Michael

“Michael, I need the Kendon root now,” Kiran said as he stirred in the large pot. Michael cut the last slice into small cubes before he brought Kiran the root. He threw it into the pot and explained, “You need to stir it quite carefully now or it will be ruined.”

Michael took his master’s spot and tried to match the speed the old man had shown him while he wandered over to the smaller fireplace and inspected the progress there.

“It is nearly done,” the old man said with excitement, “And it might become one of my best works.”

Kiran began to frantically run around and gather the different ingredients before he placed them onto a plate and happily proclaimed, “And that is how you make a perfect Kendon Steak.”

Michael gazed at the delicious-looking meal, a large boar steak with potato, carrot slices, and a thick Kendon root sauce. Kiran dragged him out of his thoughts with his typically commanding tone, “Come on, we have to get this done and out before it gets cold.”

A couple of minutes later, Michael walked out of the kitchen with a plate in hand and placed it in front of Lira. Michael had invited his family to his home for the family dinner and his father had accepted. So, they were now all sitting in the large common room, and everyone seemed to enjoy the meal to Michael’s satisfaction. Even the twins were keeping their mouths shut, Michael guessed that they had a stern talking-to before they came here.

“This is very good, Michael. My compliments to the chef,” Lord Rowan said, and Michael lowered his head respectfully.

As the meal progressed, they started reporting on their activities in the last couple of weeks.

“Matthias, won’t you reconsider? Another bride would serve you better in terms of prestige and strengthening our position into the future,” Lady Rowan said with a nearly pleading tone to the heir of the house.

Matthias had decided to ask Viscount Telp for permission to marry his second daughter.

“I like her. I don’t want a political marriage and you should be glad that I am not marrying a commoner,” Matthias replied with an annoyed eye roll; this discussion had been going on for weeks now and Michael was just happy that he was normally far out of the way.

Lady Rowan frowned and looked at her husband who simply shrugged uninterested, “The heart falls where it falls and I can testify that both a commoner and noble woman can make a good wife, it just depends on whom you pick.”

“Your 'I don’t care' attitude toward family decisions will one day cost us dearly, my love. We have good offers from other counts and even Duke Wallsten implied that he would marry his lone daughter into our family,” Lady Rowan seemingly gave up after this last effort didn’t get much of a reaction.

They continued on with Luciel talking about a new seamstress in town she would like to learn from and Harlov talking about the trip into the countryside he went on.

Then it was Michael’s turn. “Everything is going well; I am making good headway in my studies and am still holding my high victory rate when sparing the younger squires and other recruits. The smithy is also running strong; we plan to expand it once we are done with the order from the town watch. I also closed the deal on a carpentry workshop not far from the smithy that I want to build up to work together with my smithy. Buying most of our wooden parts is a great expenditure that I hope we can reduce like this.”

“Sounds like your business venture is going rather well,” Lord Rowan said while listening intently.

“I have also thought about building an alchemist shop if you permit it, Kiran said he would be interested as it would also help him teach me alchemy better in a dedicated laboratory, I would like to ask for an investment as building a laboratory that is able to commercially sell alchemical products, it would need more space and equipment than I can’t currently afford, for apprentices or workers. I think it would greatly benefit the town though and the investment would be paid back with interest.”

“Alchemy?” Lady Rowan looked at Michael with wide eyes, “Enough is enough! You are already tip-toeing the line between learning and heresy; I will not permit you to dabble in witchcraft.”

“Mother, it is not witchcraft, it is the same as cooking. You use specific ingredients and process them in a certain way to get a certain result,” Michael explained with a frown.

“I don’t care, that is not what it will look like. How long until the Inquisition knocks at your door? Right now, you are doing most of these strange things behind closed doors but once you start selling them it will be impossible to hide.” His mother looked distressed, and Michael knew that she was just worried about him, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.

“Mother, it is my choice. I don’t care what some people will think of me, an alchemist shop will benefit the whole town. Reducing sickness, helping with work through potions, and opening up new possibilities in a multitude of professions. Alchemy is not witchcraft; it is an old craft connected to mages, which is why it is frowned upon.”

