House of Aevum?
“My apologies,” the traveler said, extending a hand to help the Redwind Rogue to his feet. “If the Aevum had truly wished me dead, they would have dispatched more skilled assassins to finish the job.”
Vendin nodded in agreement. He knew all too well that the Aevum Imperia was a force to be reckoned with, far more lethal and skilled than any mere rogue such as himself. Their operatives were the stories of legend, feared and respected throughout the land as the Duke’s most effective enforcers. Despite his pride, Vendin recognized that he would pale compared to one of the Aevum’s agents. They had earned their reputation as the noble family who had quashed countless rebellions and put down numerous threats to the throne.
“You must pay debts equaling one thousand gold coins for their services.” Looking at his leather-bound book, he replied, “I trust you will have the funds or equalized, or they have promised to cut your family down where they stand.”
The traveler scratched his head sheepishly as he said, “I’m sorry, but I’m on a mission for the King of Asteria and don’t have any funds on hand. Will this serve as a down payment? I promise that I’ll pay the rest in full as soon as I complete this expedition, on my honor.”
With that, he handed Vendin a large horn, which was revealed to be a sizable crystalline mana shard shaped like a great, curved horn upon closer inspection. Vendin recognized it as a horn from the legendary Blue Yeti, one of the fearsome mountain beasts that guarded the Vasir Mountains. These mountains, on the edge of civilization for centuries, were home to dangerous monsters and dungeons filled with rare artifacts and life-giving herbs, but few were brave or skilled enough to survive the harsh landscape and venture deep within.
“This will be plenty enough.” He readily took the item, understanding its worth, “I hope you are more cautious with just attacking someone without explanation next time.”
“Don’t play coy with me, rogue. You were stalking me like a vulture.”
“I was monitoring you.” He replied, “Don’t twist my actions.”
Vendin let out a whistle, and all of his hawks flew down to him at once. Two of them snatched the large horn from his fingertips, while the third quickly grew in size, transforming into a rideable mount. Vendin soared away with lightning-fast speed; his eyes fixed on the shining blue gem he held. It was time for him to return to Trost.
Aaron opened his eyes.
His irises were glistening with a tone of vivid golden. Bright, with an auburn hue that gave a shining glint in the air, reminiscent of the autumn leaves. He blinked a few times and looked around, slightly disoriented but fully aware of his surroundings. The first thought that entered his head was logical, as he was always known for such a disposition. With a quick scan around him, it was revealed that he was not in chains or held captive but instead luxuriating on a plush couch, his aching muscles attesting to the exertions of days gone by.
Where was he?
He was most likely in motion. That much was apparent as he subtly rocked back and forth. At first, the sound was barely audible, a faint murmur that hinted at something more. But as he focused his attention, it grew louder and more distinct, like the gentle patter of rocks cascading over a water wheel.
With a sudden surge of concentration, he realized he was inside a large, grand carriage. Rising to his feet, he beheld the intricate details adorning the carriage’s walls. Golden designs and ivory engravings sparkled with a touch of Renaissance Europe, all delicately laced with faithful ornamentations.
“Stop,” He cleared his throat with a forceful cough.
The words that erupted from his lips were as dry as a desert breeze, but his voice was still evident. Upon his command, the carriage screeched to a halt, its wheels grinding against the rough gravel. Despite the harsh rasp of his parched throat, his voice was different. It was unfamiliar, almost alien, and it gave him pause. Was it a trick of his mind?
“What troubles you, Master Aaron?” A rough but clean voice replied from the front of the carriage, with a hint of superciliousness that betrayed the speaker’s true feelings.
“How do you know my name?” Aaron replied, suspicious.
“As a humble servant of the House of Aevum, it is only natural that I know the name of my liege,” the voice replied, returning to bestow a slight nod of deference. “It is my honor to serve as your escort on this fine day.”
Aaron scowled, unsure what to make of this unexpected turn of events. “Escort me where, exactly?”
“To your residence, my prince,” the servant replied, his tone inscrutable. Aaron blinked, struggling to make sense of what was happening. How had he ended up in this carriage, and why was he being taken to his residence?
He pressed his fingers against his temples to dispel the fog that clouded his thoughts. The sensation was eerily familiar, dredging up memories from long past, like fragments of a forgotten dream. Faces and voices swirled around him, tantalizingly close yet maddeningly out of reach. It was like trying to catch a butterfly in a hurricane – he knew they were there, but they slipped through his grasp like sand through his fingers.
Aaron realized was silent for too long, but he snapped awake soon enough, “Continue on our journey,” he replied softly, his voice decisive. “And please tell me everything you know.”
The driver, a man he learned was named William, lightly flicked the reins, and the carriage surged forward with a jolt. As they bounced along the uneven road, William spoke in a voice that had a mysterious charm. “I am a colleague of your father’s. And I have been tasked with bringing you home.”
“I… have no father,” Aaron interjected.
William chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. “Ah, but you do, my boy. And he has asked me to act as your guardian and butler for this event.”
Confusion flickered across Aaron’s face. “What event? And why do I need a guardian?” William’s eyes glittered with amusement as he leaned back against his seat. “All in good time, Master Aaron,” he said, his voice teasing. “All in good time.”
Aaron sat silently for several more minutes, his mind racing as he tried to piece together his tangled memories. But like a shattered mirror, his thoughts were fractured and incomplete. With a frustrated sigh, he sat upright and leaned against the coach seat, crossing his arms in deep contemplation.
“If I may ask, where are we coming from?” he inquired, his voice barely above a whisper.
The driver let out a boisterous chuckle that reverberated across the carriage. “Why, your very own birthday celebration!” he exclaimed, “Surely you haven’t imbibed enough to forget such a momentous occasion?”
Aaron shook his head, his confusion mounting with each passing moment. “I…am having trouble remembering many things at the moment,” he admitted.
“Ah, I see,” the driver nodded sagely. “Perhaps I should summon our Alchemist to assist with your recovery once we arrive at your residence?”
“No need for that,” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had many unpleasant experiences with vials before, regardless of their contents.”
“As you wish, then,” the driver acquiesced with a nod, focusing his attention back on the road, “I’m certain your memory will return in due time.”
Aaron offered a small smile of gratitude. “Thank you, William.”
As the carriage carefully crawled forward, Aaron leaned back once again, his gaze fixed on his own feet. For a moment, he entertained the possibility of being lost in dreamland, a cunningly crafted illusion designed to plumb the depths of his consciousness and tease out his innermost secrets. He had heard of advanced machines that could do just that, devices so sophisticated they could navigate the labyrinthine pathways of the human mind, unearthing information that even the cruelest torture could not reveal.
But that didn’t make much sense, either.
Aaron furrowed his brow, delving deeper into his thoughts. He closed his eyes and summoned memories of his past, scouring them for clues to help him understand his current predicament. If this was all a dream, it was the most vivid one he had ever experienced. He marveled at the level of detail in this imaginary world as it engaged all five of his senses. He felt the soft leather of the seat beneath him, the gentle breeze caressing his face, and the sun’s warm glow filtering through the carriage window.
And then, a sudden realization struck Aaron.
He clicked his tongue in response.
He frowned, running his tongue over his teeth and feeling the back of his throat for something that wasn’t there.
“Not there,” he whispered under his breath.
He tried using his hands instead, but the result was the same. As Aaron prodded around his mouth with growing panic, his heart skipped. Had he lost it? Had he misplaced the one thing that would keep him safe from torture and death? The notorious poison tooth that had been his last resort was nowhere to be found.
Aaron closed his eyes, trying so very hard to remember.
But remember what?
Ah, yes. His demise. The memory flooded back to him with startling intensity. Terror had taken hold of him, constricting his heart like a vice. He could still feel the sensation of his life ebbing away, leaving him shattered and broken. Yet, here he was, alive and well. If this wasn’t a dream, then how was it possible?
Aaron closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he pressed his palms against his chest, feeling for the rhythm of his heart. Yet despite the strong pulse, a sense of unease gnawed at him, like a missing piece in a puzzle. His eyes flickered open, and his gaze darted down to his chest, where he had always worn a necklace – a cherished memento from his beloved mentor. But to his shock, it was no longer there.
“When will we arrive?” Aaron looked up abruptly.
“In a few hours, I presume,” William replied coolly.
Aaron leaned forward. “And what of my father?”
“Pardon?” William asked.
