For a long, tense moment Jack couldn't help but wonder what an absolute fool he was, to so imperil his friend's lives by freeing a deadly killer who, for all Jack knew, was utterly insane with fury, and the nearest target to let it out on was the idiot who had freed him.
Even if he had gained two Runes, and had just boosted the underlying skill of Rune Forging to Elite Rank 1, and felt on the cusp of understanding profound insights regarding the marriage between form and function, tool and effect, rune and substrate, filled with the odd certainty that he was at the cusp of such profound illumination that it would allow him to craft artifacts that would fill even Sharon with bemused wonder for just how far her apprentice and friend had come.
Assuming, of course, he managed to survive the next handful of seconds, with every heartbeat savored feeling like a sudden lease on borrowed time.
And the half-smile Silk flashed Jack sent shivers down his spine.
As if the man had sensed every terrified flicker of Jack's psyche.
"Of course. You'll find flashes of insight far more efficient than words, once you delve the true depths, boy. For now?" His ebony gaze locked upon a clearly exhausted Lord de Leone who had just slumped down upon his leather chair.
"I have a debt to pay, and I will pay it in full."
Silk seemed to flow through the air, now before the lord in the blink of an eye. And it wasn't that he had stolen the contracts now no longer in the dazed lord's grip, but rather, they had just seemed to appear in his gloved hands.
The delver gazed at them for long moments before solemnly handing them back, catching Jack's gaze once more.
"You may tell your friends that all loose ends will be tied with the rising sun. And this day? This day never happened. Secrets revealed and vulnerabilities noted, forgotten by all parties." Silk's eyes hardened. "Never to be brought up again. Are we agreed, Soul Weaver?"
Jack was about to say something, but the cold smile the exquisitely handsome and unspeakably deadly rogue flashed him made it clear that Jack would be infinitely better off saying nothing at all. So he just bowed his head.
Silk then turned to Drake. "A final word of advice, Wordsmith who would dare wear the mantle of Lord and Delver both. Stick to the White. And bind it to you. The rooms will then reset every three days. Never dare a chamber you haven't before, without a party of at least 5. Perhaps 4, If you're a fool who would live. Less, if you're a fool who would die.
"For rooms you have already mastered? A party of 3 will live for many years, and 4 or more? Perhaps forever. A fool and his partner might escape peril at least a few times, but a lone fool will be but a passing dream, a single miscast of fortuna's favor assuring a grizzly death from even the most innocuous of foes."
The bitter smile he flashed at the slave collar he now twisted about his fingers like twine with inhumanly strong digits highlighted just how true those final words were.
"But above all, since you're a lord who actually has a life beyond embracing Shadow and darkest dream... I'd stick to the White. No matter how powerful you might think you've become."
And with a final bow of his head to Jack, he faded to memory in the blink of an eye.
For long moments the three sat in breathless silence, Jack feeling his cheeks start to burn when his daze of exhaustion as arcane insights flooded his soul became an acute awareness of just how intently Drake and his father were looking at him.
Of course he had found an excuse to step out the moment the rogue had disappeared, finding no trace of Sin, or the final pair of bodies he had been prepared to deal with. Because he refused to let the clan's safety fall apart now, after so much had been sacrificed to save them. But the hallway was now clear of all evidence of conflict, save for pockmarked stone tiles and considerable damage to the ceiling.
Fortunately, too intent gazes had turned to heartfelt smiles and solemn bows by the time Jack had returned to the study. From two heirs of the royal family, no less, which made Jack flush all the harder, utterly unworthy of a looks now hauntingly close to adoration being sent his way, which might have explained the words that burst out of his lips when Lord de Leone made it clear that theirs was a debt that could never be repaid, and that Jack was now like family to them.
"You know I killed almost a dozen people in less than half a glass, right?" Jack lowered his head, surprised at the sting in his eyes, at the way his fists were trembling, struck with such unexpected shame.
