There were 8 guards in total at the gate. Two were standing on the sides of the gate, and appeared to be normal guards, while the other six were lined up in front of the gate, and dressed in much nicer armor. At the center of the guards there was a man in what I would describe as typical butler attire– a suit and tailcoat with white gloves and a gold-rimmed monocle.
“Lord Ivanov. Lady Tchaikovsky. Lady Lucille. Lady Sylvia,” said the butler, bowing deeply to each of us in turn. He bowed noticeably less deeply for Sylvia. “Welcome to the Lyon castle. The duke eagerly awaits you in his office.”
“Gaston,” said Sylvia. “How is my father?”
“He was doing well when I left him,” said Gaston without looking at her. “I doubt that has changed in the hour since then. If you are so interested, you can ask him yourself when you greet him.”
“I-I will,” said Sylvia. “Thank you. Now please, lead us.”
“As you command,” said Gaston, bowing again. “Please, follow me.”
The butler turned around, and as he did so, the large iron gates silently swung inwards and the six central guards moved aside so that there would be room for us to walk. Once we were inside, the gates closed behind us with a loud clang that startled me somewhat after the silence of the gates’ motion.
The road to the castle was made of brick, and although it was winter, the path was warm and clear of snow. I sensed mana flowing underneath my feet in what I assumed was a large-scale heating spell. There were leafless trees with icicles hanging from the branches growing at intervals along the sides of the paths, and the ground around them was covered in a thin layer of snow.
The butler’s cold attitude towards Sylvia had answered one question that had been bothering me for a little while. I had always wondered why Sylvia, the daughter of a duke, a literal princess, was allowed to spend so much time in Bizet just to recruit Anatoly. I had originally assumed that it was because whatever they needed Anatoly for was so important that they thought it was worth it to have her out so long, but now I was beginning to think that the truth might not have been so simple.
The building itself was an impressive feat of architecture. I could see part of it from the gate, but the closer we drew to it, the larger it seemed. When we finally reached the front door, I was thoroughly impressed. Even by Earth standards, it was an impressive feat of architecture. It had one central tower towards the back of the building that I estimated was probably close to twenty stories tall, and two towers about three quarters that height on the front side. There was an arch connecting the two front towards, and another arch from that arch going back towards the larger tower.
The entire building was made of a pure white stone with blue roof tiles. There were windows all over the building, most of which were dark, and covered with curtains, but some of them had light streaming from them. In front of the front doors, there were two large golden braziers filled with flickering flames to provide light. When I saw these, I was reminded of how the guards at Baron Humphries’ manor had also used torches with open flames for light, which confused me. The streets of Bizet, and the halls of the Dungeon were all lit with magical light artifacts, so why were these nobles using flames? Were open flames a status symbol or something?
As with the gates the doors to the castle opened as soon as the butler reached them, despite no obvious signs of anyone moving them. Obviously they worked with magic of some kind, but with what I currently knew about magic, I couldn’t even begin to guess at how they worked. I hadn’t sensed any mana from the butler, which meant that either the butler was very good at hiding his mana, or the gates and doors had opened up on their own after sensing him.
It was possible that someone else had seen him coming, and had manually opened the door, but if it wasn’t, how did the gate know it was him? Obviously the door wouldn’t respond to just anyone, or the duke would have a serious security risk on his hands, but how would it check the identities of the people entering? Was it like facial recognition? Could it be fooled with illusion magic? Or did it check on a person’s unique mana signature, if something like that existed.
I didn’t know how any elemental magic could make any of that work. Maybe a little bit of light magic if it checked identities visually, but otherwise it would all need to be unattributed. Unfortunately, unattributed magic was the one type I knew the least about. It was by far the least useful type of magic in combat, so I had neglected to research it deeply, but now I was slightly regretting that fact. I hadn’t really considered the possibilities involved with it, but from how the gates functioned, it was probably relatively similar to programming, which I was already familiar with. If that were the case, I would be good at it, and I could definitely come up with some creative uses for that type of magic. I made a mental note to ask Anatoly for some books on unattributed magic.
The interior of the castle was just as impressive as the exterior. The front doors opened up to a large foyer floored with a reflective, almost crystalline stone. Two staircases wide enough to drive a car up flanked the sides of the room and met in the center twenty feet overhead. Chandeliers and candelabras featuring bright, steady flames lined the walls and ceiling, illuminating the cream colored walls decorated by paintings that reminded me of items I might find in art museums.