“Why does he send you, a mere butler, instead of coming himself?” Aaron pressed, “Is my father too important to attend to his own son?”
William scoffed. “He is much too busy managing Trost. His work allows you to live the lavish lifestyle you desire, so I’m sure you can understand.”
Despite his best efforts to remain composed, Aaron’s interest was piqued. He sensed that there was another reason for his father’s absence, one that William was keeping close to his chest. But was it worth pressing the issue? Most likely not. He had all the information he needed for now to assess his current situation.
“Do I still have a place in my family’s halls?” Aaron inquired, his gaze fixed upon the horizon. The carriage rumbled along, and the driver’s horse snorted impatiently, eager to continue their journey.
“What do you mean by that?” William asked, lightly whipping the reigns.
“You speak of inheritance and nobility,” he continued, his eyes narrowing with keen intelligence. “My father, the Duke of Trost, surely has plans for his land and people, right? Plans that may require my presence.”
The driver chuckled, a wry grin spreading across his features. “A sharp mind you have. Rest easy, for your father has already delegated those responsibilities to your siblings. But your fate in Trost is yet to be revealed. Your father surely has plans, but he has kept them veiled. It may be that he envisions a purpose for you in his grand scheme, or it may be that he does not..”
“I see,” Aaron contemplated.
“And what of this sudden interest in your birthright? Does your exile stir something in you?” The driver’s eyes glinted with curiosity.
Exile?
“Remind me of my exile.” Aaron asked.
“Pray forgive my impertinence, but I must inquire: how much of the intoxicating brew did you partake yesterday?” he asked, his expression of utmost innocence.
“Just answer the question.”
William’s smirk vanished, replaced by a mask of deference. “As you wish,” he said, his voice respectful. “Your exile is but two short years away. On the 100th year of the Asterian Calendar, you will turn twenty-one and be forced to leave the family estate.”
Aaron felt a twinge of curiosity, but he knew better than to press further. He was still grappling with the murky haze of his memories, and he suspected that William wouldn’t be able to offer any answers of significance.
“If that’s the case,” Aaron sighed, “Then stop for a minute. Let me see the sights.”
The butler nodded wordlessly and pulled gently on the reins, bringing the carriage to a leisurely pace. Aaron gazed out through the window as the vehicle glided along, taking in the stunning vista before him. The sun was setting, casting the sky in a brilliant array of oranges and pinks, while the grasslands stretched out in every direction like an endless sea of green. An entourage of guards surrounded him, their armor glinting in the fading light, and each carried a sword and shield etched with intricate, crystal-like patterns. There appeared to be at least fifteen guards escorting just one carriage.
The clouds were sparse, drifting lazily across the azure canopy, but despite the tranquil scene, he couldn’t shake the nagging sense of unease that gnawed at him from within. It was a feeling of otherness, of being a stranger in a strange land. As the weight of his thoughts bore down upon him, Aaron slumped back against the grassy ground, his mind reeling with the implications of his situation.
Reincarnation.
The word hung heavy in the air like a pall.
“What am I supposed to do now?” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. So many questions needed to be answered, and uncertainties filled him with fear and doubt. Was there a higher power that governed the universe, or was he just a speck of dust adrift in an uncaring void?
With a deep sigh, Aaron returned to the carriage and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift into a deep slumber. For now, at least, there were no answers or truths to be uncovered. All he could do was wait and hope that clarity would emerge.
◊◊◊◊◊
Aaron’s eyes flickered open, and he found himself in a daze, his mind reeling with newfound knowledge. It wasn’t just the remnants of his sickness that lingered, but something else entirely. Memories flooded his mind, vivid and intricate, yet not his own. Dates and names he had never known before swirled around in his head, and he couldn’t help but wonder: where had these memories come from? It was as if a whole new world had opened up to him. But one thing was sure – Aaron never forgot a word or a face, and these new memories were not something he could easily dismiss.
The memories swirled in Aaron’s mind like a tempestuous storm ready to unleash its fury. They came at him in waves, crashing against his consciousness’s shores, leaving him disoriented and perplexed. He saw flashes of a woman’s face, her gentle voice lulling him to sleep with stories of far-off lands. Then, another memory emerged of a man teaching him about the intricacies of the human body. And as he pieced together these fragments, he saw the books, their covers black and their titles simple yet profound. “Son,” they spoke to him.
“William,” Aaron’s voice was hoarse, betraying the nausea he felt, “How much longer until we arrive?”
“We’re only a few minutes away,” William responded in his usual crisp tone. “Did you have a restful nap?”
“As much as one could have in this situation.”
A glint of sympathy flashed in William’s eyes before he continued, “The sun will set soon, and dinner will be served shortly after we arrive. They’ve prepared your favorite steak, cooked medium-rare, with a side of warm bread.”
“Who prepared it?” Aaron asked, his curiosity piqued.
“The maids,” William replied. “Would you like to speak with them?”
Without waiting for Aaron’s response, William handed him a small, shiny tablet with an intricate hourglass insignia etched on it. A diamond-like crystal protruded from its center, beckoning to be touched.
“What is this?” Aaron turned the tablet over in his hand, but there were no buttons, no apparent way to interact with it.
“It’s a communication device, my lord,” William explained. “You speak into the box while placing your hands on the crystal, and it reads your signature to connect with the other tablet on the receiving end.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Fascinating,” he muttered before touching the crystal and activating the device.
“Is there anyone there?” He asked quickly. The moment stretched, filled only by the rustling of leaves outside the carriage window until a clear voice broke the silence.
“Hello Aaron, my name is Emma, and I am tasked with preparing your dinner today.”
“What’s on the menu?” he asked eagerly.
“The usual for you,” Emma replied. “A medium-rare steak with sourdough bread, with wine to accompany.”
“Wine?” Aaron scratched his head, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected addition. “Do I always drink wine for dinner?”
“If you would like a different drink, I can prepare that,” Emma offered, her tone deferential.
Aaron considered for a moment, but shrugged. “Wine would be fine. Thank you, Emma.”
“No, the pleasure is mine,” Emma said, her voice warm.
With a flick of his wrist, Aaron tossed the tablet toward William, his butler catching it without batting an eye. The older man’s dexterity caught Aaron off guard, especially given his advanced age. Aaron’s excitement mounted at the grand mansion looming in the distance as the carriage crawled forward. Its short castle walls and towering height gave it an air of majesty, perched on a hill overlooking the town of Trost.
Aaron’s eyes widened as the metal gates swung open at the sight of the lush field of flowers that stretched before him. The maid who accompanied him into the manor seemed to sense his awe and smiled in response.
With practiced ease, she led him through the winding halls of the grand estate, his belongings following close behind without so much as a jostle. A towering butler greeted him with a respectful bow when they reached the dining room.
“I will escort you to the dining room,” the butler announced.
Aaron simply nodded, his mind preoccupied with the strange emptiness of the room. It was a stark contrast to his previous home’s bustling, noisy environment. But he settled nicely as he watched the maids flit about their duties.
He ate silently, savoring the steak and bread taste as he absently aligned his utensils. It was an old habit he had picked up years ago without ever really thinking about it. The maids conversed quietly, their hushed tones punctuated by the soft clink of plates and silverware.
As he ate, Aaron found himself whistling a light tune to pass the time, his mind wandering as he tried to make sense of the strange feeling of being an outsider in his own home. It was a feeling that he couldn’t quite shake, no matter how hard he tried.
As the maids cleared away the empty plates, Aaron leaned back in his chair and let out a satisfied sigh. The steak had been cooked to perfection, and the bread had been toasted to a golden brown. Honestly, it was a meal fit for a king, and he felt grateful for the hardworking maids who had prepared it.
With a contented smile, Aaron gave thanks for the meal and the company of the diligent maids who had tended to his every need. He ate until nothing was left but clean bones and small pieces of leftover bread, savoring every last bite.
The maids in attendance bowed deferentially, their bright emblem patches marking them as the head maid and her assistants. With a glint in his eye, Aaron turned to the head maid and posed a question that lingered on his mind.
“May I ask you a question?”
“You may ask for whatever you wish.”
Aaron rose to his feet, his gaze unwavering as he gripped the sharp knife from his utensils and gripped it tightly in his hand. With a sense of purpose, he presented the maid with a direct question that left her momentarily uncertain. “Tell me, what are your goals?”
