Arthur
The past hour has elapsed in a state of constant consternation.
If I had to describe my feelings regarding the series of events that have happened in the past 5 hours, there would only be one word; anguish.
If it was one thing, I could've done something about it. However, the nature of the situation has sent me down a spiral of confoundment. I was at a rather weird crossroads; dilemma.
The first was the weird tome. What I had encountered was not some sort of hallucination, or some trick of mind, no. No one – other than mom – was able to interfere with my perception to this extent. I am confident enough in this aspect of myself.
That begs the question; What is it? They were too clear and vivid to waive them off as mere recordings and the likes.
An Arcane Art, perhaps? But that would require someone else to cast it on me. Someone of much a higher sequence. There is also this possibility of integrating an Arcane Art in an object of choice – in this case; a tome.
And while it could sound hypothetically acceptable, practically it is impossible. Since Arcane Arts carry sentience. Since birth it is a part of a person's consciousness and it even changes natures as the person grows and matures until the point where the person finally awakens it. And even after that, it is subject to continuous change and evolution – like the Watanabes and Olaniyans.
Without the node in the brain that is the central hub of the whole body; receiving and sending impulses, it is impossible for an arcane art to activate. Much less be stored in a tome and stay like that for centuries.
Sounds ridiculous to even think about it.
However, one can't deny what they have seen. It was no lie that I had actually seen fragments of…memories. From a distant past.
A past unrecorded and so obscure, that even as those frayed memories settled over my nerves, they were accompanied by an innate sense of dubiousness. Doubt. Lack of clarity.
It was like seeing the moon with your eyes and the brain recognising it as such, but the heart protesting in a constant denial, perusing you to believe it's the sun.
An Arcane Art that stores memories could also be a possibility. But it is so ridiculous that it is better to not ponder much over it.
Flipping the tome over and over again in my hand, I finally slid it into my bag.
Currently I was back in the room where I had slept. The foul smell of debauchery was finally gone and I could actually sit. The sheets and even the pillows were removed and new ones were placed instead of them.
Michael had woken up around 15 minutes ago and was taking a bath right now.
Astrid was back in her room. I tried to talk to her but it seemed like her cycle this time has made her more cranky than usual.
All the more reason for me to avoid a feral cat.
Putting that aside, there was also this issue of 'the letter' that Jayden had personally arrived to deliver to me.
I should have guessed something of this nature would happen since he himself came to deliver this instead of letting a servant, however; I wasn't expecting the two crazy dogs—Jayden and Aksel—to actually do, or rather arrange something so ridiculous.
Taking the letter out of my pocket, I read it once again, to solidify that both of them have gone senile.
A crumpled piece of wheat coloured paper. The words written in obsidian were dried and no blotches of ink had pressed on the other sides of the paper.
The words were still as annoyingly clear as the first time I had opened them. (an hour ago)
『Póst úþum discússa cum totus cápitulum de Central Dominion et cum consensum novum negotium socius - Aksel Olvasen - consítamus bind Isolde Cromwell et Arthur Olvasen in temporária rite』
『Hoc providet promíssa pax venturum et nulla sanguinem effusum dum conjúngimus gentes nostræ. Termini et condiciones hujus sunt consentiens ab utroque Aksel Olvasen et Jayden Cromwell, et ulteriores tractatus tenentur in præsentiā Ammara Cromwell et Sif Olvasen』
The words muddled as I saw them through a subdued yet seething rage that clouded my mind for more than just a few fleeting moments. My breath hissed through my teeth as I placed the piece of paper back into my pocket.
What in the name of everything that is holy does a "Binding Rite" mean!?
As if the name wasn't cryptic and ominous enough, I could see my mother's name at the end as well.
Nothing good comes out of anything that is related to mother. She is a walking catastrophe.
*KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!*
Three, well-timed knocks filled the room as I turned my head towards the door.
"Come in."
My voice came out much more churlish and agitated.