"I'm the farthest thing from a hero. I..." he swallowed, gazing at his still glittering spool and sheers, before putting them back into storage in an eyeblink, not quite sure if they were physical objects he stored in his mother's soul pouch, or his will made manifest, and no longer certain that it even mattered. All he was aware of were eyes gazing too intently at him, and the sudden awful shame he felt.
All he had to do was remember the horrible, choked off screams emanating from ruined throats before they dissolved completely from solvents far worse than any mundane acid during panicked moments when Jack hadn't given a damn for his enemies' pain, far more concerned about killing them as quickly and as silently as possible than he was in the ethics of what he had to do.
Jack shuddered, haunted by the realization that he was the farthest thing from the stories he had idealized in a youth he had never quite lived. And was, in truth, nothing like the gentle idealist his childhood girlfriend had wanted to marry. The innocent boy he had tried so hard to be.
Because that was also a lie. His gentle dazed demeanor were the results of long nights weaving skeins of death by his mother's and sisters' sides, luring so many would-be invaders into their deadly traps, snipping them free of life's skein to never rise again.
Entire tribes of orcs and multiple bands of witch hunters had been torn free of this world's tale as if they had never been. And dreamlike memories of stories read countless times had been the perfect cover for a boy who spent far too many hours stitching by his mother's side, earning gentle laughter from a father strangely forgiving that Jack almost never seemed to be around for farm chores before noon.
Because he was a Grey Witch to the bone. Ruthless, and always had been. From the first time he had shot Morlin Rothson in cold blood when the bastard thought he could get in the way of Jack and his family's salvation when the world was ending, a lifetime ago. And that intensity had never quite left him, no matter how much he had savored the dreams of the idealist and hero.
He knew that now.
And on some level, he always had.
As the soul of Cornelius Hecklebart itself could attest, were it not currently a spool of thread in Jack's possession. A thread Jack would wrap in endless enchantment and never, ever let free. So he could never reincarnate as Hecklebart or Rothson ever again. Because that bastard was all but destined to be his enemy for all time, in this life and every other. And Jack sure as hell wasn't going to let idealism override his own common sense, even knowing that made him as coldblooded as the monster he would utterly destroy.
He accepted that bitter truth, even as he gazed in exhausted stupor at the warm tears dripping upon his own shaking fists.
And why the hell was he so upset, anyway?
Ah. That's right. He had dared to glimpse the true nature of his own twisted soul.
Never a comfortable thing.
"Jack?"
Jack took a deep, shuddering breath, shaking himself free of his daze before bowing his head to the bemused lord gazing so fondly at him.
The eyes of a father, smiling down at his son.
Jack's cheeks flushed with shame.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. I'm still feeling a little..."
The lord waved off his apology with a smile. "Not at all, Jack. It is I who should be asking for your forgiveness, forcing you to endure such trials, reveal such terrible secrets, for the sake of a clan you have met just days ago. A clan you selflessly came to the defense of, multiple times, motivated by nothing more, it seems, than the generosity of your own heart, and the bonds of friendship you formed with my son."
Jack swallowed, though he couldn't hold back at least a tiny smile. "Well, yes. Drake's a good kid. I could tell that right off. And when that bastard Morlin and his henchman Vidrig were laughing at the plight of their victims, acting like the bloody monsters they were..." He shrugged. "I did what any hero in my storybooks would do." He winced at the elbow he received.
"Good kid? I'm as old as you, Jack," his friend grumbled.
Jack laughed. "Yeah, but all your time at magic school means you looked about 12, maybe 14, when we first met."
Drake snorted. "Soon to be your school too, Jack. And won't you be behind the curve?"
"Assuming I can get a handle on your ethereal magics in any case, miraculous as tapping into the dream of magic might be," Jack quipped, for all that he suddenly felt like he had just enjoyed a two hour soak in a hot tub, limbs suddenly free of sweat and grime, tingling with the essence of cleanliness. And his suddenly pressed and ironed clothes were also sparkling clean, with no trace of smoke, gore, or grime. And now smelling like the forest after a fresh spring rain, utterly free of the stench of smoke, bile, and terror.
