“My, my, Marshall! I didn’t believe my ears when I heard, this morning, that you were!"

Kerry Ashbrook, my aunt and Viscountess of Colepass. Her strident and sharp tongue had only become sharper with age, but so had I.

”Dear aunt, I can’t help but worry if this type of thing is enough to get you so aggitated, I wouldn’t want to collapse. Perhaps I should write of my arrival in bold large letters next time, apparently your eyes are struggling just as much as your ears."

A muffled snort echoed in the hall following my comment which earned a few meaningful glares. Although I couldn’t see her, I recognised the voice of my cousin, Cicile Foster. Apparently, having her mother being made fun of, far from offended her.

A good thing to note for later.

Despite the glares though, no one came to the viscountess rescue and someone else opted to reclaim the conversation.

“Either way, it is good to see you in good health, Marshall. Is that a daughter at your side by any chance?”

Count Frederick Omain asked in a sarcastic tone.

The butler had warned me of his presence…And of the accusations he would make.

Count Omain himself was only distantly related to the Ashbrook family. He was my late uncle’s, Sebastian Ashbrook, brother-in-law. Despite this vague connection, we couldn’t simply push him or his numerous progeny out considering his status.

Speaking of progeny…

”That IS an interesting hair colour… Who did you say her mother was?”

I grit my teeth as I held my smile.

Neilman Omain was the one who speaking out. Frederick’s oldest son. Despite being a natural born pain in the ass, he wasn’t able to do much more than to emulate his father.

A loud scoff was heard at the end of the table making all turn toward the man.

”I’ve received word that you claim her to be my niece’s daughter? I certainly hope you’re here to clarify this misunderstanding.”

The man said in a slow voice. Barely repressing the venom in his tone.

Marquis Hellion Fauger. The Duke’s brother. His presence here was even less justified than the Omain’s. In fact, I couldn’t begin to explain what sort of connection he held with our family, but where there was the Frederick Omain, the Hellion Fauger Clan wasn’t far behind.

Both men were known friends and collaborators. They were also known for their large progeny and unrelenting ways when trying to get whatever they sought.

There were rumours that they were actually aiming for the Norland duchal title, but that isn’t something that should ever be uttered outside of closed doors.

In short, both their presence here only meant one thing; people still saw an opportunity to claim the County of Clotop from the Ashbrook family despite my return.

”It seems I’ll have no choice, but to put these rumours to rest, Marquis. My daughter Silika’s mother is indeed Lilica Fauger.”

”Preposterous!”

Fauger exclaimed as he hit the table with his fist.

So much for keeping appearances… I guess they’re not afraid to openly challenge my legitimacy as an heir. As was to be expected.

”Now, now, this is nothing to spill wine over…”

A meek voice interjected nervously.

”Hold your tongue, Elliot!”

Frederick Omain growled.

Elliot Omain was my late uncle’s younger son and therefore Frederick’s nephew. He was a baron in the neighbouring county and not one to usually fuss over this type of matters. If I had to hazard a guess he had been dragged down here by…

”That’s right! Marshall has a lot to answer for. Why should anyone believe this isn’t just some bastard child he popped out from somewhere?”

…His older brother, Viscount Karl Omain. A man of equal convention as his uncle, but unfortunately none of his power.

That was probably the reason he dragged his brother in.

“Enough!”

A booming voice echoed in the hall bringing the conversation to a halt.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

”I will not have you drag my nephew’s name through the mud over baseless rumours!”

Marlot declared in a threatening manner.

I silently thanked him, but I knew his word on the matter held very little weight in this discussion. As my mother’s brother, he only stood to lose from my disinheritance and the others wouldn’t fail to point it out.

”I agree that this conversation has gone on too long. I may not be an Ashbrook in name, but I carry it in my blood and I will stand for this conversation to go on any longer. Wouldn’t you agree mother?”

Cicile declared turning to her mother Kerry who was taken aback. As the oldest Ashbrook after my father, Kerry’s words held the most weight around this table.

”Uhm… Yes… Quite…!”

She was obviously flustered being dragged into this conversation while it was playing out in her favour, especially by her own daughter, but not intervening at this point would only reflect poorly on her.

”I do believe this conversation has gone on quite far enough already. Perhaps we should enjoy the food for a bit instead?”

She said as she tried to signal the servants to begin delivering the food.

Thankfully the entire conversation had gone over Silika’s head and she was simply excited to see food finally arriving.

