Chapter 529: Lord Veres
In the Central District of Hollow Shade, the great seven lords and ladies of the city-state had gathered in the council chambers. The siege had left their city wounded with scars that would never heal, yet the only thought on their mind was about the young blue goblin standing before them.
Calantha looked him over, lingering on his lilac eyes. His complexion and eyes were the same as the two she had met at the Ebon Tower. “And you are…?” she asked inquisitively.
“This is the Ebon Prince, Lord Stryg of the Great House of Veres, first of his name, and you will address him as such,” answered Gale with a no-nonsense tone.
“Lord Veres?” Calantha mused wryly. “I take it Lady Elise will not be joining us today?”
“Elise is not the Lady of House Veres. You will not be seeing her on the Veres council seat any longer,” answered Gale.
“...I see,” Calantha nodded in understanding. “Please, take your seat, my lord.”
Stryg inclined his head and sat down on the last empty chair. Gale and Gian stood to his right and left respectively. The entire council stared at him without a word.
Lord Veres placed his elbows on the marble table and clasped his fingers together. “Where were we?”
Calantha silently searched his expression for any minute detail, anything to denote his motives, but his face was calm, eyes confident, posture relaxed. She had heard of this ‘Stryg’ before. A drow hybrid who had seized victory for Hollow Shade in the Mage Tourney at Undergrowth. There were rumors he was some sort of goblin, but the only goblin-like features Calantha saw in him were his slit pupils. He was far too tall for a goblin and instead of the long horizontal pointed ears of goblin-kin, he had long ears that drooped downwards, a trait she had never seen in anyone.
A hybrid then. But none like she had ever seen. Her spies had confirmed that rumors of his Ebon Aspirant status were true. He was a prime mage with the talents to become one of the most powerful spell-casters in the realm. Some day he would become an Ebon Lord.
Ebon Prince. That was the title Lady Gale had introduced him as. A prince denoted royalty. Was this simply some sort of sobriquet like how merchant lords stylized themselves as merchant princes? Or was this something more?
The Thorns were the last and only Royal House of Hollow Shade. They had claimed the royal title after the rest of the Ebon Lords had died out, save one, their own, Atreus Thorn, ‘The Last Ebon Lord.’
Last no longer, or at least, soon to be, Calantha thought.
Was this the Veres and Gale’s ploy to situate House Veres as the new Royal House? Was this prince their key to seizing power over their fellow Ruling Houses? He was already engaged to a daughter of House Katag. And had he not been adopted by Elzri of House Noir, an honorary title no doubt, but it still held weight.
Even worse were those eyes. Her goddess Bellum had warned her of those eyes before. This was the third person with mesmerizing lilac irises she had seen in the last two days. It was no coincidence.
When it came to gods, Calantha was certain of one thing. Wherever they meddled, it did not bode well for mortals.
She narrowed her scarlet eyes. What are you planning? Stryg ‘Veres’?
~~~
Stryg tried his best to not squirm under the gazes of everyone around the council table.
Gale and Gian had promised to teach him the ways of the Veres, but he had never expected to have so little time. An hour ago a messenger had arrived informing them of an emergency council meeting. Gale had immediately ordered some servants to dress him in the customary garb of a great lord and in the colors of House Veres, his House, he had to get used to that.
On the carriage ride over, Gian had given him a quick guide on noble etiquette. It wasn’t the first time he had heard such things, one of Elzri’s servants had tried to do the same. Stryg had never cared much for it, he still didn’t, but if he was to be Lord Veres then he would have to rise above what he was.
Such thoughts proved little help as he sat in the council chambers. Unable to meet the gazes of the others, he looked at the boy sitting across the table. “Hello. What’s your name?”
Gale winced at his straightforward words but she quickly smoothed her features.
“H-Hello. I’m Tristan,” the 10-year-old said meekly.
“He is Lord Tristan of the Great House of Helene,” said the boy’s advisor defensively.
“Lord?” Stryg muttered. Was the lord of House Helene not Lady Tamora Helene? Or at least, that was what Gale had told him on the way over. If not her, then surely it would be someone else from the family, someone— older?
The advisor noticed the confused expression on his face. “Lord Tristan’s family was murdered by the monstrous warlord Marek. He is the last surviving member of his House.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Tristan looked away, his eyes watering at the reminder of the tragedy.
“Marek…” Stryg clenched his fist, his claws scratching the marble table underneath. “Your loss does not go unfelt. I lost a brother to that man as well.”
Freya stiffened at his words and her golden eyes went wide with a strange gleam in her expression.
Tristan hesitantly looked up at Stryg and sniffed. “My mom. Dad. They—” He bit his trembling lip and tried his best to not cry.
His advisor placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
This wasn’t going well, thought Stryg. He glanced at the other council members and settled on the elegant vampiress sitting directly across from him. “Well met, High Priestess, Calandra.”
She smiled and brushed her long brown fingers over her chin. Perhaps the boy wasn’t as insightful as she thought. “It’s Calantha. Calantha Ashe.”
Shit. Stryg tried his best to not grimace in shame.