All thanks to the gentle whispers his friend had uttered along with a wave of his wand.
Jack couldn't help but smile and applaud.
"Damn impressive, Drake. I don't think there's any elemental spell that could do what you just did." He then frowned down at his torn and shredded clothes. "Our doublets have definitely seen better days, though."
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Drake smirked. "My magic can only do so much, Jack. I'm not a tailor."
Jack grinned, pulling out a needle and thread. "Fortunately, I am. You know what's so terrible with all those Elven stereotypes about us being so brilliant with our hands? The fact that they're spot on. Even if I did learn most of my skills in a waking dream."
Then he winced, realizing he was saying way too much, by the intent way his friend and patron were looking at him.
No, he realized, not at him.
At his needle and thread.
As if they thought...
Jack's cheeks flushed with shame. "It's just a normal needle. The thread is silk, nothing..."
Drake grinned. "We know that, Jack. But we're not going to force you to be our family tailor, even if the phrase 'Elven made' does have a certain ring to it."
Jack smirked, putting away his needle and thread. "Actually, I'm really just a farm boy who spent far too many days hiding in my mother's library when I should have been helping out with the chores. I never even thought of myself as anything but human, always doing my best to hide my..." he self-consciously rubbed his pointed ears. "I always felt so weird about them. And my mother and sisters? Exotic beauties. That little accent always looked just right on them. I always ignored my own." He swallowed, gaze growing haunted. "It's only been over these past few months, walking the Path of Peril, that so many... things... have been coming back to me."
Lord de Leone nodded solemnly, his well-chiseled features filled with a solemn majesty, such that Jack had absolutely no problem envisioning this man as sovereign duke or king, knowing his brother was just that. And for the man to be paying Jack such solemn regard was more than a bit unnerving still.
Even as the lord of the house solemnly handed Jack an ivory white pin that flashed and sparkled with an inner fire, so like obsidian.
Arcane Artificer skill check successful!
Jack's eyes widened with something close to awe, his newly enhanced sense of the arcane meant that he could all but feel the currents of magic gently swirling through it.
He gazed at the beaming lord before him. "This is no common pin!"
"Not at all," Lord de Leone agreed. "It is mithril and priceless, and marks you as an honored member of our clan."
Jack's eyes widened with wonder as his friend chuckled softly and clapped Jack on the back.
"Welcome to your new House, brother! You now have the de Leone name at your back, which will open all sorts of opportunities and assure that no petty bureaucrat, official, or ne'er-do-well dares trouble you without good cause." His friend's grin widened at Jack's look of wonder. "It also means that no petty Council lackey can manipulate you into becoming army fodder. You're a member of our clan, and thus, protected."
Jack flushed, "Guys, I don't know what to say." He swallowed the lump in his throat, before common sense took over and he formally lowered himself to one knee. "Your Graces, I humbly and gratefully accept. Thank you for granting me the honor of your friendship, and the grace of your House name."
Drake laughed. "I know father wanted to do this from the moment he found out you had rescued me from..." the youth paled, before shaking ugly memory away. "Anyway, after today, I think father halfway wants to knight you!"
Jack and his hosts shared a laugh at that.
Then de Leone's gaze turned solemn. "And I would do just that, if the path of the sword was the one you were on. As it stands, I do hope you would honor our clan by standing by my son's side in an equally important capacity?"
Jack grinned, heart already racing with excitement, almost certain he knew where the conversation was going.
Lord de Leone smiled. "I believe you've already guessed it. I would like my son to embrace the Path he was so brutally thrust upon. To get everything he can from it, so that he may one day lead our House wisely and well, just as his cousin will lead the duchy entire."
With those words the man solemnly pulled out an ancient leather-bound tome.
"To that end, our dear Jevon has taken steps to recover codicils clearly demarcating a lord's privileges as recorded prior to even our duchy's founding. And it pleases us to no end to find that those privileges allow for lords to take whatever steps necessary to master his realm, up to and including daring the Path of Peril."
