Silence reigned between three men. Two pairs of eyes stared vehemently at Rohan, waiting for an answer. The young man sighed lightly. ‘I sigh way too much over these two days,’ Rohan thought.

“What I’m about to tell you is going to sound crazy,” Rohan said. “So try not to freak out.”

“Enough foreplay and get on with it,” Dunmer said. His rage was slowly building up as the death of Simon was not easy to take.

‘Foreplay? Seriously, dad?’ Rohan thought, keeping it to himself rather than saying it out loud. Some things were better off inside rather than out.

“A goblin killed him,” Rohan said. As his hands slowly unbuckled the belt that carried Simon’s sword. He brought it forward and placed it on top of the round table. “He fought valiantly. But an arrow found its way.”

“Who is this Goblin? Is he one of those Brownbeard Bandits? Or is he a Shadow? Do you know of him, Alfred?” Dunmer said, turning his attention to his right-hand man, the counselor as well as the steward of Brightford.

“Forgive me, my lord, but no, I do not know,” Alfred replied. Yet his mind lingered at that particular word as not a name, but rather a noun.

“So did this Goblin flee? Do you still remember how he looks like?” Dunmer asked. As he never thought of a different possibility.

“I killed it,” Rohan answer. His reply left the room as silent as a grave.

It took Dunmer a while to snap out of it. “What did you just say?” he asked just to make sure.

“Like I said, I killed it,” Rohan replied.

Dunmer looked at his second son with sentiment in his eyes. Who would have thought that someone with no talent with the sword dared not only fight but also kill? It seemed his first impression of his son was wrong and he was glad about it. He moved closer to Rohan as the six feet three giant towered over his son. Dunmer placed his big hands over Rohan’s shoulders and looked at him straight in the eye. “I’m proud of you, son,” Dunmer said.

“Um, my lord,” Alfred had an itch on his mind and he was desperate to get an answer.

“What is it, Alfred? Can’t you see I’m having a moment with my son here?” Dunmer grunted back.

“I apologize, but I have to know this,” Alfred said. “What do you mean by it, young lord? Shouldn’t it be a he or a she?”

Rohan grinned. “Quick like always,” Rohan said. “And true to what you ask, the goblin is an it, not a he nor a she.”

“Meaning?” Alfred said.

“A goblin is not human. It’s a monster . . .” Rohan said as he explained further how it looked, how it behaved, and how it fought. He described the creature as if he was a walking textbook about goblins.

Dunmer frowned. He was the odd one out of the three as nothing made sense to him. “What kind of nonsense is this?” he asked, eyes glancing between Rohan and Alfred. “Is this your idea of a joke, boy?” A strong gaze fell upon Rohan as the proud father was no longer there.

“It’s the truth,” Rohan curtly replied. Gazing straight at his father’s grey eyes.

“There’s no such thing as monsters,” Dunmer said. His gruff voice resonated through the whole room. As his thought regarding all of this began to change. “I don’t know how you roped Alfred and that brick-faced Simon into this, but jesting has its limit, Ro—”

Before Dunmer could finish his word, out of thin air a set of armor emerged. The silver steel metal dropped and clang on the ground as both Alfred and Dunmer froze like statues. It took them a while before one of them reacted.

“What kind of sorcery is this?” Dunmer asked, glancing between his son and the armor.

“You know magic, young lord?” Alfred asked, curious.

“Preposterous!” Dunmer intervened before Rohan could answer. “The boy had never been to the Misty Peaks much less leave the land of Elad. There’s no way he could learn the art of frauds.”

Denial was all that Rohan could see in his father. It made sense though, considering the bad rep those alchemists had throughout the years after their geniuses fell one after another.

“But my lord, Rohan here definitely show us his magical spell. What else he could—”

“Silence!”Dunmer cut Alfred off. “There are no such things as spells or magic. Those things are children’s tale and bedtime stories and nothing more . . .”

Their verbal argument went on between the lord and his aid. Leaving Rohan alone by himself.

‘They’re ignoring me, isn’t it? This is one of those things I hate being this young. Most of these adults treat me like I’m a kid,’ Rohan thought. But they weren’t wrong. Considering his age, he was still wet behind his ears, one might say.

‘Man, I’m getting annoyed by this,’ with that lax thought, Rohan took the offensive. He burst with his legs pumping with energy. The lunge was abrupt as it was fast, and by the time he was an inch away from his father, he delivered his fist.