At first, the head maid hesitated, unsure of what her answer might mean for her position in the household. But she soon found her voice, expressing her desire to serve and pay off her family’s debts. Aaron’s next question, however, caught her off guard. “Do you wish just that?”
As the room grew silent, the head maid stumbled back in distress, misunderstanding Aaron’s intentions. She bowed even lower, submitting to his perceived displeasure. But Aaron had a different question in mind that spoke to the heart of the maid’s aspirations. “What I meant was, do you have any dreams?” he sighed.
And so, Lillian, the head maid, revealed her deepest longing: to become a skilled seamstress and start her shop in Tenebris. She hoped to make her name known across the land, crafting the finest silken garments.
Aaron’s interest piqued, he probed further. “What will you do if I give you enough funds to start your own shop? Do you think you will do a good job?”
Lillian hesitated, unsure of her abilities but willing to try. And when asked what would happen after her goal was achieved, she simply replied that she could not imagine leaving it behind. But if she had to, she was sure that whatever she found next would be equally fulfilling. Aaron’s eyes glinted with a newfound respect for the head maid as he pulled up a chair and sat on it invitingly, backward.
“Yes, I understand your sentiment.” Aaron smiled as he lifted the knife, presenting it to the maid with the care of a jeweler unveiling a precious gem. His fingers delicately cradled the hilt, tracing the razor-sharp edge with reverence. Despite his lifelong familiarity with the tool, Aaron’s hands betrayed a nervousness that betrayed a deep discomfort with the deadly implications of the knife’s design.
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” he mused, his eyes never leaving the blade. “The simplest of tools, yet it holds within it the power to take a life. I’ve held this knife countless times, but every time I do, my hand trembles as if it’s the first time. The thought of taking another’s life unsettles me to my very core. But my mind knows, and so I must ask – do you know why my body reacts this way?”
With a practiced flick of his wrist, Aaron slammed the knife onto the table, its sharp edge plunging deep into the laminated wood. The head maid recoiled, terror etched on her face as she bore witness to the sheer speed and precision with which he moved. In that split second, she wondered if he was capable of such a feat with a human body as well.
Her answer came forth with a trembling voice as she mustered the courage to speak. “You were not trained in the ways of the family household yet. Therefore, that may be why you are having difficulty holding weapons.”
Aaron’s initial reaction was one of incredulity. How could his family have failed to prepare him for the realities of the world? But the maid’s next words explained everything. “but you did not want to participate. It was upon your request. You were occupied with drinking and clowning and… among other things.”
The truth hit Aaron like a slap to the face. Had his current life been this tumultuous? He could feel his frustration, ready to lash out at the maid, bubbling to the surface. But instead, he surprised even himself by bursting out in laughter.
“I shall be taking my leave, but I enjoyed this talk,” he said, standing up and placing his chair back in its proper place. “Come to me later, so I can give you a reward for your honesty.” Aaron left the dining room and headed toward his quarters, moving with a sense of familiarity he couldn’t quite explain.
As he tended to the plates, he couldn’t help but reflect on the day’s events. The concept of reincarnation was nothing new to him, but the reality of it left him with many things to consider. As night fell and he settled into his room, Aaron knew he had much to learn and much to do if he was to survive in this new world.
As the first rays of dawn peeked through the windows, Aaron stood before the grand entrance of the Aevum Library. The name glinted like a beacon above the arched doors, daring him to enter a world of discovery. From beyond the gates, a faint murmur echoed as if the very walls of the library whispered of the wonders within.
Aaron stepped over the threshold; his cautious footsteps echoed against the gleaming marble floors. Though his heart beat with trepidation, he hungered for knowledge.
And what a sight that greeted him!
A room of such immense scale and majesty that it left him breathless. Golden-covered linings glimmered in the resplendent sunglow that bathed the rich oakwood interior, and towering structures stood proud, mirroring the grandeur of the space. The impressive number of bookshelves reached the high ceiling everywhere he looked, brimming with knowledge and wisdom. The crimson décor blazed with warmth, perfectly matching the auburn glow of the early morning sun, casting a spell over the room that Aaron could not resist.
“Welcome to my library.” A voice of feminine grace filled the air, causing Aaron to turn and find the source. Before him stood a tall but soft figure, radiating a soft peaches-and-cream essence. Though her muted-gold eyes held a peaceful and observant expression, Aaron couldn’t shake the feeling that her placid demeanor was a mere facade, concealing an ocean of emotions beneath. He did not say anything, just observed.
However, her hair captured his attention the most – bright and metallic, like refined quicksilver, cascading down her back in long, straight strands that glimmered in the light. Her complexion was elegant and pleasant, adding to her already delicate and sophisticated appearance. Aaron felt the heaviness of her gaze upon him, tensing under its intensity.
“Why do you look at me like that?” he questioned, sensing a hint of disdain in her eyes.
“What do you mean?” she replied with a tinge of innocence, but a slight crease on her forehead betrayed her genuine emotions.
“I can see it in your eyes,” Aaron stated with certainty, narrowing his eyesight as he scrutinized her expression. “I’ve seen that look before.”
“It’s only because you appear a bit disheveled,” she explained, motioning to his worn-out attire wrought with stains. “But what brings you to my library?”
Her voice was mesmerizing, and Aaron was captivated by it.
“Beautiful,” he muttered.
“Sorry?” she asked, clearly confused by his remark.
“I meant to say this place is beautiful,” Aaron quickly covered, trying to hide the slip of his tongue. “I have come to read from your collection. I hope you won’t mind if I spend some time here today.”
Her reaction was unexpected. Though she tried to conceal it, Aaron sensed her dismay and confusion, and momentarily, her rose-colored lips remained sealed tight.
“May I have your permission, then?” he asked, bowing slightly in respect.
With a moment’s hesitation, the female before him finally relented, her voice softening as she granted him access with a graceful sweep of her arms. Aaron felt a warmth emanating from her, drawing him closer as she invited him into the library with a gentle embrace. As he stepped inside, the room seemed to come alive, the sunbeams filtering through the numerous windows and casting an ethereal glow upon her hair. She shielded her face from the light with a book, focusing intently on its pages as she lounged on a nearby couch. For a moment, Aaron stood transfixed, trying to grasp the familiarity that tugged at his mind. He knew he had never met her before, yet something about her felt like home. Lost in thought, he gazed at the peaceful scene before him, uncertain of what to do next.
As Aaron made his way through the opulent library, admiring the plush crimson carpets and intricately embellished bookshelves, he sensed the dismissive glances of several scholars. They appeared engrossed in their studies or lost in thought, barely acknowledging his presence. Despite this, he received brief nods or polite salutations as he walked past them. Some lounged on sumptuous sofas, while others whispered in hushed tones.
Aaron’s senses were overwhelmed with wonder and amazement as he beheld the magical sphere, suspended in midair and enveloped by whirling rings and floating shards of molded iron. The sight filled him with awe as he watched the sphere manipulate space and gravity around it with ease. The light emanating from it was almost blinding, and the room itself seemed to shift and contort in response, the walls and floors appearing to jut out like a kaleidoscope.
Despite the diversion of gravity, floating candelabras still hung defiantly from the ceiling. The bookshelves, tables, and chairs on the upper roof turned in defiance of physics, and scholars paced around on the second floor as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
Architecturally, the library was a marvel, and Aaron ran his fingers over the delicately carved stone as he took in the wondrous surroundings. The bound leather books reminded him of his childhood, and he felt a sense of nostalgia wash over him. He had always loved libraries, whether it was the smell of worn paper or the faint scent of diluted bark. They were a place for his mind to wander and his thoughts to be engaged in the written word.
He stood there for a moment, taking it all in, before finally ascending to the second floor. As he perused the various books, he was amazed by their historical origins, recounting the lives of kings and queens, and the events that had shaped the kingdom’s history. For now, he decided to continue exploring the library before making a decision on which contents to choose.
Walking toward the second floor, his stomach churned as he ascended the spiral stairs. Aaron realized that it was not him that was inverted, but the world around him turned upside down. He couldn’t describe his feelings, but the gravity was transposed. Aaron saw the many scholars on the first floor, upside-down in posture, hanging from the bottom. He took several steps, uneasy about his balance.
“Interesting.” Aaron clutched his stomach, leaning on a balcony.
He tapped his foot, but nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. He tensed up, expecting to fall, but his balance was uncannily stabilized. There was no indication that he was upturned other than that his visual senses betrayed him.