For a few seconds there was no response or action from the other side. I leaned forward and picked the glass of Glyphic Bloom and forced it down my gullet in one go. It was cold, and slightly prickly; however; the effects were instantaneous.
A slight bonfire ignited within my chest and cranium, fuelled by my arcanum. The burning of arcanum was subtle—I only just realised how it worked. The intoxication wasn't determined solely by the amount of arcanum, but by its quality. Refined arcanum was harder to break down into fuel for the drink, but the payoff was worth it.
After a while of silence on the other side, the door opened and gave way to a cool breeze to rush in before dying out at the exact same moment.
A woman walked in. She was wearing a tightly-fitted tunic.
Usually, tunics are very comfortable and loose, however; the one she was wearing clung to her body like a second layer of skin, highlighting her modest chest and emphasising her full buttocks.
Ehm.
The sleeves were snug and the trousers seemed to be tailored to fit seamlessly into her knee-high leather boots. Dual daggers were strapped securely to her thighs – concealed but easily accessible.
A leather belt cinched her extremely narrow waist.
Her long green hair was tied back in a tight bun and the dark green eyes were sharp and vigilant against the backdrop of a prominent scar on her left eye.
She looked at me, the look of hate and disgust not present at all as she bowed subtly and dipped her head until a few stray locks of her hair spilled forward.
I felt my brows knit together into a frown.
"Good morning, Sloane." I greeted the maid who had first welcomed us here, into this castle and showed us our rooms.
"I am sure you are not here just to bend the knee." I continued as she raised her head back up. And despite the unnecessary choice of words, I could feel no animosity from her. Just a weird, eerie acceptance.
The corners of her full lips curled into a smile as she cocked her head to the side, subtly. "Lord Cromwell has called for all the heirs – Cromwells and Humans alike to the living room. He awaits your arrival, albeit not as quickly as possible."
Her arms dangled loosely to the side, hovering just above the daggers strapped to her curvaceo—her thighs. I looked down at them and then back into her eyes.
As if understanding what I was getting at, she clasped her hands behind her back.
"Michael is currently taking a bath, so you have to wait quite a bit. Since he has to get some breakfast." I spoke, looking in the bathroom's direction.
"Although we will try to arrive as quickly as possible." I added.
Sloane seemed to have a puzzled look on her face.
"The Lord has only summoned for the heirs to Cromwells and Olvasens. As far as I am made aware, the human named Michael is not your sibling, or blood related. Hence; I am sure his presence is unrequired." She uttered in a rather mechanical way.
"And why am I the only one who is required to attend?" I crumpled the piece of paper in my pocket further.
She raised a brow and then her lips moved, fluttering, most likely from some kind of disbelief. "Are you unaware?"
"I am unaware of a lot of subjects." I shook my head and taking the support of the armrest of the couch, helped myself up.
Turning my head towards her, I let out a tired sigh. "And I wish I had stayed unaware about it. Even though it was still going to come, regardless."
I talked senselessly and surprisingly Sloane seemed to be listening very closely. I could tell she was listening attentively because her features scrunched into that of confusion while listening to me mindlessly ramble an incoherent string of words.
It was only midday but I was feeling more tired than the time I fought Ed.
"Lead the way." I spoke, standing right in front of Sloane.
She looked up at me, her dark green eyes studying me before swiftly turning around. "Let's not leave the lord waiting for too long."
Fuu…here goes nothing.
The living room of the castle was much better than what I had expected.
Tall shelves lined the right walls, each one holding large glass jars.
Inside these jars there were multiple severed heads of monsters, floating, preserved in a clear liquid that maintained an unnervingly thin layer of flesh over their cranium. And despite the "grim" appearance, the room was filled with an unexpectedly pleasant aroma.
Like aged whiskey.
Seems like a place that I will love to spend my weekends in. I mean, there was an eerie allure to this place.
The hollowed sockets of the floating skulls of vanquished monsters seemed to follow me wherever I went.