I saw Silika’s eyes move and before she could even point to what she wanted, I pulled the ham closer to us and sliced her a generous serving which she immediately started gnawing at.

”Well! For a pink-hair, she sure doesn’t seem to mind eating meat!”

Estelle, one of Hellion’s daughters, commented with an amused tone.

I cleared my throat, as I tried to hide the smile growing on my face.

”Yes, we’ve often heard the comment. The pinkness is an uncommon mixed trait between Seeirkins and Steihnnerkins.”

I heard Hellion scoff at the mention of the Seeir bloodline the Fauger were so proud of, but he didn’t say anything else.

It was instead Cicile who carried on.

”Is that so? I heard those typically don’t stick into adulthood.”

I shrugged.

”It’s possible. Her hair could turn white or red…”

”Or black.”

Hellion opinionated in a derisive tone.

Immediately a fist landed on the table.

”You will hold your tongue Fauger or I will make you swallow it!”

Marlot roared angrily, making even Silika look up from her plate as it shook.

It was an understandable response.

The Dalar, from whom I got my golden eyes, were proud of their Scornkin heritage, and most of them sported their dark hair long and proudly. The Fauger on the other hand openly despised Dalar Clan and their blood, seeing them as foreigners in this northern land. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone considering their own Seeir heritage in a mostly Steihnnerkin land. It was even more absurd when you realised the Dalar clan had inhabited these parts for centuries while the Fauger were known to be from after the founding of the Theocracy less than four generations ago.

It was still true though that Scorn blood was rather rare in Firsland, especially in the western parts, and open animosity was increasingly commonplace.

I’d have to struggle with this bias soon enough when I look for a tutor for Silika…

“It’s alright, Marlot. I’m sure the Marquis didn’t mean anything by it.”

I made sure to emphasise his title to remind him he was not his brother, the duke.

Fauger remained silent and looked away as he took a sip from his goblet. Marlot sat back down as well and returned to his meal.

Well at least that’s one situation somewhat defused…

I wish I could move the conversation away from myself and Silika, but I knew this wasn’t in the card. After all, this dinner was my trial. One I’d been preparing for with the help of the estate’s butler and Marlot.

We already knew Hellion and Frederick were obviously two people who were coveting Clotop, but it wouldn’t make sense for either of them to actually take it over since they already had land of their own. Therefore they must have been pushing for one of their children to take over. Among them, Neilmann Omain and Estelle Fauger were the only ones to have spoken up, so it might be the two contenders they were betting on.

Karl had also piped-up, but since he wasn’t directly related to them, he was probably working on his own. Perhaps he was pushing for his brother Elliot to take over, but he seemed too meek nature to actually go for it.

Kerry also seemed interested, but at her age it would be surprising she coveted it for herself. Perhaps she was doing it for her daughter Cicile? Although… Cicile didn’t seem all that interested. She had actually spoken up for me, so perhaps she and her mother weren’t on the same page? I wouldn’t say we’d really gotten along in the past, but we hadn’t been on bad terms either…

But I couldn’t let my guard down, she must have had an angle.

Apart from them, we still hadn’t heard from Clouvian Fauger, the oldest of Hellion’s children, or Guy Omain, Frederick Omain’s second son or the wives and husbands. I couldn’t write-off the people who didn’t come today either. Perhaps they were pushed aside by Aunt Kerry or Hellion and Frederick, but that doesn't mean they aren’t also working against me.

Regardless, I should go on the offensive now, before they find something else to pick on.

”I’d like to raise my glass to you all.”

I announced with a forced smile as the people around looked at me strangely.

Silika, going along with what she was seeing, simply raised her glass. Looking somewhat amused, Cicile was the only other one to raise her glass.

”What for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Cicile asked with a calm smile generating some grumbling around the table.

Obviously she was looking forward to whatever I was about to say. I get the impression that she was perhaps the only person around the table not taking the situation seriously, but I was grateful for her candid disposition.

“For your care and support of course. After all, that is why you’re all here, to care and support my ailing father?”

A wave of discomfort ran through the room.

I pulled down my cup.

”Or did I get that wrong? Are you not, distinguished friends and family, here to support the Ashbrook household through this difficult time?”

A dead silence hung over the dining room.

There were some grumbling and weak defensive comments, but of course, we all knew why they were here.

They wanted Clotop, but admitting to it would be the same as admitting they had no more honourable than I was.

Now, at least, we were on an even field.