As he made his way through the inverted library, Aaron’s eyes flicked from one shelf to the next, searching for anything related to a World Map. Although the floor and ceiling switched places, he pushed through the disorientation, determined to find what he was looking for. He combed through the shelves, his hands running over ancient spines and titles scrawled in elegant calligraphy. Finally, he found what he was looking for, tucked away in the corner of the room.
The books on religion were conspicuously absent as if they had been purged from the library’s collection. He shrugged it off, more interested in the volumes of History and Geography. As he read, scholars in white tunics bustled around him, tending to their duties. They carried scrolls and books, their robes adorned with the emblem of an hourglass. Some gave him a polite nod, but most paid him no mind. It wasn’t until a bald man with a thick book approached him that Aaron felt the weight of their attention.
With a curious gleam in his eye, the scholar approached Aaron and inquired, “Would you like any assistance?” Aaron noticed the multitude of colorful vials fastened to the scholar’s waist with a string. Despite his curiosity, Aaron maintained his composure and accepted the scholar’s offer of help with gratitude.
“The only assistance I’d need is to carry these books downward,” he replied.
“We will take care of that,” the scholar replied with a whistle, summoning a glowing ball of light that hovered above him. The other scholars took notice and wordlessly began sorting the books into piles, preparing to carry them down the spiral staircase. But some among them had other plans, defying gravity and levitating several feet off the ground before gently landing on the first floor. Aaron stood back, bewildered by the spectacle before him. Was this some kind of magic? How could they manipulate the very fabric of space like that?
As Aaron watched, the scholars introduced themselves as the Aevum Astrala, guardians of the knowledge passed down through his family for generations. “It has been some time since you last visited us,” the scholar remarked, “but we have been busy gathering intelligence on your adversaries. If you require our knowledge, do not hesitate to request it. It is our honor to serve the noble son of the House of Aevum.”
“Well, aren’t you one with words,” Aaron remarked.
The scholar humbly bowed, “Words are the bridge between worlds. They allow us to connect with others and explore new horizons. The books here hold a wealth of knowledge, gathered from every corner of Ralador.”
“And what of our own history? Can you tell me about that?”
The scholar’s demeanor shifted, his tone cautious. “I am but a humble servant of the Aevum Astrala. Your family’s mistress, Sylvia, is the true keeper of your family’s legacy. She is of your blood and can offer far more insight than I.”
“Fantastic…” He sighed.
◊◊◊◊◊
Aaron reclined on the plush davenport, surrounded by a towering stack of books. The spines ranged from well-worn classics to esoteric tomes, each one an opportunity for enlightenment. He intended to devour them all today, thanks to his eidetic memory honed by years of training. But as he dove into Mastrov’s Primer on Magical Anatomy, he sensed someone watching him from the corner of his eye.
“You seem different today,” Sylvia observed, her silken scholar’s robes rustling as she drew near. Her piercing gaze bore into him, and Aaron shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.
“How so?” he asked, trying to hide his unease.
“Your eyes are clear,” she replied, her voice low and measured. Aaron met her gaze for a moment, but the intensity behind it proved too much. He averted his eyes.
“I suppose so,” he said with uncertainty.
“I’m glad you’re not under the influence of any… substances today,” Sylvia continued. “I miss my younger brother’s presence when everyone is busy with their own matters.”
“Do you, now?” Aaron asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
“It was a small joke,” Sylvia said coyly. “I enjoy your prattling, even if you do it quite often.”
“I prattle?” Aaron asked, surprised by her accusation.
“Yes, you do it quite often, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll try to prattle less,” Aaron said, his eyes returning to the text. “But I must tell you, my memories have been a bit cloudy lately. I forget things that I shouldn’t and remember things that don’t seem like they’re from my past. And for some reason, something compels me to share these things with you.”
Sylvia nodded, her scholar’s robes rustling as she did so. “It will clear up. I’m sure of it,” she said confidently.
Aaron furrowed his brow in confusion. “How can you be so sure?” he asked.
“I have dealt with those substances in the past,” Sylvia replied, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. “I suggest you spend at least two weeks allowing your body to return to its normal state.” Aaron hesitated, then spoke up.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I’ve been having strange dreams lately. They’re so vivid that they blur the lines between reality and fiction. I don’t know if they’re dreams or memories because they’ve become so intertwined in my mind.”
Sylvia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you asking for my expertise, then?” she asked.
“Perhaps,” Aaron replied, nodding.
Sylvia paced slowly around the room, and her brow furrowed in thought. “Although I’ve never heard of dreams mingling with memories in such a way,” she said, “I’m sure what you’re feeling is just a side effect of your substances. It could be hallucinating and will probably subside in a few days.”
“And if they don’t?”
“We will get there once that scenario arrives.”
Aaron paused, but there was something else on his mind.
“Then tell me about my family,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of excitement. Sylvia’s eyes narrowed slightly at the sudden request, and Aaron noticed the subtle shift in her expression. He kept quiet, though, waiting for her to respond.
“Why the sudden interest?” Sylvia asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.
“I seek a lot of knowledge,” Aaron replied, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Especially now that my exile is drawing near.”
Sylvia scoffed, but she eventually agreed. “I suppose that makes sense. It’s not every day that a trickster like you shows a genuine desire for knowledge. Don’t get your hopes up too high; the rest of the family still finds you quite unsettling.”
“Don’t be so quick to judge,” Aaron retorted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Perhaps I’ll surprise you in the future.”
Sylvia’s lips twitched in amusement. “Maybe you will,” she said. “Shall we start you with a history lesson on the family?”
Without warning, Sylvia leaned in close to Aaron and flicked him on the forehead. He flinched, momentarily taken aback by her sudden proximity. But as he recovered, he grinned in response to her playful smirk.
Something is different about you,” she said, her voice low and curious. Aaron shifted uncomfortably but didn’t say a word. “I searched around and haven’t found any family history within these walls,” he replied, eager to change the subject.
Sylvia nodded, “Very well then. Come and sit with me.”
She guided him to a large table, where he sat down on the couches with barely a sound. But as she stood there silently, staring at him, Aaron began to feel like he was missing something. He realized he was supposed to move over to give her space when she finally laid down on his lap.
“Usually, you aren’t interested in such matters,” Sylvia said, closing her eyes. “I can provide the information in book format within a few days, but not now.”
Aaron leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are they classified knowledge?”
Sylvia smiled, “Not to you, but Father would have to be consulted before we delve into those matters. Nonetheless, it’s good to see you taking an interest in our family history again.”
You said in book format, right?” Aaron replied, “What did you mean by that?”
Sylvia paused, considering his request. “Or I could show you. But I warn you, it would only be the basics, the information available to the common public.”
“Does our history have secrets?” Aaron pressed.
“Of course, all noble families have their secrets,” Sylvia replied. “But let’s start with what’s already known about our family.”
With a sharp snap of her fingers, the room exploded with a golden light. Aaron looked around, trying to find the source, until his eyes landed on a giant orb behind him. Its metallic rings spun faster and faster, a blur of golden light that turned the dim room into a radiant sun.
“The Aeviternum,” Sylvia said, her voice hushed with reverence as she gestured toward the floating orb, “is a masterpiece of our family’s craft. It bends space and time to our will, allowing us to explore the past and unlock its secrets.”
Aaron’s eyes widened in perplexity.
“This room,” Sylvia continued, “is more than it seems. It exists across multiple dimensions and has served many purposes over the centuries, from armory to archive. But only those with the blood of the Aevum family can freely access it.”
With a flick of her wrist, the room shifted, transforming into a training ground filled with weapons, armor, and combatants. The scholars were gone, replaced by warriors clad in white tunics with red symbols. The emblem on their garb had changed, now depicting a sword and shield with an hourglass symbol. Aaron felt his mind reeling as he realized he had entered an entirely different realm within the same physical space.
Aaron’s eyes widened in amazement as Sylvia spoke. He had heard of magical artifacts before, but nothing on this scale. “I roughly understand its mechanics,” he replied, trying to wrap his head around the concept. “How many rooms have you stored within this space, and how does such an idea even work?”
“We have stored enough rooms to fill this mansion a thousand times,” Sylvia said, her voice laced with pride. “As I said, this is the central hub of our influence. Some rooms have exits connecting different towns and places of significant interest.”
Aaron’s mind raced with questions.
“How do your workers come and go?” he asked.