My feet dug into the carpet and my hand – unknowingly – collided with the side of the doorframe. It made a subtle sound, but didn't reverberate at all. The room was soundproof!
In a far, distant corner of the living room a throne-like chair of white marble, inlaid with glistening jewels, dominated the space as it seemed to shimmer even in the low light.
A massive ebony table held the space in front of it. Opposite to the throne on which Jayden was sitting with a neutral expression, sat another chair, less grand but equally imposing.
It was occupied by a figure engrossed in a book, seemingly oblivious to my arrival.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Letting out a small, controlled sound wave that was calibrated to be only heard by dogs, I stopped in my tracks.
Aksel shuddered suddenly and his olive irises stared at me from the corner of his eyes, a single spark of lightning coursing through the crystal-clear orbs like the aftermath of a thunderstorm. "I am aware."
"Just making sure." I lifted my shoulders in a nonchalant shrug.
"Arthur." Jayden called out for me, the curly locks resting peacefully over his piercing golden eyes that looked right into my own while his chin rested over his interlocked fingers.
"You are early." He spoke again, his lips hidden underneath his hand as he spoke, causing the voice to come out much more subdued. "I am hoping Sloane did not prompt you to arrive as soon as possible."
"No…not at all." I replied as my thought jolted back to reality from the airheaded state I had occupied for a fleeting moment.
Taking a careful step forward, I glanced up at the third jar in the fourth column of the decorations' shelves. The head of something like an Ostrich was floating inside a semi-viscous bubbly liquid. Much like every other one, only a narrow sheen of skin was stretched unnaturally over its cranium.
But despite the grotesque presentation, it smelled…nice. In a way that it makes you want to chug it down in one go. You know, of those days, where all you want to do in the world is consume a whole bottle of some 'beverage'.
Of course, I am making an analogy I have read somewhere. I, myself, have never felt like this.
Ehmmm.
"As a matter of fact, she was lenient. Very lenient." I paused and narrowed my eyes at Jayden whose lips were already curled into a barely perceptible lopsided grin. "Suspiciously so."
"And why do you think that is?" Jayden asked, raising his brows – acting oblivious.
"I wonder." I huffed out a half-suppressed scoff, not trying to hide the obvious scorn in my tone. "Definitely nothing to do with the letter written in half-discernible language."
"Ah, that!" He clicked his fingers. "I was trying to learn!"
I looked at Aksel who was still reading something. "And teaching Latin was a good idea?"
He spared a fleeting glance at me. However, he didn't exactly meet my eyes like he usually used to.
As if he was…guilty about something?
"Is it not good?" Jayden asked quizzically.
"Nobody speaks Latin. Anymore."
"What!?"
I let out a tired sigh before taking another step which made me stand right in front of a jar that had the head of a shark-like sea creature. There was a strong odour of the ocean coming from it – to no one's surprise. However, at the same time it smelt like the shark's head was stuffed with something nutty.
Kind of an odd combination. Dry nuts inside a sea creature's head being fermented into some kind of alcoholic beverage.
"The rarer a language, the more significance it carries." Aksel presented his point.
Their light-hearted argument fell into an almost muted backdrop as the door opened behind me.
Following right after were three figures. The young Cromwells.
All three of them donned simple, black coloured buttoned shirts with a flap of a darker shade of black covering those buttons underneath.
The older one – Nacht – was in a much more presentable condition with his shirt still tucked into his pants and hardly any sign of sweat.
The younger one – Lucian, who had fought Michael – was much more dishevelled with his hair haphazardly arranged and one side of his shirt out of his pants. However, there was a calm expression on his face, giving way to very little of the grim frown he was resisting.
Contrary to his older brother, who was smiling.
Arriving at the end was their sister – Isolde. She was wearing the same clothes as the rest of the two, however; she smelt more…salty?
Not in a bad way, of course. There was a distinct aroma of her flesh that made it surprisingly pleasing to sniff. Or perhaps it was the perfume she was wearing.