The butler lead us up the right staircase, through another automatic door, down a hallway, up another flight of stairs, left, right, left again and a dozen more turns down a maze of opulent corridors before finally stopping in front of an ornate wooden door with a large brass knocker shaped like a lion. Upon reaching this door, the butler motioned for us to stop, and then slowly, and with much flair, reached up to the knocker and knocked twice. The sound echoed through the hall for a moment before fading out, and a few seconds later, we heard a voice from within.
“You may enter,” it said.
At his command, the doors, like all the other ones in the castle, opened on their own to reveal the interior of the office. It was as large as Anatoly’s bookstore, and had nearly as many books. Bookshelves lined the walls, stretching from the ground, all the way to the ceiling, which was high enough that even Baladan could have comfortably stood straight up. There was a sliding ladder on either side to allow access to the higher books. In the center of the room there was a low table with couches on either side, and an armchair at the head.
Behind the armchair, the duke was slowly getting up from his seat at a large wooden desk. He was much older than I had imagined him. Sylvia didn’t look any older than me, but the duke looked at least 60, and given how magic worked, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were significantly older. In his youth, he would probably have been around 6 feet tall, but he now stood with a slight hunch, and his eye level was close to mine. He was thin, aside from a protruding gut that his suit did not do a good job of hiding. His hair had completely receded from the top of his head, leaving it shiny and bald, though he clung desperately to the rest, letting what remained of his thin, gray hair grow down to his shoulders.
“Welcome,” he said in a voice much stronger than he appeared to be. “I am Duke Louis Lyon IV. It is an honor to finally meet you, Anatoly, and Lucille.” He walked towards us somewhat unsteadily and held out his hand for a handshake.
“It is my pleasure,” said Anatoly, accepting the handshake.
“Mine as well,” I said as I did the same.
“And you,” said the duke when he stood in front of Natalya. “Come to rejoin the Lions?”
“Nope!” said Natalya cheerfully. “I’m just here to cheer on my apprentice here.” She patted my shoulder violently.
“Ah, your apprentice, eh?”He gave me a long appraising look. “I see. Well, it’s a shame, but what can I do.” He shrugged, then moved on to stand in front of Sylvia.
“Father,” she said. I could hear the tension in her voice.
“You…” he seemed to be thinking deeply about something. “You’re Constance’s brat, right? Sylphie?”
“Sylvia,” corrected his daughter quietly.
“Right. Sylvia. Well, good work. You may go.” He waved at her dismissively and moved towards the armchair.
“Yes, father,” said Sylvia, crestfallen.
Anatoly frowned deeply as he watched her walk away. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like her to remain here for the negotiations,” he said. “I’ve grown rather fond of her.”
Sylvia looked back in surprise with glistening eyes.
“Well, if you insist,” said the duke as he sat down. “You may stay if you wish.”
“Than-” Sylvia’s voice broke. “Thank you.”
We sat down on the couches in front of the duke, Natalya and I on one, and Anatoly and Sylvia on the other.
“Gaston, go fetch us some tea,” said the duke.
“Yes, my lord,” said Gaston as he bowed before exiting the room.
“So,” said Duke Lyon, looking at me. “My daughter here– Sylphia-”
“Sylvia,” I corrected.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Yes, that’s what I said,” he looked at me with an expression of annoyance. “As I was saying, Sylphia-”
“Sylvia,” I said again.
Sylvia looked at me with wide eyes while the duke regarded me coldly.
“Did your parents never teach you any manners?” he said, staring me down. “I gave you some leniency the first time, but you are in the presence of a duke. You should behave appropriately. Don’t interrupt me.”
Ding
[Pride] has nullified [Duke]’s [Intimidation] skill
I met the duke’s pointed gaze with one of my own, not backing down.
“Act out of line one more time, and there will be no more deal,” he warned. “Do you understand?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but just then, the door opened, and Gaston walked back in carrying a silver platter with a teapot and five cups. He poured us each a cup, then left the room again. All of us remained silent until he left.
I was about to speak again when I glanced over at Sylvia and saw her terrified expression, and decided to reconsider. I wouldn’t lose out on too much without the duke’s support, since I had Natalya, but from what I had seen, Sylvia would not be in a good position if I continued to antagonize the duke.