“One can always leave this place from whence they came, but entering is another story,” Sylvia replied cryptically. “They have a certain magical card script. It contains a formula that connects to the orb itself, telling them where they are allowed to go and where they cannot.”
Aaron nodded, taking it all in. “And what if someone infiltrates this room and destroys the orb?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
Sylvia’s expression remained calm. “Destroying one orb will just disconnect one room from the dimensional space,” she explained. “We have several layers of dimensional space in one room and several Aeviternum rooms scattered across the land. What do you think that means?”
Aaron paused for a moment, then realization dawned on him.
The Aeviternum was a labyrinthine network of rooms, a physical manifestation of the internet. It was a mind-bending concept, but somehow, Sylvia had managed to make it a reality. Aaron nodded slowly, his mind trying to grasp the scope of what he was hearing. “So you’ve crafted over several hundred orbs connected to a network like through the internet,” he said, finally putting words to his thoughts. “It’s like a labyrinth of rooms in three-dimensional space, fully connected to most of the locations in the world.”
Sylvia smiled at Aaron’s understanding. “You do catch on,” she said, snapping her fingers once more. “What is the internet, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It’s an old term,” Aaron replied, his thoughts whirling. “Continue on.”
As Sylvia’s words echoed through the chamber, the room transformed again, the walls and furniture melting away to reveal an empty void. Metallic linings appeared, casting an otherworldly glow that sent shivers down Aaron’s spine. Despite the bright illumination, a sense of unease pervaded the air.
“Behold our projection room,” Sylvia declared, her voice echoing in the emptiness. “Here, we keep the memories of our ancestors.”
With a clap of her hands, the air ignited with arcane runes and intricate circles of magic pulsating with otherworldly energy. The glowing sigils seared into the very fabric of space, weaving themselves into the walls and floors.
As Aaron watched in awe, the surroundings around him twisted and warped, transforming into a lush grassland plain with snow-capped peaks and meandering rivers. He lifted his feet cautiously, not daring to mar the beauty of the serene landscape.
Sylvia spread her arms wide, inviting Aaron to take in the breathtaking vista before them. “This is the Eredal Plains, as it was two centuries past,” she declared, her voice ringing with pride.
Aaron’s eyes widened with wonder as he surveyed the stunning landscape before him. “Is this some kind of illusion?” he asked, a note of skepticism creeping into his voice. “It feels too real to be fake. I can feel the breeze on my skin and the sun on my face.”
“No illusion, I assure you,” Sylvia said, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “This is a projection of our ancestors’ memories, brought to life through the magic of the Aeviternum. We are experiencing what they experienced, seeing what they saw.”
Aaron was stunned. “You mean to say that our forebears lived here, two hundred years ago?” he asked incredulously.
“Indeed they did,” Sylvia confirmed. “They were not the brigands that history has painted them to be, but rather brave adventurers and mercenaries. They were hired to carve out a new kingdom beyond the Mirage Desert, to explore the unknown and expand the Two Kingdoms.”
“Did we succeed?” Aaron asked eagerly, his eyes shining with curiosity.
“That depends on who you ask.” She smiled enigmatically, raising a finger. “But we are nobles in the third kingdom of Asteria. We occupy Trost, a large border city, as I mentioned before.”
“I have seen it,” Aaron confirmed, nodding his head in remembrance.
“Do you like it?” Sylvia asked, her voice holding a note of anticipation.
“I haven’t explored enough inside the city to give a proper answer,” Aaron admitted, feeling a bit sheepish.
“Then let’s fix that,” she declared with a snap of her fingers. In an instant, the scene transformed around them, as if reality itself were bending to Sylvia’s will. Aaron watched in awe as stone walls sprang up out of nowhere, towering above them, and buildings materialized before his very eyes, rising from the ground like magic.
“Look.” Sylvia pointed out. “These are the earliest days of Trost.”
As Aaron peered out at the bustling town, his senses were overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells of the past. He could see farmers toiling in the fields, workers constructing dirt and rock mounds, and groups of people gathered together in deep conversation.
He could hear the clanging of swords, the creaking of wagon wheels, and the buzz of activity all around him. And he could smell the earthy scent of freshly turned soil, the tang of sweat and hard work, and the tantalizing aroma of food cooking over open fires. It was as if he had been transported back in time to a world that was both familiar and yet utterly foreign.
“Trost was once a hub of activity and innovation,” Sylvia explained, her voice tinged with pride. “Our ancestors built it up from nothing, using their skills and ingenuity to make it into the thriving city it is today. And we continue to honor their legacy by preserving and enhancing what they created.”
“Surely there must have been competition, right?” Aaron asked.
Sylvia raised her eyebrow. “Our bloodline has always had an affinity for mana, so we were among the first settlers to develop magical techniques. We built our own cities and defended them from beasts and other settlers, making a name for ourselves in the process.”
Aaron leaned in, intrigued. “So, magic must be rare, then?”
“Not exactly,” Sylvia said with a grave tone. “In the past, it was actually illegal and punishable by death. But do you know why the third kingdom is often called the Kingdom of Magic?”
“I’m guessing magic isn’t outlawed here?”
“Correct,” Sylvia said, “The current King comes from a long line of mages. The first King of Asteria acquired great power from magic, which was much more potent than the technology they had at the time. This is how he rose to power and became King. He challenged The King of Sentoros’s power and successfully pushed for a decree change, so now magic is more accepted within the three kingdoms.”
Aaron nodded, his curiosity only growing stronger.
“Why was magic outlawed in the first place?”
Sylvia shook her head. “That, Aaron, is a tale for another time. For now, just make sure to attend the next family dinner.”
Aaron’s curiosity was piqued. “Family dinner?” he asked, turning towards Sylvia.
She hesitated, as if weighing her words carefully. “Father doesn’t want you to be late this time,” she finally revealed. “I don’t know what he wants, but if he wants your audience, he will get it. There is no escaping it, only delaying it. And you’ve already delayed it far too long.”
What could he want with him?
Aaron nodded, resigned to his fate. “Very well,” he said. “I will speak to him at the next family dinner.” Sylvia’s fingers danced with magical energy as she released the illusion, and they were back in the library with the scholars. The floating orb spun with a humming resonance, like a hive of bees in full bloom.
“What will you do now?” she asked.
Aaron paused, considering his options. “I’ll finish reading, most likely.”
Sylvia smiled. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. It would be a good time to catch up on some of the family lessons you’ve elected to ignore.”
“Really?” Aaron said.
“Yes,” Sylvia replied, her voice steady, “Mostly all of them, to be exact.”
Aaron let out a long sigh, “Thanks.”
Sylvia was unusually lively as she gazed down at her half-eaten plate of steak, eggs, wheat bread, and soup. Though the meal was commonplace, the meat quality was a cut above the rest. With a discerning eye, she skewered a small piece with her fork and raised it to the light, scrutinizing the marbling. Rotating the fork around, the marbling was better, she realized.
“Did we change suppliers?” Sylvia asked, her eyes scanning the dining room. Her family all sat at the grand table to hear her words. Her Father commanded attention at one end while her mother held court at the other—siblings, all impressive in their own right, fill in the sides with a little conversation to spare.
Only Eric, her brawny and boisterous brother, spoke up. “Yes,” he said, his voice booming. “We did. You like it?”
Sylvia examined the meat on her plate, noting the quality was finer than usual.
“The quality is nice,” she conceded, “But why did we switch?”
Eric, chewing vigorously, explained that their profits had increased due to recent land acquisition. He had asked their father if they could indulge in better meat, and he had agreed.
Sylvia turned to their father, who gave a single nod of approval. His presence commanded respect and caution in equal measure, and Sylvia knew better than to question his actions. She trusted that there was a reason for the change, even if she didn’t know it yet.
“I will note that down in our records.” She lamented, returning to her food.
Sylvia’s disappointment was palpable as she aimlessly twirled her utensils. In her mind, their resources could have been better allocated than merely improving their meals. Strengthening their network and infiltration team would expand their clientele and increase efficiency. Plus, Sylvia would be at the helm of those operations, adding to her sense of purpose. Her younger sister’s comment broke her reverie.
“Did we get any new cooks in the kitchen?” observed the petite girl perched right beside Sylvia. Her younger sister, who had puffy cheeks and an updo hairstyle with silver hair, inspected the steak keenly. With her contagious energy, she always managed to brighten up the table’s silence.