Jack's eyes widened at this. Somehow he had been certain...
"Yes, it's stretching things," Drake admitted with a wink. "But, so long as I keep my delving to the territory I claim, I don't have to declare myself a guild-member or forgo the rights and privileges of my class. So long as I am only mastering lands that fall under my domain."
Jack nodded. "Sounds reasonable to me. Especially since you have a stable dungeon right here, in the heart of your city."
Lord de Leone smiled and nodded. "Of course you understand. I had no doubt that you would. And so, for that reason among many others, I truly hope I can continue to count on you to stand by my son's side."
Jack grinned unabashedly. "If by that, you mean all this has been to entice me into delving by your son's side, the answer to that is: heck yes! That's the reason why I'm here, after all; to adventure and find the hidden keys to the class I would claim as my own. And if I'm going to adventure, I'd far rather do it with friends that I trust than strangers with whom one can only afford a single mistake, before paying the ultimate price."
This heartfelt pronouncement had both lords beaming with approval.
"Wonderful, Jack! Absolutely wonderful. And we will of course get you squared away and treated like the member of the family you now are. But first... a gala to prepare for! Your early arrival will now allow you to be fashionably late. But we dare not delay any further, lest we upstage the grandest guest of all."
With those words, Jake's father tugged a discrete bell-pull, and in what seemed the blink of an eye, there was a polite knock on the door.
"You rang, my lord?"
In far less time than Jack would have thought possible, Lord de Leone explained the entirety of what had happened to his impeccably dressed seneschal... all without revealing a single incriminating fact about anyone at all.
Jevon's iron hard gaze locked with his master for long moments, before giving the tiniest bow of his head. "I will see to the matter at once, my lord." He then frowned at the pair of youths before him. "But I fear the young gentlemen's present attire just won't do. Our beloved Lady Aurelia is about to make an entrance, and it would be ill fitting for her favorite cousin not to be there to greet her properly."
"Of course," de Leone said.
Drake's eyes widened. "Angels mercy! In the middle of all this madness, I completely forgot that Aurelia was coming over!"
Jevon flashed a sympathetic smile. "Quite understandable, my lord. Now if you will excuse me... it seems that today we are on an exceedingly tight schedule."
And in very short order, their unflappable seneschal had arrived once more with two impeccably attired suits perfectly combining the flashy doublets and laces of the renaissance era with the thick leather boots, white gloves, and coattail jackets with too many silver buckles that symbolized Victorian steampunk so perfectly to Jack, including a brass and silver wand and holster with an angled reinforced grip that looked almost like an early form of single shot pistol, and he was more than a bit surprised to find that he actually looked good when he smiled in the mirror.
Because somehow the feathered tricorn hat of gold trimmed burgundy tied it all together, he decided. Though he was equally certain that if he hadn't actually managed to boost his Charisma all the way to 14, he'd be laughed right out of the manor the moment he dared show his face in the ballroom above.
Yet all they received were warm nods of greeting from the handful of lords and ladies that caught their eyes in passing as they made their way back to the ballroom proper. And despite their perilously close brush with death or enslavement, all that Sophia, Gillien, and Felix did when Jack and Drake made their quiet reemergence among their peers was smile and nod in approval.
"A proper suit looks good on you," the cheerful Gillien, still happily garbed in Academy robes with a bit of cream puff on his upper lip, declared, his sister and her beau nodding their agreement. And absolutely no one said a word regarding a certain barrister who had been chasing after them earlier, or his abrupt and utter disappearance from the chateau.
Drake just laughed. "Sorry we had to leave so abruptly, but we just had to freshen up after our morning constitutional, and it took ages for anyone to find our suits!"
Felix nodded solemnly. "We completely understand. It happens to even the best help. They get overwhelmed when the season is truly upon us, and half the time I fear they dip into the sherry just a bit more than is advisable."
All of them laughed at the jest, symbolic as it was of unspoken accords. Even the endearingly awkward Gillien's eyes were savvy with a lord's understanding of things best left forever unsaid.