“Fine,” I said.
“That is not how you should address a duke.”
I felt rage boil up inside me, and forced it back down.
“Yes, my lord,” I said.
I felt the couch shudder, and looked over at Natalya. Her face was blank, but her cheeks were slightly redder than usual. Anatoly was still frowning, but he did not say anything.
“Good,” he said, not seeming to catch my sarcasm. “As I was saying, Sylvia,” he glared at me as he made sure to enunciate her name, “was telling me that you are a future arch mage, and an aura user on top of that. She said that you would make for an excellent candidate to be a Ravellian Lion in the future, if given the opportunity to grow. She said that we should support you, both financially and practically until you reach that level. Normally, I would need to see your skills myself, but if these two,” he gestured at the elves, “are willing to vouch for you, I will take their word for it.”
“I can confirm that she is indeed as talented as you have heard,” said Anatoly.
“I took her as my apprentice, so…” Natalya shrugged.
“That’s good enough for me,” said the duke, nodding. “So, let’s talk details. How’s 200 gold every month, free access to all the capital’s Dungeons and personal training from one of the Lions themselves once a week sound?” he looked at me with a sleazy grin. “Pretty good, eh? A lot more than you were making as a commoner adventurer.”
I glared at him coldly. “I was told that I could receive a mansion and a title, as well as personal servants, including a chef, and my own private training grounds.”
Duke Lyon’s smile fell slightly. “We can provide you lodgings if you need them, and give you access to the Lyon family’s private training grounds. And if you need them, we can connect you with competent workers to care for your needs. The title will have to wait until you actually become a Lion though. Unless you wanted to marry one of my sons.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I have a few around your age I think. You’d make a good wife for them. I hear you have some ugly scars, but you can also use illusion magic, so no one should notice.”
It took every single point of my [Willpower] to keep my anger out of my voice as I spoke. “I was promised my own mansion with servants and my own private training grounds. Not access to yours.”
The duke turned to Sylvia, who shrank away slightly in fear. “What have you been saying to this girl,” he said angrily. “Why would you fill her head with lies and false hopes!”
“B-but-” stammered Sylvia. “When-when I left you said I should be willing to offer whatever it takes to get talented people to us!”
“Within reason, you fool!” shouted the duke. “A mansion? Private training grounds? A title?? Those are privileges reserved for the normal Lions! Not some commoner brat who might be a Lion someday!”
“I’m sorry,” said Sylvia almost inaudibly as a tear rolled down her cheek.
He took a deep breath to calm himself and turned back to me. “I apologize for my daughter. It seems she has misled you somewhat. What she offered you was what we typically provide for contracted Lions. You must understand that we can’t provide that type of treatment for every single person we see who has potential. If we did that, we’d be bankrupt in a year!” He gave a short laugh. “However, what I offered you earlier is still very generous. You won’t find a better offer anywhere for someone at your level. So what do you say?”
“No.” I said.
The couch shuddered again.
“Excuse me?” said the duke.
“No,” I said slightly louder. “I will not accept that deal.”
I felt Natalya surround the room with her signature sound barrier. Duke Lyon didn’t notice this.
He frowned. “If you are still under the delusion that you are worth whatever nonsense my half-wit daughter promised you, then you are sorely mistaken. And don’t think you’re trying some clever negotiation tactic, hoping I’ll offer more after being faced with rejection. I’m not some peasant merchant. I don’t need you.”
“I’m not negotiating,” I said, my voice steely calm. “Even if you were willing to negotiate, I wouldn’t take the deal. If you offered me the position of your successor, I still wouldn’t take that deal. Not if I was to work under you.”
“You- what- why, you-!” the duke sputtered.
“I mean, why the fuck would I want to work for you?” I said, my voice rising. I heard Sylvia gasp and felt the couch shake more violently than before, but continued glaring at the duke. “Why would I want to work for some geriatric, balding son of a bitch who doesn’t even remember his own daughter’s name?! You’re a massive prick, and blind to boot. Can you not see my worth?! I have two of the most powerful people in the world vouching for my talent, and you still can’t be bothered to offer me more than your standard ‘Talented Adventurer’ package?