From first looks it seemed like the siblings had been sparring amongst each other before arriving here. However, when I looked closely, I saw it.
Isolde had no marks on her body, nor a sign of being roughed up. Whereas Lucian had some serious bruises marks all over his body, some already turning purple. Needless to say, it was quite safe to assume that the smiling older brother who had his hands clasped behind his back was the cause of all this.
It sometimes makes me appreciate Eric…hmm, nevermind…he can go to hell for all I care.
I can already imagine him putting one hand on his heart and the other on his eyes while tilting comically and acting hurt. That damned idiotic clown. Everything about him is so infuriating that I want to punch him to the moon and then leave him stranded there as he dies from the lack of oxygen while drifting away into the cosmos.
Hmm, why am I so vexxed? He doesn't matter, so why am I—
"Haha! It seems like you've enjoyed the contents of the letter, Arthur!" Jayden's voice boomed behind me.
It was only after I frowned did I realise that I had been unintentionally smiling. The upward curve of my lips turned into a neutral one as I felt my forehead crease.
What the hell does he mean…?
Not acting like a king at all, Jayden gave out a brattish chuckle. "I can't blame you. I used to be a very excited young'un when I was your age, or well…" he rolled his eyes, as if finding the thought somewhat preposterous, "…human equivalent of years."
"I think there has been an understanding—"
"But don't let my utter disappointment make you think you can do as you wish, hmph!" He exhaled through his nose furiously.
This guy…he is doing this on purpose, right? I don't think there is a way this is unintentional.
"Brother, what is happening?" Isolde's oddly tamed, dulcet voice reached my ears as she stopped 3 steps behind Nacht, swiping the small beads of sweat from her face.
"I was immediately called for something important."
She stole a fleeting glance at me. "If it's important, why is the…human here?"
The air of nonchalance around Nacht stayed firm as he looked over his shoulder and down at his sister. "If I knew what it was, would you have found me here? I am not privy to any kind of information. Much like yourself."
His relaxed golden eyes fell on me, followed by a smirk. "I am assuming it has something to do with both sides; us and Arthur."
He raised a brow. "Do you think the same?"
Despite keeping his voice low, it seemed like he was asking me.
"I suppose so." I gave the bare minimum.
"It is quite obvious." Lucian's voice – cold as ice – interrupted as he looked at Isolde with sharpened, and somewhat hateful eyes. "Use your brain a little, you disgrace."
"Lucian." Nacht's eyes softened at his brother. "We are in the middle of something."
"I—huff…" Lucian let out a long sigh, "…right, brother."
Giving a nod, Nacht turned his head towards me. "Apologies, human named Arthur, you had to see an unsightly part of—"
"Arthur…just Arthur is fine." I interrupted with a wave of my hand. "And I didn't hear anything. So, uhh, you don't have to, you know…"
He praised a brow and then, as if understanding, he nodded. "Alright, Arthur."
"Silence. I am talking." Jayden pulled everyone's attention towards himself. I felt my primary node tremble just from hearing his voice.
Such was the strength of someone who was much higher than Category 6.
Enviable.
Aksel kept the book away and finally turned his attention towards the current scenario. However, even now, he kept his eyes away from me, not meeting them for even a single moment.
Meanwhile, I could feel Isolde's gaze burning into me.
My socially awkward self was reaching a point where I was going to totally lose my mind and either go on a killing spree or get killed. This much attention…it's nauseating.
"Well, it seems like you were in the middle of your training." Jayden turned his head towards me. "Or other activities."
I felt Aksel steal a glance at me.
Come on, you damned elk. Don't phrase it like that…
Nacht eyed me once and then smirked before turning his head back. Meanwhile – even without seeing – I could already feel the bitter, disgusted glare of Isolde on me.
I didn't do it! I didn't touch no woman!
I am a devoted worshipper of Goddess Hestia! I would never, ever!
Ehm, I think that was a bit over the top.
Hmmm...I might be autistic.