Gale clenched her eyes shut and Gian made a small smile.
It wasn’t his fault, Stryg thought to himself. There were too many names, too many relations he had to remember for a single carriage ride.
Resolving himself, Stryg smiled confidently and tried his best to smooth over the situation. “Is it? Huh.”
Calantha’s smile fell and her eye twitched in annoyance. That confident smirk. Is he saying my name isn’t worth remembering? Is this his way of demeaning me and my House? Or is he saying that even the High Priestess is just another mere mortal in front of him?
Stryg leaned back in his chair and said nothing more, waiting for her to respond. If the noble etiquette was anything like Gian had explained, then she would hopefully take the lead of the conversation, brush off his words with a laugh and a witty response… Hopefully?
But she said nothing for a long tense moment. “...Are you not going to introduce yourself to the rest of the council?” Calantha asked in a sharp tone.
“Hm? Oh, no need. I know them well enough,” Stryg said while glancing at Vayu, Freya, Loh, and Krall.
Is he trying to isolate me from the rest of the council? thought Calantha. Is it because I am the de-facto leader of the council? Or the Chosen of Bellum? Why is he throwing me in the same group as Tristan, a child!? Is that what we all are to you, helpless children?
Now that Calantha thought about it, she actually had no idea how old Stryg was. For all she knew, his youthful visage was merely hiding the mind of a thousand-year-old deity. If so, then what sort of complex mind games was he playing at? What did he want from her? No matter how she peered into his eyes, she could not read anything from his expression…
Stryg had no idea what Calantha was thinking and was simply waiting for her response while tapping his thigh underneath the table.
Loh wanted to say something, but every time she opened her mouth she was at a loss for words.
Freya broke the silence. “Stryg… Is that really you?”
He glanced at her and his expression softened, “Yeah, it’s been a while. I’m glad you made it back from Undergrowth safely.”
Freya ignored his words and pointed at the unsheathed scarlet blade hanging from his hip. “That sword, is that really… Krikolm?”
“Oh,” he glanced down and ran his fingers across the blade. “Yeah, it is,” he admitted.
She bit her lip. “Are you really Stryg?”
He frowned. “Who else do you think I am?”
“Then… Then you are a Veres. All this time, was everything some sort of trick? A goblin from nowhere. Acting like you didn’t know anything? While still somehow being this incredibly powerful mage?” Freya laughed to herself, “Of course, it all makes sense now. Only a noble could possess such talent. Are you even a Sylvan?”
“I am Sylvan,” Stryg growled.
“And then there’s Clypeus,” Freya added.
Gale tensed at her brother’s name.
Freya pushed on, “It makes sense when you think about it. The Gales protect House Veres, but beyond that every Veres child is assigned a Gale to protect them at birth. The Gale and Veres grow up together, close as siblings. I always thought it strange how Clypeus and Callum never got along, but now I see that Clypeus was never Callum’s Shield, he was yours. You said it yourself, Clypeus was your brother.”
“You know little of what you speak, Goldelm,” Gale hissed.
“Clearly. You’ve had this little plan set up for a long time, haven’t you?” Freya laughed, “I knew I couldn’t be defeated by some commoner country bumpkin.” She clapped slowly, “Well played, Veres.”
Stryg shook his head, “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like, Stryg?” Loh spoke up shakily. “I— I know I don’t have the right to ask you anything, not after everything that’s happened, but… Who are you really? What is going on?”
He leaned back in his chair and sighed, “I am Stryg, great-grandson of Lady Stryga, the Blue Rose of the Great House of Veres.”
“The Blue Rose…? The Bane of Lunis?” Krall Katag raised his eyebrow.
“I’ll explain everything later,” Stryg muttered.
“You are a Veres, yes?” asked Vayu calmly.
“I am,” Stryg nodded slowly.
“Then that is all that matters. You have a seat here, like the rest of us. So, now that introductions are over, might I remind everyone why we are here,” said Vayu pointedly.
“Yes, of course,” Calantha nodded. “Regarding the matters of the siege, our first priority should be dealing with the self-proclaimed ‘Dusk King and Queen’ and any more potential attacks.”
“As I said earlier Marek is currently in my family’s dungeon,” said Loh. “He is under heavy guard. He will not escape.”
“You have Marek?” Stryg asked, wide-eyed.
Loh nodded. “I await the council’s decision on how to proceed with his sentence.”
“Death, obviously. Preferably slow. Very slow,” said Vayu.
“Quickly or slowly, it doesn’t matter,” said Krall. “It’s only a matter of time before someone else of the Cairn Tribe takes up his mantle and rallies the valley tribes once more.”
“You’re saying we need to crush them all before that happens?” asked Freya.
“Ideally, but it’s not so simple,” replied Krall. “Ophelia Thorn is still out there. Her armies are retreating, but she’ll regroup her soldiers soon enough. If we chase after the valley tribes, we leave the city exposed to Undergrowth’s swords.”
“Ophelia won’t be a problem,” said Stryg.
The entire council turned to him questioningly.
“And why is that exactly?” asked Krall.
Stryg scratched his cheek. “I killed her.”