It was bad enough that a mage was permitted to live in town and teach the son of the count, about which the clergy most certainly complained all the time, but it was something else entirely if that mage sold his witchcraft to the general population, that could indeed lead to problems. That is why Michael asked his father for a contribution because no one would dare to make a move against the shop if it was financed by the lord of the town.

“You are just a child, and I am your mother, I don’t want you to deal in these things.”

Michael sighed; it was so troublesome to argue with people who didn’t understand him, even more with those who had even a sliver of authority over him, imagined or real. Michael looked at his father for help; Michael couldn’t argue with his mother without hurting her feelings but maybe Lord Rowan would understand.

“We can talk about the alchemist shop another day, I will have to discuss that with my council and the bishop, but I would be interested to invest if I believe it to do more good than the church’s annoyance will cause problems.”

“Cedric! You can’t be serious, are you so eager to have our son be branded a heretic?” Lady Rowan screeched a little.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Oska raised his head from his plate, having barely touched his food. “That would be a good first step.”

“Stay out of this,” Lady Rowan snapped at him.

“Why? Michael will get his way anyway, as always,” Oska said while rolling his eyes, “Michael has gotten more attention, money, and support than any of us, even Matthias. He can do so many things that would be considered heretical or criminal but you both always cover for him.”

“Oska, I only support worthwhile developments, as I do with all of you,” Lord Rowan said calmly between bites.

Oska scoffed, “We all know that Michael is your favorite so why don’t you declare him your heir and be done with it.”

It was suddenly dead silent in the room, everyone either stared at Oska with disbelief or at Lord Rowan for his reaction. The atmosphere was a little tense before but now it felt like the air was made from honey as the patriarch slowly turned his head toward Oska.

“Everything Michael has received was due to his own work and dedication because he requested it with good arguments and put the effort in to prove himself reliable and his word to be trustworthy. I have never covered for him; he didn’t ever do anything unlawful or heretical in any sense of the law of this kingdom.” Lord Rowan stared at his rebellious son who stared back. Michael shook his head and thought, is this really the hill you want to die on Oska?

“Why do you prefer this demon spawn over us Father,” Oska spat out with a snarl, “Do you think he is so much better than us?” Michael could feel the insecurity hidden under the anger and remembered the words of old Tom.

Lord Rowan slammed both his hands on the table with a loud bang and rose from his chair. “I can’t hear it anymore, Oska,” he yelled, the last time Michael had seen his father this angry was on the day that Geron had pledged himself to Michael. It was a cold fury that threatened to consume the whole room, but Oska was not backing down. Some would call it bravery others stupidity, but Michael couldn’t help but be impressed by the teenager's ability to withstand his father’s gaze.

“Do you think he is better than us, Father,” Oska repeated, an eagerness on his round face that Michael had never seen. No one dared to interject, not even Harlov tried to calm his brother down.

“Of course, he is better than you!” Oska looked at his father with open horror on his face and even Michael stared at his father in utter disbelief.

“When was the last time you did anything worthwhile with your time, Oska? Everything you do is strut around, blowing your allowance on your so-called friends, and do nothing! You half-ass your training, you can barely read or write and still, you think you can put yourself on the same level as any of your brothers? You still ride on this stupid rumor because the only way you can even compete would be if one of your brothers was indeed a traitor and heretic! You are an absolute embarrassment to the family! If you are this damned jealous, then go out there and do something with your life!”

Lord Rowan stood there for a moment staring Oska right in the eyes when Lady Rowan put her hand on his arm and said with a strict voice, “Dear, that is enough!”

He sat down but her intervention was too little and too late, the damage had already been inflicted. Oska jumped up and ran for the door.

“Oska,” Lord Rowan said with a commanding voice and the boy stopped and turned around, frustration and tears on his face but a glint of hope behind the surface. “I hope this will be a turning point,” Lord Rowan said, and the glint vanished. “CEDRIC,” Lady Rowan exclaimed.

Oska gritted his teeth and ran out.

“That was plainly cruel, he is only a child,” Lady Rowan said to her husband. He simply sat down and continued his meal. “He is old enough and he provoked it on purpose. He has to live with the consequences of his choices and if he can’t get over behavior like this, he won’t make it far in the world out there.”