“A keen eye you’ve got there,” Eric quipped, his lips curling into a proud smile.
“The steak is really good!” the girl exclaimed, leaping up excitedly.
“I’m delighted to hear that,” Eric beamed, soaking up the praise.
But as they savored the succulent meal, another female voice chimed in, “What about the training grounds? They could use a facelift. We haven’t touched them in months.”
Irene slumped in her chair, appearing bored out of her mind. She was the toughest of the sisters with her spiky short bob, fierce features, and visible scars on her arms.
“Point taken,” Eric acknowledged, brandishing his fork. “We do use them quite a bit.”
Sylvia nodded in agreement, “True, but it’s mostly just you two who use them.”
Eric’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he made his suggestion, “I have an idea. Let’s get Aaron over here to use it more.” With a flourish, he pointed in Aaron’s direction, drawing everyone’s attention.
Aaron, engrossed in his thick book, was taken aback by the sudden attention. He placed it aside. Although it was unusual for books to be allowed in the dining room, it seemed that no one was objecting to the presence of one now. As Eric’s intentions became clear, Aaron straightened his posture from his seat.
“Apologies, everyone,” Aaron cleared his throat. “I’ll make sure to clean up the training grounds more frequently.”
Eric chuckled, “No, not that. We just want you to use the grounds more often, so Sylvia won’t get her hair in a twist every time we turn it into a battlefield. That way, we’ll have a reasonable excuse to get it repaired more often.”
“Hey!” she glared at Eric with a peachy look. It wasn’t that she neglected the training grounds’ repairs, but their raucous sparring sessions always managed to wreak havoc. They had already patched it up at least a dozen times, and though the expenses were meager, it was still a nuisance.
Eric shrugged, “It was just a harmless tease, Sylvia. But, there’s some truth to it, isn’t there?” He flashed a playful wink.
Irene grumbled in agreement, “Indeed, Sylvia loves to harp at us for ruining the training grounds, yet she holds the purse strings. Shouldn’t you be funding our family’s training better?”
Sylvia cleared her throat, “Our family is already well-trained in combat. Plus, there are more crucial areas to focus on than just the training grounds.”
Irene raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Like what? Are you implying that our training is mostly insignificant?”
“No, I’m simply suggesting that we can allocate our funds better,” Sylvia replied calmly, “Perhaps by strengthening our information network or improving our intel-gathering capabilities.”
Irene sneered, “You mean sneaking around like vermin?”
Sylvia’s glare sharpened, “No, by controlling the flow of information, the one thing we excel at and also happen to be known for.”
Irene shrugged, “Why not use force to extract information?”
Sylvia’s tone turned cold, “Is that all you’re capable of? Resorting to violence?”
“What was that?” Irene’s eyes narrowed in defiance.
Sylvia and Irene locked eyes, each one holding their ground with unyielding determination. The tension in the air was palpable, and their fists clenched tightly, ready to strike at any moment. Sylvia rolled her eyes, a gesture that further fueled Irene’s temper, causing her to rise from her seat. Aaron, sensing the imminent danger, quickly stashed his book away, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.
But just as things were about to reach a boiling point, a commanding voice cut through the tension like a hot knife through butter. It was their mother’s voice – cool, collected, and direct. Her unusual smile did nothing to mask the iciness in her tone, which seemed to reverberate deep in everyone’s bones.
“Settle down now,” Mother said calmly but firmly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife through butter. Aaron’s heart raced as he felt a cold shiver down his spine, a mixture of fear and awe washing over him.
“No bickering at the table, it’s been a while since our whole family could convene like this,” she continued, her tone even and controlled. Both sisters froze, their eyes wide with surprise and a hint of fear. “Sylvia, you will apologize to your sister. And you, Irene, you will show some respect to your Mother.”
The room fell silent as no one dared to speak out against her. They all knew that while Mother was kind, she could also be merciless when pushed too far.
“Tch.” Irene clicked her tongue.
Sylvia’s eyes flickered with understanding as Irene shot her a meaningful glance. Without a word, they both got the message.
“Does anyone have any other interesting events to talk about?”
The room had just calmed down from Mother’s shift in mood, but Aaron’s hand shot up, eager to be heard above the silence. Sylvia raise an eyebrow at the unexpected interruption. After all, Aaron was known for his long-winded and mundane “sexual” stories, often leaving everyone with a headache.
But this time, something was different. He seemed quieter, and she wondered what could have caused this sudden shift in behavior. Had something happened that she wasn’t aware of?
“Long time no see!” Nina exclaimed suddenly, her voice bubbly and full of energy. “Whatcha been up to?”
Aaron didn’t waste a moment in answering Nina’s question. “I started learning about magic,” he said, giving a slight smile.
Nina’s face widened immensely at the mention of magic. “Teach me!” she exclaimed, excitement and wonder in her voice. Sylvia chuckled at the thought, knowing that Nina was already sufficiently proficient at magic, despite being only ten years old. Her eagerness to learn was infectious, and her siblings were happy to oblige.
Aaron’s hands moved like lightning, and with a flick of his wrist, a gleaming silver Vinar coin materialized out of thin air. The coin was new and shiny, clearly from his personal vault. Aaron deftly moved the coin across his fingers, making it disappear and reappear with ease, showcasing his impressive magical abilities.
“Incredible!” Nina exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. “Can you teach me?”
Aaron grinned, “Of course, but let me show you something else first.” He laid the coin on his bare palm and, with a shuffling of his fingers, caused it to float a few centimeters into the air. It spun around for a moment before dropping back down onto his palm. He closed his palms, and the coin vanished when he opened them again. Sylvia watched with fascination as Aaron displayed his mastery of manipulation magic, using a combination of sleight of hand and misdirection to create the impressive effect.
Eric wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and leaned forward. “What brought you to learn magic?” he asked. “You weren’t too keen on it in the past.”
Aaron took a bite of his food before responding. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the reason.”
Eric nodded knowingly. “Ah, yes. I understand,” he said, his eyes scanning the table for a change in topic. But Aaron wasn’t finished.
“But it’s more than that,” he said, his eyes alight with passion. “I find magic fascinating, and I want to explore new fields.”
Irene spoke up from across the table. “How’s the progress going?” she asked, her tone challenging. “We can always spar if you want, after Sylvia starts fixing our training grounds.”
Sylvia scowled at her sister’s mention of the dilapidated training area, but Irene only laughed and flipped her off.
Adam, always the voice of reason, interjected. “You’re welcome to use any family resources,” he said to Aaron. “Just make sure to consult Father or me first. I doubt he would have any complaints, though.”
“I’ll talk to you about it when I’m ready,” Aaron replied.
The conversation left a bitter taste in the air, and the once lively atmosphere had now turned into one of solemnity. Aaron’s exile was a grave matter that hung over the room like a thick fog. Father had always been firm with his punishments, and even the family’s influence couldn’t sway him this time. The decision to prolong the exile had come as a surprise to everyone, and the weight of its consequences had yet to fully sink in.
As Aaron polished off the last morsel on his plate, his eyes strayed to the heavy book resting beside him. With a small smile on his lips, he excused himself from the table, his movements graceful and measured. As he stepped into the hallway, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone floors. The sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, swallowed up by the vast expanse of the sprawling estate.
With a gentle gesture, Adam pushed his glasses gently and cleared his throat. Instantly, the rest of the family fell silent, each member looking expectantly towards him. Adam scanned the room, his eyes meeting each gaze before he tapped his fingertips lightly against the table’s polished surface.
As he did, a magical circle sprang to life under his hands, glowing with an otherworldly energy. The circle expanded, sending out ripples of mana that spread throughout the dining room, encapsulating it in a transparent, shimmering barrier. The family members watched, unsurprised, as if they had been expecting Adam to do something like this.
“Well, that was quite the spectacle,” Adam exclaimed, his eyes alight with intrigue.
Irene smirked, her curiosity piqued. “You may have a point for once,” she admitted.
Adam gestured towards Sylvia, beckoning her to share her insight. “So, is he compromised?” he inquired.
Sylvia shrugged nonchalantly, her attention focused on her meal. “Not exactly,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “There’s no evidence of tampering with his mind or physical composition.”
Eric interjected, his skepticism evident. “But everyone’s noticed his peculiar behavior,” he countered. “Even the servants have whispered about it. He hasn’t raised his voice since returning from that party.”