His old man, true to his standing as the Lord of Prynne did not disappoint. In that split second, he reacted and raised his guard. The punch was blocked. But the one who lead Brightfort was pushed a few steps back much to his surprise.

Rather than fuming in anger, he stared at Rohan with cold calculating eyes. “Have you been hiding your strength?” Dunmer asked.

“No, I’m not,” Rohan answered.

The valid question from Dunmer was well within his right. He was a man known to boast his strength on the battlefield, wielding his halberd fighting at the front line with his men. The past record in the Battle of Eve once said he had taken on a hundred men all by his own and still lived to see another day.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Enough joking, Rohan. I’m being serious here,” Dunmer said.

Rohan sighed. “And I am too . . . Look at the armor, father. Do you recognize who it belongs to?” he asked.

Dunmer had fought with Simon side by side for a long time and Simon’s armor would never be something strange to him. He noticed the cuts and marks on the old armor and found the one he recognized the most. It was close to the sternum of the armor, a shallow dent marked by his halberd. In the past, their sparring went a little bit too fiery on that day.

“It’s Simon’s,” Dunmer said. His face fell in somberness as reality hit him hard. His friend was really dead.

“It is . . . And what I’m about to tell you is nothing like you’ve ever heard. So open your minds and listen closely . . .” Rohan narrated of how it started. From the earthquake to fighting against the goblin variant. To his surprise, his father had kept his lips tight throughout the story as he let the story flow without interruption.

Silence reigned. Alfred kept his tongue, waiting for his lord to say his words first. Yet Dunmer stared at his son, pondering.

“Quite a tale you have spun,” Dunmer said. “No doubt in my mind those who hear this will call you crazy. Nonetheless, I need more proof than bringing things out of nowhere.”

“Even with this,” Rohan said. Sword, mace, and buckler appeared out of nowhere and dropped on the floor. He noticed the twitch in his father’s left eye and yet his old man wasn’t budging from this showcase of his.

“You’ve said there are classes that can be chosen, I’m assuming yours is a mage considering this parlor magic trick of yours?” Dunmer asked. And much to Rohan's surprise, the Lord of Brightfort paid attention to his story, even to the detail part like different classes.

“Something like that,” Rohan said as he still did not divulge his Slavemancer class even to his father. One thing for sure about his father, that man utterly disliked the word slave over anything else.

Dunmer narrowed his eyes. “Then care to show something worthy of a mage?” Dunmer asked. Needing more proof to move that stubborn mindset of his.

“Rather than that, I’ll show you something else,” Rohan said, moving closer to his father. “How about an arm-wrestling, father?” the young man smirked. Sliding his feet across the floor as he found himself a seat at the round table. He readied himself in a stance for arm-wrestling as his eyes stared at Dunmer. “So what will it be? You dare take a challenge . . . Father?”

Dunmer frowned. His son was on the high horse right now, and it really ticked him off. A man with his pride as the strongest man in Elad couldn’t back down over a challenge. “You grew arrogant, boy,” Dunmer sat across Rohan, resting his huge arm on the table. “Let me teach you what humility is.” The father’s arm was almost thrice as big than Rohan's arm and whoever was watching this fight would definitely know who would be the winner.

“Mediate, Alfred,” Dunmer said and the right-hand man quickly moved closer to the table.

Both father and son clasped their hand together as the father showed off his dominating strength in his grip. The large hand squeezed over Rohan’s hand, and the young man just smiled. It was a preemptive assault from his father and Rohan just chuckled at how childish it was.

“You know well I don’t show any mercy, so for your last chance, will you yield?” Dunmer said, showing a crack for his son to slip away.

But Rohan only grinned. “You fancy a new job father? For a while now, you’ve been prattling like a bard,” Rohan said.

Dunmer’s eyes changed to a fierce glint. His grip got stronger as he grew impatient. “Get on with it, Alfred,” said Dunmer.

Alfred sighed silently in his heart, not expecting a feud between this father and son. Nonetheless, he did what need to be done. “Fight!” Alfred said, and by the sound of his voice, the fight began.

The table cracked in the middle as it collapsed in ruins. In a split second, the fight had ended. Alfred and Dunmer were left in a daze once more as they tried to register what happened.

“I win,” Rohan said, smirking. His eyes glanced at the empty air as he admired his numbers.