Any trace of his anger had vanished, and Michael wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or scared at his father’s ability to change his mood at a moment's notice. He also didn’t know how he felt about what just happened; on one hand, Oska has always been a pain in his ass and even wanted to kill him once, but he was still his brother and what happened was just soul-crushing. In the end, he decided that it wasn’t his problem and Oska did deserve it.

The evening continued under the oppressive veil of what happened until it was Lord Rowan’s turn to talk again. “I have received reports from merchants coming from Emall about increasing brigand activity. I haven’t heard anything from the local nobility about it though and decided to go there myself and investigate. I will take Michael and Matthias with me; I think it will be a great opportunity to gain some experience and we will depart in two days. Prepare everything you need until then and we meet at dawn at the castle gate. Harlov, you will be responsible for taking care of affairs in the meantime, as a learning experience, but Viscount Telp will have the last word.” He seemed completely unfazed at what had happened just a couple of minutes prior.

All three nodded without many words, and Harlov avoided his father’s gaze. The evening ended shortly after and once everyone had left Kiran entered the room, “Well that was interesting.”

“You listened in,” Michael asked while he collected the plates and began stacking them.

The old mage shrugged as Sola, and Solon came down the steps and Geron entered through the front door, “At that volume, it would have been hard to find a spot in the house to not hear it.”

“What the hells did Oska say to provoke that, we even heard it outside,” Geron asked as he also began cleaning the table.

“I guess something dumb again,” Sola added while taking the pile of plates off the table.

“He started his whole thing about me being a demon child again and that I get unreasonable amounts of support for my studies,” Michael explained shortly.

“Hmm, strange,” Solon said while he stroked his beard, “I wonder if something is going on with Cedric.”

“Do you really think there is something?”

“I am not sure, normally Cedric is quite hands-off concerning how his children behave toward each other, as far as I could see in the last years.”

“Oh right, Oska said that Father can simply declare me his heir and be done with it, as I am obviously his favorite child,” Michael remembered. Once he said that Geron stopped what he was doing and chuckled, “That was direct critique at the lord, and he most certainly doesn’t like those.”

“Yes, that is probably it,” Solon agreed.

“He brought it upon himself,” Michael simply shrugged and changed the subject. “Father has also informed me that we will be leaving the day after tomorrow for brigand hunting in Emall. Geron, please tell Eydis when you see her before me. Anyone else who wants to come?”

Kiran looked at Sola and said, “I might tag along, we can’t keep having skips in your training and Sola went along to the hunting event, so I guess it is my turn.”

Sola agreed with him; they were getting along much better by now, they were still cold toward each other but at least they got along without having a constant expression of distrust or hatred.

“Alright, it will be Geron, Eydis, Kiran, and me then,” Michael concluded.

Oska

"Damn, all of this," Oska walked angrily through the castle's hallways, trying to calm down. He just didn't get it, Michael was obviously evil, even Father Albion thought so and he was the most devout man Oska had ever met. He was tricking them all. Oska regretting not dropping him from the wall when he had the chance and many different ways of getting rid of him went through his head.

"Screw them all, I don't care anymore, you can all die for all I am concerned," he grumbled when Father Albion came around a corner spotting the ill-tempered boy.

"What is going on, Oska? I thought you were at your family dinner?"

"I couldn't deal with their bullshit anymore, so I left," Oska replied, getting angrier again when he thought about the dinner.

"Language," Albion said strictly but then his expression softened, "Come, let’s go to my room and you can tell me what happened."

They did that and Oska ranted for a good ten minutes about his family.

"Why should I even care anymore? They obviously don't! So why am I even still here if I am such a disappointment? Father even said I should go out and do something with my life! He wants to get rid of me!" He stopped to take some deep breaths after his rant.

"I have the feeling that you aren't appreciated here, my child." He tapped his finger on the desk while in thought. "There is something I have thought about for a while already, but I am not sure if you would want to walk this path, you would have to leave home."

"What is it? As long as it takes me far away from here, I don't care!"

Albion leaned back with a smile, "Okay then listen closely."