Cormac did not hesitate this time, nor did he question what he thought he had to do. He quickly opened the tome of Hurrig and started listing through the book quickly. A lot of it was written in a language Cormac had yet to understand and the pictures and drawings on pages were jarring. The words were not printed, rather hastily written in a weird style that was hard to decipher.
As Cormac flipped the pages, a singular piece of paper fell from the book. There were notes on it, written by hand. Cormac quickly ran his eyes over it.
"...the New order society - hunting offspring? The sacred families are not affected - reason unknown. Hurrig bloodline ended a hundred years ago with the death of Luive Heartthorn. New purpose of New Order Society - reason unkown..." followed by a string of loosely connected thoughts of someone who was clearly already losing his mind. Something told Cormac that these were the notes of the very lord that he saw getting executed. It did make sense. But if that was true, maybe he might have actually been onto something, mad or not.
Though he might have really just though of all this on his own, Cormac doubted the lord was able to read the book. He never saw the language before. Still, he placed the tome in his pack. Maybe he would find a dictionary someday.
But his quick decision has been made mainly for one reason.
Cormac recognized the book that the man from before threw at the table. He actually recognized it instantly and he couldn't wait to read it for some reason. What clues might his mother's diary hold anyway?
Aviana was waiting outside. It took Cormac too long. She was trying to push herself to enter the mansion too, but she just couldn't shake the feeling. It was oppresive. The mansion did not want her there and she could clearly feel it.
Still, she felt bad leaving Cormac alone to go anywhere. She got used to his presence on their travels. She was actually very proud of the man Cormac was becoming. Though he was more like a small brother to her, even if they were basically the same age. That was part of the reason why she was so taken aback, with what happened this morning...
Her cheeks grew a little hot at the thought and her fears all but disappeared, replaced with the embarresment of a sheltered girl. It was not that surprising all things considered. She used to see herself as composed and rational, able to think about the situation and act accordingly. But since she met Cormac, she made only impulsive decisions, some leading to bigger problems than she could have envisioned.
Really, boys were just bad luck.
As she thought over the last few days, she noticed a person running in the distance. She focused her eyes on the runner, who has been coming closer and closer.
...and she recognized his uniform.
She quickly grabbed the dagger from her belt and prepared herself. The watchman must have already spotted her and she
could not run even if she wanted to. Cormac was still inside.
Bad luck and bad timing. She thought.
Cormac held the diary in his hands, but he felt frozen yet again.
It reminded him all too well of his time in the mansion. Of the very day he lost all rights as an heir to the family. Of the
dream he had.
It took him back to the cowardly wimp he was before, of someone who gave up regularly, of someone who cursed his fate. Of someone who lived long enough to regret all of it.
But that someone, was not Cormac, not anymore.
He opened the diary.
The pages were neat and the hand writing here was very pretty. Fitting that his mother would want to present herself even in her secrets.
He flipped the pages from right to left. Reading about the most resent events that took hold in their home. Starting with the last one.
"... the boy failed his test again. What a waste, what a leech. He was surprised that I did not praise his underwhelming results that day. Not an ounce of effort, but entitled enough to hope for..." Cormac felt the rush coming so he gathered himself. He inhaled and exhaled, calming his thoughts.
He started skipping a number of pages, since most were the same. It was...unexpected, but his mother's thoughts about Cormac took most of the space on pages. Her disdain the biggest theme for the diary.
"..as I told his father, NUMEROUS times, I do not take the boy's lack of effort lightly. Leon spends no time at the home watching either of his sons, so he won't see it. He refuses to see it. But I do. If the boy stays like this, what will become of him? I will do what must be done. My unwilling husband be damned..."
Her words still pinged with the poison of her hatred for him. She always doubted anything might have done, might have tried.
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The feelings of inadequacy rushed through him again. Her remarks of his weak arms, of the lack of muscles, of the lack of effort. He skipped through a number of pages with a sigh.
"...even with his body frail, he did try to haul the table to my room. I had to explain that the servants were tasked with the work, but he failed to understand why we would not do it by ourselves. It was nice to see a boy this young prepared to help. Though he did miss his training session today. It might have been my fault, I will have to try to be more daunting in time..."
It was to the point that Cormac did not recognize the person behind the words. Praise? For something as low effort as this? She would have mocked him for helping the servants on any normal day. More daunting? The thought itself was scary.
Cormac reached the very first page. The writing was not as pretty as it was in the following pages, the flair of her style replaced by the indifferent font.