“Could he have been taken over during the celebration?” Adam probed, his eyes narrowing in a manner that was laced with intrigue.
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried,” Sylvia mused, her expression guarded. “But our Redwind Assassins have assured us that he remains unharmed.”
Adam’s skepticism remained. “How can you be so certain?” he pressed.
“I trust in our allegiance with them,” Sylvia replied evenly. “And I would have known if anything had transpired.”
“A most distressing situation,” Adam murmured, his thoughts racing.
Irene interjected, her voice ringing clear as crystal. “But what if he’s genuinely changed? With his exile and all, he could have seen the error of his ways and turned over a new leaf.”
Eric scoffed at the notion. “Let us be realistic, Irene. This man has been preying on the maids for far too long. Every time we hire someone new, he’s all over them like a rash. I’ve implored Sylvia to hire only male staff, but she insists it’s not feasible.”
Irene bristled, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Then why do we ever allow him to continue his depraved behavior?”
“That’s precisely why he’s being exiled!” Eric thundered. “He can’t keep his mouth shut, and our family’s secrets are spilling out of the house along with the maids. I don’t understand why Sylvia and Father insist on waiting another two years before exiling him.”
Sylvia fixed Eric with a withering stare, her voice sharp as a blade.
“Blood runs thicker than water, Eric. Surely you know that?” Eric sighed, his eyes downcast. “I do, but even he is pushing his luck.”
Adam rapped his knuckles on the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “But let us not forget our primary objective,” he reminded them. “Could it be that he’s already dead? Perhaps he’s been reanimated as a puppet, or worse, a homunculus bearing his likeness?”
Sylvia’s expression hardened. “I highly doubt it. Our family’s blood has been coveted for centuries. Even with a complete physical specimen at their disposal, replicating our genetic complexity is beyond their capabilities. And that’s assuming they could capture him without our assassins noticing.”
Adam raised a solitary hand. “All those in favor of taking him out, say aye.”
Sylvia’s frown deepened. “Did you not hear a word I said?”
“I take no chances,” Adam replied quaintly.
“You’re seriously an… idiot.” Sylvia deeply sighed.
Eric’s brow furrowed, “Also what exactly are you suggesting, Adam? That we kill him?”
Adam only remained silent.
“Never mind that I asked.” Eric conceded, throwing up his hands in defeat.
Irene spoke up, seemingly the only reasonable person in the room, from Sylvia’s perspective. “Can’t we just keep an eye on him for now? We don’t even know what he’s up to yet. Let’s watch and wait.”
Adam shook his head vehemently, pointing towards the corridors. “Every second he roams free, he gains an advantage over us. Even knowing the layout of our house gives him a dangerous edge.”
Sylvia cleared her throat, her voice firm. “As I said before, I don’t believe he’s been compromised. Who would dare devise such a bold plan against us?”
Adam’s eyes blazed with a fierce determination. “We have many enemies, Sylvia. It could be any one of them.”
Sylvia’s glare intensified. “Do you not think I realize that?”
Adam braced himself for Sylvia’s next move, “Well, what do you suggest?”
“I will handle it,” she declared, her resolve unshakable. “Just leave it to me.”
Adam nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Sylvia. He knew that look on her face – the one that spelled danger and intrigue in equal measure. With her vast knowledge and razor-sharp intellect, she was a walking codex, always one step ahead of the game.
Adam held his tongue under Sylvia’s unwavering stare, awed by her determination. He knew all too well the fire that burned behind her piercing gaze, a look that signaled her unwavering commitment to a cause. It was rare for Sylvia to display such fervor, for she held knowledge that even he could not fathom.
“Does that settle everything, then?” Sylvia pressed, scanning for any signs of dissent.
“Sounds good to me,” Eric agreed without hesitation, “Sylvia always has a plan.”
Irene grunted but gave a reluctant nod.
With a collective agreement reached, they returned to their meals. One by one, they finished their plates, and Adam was the first to snap his fingers, dispersing the protective barrier around them. Tucking a handkerchief into his pocket, he rose from the table and made for the door. Eric followed close behind, trailed by Irene and Nina. Sylvia remained, summoning a maid to clear the table.
“What is it, daughter?” Father addressed Sylvia, beckoning her to speak her mind.
A smile crept onto Sylvia’s face. He knew her too well. “I wish to borrow your private collection,” she said, her voice low and even.
“For what purpose?” he inquired, eyeing her curiously. “Are you lending them to Aaron?”
“He’s asked to learn more about our family,” Sylvia explained.
There was a brief pause before Father relented. “Very well. You may use them.”
Sylvia bowed deeply, a show of respect. “Much gratitude,” she murmured, her hands clasped behind her back as she slipped out of the dining room, her footsteps silent as she disappeared down the hall.
Vendin was a man of action, not words. He preferred to let his actions speak for themselves and admired those equally strong-willed and determined to face challenges. He saw cunning as a powerful weapon and determination as a shield and relished the opportunity to go up against opponents who possessed these qualities.
However, when he stared at the letter in his hands, draped in gold and black designs, Vendin realized that it was from the Aevum themselves. His eyes narrowed in frustration as he read the message, an invitation to teach the young noble, Aaron, the ways of magical combat. Vendin had completed tasks given to him by the Aevum countless times before, yet he couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh. He knew that Sylvia’s “optional” requests were nothing of the sort, and he felt trapped in the web of her demands. Despite his reservations, Vendin knew he had no choice but to accept the task.
“Devilish woman.” He groaned in defiance, “She will be the death of me.”
As he sliced through the clear blue sky atop his regal Windstreak Hawks, Vendin allowed a fleeting sense of ease to envelop him. It had been days since he last touched solid ground, each eve spent at some ramshackle inn.
The crisp morning air was invigorating, but Vendin’s thoughts were elsewhere. The Yeti Horn was still secure in his mystical satchel, its lock imbued with powerful magic that only he could unlock. Still, Vendin remained vigilant against the ever-present threat of thieves and brigands. These days, they seemed to be growing bolder, and the untamed, magical creatures that prowled the land only compounded his troubles.
Guided by his soaring Windstreak Hawk, Vendin honed his focus, delving deep into a state of meditative calm. With each measured breath, he willed the tension from his weary muscles, savoring the tranquility of the skies. But his serene respite was not meant to last. In the blink of an eye, the town of Trost appeared on the horizon, looming ever closer with each passing moment. It was his keen-eyed companion who first caught sight of their destination, issuing a soft yet unmistakable chirp that roused Vendin from his tranquil reverie.
To the uninitiated, Trost might seem like a desolate border city, its potential squandered by the harsh environs that surround it. Vendin himself had been skeptical upon his first visit. Yet, as he soon discovered, such assumptions could not be further from the truth. Trost was a hub of unbridled productivity, a magnet for pioneering merchants and the most skilled alchemical researchers the realm had to offer. It was as if the very land itself was blessed by some innate ability to draw people of uncommon talent to its borders.
As Vendin’s Windstreak Hawks gracefully descended to earth before the towering metal gates, he marveled at the sight before him. The gate, a gleaming monument to artifice and magic, was wrought from the finest magesteel known to man, while the city walls stood tall and proud, constructed from a seemingly indestructible magicite that warded off both the savage beasts that roamed the hinterlands and the stifling grip of magic-suppressing forces that pervaded the surrounding lands.
As Vendin approached the imposing gates of Trost, two guards appeared before him, their hands raised in a gesture of vigilance.
“Who goes there?” they demanded in unison, their eyes trained on Vendin’s every move.
“Vendin of Trost,” he answered coolly, the words rolling off his tongue.
“And what is your business here?” queried the first guard.
“I already told you my name,” Vendin frowned, “Is that not enough?”
But before he could further argue his case, the second guard interjected with a sharp jab to his companion’s ribs. “Fool!” he hissed. “That’s the Raven, you imbecile!”
The first guard recoiled in surprise, then quickly proffered a deep bow. “My sincerest apologies, sir,” he stammered, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. “I’ve only just been stationed here, and I didn’t recognize you. How was your expedition, if I may ask?”
“Quite successful. Thank you for inquiring.” Vendin replied with a nod.
“Excellent,” the second guard chimed in, his voice now warm and friendly. “We won’t hold you up any longer, then. Safe travels.”
As Vendin began to stride past them, the first guard suddenly spoke up, his voice low and hesitant. “Wait, should we not check his Emblem?” he whispered to his companion. The second guard shook his head, his eyes fixed on Vendin’s retreating figure.
