The Earl’s eyes widened, and John’s heart got stuck in his throat. This would be the moment of truth. Whatever course his life took would all depend on this moment.
Part of him wished for either Nevil or Bella to be there with him. He still had his weapons, so they could serve as hostages in case things went south. Another part of him felt guilty for considering such a thing.
“Alon, thank you for bringing these matters to my attention. You’re dismissed.”
The old man bowed his head and walked out of the room, closing the door behind himself. As the door closed, John realized he could no longer hear anything from the outside. The whole room was soundproof.
The woman standing behind the earl raised an eyebrow. She peeked at the letter’s seal and similarly widened her eyes. According to his mother, that was his father’s personal seal.
The earl removed the seal and started reading the letter’s contents. Over his shoulder, the woman did the same. As he continued reading, the man seemed to stop breathing. Finally, he placed the letter down on the desk, but said nothing after that, still processing what he read.
Rather, the woman was the first one to speak. “By Alella,” she said with a gasp. “You’re Jonathan’s son.” She moved immediately after. One second she stood behind the earl, while the next she had just vaulted over the desk.
John’s mind barely worked out that she was a Paladin by the time she was on him. He tried to draw his sword. She pulled his head down before he even managed to raise a hand.
John felt a sharp pain on his cheek as she held his head against her chest. Trying to pull back was useless given the woman’s strength, but he had no other option but to try.
She didn’t even seem to notice his struggles and continued holding him tight. “Look at you, you’re so big.”
“Athalia, you’re hurting him,” intervened the Earl.
“What?” She relaxed her grip, finally allowing John to pull away. He felt something warm running down his cheek. The blood had stained her dress as well as the sunburst necklace that hurt him. “Oh, by Alella, I’m so sorry. Here, let me take care of it.” She sucked on a thumb which she then used to rub his cheek. John felt the pain disappear as she did so. With one sleeve she wiped the rest of the blood away. “There, good as new. Won’t even leave a scar behind. Oh, your nose is also hurt. Here, let me...” She once again raised a thumb to her mouth when the Earl stopped her.
At some point, he had moved to stand by their side. “Use clean water at least,” he said, face twisted with disgust.
“It’s not like it’ll fester or anything, but fine.” She said with a frown that turned into a smile as she looked back at John. “Back to you. How are you doing? And where is your mom? We met her only once before you were born. Is she waiting outside?”
John paused. “She… she died.”
She turned sad. “Oh… I’m sorry. Don’t worry though, you’ll be safe with us. I mean, that’s what you came here for right?” John didn’t even finish nodding before she continued. “Great! Now wait here, I’ll get the maids to prepare you a room.” Without waiting for him to speak, she strode out of the room, her blood-stained dress fluttering as she went.
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Hagen tried to warn her about it, but she had already closed the door. He ran a hand through his dark hair, seemingly unsure of what to do.
John didn’t feel any less uncomfortable. Were things supposed to be that easy? For a moment he wondered if this could be a ploy to make him lower his guard but stopped due to how absurd it sounded. She alone could break him without breaking a sweat, why would they need the subterfuge?
Maybe coming to Rochdale had been the right decision. Maybe his mother would still be alive if they had both come earlier. John didn’t want to follow that train of thought. “My lord, you know my father?” he asked the Earl, hoping to at least get some info.
“Yes, and no need for the formalities. We met before we were even enrolled at the war academies, during a Phoenix-and-Dragon Contest. That’s what we call a competition between the war academies of both dukedoms. I visited the Phoenix Academy to watch the fights while Jonathan tagged along with a cousin of his.”
“My mother would tell me stories about him. She said that he is the best person that she ever met.”
Hagen showed the faintest of smiles. “She didn’t lie. I know no one more deserving of being called a noble than him. Sure, he has his faults, like being confident almost to the point of arrogance. But overall, he is a great man. Honorable to a fault and that’s part of the reason we haven’t heard much of him lately. Did your mother ever tell you about Grenfell?”
John nodded. That’s where his mother was forced to make use of blood magic to escape.
“After the massacre, things turned complicated at the Great Plains. Jonathan was captured two weeks after that. He didn’t try to fight. He said that your mother died shortly after that day. His father — your grandfather — didn’t believe that she died, but he couldn’t scour the whole region in search for her. He posted wanted signs, but that was it. As for your father, he remains imprisoned at Dragonblood Castle’s dungeons.”
“This whole time? It’s been years.”
“Yes. You have to understand the amount of pressure that the Duke received after Grenfell. Your mother singlehandedly maimed the earl and killed his son along with a squad of Paladins and Warlocks. This scared a lot of nobles and led the Duke to enact even harsher laws regarding slavery at the Great Plains. As for Jonathan, he didn’t kill anyone but he was involved nonetheless, which is why your grandfather imprisoned him.”
“I get that he was imprisoned because of the massacre, but what does that have to do with his honor?”
“Because the Duke still hoped to strengthen his alliance with the Wynnes through a political marriage, which Jonathan will never accept. I think that even your grandfather realized that already, which is why he began to prep your uncle Richard to take up the throne. As for Jonathan, I doubt we’ll see him again. I’m sorry.”
John couldn’t help getting upset; not at Hagen, but at Jonathan. Instead of driven by a sense of honor, it rather felt as if his father was blinded by it. Maybe if he just accepted the damn marriage, he could already be out of the dungeons and free to look for his mother. How different would things be by then? He’d never know.
Athalia returned to the study room accompanied by an older woman. “John, this is Meredy, she’ll guide you to your room.”
The woman’s face showed the signs of age, and her gray hair was mostly contained inside a frilly white hat. “Please follow me, Mr. John.”
John nodded and followed her through well decorated — and guarded — hallways and up a flight of stairs. They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door near the end of the hallway.
“This is the room that lady Athalia picked for you,” she said while handing him an iron key. “Inside you’ll find a bed, a wardrobe with simple garments, and a bath. I’d suggest you start by getting acquainted with the latter.” She then turned around and walked down the hallway.
John looked down at his dirty cloak and the sweaty clothes underneath it. Washing himself had been the least of his worries these past weeks. After taking a whiff of his tunic, he realized it was time to take care of it. He slid the key into the keyhole.