"Regardless of whatever it was, I will now tell you about the reason." He continued, taking a step out of the confines of the table.
Standing beside the polished table, he leaned against it and picked a glass of what looked like scotch. "After quite a thorough discussion with my friend—" He pointed at Aksel.
"—we have finally come to a decision. Of course, I have not only discussed it with Aksel Olvasen, but also your mother, Ammara, via a letter." He shook his head towards his kids.
Nacht expressions were attentive but as soon as Jayden said that, Lucian's icy cold thousand-yard stare transitioned into a series of rapid blinks. As if immediately understanding what was about to happen.
"At the same time, once the whole barrier that is separating Thal'kresh Desert and half of Central Dominion from the earthen city named Seoul, we will be having a long 'talk' with Sif Olvasen as well."
By now it was quite clear and any doubt I had in mind was mitigated.
And while there are a lot of questions on my mind, only one stands out.
Why? Do they not know this might ignite civil riots or skirmishes?
"I have decided to give Isolde to Arthur." He announced and the aftereffects sent a ripple into my heart.
"Aksel has agreed to it as well. Of course, it is not an engagement that would tie Arthur down but rather a binding rite. For Isolde." He looked at me with a smirk. "Which means you are free to get anyone else." He paused and then looked away with a nonchalant look.
"As well." He ended.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Lucian carrying a rather indifferent look on his face. Nacht seemed surprised, and the ever-present smirk on his face was absent.
"Father….!" The surprise in Isolde's voice suddenly peaked. Her lips were parted, and her irises were shaking as she stared at Jayden with nothing but a look of sheer disbelief.
Her skin had turned pale. As if losing strength, her arms that were crossed, fell lifeless on her either side. "…how could you? This…you can't!"
Jayden raised his chin, frowning. A curled lock slightly tapped his forehead as he sat down with a forceful jerk. "I can. And I just did."
He spoke, the arcanum infused authority in his voice shutting her lips. "Consider this as your punishment."
"But…"
She was about to speak when Jayden raised his hand. "Have you forgotten the house motto, Isolde?"
She shuddered and took a step back at his words.
"Are you unable to recall even the most basic thing, hm? Isolde?" His tone progressively got chagrined as he hardened his gaze on her.
"Go on. Say it out loud." Jayden repeated, not a semblance of empathy or mercy to be seen in his words, or actions, or his eyes. Just a cold decisiveness.
Lucian looked back from the corner of his eye, and so did Nacht.
Isolde's lips trembled as she looked down, a few locks framing the side of her face as they manoeuvred around the horns that curved downwards from her temples.
Parting her lips she mumbled in a low tone. "By blood and shadow, I vow: Strength shall be the sole law, conquest my sole destiny. Should defeat ever find me, I shall die or… bend the knee."
"I shall fear no enemy, and never suffer defeat. I shall yield only to might mightier than my own. This is my oath as a Cromwell; conceived in darkness, bound by fire. By blood and shadow, I vow, I vow...I vow."
Her words trailed off.
"This is clearly a hyperbole." I interjected this time, causing everyone to look at me with surprise.
Aksel took a deep breath and frowned, without looking at me.
"Hyperbole?"
"Exaggerated method of speech." I took a step forward, standing in the same line as Lucian with a little distance between us. "And besides."
I felt my eyes sharpen. "Are you trying to make a mockery out of me?"
Jayden's brow raised and Aksel finally looked at me as well. "I do not understand."
His brows raised right after as he realised something. "Oh. You mean…" he cocked his head to the side, "…she's beneath you."
"Am I wrong?"
"You're not."
"Then why?" I continued. "You are the ruler and they are the potential heirs. No one would know about her loss."
"You're not wrong. However, contrary to what you said, the 'oath' is not a hyperbole, in your own humanly words." He tapped at the translucent insignia carved into the table which became visible only after he had touched it.
Interesting.