“Sylvia saw my worth! That’s why she offered so much! But you just assumed that she was an idiot, and dismissed her. I can’t believe that such a moronic asshole like you raised a kind and intelligent daughter like her! Oh, wait! You didn’t raise her! You just fucked off, doing whatever you wanted, neglecting her and forcing her to fend for herself.”
At that, Natalya finally let her laughter be audible.
“SHUT UP!” roared the duke. He turned to Sylvia. “What the hell were you thinking, bringing someone like her here?!” He pointed at me. “What part of that made you think that she would make a good Lion?!”
“I just- I-” Tears flowed freely down her face now.
“You half-wit!” he roared. “This is your fault! You filled this peasant’s head with delusional fancy! You’re the one-”
“Hey!” I said, using sound magic to amplify my voice. Perhaps, I used a little too much, as both he and Sylvia winced and covered their ears. “Stop taking your anger out on her! You’re the idiot here, not her! She was just trying to do be helpful to the family, but you spat in her face! And mine!”
At that, I had an idea. I jumped to my feet, gathered all the saliva in my mouth and spat it at the elderly man. He tried to dodge out of the way, but I used water magic to guide the spitball straight into his face in between his face.
“You- YOU-” he wiped his face off. “Guards!! Arrest this woman!!”
I stood over him smugly for a few moments and watched his expression turn from anger to confusion while Natalya’s laughter grew behind me.
“Guards!! Get in here!!”
“They can’t hear you, right now,” I said, smiling.
His expression turned to fear. “You- you’re committing assault on a royal person right now! I’ll have you executed!”
“I’m not committing assault,” I said.
“Slander, then!”
“I never slandered you. Everything I said was true.”
“You- you-” he stammered.
“Me- me-” I mocked. “What about me?”
“I- you-”
“Fine, I’ll admit, spitting on your face was taking it a bit too far. Here, I’ll clean it off.”
I conjured a sphere of water and drenched him with it. Natalya was positively howling with laughter now, and even Anatoly was allowing himself a little smirk. Now that it was wet, the bald top of his head shone even more, and the rest clung to the sides of his head, making his head look much smaller than before. He had still had his mouth open in anger when the water hit, so he was now coughing violently.
“Oh, sorry, I missed a spot. Let me get that for you.”
I conjured another sphere of water, and this time used a little bit of ice magic to chill it before flinging it.
“No- Wait!” shouted the duke.
The ice cold water hit his face, causing another fit of coughing, this time combined with shivering. Natalya was doubled over, pounding the table with her fist, and Anatoly was chuckling. Even Sylvia had stopped crying, though she looked more horrified than amused.
“We’re done here,” I said, turning towards the elves, “Can you make us a portal out?”
Natalya was still laughing to hard to answer, but she did nod, and held up a finger, indicating that I would need to wait a moment.
“I could, but it would break the defensive enchantments on this castle,” said Anatoly, “and Nat would never forgive me if I took away her chance to do that.” He stood up and turned towards the duke.
“I was initially willing to accept the Lyons’ offer because I had formed a friendly relationship with your daughter here, and wished to do her a favor, but it seems that whether I do this task for you or not, it won’t help her, so I will have to decline.” He bowed apologetically.
Natalya, having finally calmed down spoke for the first time since we had entered the room.
“Gods, that was the best thing I’ve seen in centuries.” She held out her hand and started forming the portal. As soon as the black dot appeared, bells started ringing throughout the castle in a pattern that I assumed was meant to be an alarm.
“Hey Lucy, wanna-” Giggles cut off the rest of her sentence. “Wanna go visit the king next?” She started laughing again.
“Not if he’s anything like this fuckhead,” I said, gesturing towards the duke. This earned another laugh from my master.
“Sylvia, would you like to join us?" asked Anatoly. "I think it might be best to give your father a chance to cool off.” He glanced at the shivering figure in the armchair. “Well, more than he already has,” he added with a smirk.
Sylvia looked at her father, who, even covered in frigid water, was turning red with rage. “O-ok,” she said meekly.
By the time she said this, the portal had stabilized, and we could hear pounding on the door. Anatoly gently placed his hand on her shoulder and led her into the portal, and they both vanished into the pitch black doorway.
“You- you’ll never get away with this!” shouted the duke, teeth chattering.
“Fuck you,” I said, and I too stepped into the portal.