“No need,” he murmured. “His three hawks are proof enough. Besides, even if we wanted to stop him, I don’t think we could.”
At long last, Vendin was granted passage and set foot into the thrumming heart of Trost, his senses bombarded by a riot of sights and sounds. The blazing sun beat down mercilessly, casting a shimmering heat haze across the crowded streets. Summer was in full swing, and the city was awash with activity. The air was thick with the heady scent of exotic spices and the incessant hum of humanity, the clack of horse hooves and the rustling of wagons a constant undercurrent.
Despite the seemingly overwhelming noise, Vendin remained calm and collected, his eyes taking in the frenzied spectacle around him. The vibrant hues of the street vendors’ wares, the lilt of their honeyed voices as they vied for customers’ attention, and the ceaseless chatter of the crowds – all of it combined to create a pulsating tapestry of energy and excitement that he reveled in with grace.
Vendin threaded his way through the bustling streets of Trost, his keen ears caught the rhythmic clip-clop of hoofbeats, drawing him like a moth to the flame. Without a second thought, he waved a hand, and a sleek station wagon soon appeared at his side, glinting in the bright summer sun.
While the city boasted a dizzying array of transportation options, from sleek MageTech-powered automobiles to sturdy, time-honored coaches, Vendin was a traditionalist at heart. He preferred the steadfast dependability of a well-trained coachman and a trusty stallion over the mercurial machinations of the latest technology.
With a sense of ease, he clambered into the cozy confines of the waiting coach, basking in the warm, familiar sensation that washed over him.
“Redwind Guild, please,” Vendin instructed the coachman, settling into the plush cushions with a satisfied sigh.
“As you wish, sir,” the coachman replied with a deferential tip of his hat, before urging the spirited stallion on with a firm command.
As the wagon rolled lazily through the inner city, Vendin found himself entranced by the stunning vistas that unfolded before him at every turn. Everywhere he looked, nature had woven a tapestry of vibrant greenery and fragrant blooms, a stark contrast to the harsh, inhospitable climes he had journeyed through before.
As the wagon approached the heart of the city, Vendin was greeted by a well-ordered landscape of manicured gardens and artfully arranged shrubbery. Towering sentries stood guard at every entrance, their sharp eyes roving the throngs of people milling about. In Trost, the safety of the city was of utmost importance, and the vigilant presence of the Aevum Aeternum, the noble lords charged with its protection and prosperity, could be felt in every corner.
Even in the midst of a tumultuous and volatile borderland, Trost shone like a beacon of tranquillity and harmony. Everywhere Vendin looked, he saw signs of the Aevum family’s handiwork, from the charmingly fragrant floral shops to the mouth-watering bakeries that dotted the winding streets. It was a rare sight to behold in these parts, a testament to the noble lords’ unwavering commitment to maintaining order and prosperity in their cherished city.
As Vendin traversed the sprawling expanse of Trost, his mind reeled at the sheer scale and size of the city. Though he longed to soar through the city skies on the back of his loyal Windstreak hawks, the knowledge that the airspace was heavily monitored and guarded gave him pause. There were protocols in place, and even he could not risk breaching them.
As he neared the heart of the city, Vendin gazed in wonder at the towering spires and grandiose edifices that loomed overhead, their forms wreathed in the crackling energies of powerful magical conduits. After a journey of nearly thirty minutes, the wagon finally rumbled to a stop, and Vendin stepped out, his eyes wide with wonder and awe at the sheer scale of the place.
“We’ve arrived.” The coachman nodded, stopping the wagon
With a nod of gratitude, Vendin stepped out of the wagon and onto the bustling thoroughfare. Before him stood the imposing edifice of the Red Raven, its gleaming insignia a testament to the organization’s formidable reputation and deep-rooted connections. As a high-ranking member of the Redwind, Vendin felt a deep sense of pride, knowing that he was part of a prestigious organization that had weathered countless storms and emerged stronger with each passing year.
He checked the straps of his bag, ensuring that his precious cargo was safe and secure. Then, he climbed the wide steps that led up to the bustling hall, brimming with people from all walks of life. From seasoned rangers to skilled tinkerers, the place was a hive of activity, with each person consumed by their own urgent tasks and errands.
Vendin stood in the interminable line, his precious bag clutched close to his chest, his eyes darting about warily. As a seasoned Scavenger, he knew all too well the value of discretion and caution, the need to keep his valuable treasures safe from prying eyes and wandering hands.
The minutes crawled by like an eternity, the wait dragging on as if it would never end. Every few moments, a bored-looking woman on one of the other isles called out the next name, beckoning the waiting guild members forward.
Though Vendin was eager to move things along, he hadn’t forgotten to keep his senses attuned to the world around him, scanning the crowds for any signs of trouble. As he waited, his foot tapping impatiently against the ground, Vendin watched as other guild members came and went, bearing items of all shapes and sizes to trade for precious coins. It was a strange and eclectic mix of characters, each with their own unique stories and reasons for being there.
After all, The Redwind Guild Hall stood as a bastion of adventure and exploration within Trost, a large hub of activity that drew in guilds and from the other two kingdoms. Every inch of the guild hall was adorned with board quests, neatly arranged and constantly updated to reflect the latest opportunities and challenges.
“Next.”
Vendin made his way to the front of the line, his bag clutched tightly in his hand. The accountant, a woman of about his own age, greeted him with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Although he was not one for idle conversation, Vendin knew that some small talk was necessary to grease the wheels of commerce and expedite his transaction.
“It’s good to see you’re still alive, Vendin,” she teased, leaning forward to get a better look at the bag. “What have you got for me today?”
Without a word, Vendin opened the bag and revealed the Yeti Horn. The accountant’s eyes widened in surprise as she reached for the horn, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into its surface.
“Interesting,” she murmured, a note of curiosity in her voice. “I wonder what our lord has planned for this.”
Quickly and discreetly, she stowed the horn under her desk, her eyes darting around the room to make sure no one had noticed. Despite her desire to keep a low profile, the accountant couldn’t resist the temptation to take a closer look at the mysterious artifact, her fingers lingering over its smooth surface.
“Thank you for bringing this to our attention,” she said, with a hint of excitement in her voice. “After verify it, I’ll make sure it’s safely stored within our vault until our lord can claim it. How would you like to receive your payment?”
“The usual would be fine,” Vendin replied.
“I guess our business is concluded.” The accountant closed the ledger with a soft thud.
However, Vendin took a deep breath before speaking the words that weighed heavy on his mind, “I have another matter to discuss with you.”
The accountant raised an eyebrow in surprise, intrigued by the rare expression of vulnerability on Vendin’s face.
“I have been tasked with teaching the Aevum’s son,” Vendin continued, sighing.
The accountant’s face contorted into a look of sympathy, “Ah, I had heard whispers of this. The Aevum family can be quite demanding, especially when it comes to their heirs.”
“Indeed,” Vendin replied with a nod, “but I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”
The accountant leaned back in her chair, studying Vendin with a thoughtful expression, “There are always choices to be had,” she said, giving a mischievous wink. “I could put in a word and perhaps they could find someone else equally qualified to teach the young lord. Although, I must say, few fit that description.”
“Just give me the letter.” Vendin extended his hand.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Vendin nodded, pain etched across his face. “Let’s just get it over with.”
“I lied earlier,” the accountant said with a smirk, “I already slipped it in your bag.”
“Why must you tease me?”
“My apologies.” She chuckled. “I knew you had no choice in the matter, but I should warn you that not everything is what it appears whenever you’re dealing with the Aevum.”
“You don’t have to remind me.” He grumbled.
“Well, tell me how it goes,” she said as she waved goodbye, “Don’t die, now.”
As Vendin settled into the carriage and gave the driver directions to the Aevum manor, his mind couldn’t help but ponder the accountant’s warning. The Aevum were known for their tight grip on information, and Vendin knew better than most that only some things were as they seemed.
The rumors surrounding the youngest son’s exile could be fabricated, or worse yet, a ploy to lure in unsuspecting enemies. Vendin could only be partially sure what he was getting himself into. As the manor came into view, Vendin sat up straighter, steeling himself for things to come. Whatever the case, he would know soon enough if the rumors were true.
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vi_mai@worldasteria.com
Authors
Vi Mai, Adam Jaskuloski