And if a certain barrister who had had the absolute gall to chase down and threaten an obvious ally of a noble clan within their own sanctum sanctorum was never heard from again, none of them would shed a tear for that rat of a man and the encroachments upon a lord's privileges that he stood for. Not even the charmingly humble Gillien or the strong-willed, beautiful, and otherwise idealistic Sophia, who took the opportunity to raise her glass of sherry in salute, a bemused Jack finding himself and Drake now holding matching glasses of fortified wine as well.
"A toast to fresh starts and happy endings, and to a wonderful year ahead!" Sophia cried aloud, earning any number of hurrahs and cheers from nearly the entire gathering of lords and ladies, all raising their glasses and drinking as one.
It was then that Sophia raised an elegant eyebrow when she caught sight of the pin adorning Jack's outfit. She flashed a pleased smile. "My, my, Jack. To see you come so far, so fast. I knew you were one to watch!"
Gillien's eyes widened. "That's mithril! And I can all but taste the traces of Elementium. Oh heaven's mercy, that's priceless! By which, I mean, it's worth a lot. But don't worry, Jack. If any rogue tried to steel that, the duchy bounty would make their lives unlivable in very short order. You're wearing a pin of the House de Leone, after all. As does the duke himself!"
Jack couldn't help grinning. "And I can't tell you how surprised I was to receive it, and how honored I am to have it. I'm just surprised anything this valuable would be, well…"
"Made into a house emblem?" Felix chuckled. "As I'm sure Drake could tell you, our Duchy happens to possess the only known veins of Mithril in the continent. Which both gives us a magnificent trade advantage, incredible strategic significance, and explains why Velheim has been trying to annex this territory for years."
Jack nodded. "Being the only known suppliers of a priceless mineral with exceedingly high magical affinity might put you in a bit of a tight spot," he allowed. "I'm guessing that's the real reason why the Arcane Academy's allowed the formation of rifle companies?"
Drake chuckled softly when his friends grew oddly silent.
"It's alright, friends. Jack's no fool. Because despite some unfortunate rumors... the truth is that Jack did come to the rescue of a band of riflemen in need, and even won the heart of the witch warding their weapons!"
Sophia's eyes widened at this, her friend Julie and several other girls Jack understood to be Drake's classmates also choosing that moment to make an appearance, all of them with dusky eye shadow and lips kissed by rose hips, their ebony curls pinned high, contrasting beautifully with their matching dresses of palest ivory. And when Sophia demanded details, an evilly grinning Drake happily gave a somewhat fanciful account of Jack's heroics, rescuing the riflemen from werewolves, mad captains, and darkest intrigue, when not savoring countless passionate nights by his lover's side.
A flushing Jack was forced to accept that apparently racy tales were quite acceptable in this time and place, as Julie chuckled throatily and winked Jack's way.
"Quite the man, it seems."
"Quite," agreed Sophia, flashing Jack a bemused smile when the tale was done, Felix also giving a furiously blushing Jack an approving nod.
Far more like high school seniors after all, he thought to himself, doing his best not to flush too deeply when the entire audience seemed caught up in the tale. After all, far better for the nobles of this duchy to think Jack the goodhearted if passionate hero of Drake's tale than the military criminal fleeing from justice that Hecklebart's faction had tried to paint him out to be.
"I think perhaps my friend is exaggerating just a tiny bit," Jack said at one point, earning bemused laughter as Drake clapped his arm.
"Of course I am, and everyone knows it!" But then his smile hardened, all but glaring at the smiling onlookers. "But far, far less than you all might think. My shieldbrother here really is that talented, and deadly. And there's no one else I'd rather have at my side, when daring the deep."
Those words caused even Drake's friends to pale and look away.
And with miraculously good timing, as far as Jack was concerned, the air suddenly filled with the sound of trumpets as a powerful baritone voice echoed through the hall.
"Presenting... Crown Princess Aurelia de Leone!"