"Oaths, to us; demons mean more than our lives. A promise made is a promise made. Defying a promise, much less an oath passed down for generations would incur the wrath of Hades upon us." As he said his name, Jayden placed a hand on his chest.
"May he preserve us."
"Let it be."
"Let it be."
"Let…it be."
A chorus of what I presumed was an alternative of "amen" on earth, left their lips.
"Well, as I was saying, oaths mean a lot to us. And as you heard, losing would result in only two things. And both are by the hands of the victor who secures the victory against a Cromwell."
He paused and then stood up again. "Take the sword, and remove her head. Or do as we – your father, me and my wife – have proposed."
I slightly turned my head towards Isolde.
Her face was flushed with embarrassment and she was gritting her teeth, the golden orbs shining with an almost palpable bloodlust.
It was still a bit jarring. I was expecting the cultural hate to overthrow the general rules.
Is it because of Hades? The Greek god of the underworld?
Is he interfering with them? I mean, I did read that gods are presiding over each realm, but is their involvement tangible?
"An heir who can't even defeat an age fellow human, of all things…" He paused and rolled his eyes, "...or age equivalent, then she is not worthy to be an heir at all." He announced.
"And if, as a Cromwell, you have no right to the throne, you are not a Cromwell. Good as dead."
Despite his usually goofy temperament, the ideals with which Jayden operated were very strict and rigid. Good thing he is a member of a mediaeval world or he would have been "cancelled" by the intellectual behind keyboards on the internet.
Since recently 'you're cancelled' is in trend. Uh…I hope I am not following a 10 year old trend…again.
I was brought out of my crippling dilemma with a forceful stomp of foot from Isolde as she took the knife out of her back. "Kill me."
Her voice echoed in the sudden stillness of the room. "I will rather die than be defiled by a human."
"Isolde." A heavy veil of arcanum pressed down on her, however; even though I wasn't targeted, I felt my knees go weak.
Even Nacht was employing a little arcanum to keep himself straight, beads of cold sweat running on his forehead.
"You are not permitted to talk, Isolde. The oath is final. We live by the oath, and die by it. To stand against it or try to interfere in its natural flow is blasphemy." He raised his hand and pointed his index finger down as she fell down to her knees. "Do you want to be burnt in the middle of Lawold?"
It was quite impressive how she wasn't letting out a single groan or whimper. Her pale neck was straight but strained. As if refusing to bend her head.
Jayden turned his head towards me. "So?"
I let out a shaky breath. Well…isn't this a pinch?
"No matter what I do, it will result in strained relationships." I started speaking, trying to mitigate the situation. "It doesn't matter what scenario it is, be it the demon princess dying at a mudwalker's sword or warming his bed, it will result in civil riots."
I felt Isolde's crouching figure lower even further. "I was guessing our stay here was supposed to clear up the drudgery relationship between the species. Not aggravate it."
As if he was expecting this, Jayden extended his arms to the side and smirked. "Arthur. I had assumed you would have understood by now."
He spoke, the curly locks becoming more dishevelled by the second as the gel or whatever alternative he was using was losing control. "We do not exist as a—oh dear Hades…" he paused and looked back awkwardly. "…what was that word you used, my dear friend Aksel? Hurry up or I will lose face!"
"Democracy."
"Yes, that!" He turned back to me. "We do not exist as a democracy."
Arcanum made his eyes glow eerily. "We are not the subjects here. We do not serve the commoners. They serve us."
Well, that doesn't answer anything…
"Now, Arthur." Not giving me a moment to respond, he spoke again. "It's either the sword or the rite."
I looked down once again. Isolde was looking up at me, a tangible layer of arcanum pinning her down in a kneeling position.
"I—" I paused. I shouldn't make haste. However, there is no real benefit in saving her. Killing her off without the news spreading like wildfire is the most viable option.
Her slit eyes were focused on me; hatred and defiance more potent than ever.
Hmm. Yeah, keeping someone like her around is a hazard.
"Have you decided?"
"Yes."