[Rohan Prynne][Lv.5]

[Race: Human]

[Class: Slavemancer]

[HP: 56/56]

[EP: 13/14]

[MP: 20/20]

[Strength: 18]

[Endurance: 8]

[Defense: 4]

[Dexterity: 5]

[Arcane: 10]

[Willpower: 4]

[Perception: 5]

[Charisma: 17]

[Points available: 5]

‘A bit of an overkill putting ten points to strength, but I guess it’s kinda worth it,’ Rohan thought.

“But how?” Dunmer stared at his trembling right hand as he lost against his own child in a pure contest of strength. “With that frail-looking body of yours how could you win?” Dunmer asked.

“Like I said, it’s because of the dungeon,” Rohan said. He further explained the importance of the attributes and how they affected a person.

“That’s preposterous,” Dunmer said. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it as the new logic didn’t apply to the normal that he was accustomed to.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not, father, but we need to find those dungeons and secure it with our forces,” Rohan said.

“The young lord is right,” Alfred said, backing up the second son. “From what I saw and from what I heard, we have a big trouble coming our way.”

“What is it?” Dunmer asked.

“No offense, young lord, but if Rohan here could be this strong, defeating milord after a single visit to the dungeon. I can’t imagine what would happen if more people come out of those dungeons,” Alfred said.

Dunmer knew the meaning behind those words as his face grew grave. “Alfred, send out our scouts and every man that we could muster. We cannot let these dungeons fall on the wrong hands,” Dunmer commanded.

“I oblige, milord,” Alfred replied.

“May I suggest something?” his words drew the interest of both leading men of Brightfort. “On horses would be too slow, I advise putting eyes on the sky.”

For the first time, Alfred frowned along with Dunmer. “That’s ill-advise, young lord, we cannot let such crucial discovery be known to the other noble houses especially to those Highlanders,” Alfred said.

“Alfred is right, we can’t let these people know the existence of these dungeons,” Dunmer chimed in.

“I’m afraid that would be impossible,” Rohan said. And again, his words drew interest from the two older men before him. Their eyes waited for Rohan to answer. “If my knowledge doesn’t betray me, then these dungeons aren’t only appearing in our land, but also throughout the whole world.”

Alfred swallowed a mouthful as he knew the implication behind Rohan’s words. While the skeptical father was slowly believing in this logic, his imagination was running wild as the worst possible situations kept flooding his mind.

“Even so, we can’t let Highlanders know the whereabouts of our dungeons,” Dunmer said. “The detriment far outweighs the benefit we will gain.”

Rohan smiled. As he restrained himself from chuckling. It was funny how this father of his who didn’t approve of his story was now openly proclaiming these dungeons as his.

“It will be fine . . . Since it won’t be a Highlander we will be employing,” Rohan said.

“Again, you’re speaking nonsense, son,” Dunmer said. “Only the Highlanders know how to fly and tame dragons.”

“True,” Rohan nodded. “But I do know someone who has a dragon of his own and isn’t a Highlander.”

Alfred narrowed his eyes as if he knew what name Rohan would mention. “He’s a thief,” Alfred said.

“Well he is, and he’s also a Scale,” Rohan continued.

“Bastard child of a Highlander, Mcvey Scale,” Dunmer uttered. He heard of that name. “But that shouldn’t possible. Only a Highlander knows the precise method of taming a dragon as the bastard sons and daughters wouldn’t have a chance in learning the art.”

“Perhaps . . . but you will never the know the length of a parent would do for their own child, don’t you think, father?” Rohan said, staring at his father in the eye.

Silence enveloped the room for a while before Dunmer gave his answer. “Do you trust this, Scale?” Dunmer asked.

“No,” Rohan shook his head. “But I do trust in his blind loyalty to coins.”

“Fine,” Dunmer said.

“But milord, the Scale he’s a—”

“I trust my, son, Alfred, and I implore you to do the same,” Dunmer said. “But I do wonder how a book-loving maniac like you be associated with someone with a reputation like that.”

The questioning gaze fell upon Rohan. But now wasn’t the time.

“Let’s talk about that at a later time. We’ve got a bigger problem to deal with,” Rohan said.

“Fine . . . Get that Scale in our payroll, and find those dungeons,” Dunmer grunted.

“Gladly,” Rohan bowed slightly and took his leave. The door to the cabinet room closed, leaving Dunmer and Alfred alone.

“You sure about this, milord?” Alfred was still worried about the likes of Mcvey Scale.

“Do we have a choice?” Dunmer asked. “If what Rohan said is true, then an upheaval is coming to Valeria, and we better be ready for it.”