"Leo brought a child into the household today. A boy no older than two years. Cormac his name. He told me that it was his. A bastard from a concubine he met on his long travels. A child out of marriage.
It would have been a scandel. First I wanted him to give the child to an orphanage, but I was taken aback by the boy. When he looked at me, my heart cracked and I could not send him to live a life of inferiority.
I accepted him for what he was. I agreed to pass the heir status to him for the sake of legitimacy. I vouched for the boy and presented him as my spawn wherever we made an appearance. The questions about the boy's dark hair were a problem at first, but it happened sometimes, so people were persuaded easily.
Leo did not want to share the concubine's name nor background with me, but I hope that someday he will trust in me enough to tell me..."
Cormac stared at the page, he stared at it looking for a further explanation.
He quickly flipped to the next page, but a mention of the content in the first one was never mentioned again.
He was a bastard? He...it was...
He could not think clearly. A part of him was glad, hoping that his real mother might be somewhere out there, a part rejected it, knowing that his mother might have just hated him enough to come up with a reason to hate him even more.
But she did not seem to hate him at first, maybe she just...
An explosion sounded above Cormac and he watched the ceiling fall on him.
A small ball of fire flew straight at Aviana and she had to twist her whole body to dodge it.
The watchman was coming closer now, shouting angrily. He started throwing magics at her once he got close enough, while still running towards her.
She dodged from the way of another fire ball. It narrowly missing her stomach.
But he was finally getting into reach.
She jumped from her position, surprising the attacker with a step forward, her shoulder connecting with his jaw. Small sparks escaped his grasp as he audibly grunted and fell to the ground.
Aviana jumped on him, pressing the dagger on his throat.
The watchman was just a boy too, she realized. Then she felt a searing pain in her side and fell next to him. Instinctively, she moved herself a way back from the wizard. A mark of his hand was left on her flash, when the boy used his hand to sear her.
"What the fuck!" she yelled at him when he got up.
He did not respond however, opting to hold out his hand, where sparks were multiplying...
Aviana fell to the ground quickly, the stream of fire blazing over her. When she looked forward after, she was met with a knee to her face.
"Where is HE!" shouted the boy at her, kicking at her in the meantime. "Fucking tell me!"
He continued kicking, not allowing Aviana a moment of respite. He kicked her dagger from her hand when she tried to reach him with it.
Suddenly, the kicks stopped. Hurt, she looked above.
The young boy was in a headlock, held by an older man.
"Gavin stop!" the man yelled.
"..can't...found...them..." the boy responded. Gavin? That was another boy in her lounge, was he not?
"You cannot kill our targets! We deliver justice. We don't kill!"
The boy was slowly turning purple, his hands chaotically moving across the ground.
"I know you Gavin. I knew that you had something invested in this from the moment you came to me! But you have to sewer it! You can! I know you now, while we travelled. There is good in you..." the man was interrupted by the dagger to his neck.
Gavin took a breath as the man fell to the ground behind him. He looked at the man, as his eyes widened and his breath came quick, with blood. He took the dagger out and let the old man bleed out like a pig. After the man's eyes closed shut and his breath slowly dropped, he turned his attention to Aviana again.
"Where is her?" his voice a threat and an order both. She did not say, which earned her a kick to the abdomen again.
He came closer to her, slowly brushing her belly with the dagger.
"Where?"
Aviana held strong and did not say. She tried to attack suddenly, but her beaten body betrayed her, letting her do no more than squirm.
The boy stood up from her and looked around. His eyes were calm, yet full of hatred. Dangerous.
Then he stopped looking at the mansion. A disgusting smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.
"Is he there?" he asked. Aviana's scared reaction betrayed the truth. "Makes sense if you ask me. A rat hiding in the den of a different rat."
The boy dropped the dagger on the ground and turned to the mansion.
Aviana could not see him, but she felt the chill of strong wind flowing around her. Her soul screamed in danger. Gavin started murmuring something under his breath, gradually growing in volume.
She managed to turn around.
Sparks were collecting were the boy joined his hands, like before. Though now, the sparks were in incredible numbers and formed a flowing sphere.
"No!" she screamed, but it was too late.
The sphere left his arms and flew at the building with blinding speed. Then it exploded.
The last building standing blew up and stones along with wooden debris flew through the air.
Aviana watched in horror at the flaming pile of rubble before her. But it did not last long.
She felt sharp pain at the back of her head and fell unconscious.