Chapter 109 — In which families are complicated (7)
After the Sangria and Iben left the building, disappearing from Vern’s detection spells range, he turned to the people remaining in the room.
Crimo put his head in his hands, seemingly overwhelmed by everything that happened and he just learned.
Scarlen was staring at the wall, his eyes shaking.
Vern emphasized with their reaction.
Within just a day so many things had happened, that even he, who went through all sorts of trails and even experienced his own violent death, felt at loss.
His own coming-of-age ceremony.
Clones of Flavun’s envoy causing ruckus in the mansion.
Priest from Purplus’ envoy preforming unknown ritual.
Assassination attempt on Crimo.
Brief, second-long, meeting with his siblings.
Death of the Yellow Throne’s ruler, Sulfious just after his coming-of-age ceremony ended.
Crimo being a vampire.
Discovery of the survivor of Black Forest Massacre and the was-to-be assassin of the Saint, Iben.
‘… Even that cat…’
Vern had a pounding headache just thinking about all of it.
But there was still things to take care of.
“I’ll take it from here. You rest.”
“What…?”
Crimo raised his head and looked at him with confusion.
“No, Vern, it’s your birthday. Leave the work and go-”
“Crimo.”
Vern cut him off, his voice touching a lower note, which he only used when his siblings were spouting nonsense.
“You almost died. And the situation from now on is going to grow tenser than ever. You need to gather your strength NOW.”
Then he smirked.
“Besides. The only thing left is kicking out some rude guests and I won’t say no to it.”
It was his ‘something will burn down’ smirk.
Crimo observed that smile and meekly nodded.
*-*-*
Saffra sent away all servants and attendants, including her ladies-in-waiting and Citrie, through the teleportation circle and waited for Mimosa with just two of Mimosa’s most trustworthy aids.
As she was waiting, a quiet, distant cry brushed her ears.
Though she never heard that before, she instinctively understood its meaning.
‘Sulfious pass away.’
That information didn’t carry much emotional impact for her.
It registered as a simple fact of nature, just like flowers, on the tree under her window, turning into fruits as the time passed.
Her relationship with death was a strange one.
She liked to believe that among her siblings, she had the healthiest way of dealing with it.
People, who worked with her, often thought she was easily affected by death because she cried when someone died, but that was not true.
For Saffra death was like the passing of the seasons. Leaves falling, flowers blooming, fire devouring the fuel and bodies rotting…
The reason she cried was because of the lost chances and her own incompetence.
When seeing what she could have done to prevent it, what she could do better, what she could change… Was it not natural for a wrongly wield sword to break?
So she cried for her flowers, especially that special one, when they died.
‘I was a bad gardener. I’m so sorry.’ that was the massage her tears carried.
But with Sulfious, she had no power to stop his demise.
Even though she suspected that his death wouldn’t be simple, she was powerless to stop it.
All she could do was to do her best to respect his wishes after death.
But there was element of death that always saddened her.
She had the healthiest way of dealing with death.
Her siblings did not.
Ver was destructive.
He would rather destroy himself than face death of his loved ones.
But when his love turned into ash in his own arms that destructive fury against fate and death engulfed his surrounding and devoured everyone, who failed to protect themselves from it.
At the time she was glad that Ver found a mystery he couldn’t solve and that gradually absorbed all his attention, until his rage was but a candle flame… dangerously placed close to gunpowder.
‘It’s better to find an excuse to sent Citrie to his side. Ver won’t let anything happen to him and Citrie will probably divert his attention from trying anything stupid…’
Until now, Ver probably was too preoccupied worrying about his younger siblings to think of anything else, but now that he confirmed their safety, it couldn’t be known what he would do when he catches a whiff of traitors and that bastard’s legacy.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Saffra couldn’t help but worry about her sometimes crazy brother.
She didn’t have to worry about her almost always crazy brother.
Am way of dealing with death was illogical and chaotic.
Usually he didn’t seem to care at all.
‘Death will once claim as all.’
He would say with a soft smile, as if he was delivering good news.
But he would also do everything in his power to stop it.
If a person dying from incurable disease was to ask him for help, he would spend day and night searching for a way to chase death away.
Saffra sometimes thought it was some kind of challenge for him.
But then, sometimes, someone would die.
And Am would be devastated.
I didn’t always happen. There was no trait shared by any of those who died. No time. No situation.
It felt random and sudden.
Like an unexpected rain on otherwise sunny day.
‘Still, that dragon was the worst case.’
Am didn’t recover from it for a long time, if ever.
At least he wasn’t drinking… probably.
But if the fate didn’t play tricks on them, if not only the three of them returned, but those dear ones they lost also appeared in front of them like miracles…
That dragon would be among them, no matter how improbable it sounded.
With calmer heart, Saffra prepared for what was to come.
As she expected, Mimosa soon appeared.
Her face shadowed by the rim of a hat she wore even in-doors.
‘As expected… Archmage informed her.’
Saffra said nothing.
Just tightly grabbed Mimosa’s arm and stayed close, as the light from the teleportation circle wrapped around them.
*-*-*
“Ah, little lord Vern. It’s a pleasure to see you again. You disappeared so quickly after the ceremony.”
“We were so wonderstruck by your performance, we missed a chance to offer our congratulations.”
“Young lord Vern, are you perhaps interested in attending the next magical conference in our guild?”
“I wonder what you think about the last hydrology study on the…”
“Little master Vern, do you have any plans in participating in the magic exchanges in the future. If so, may I recommend you…”
The moment he entered, the invited to the ceremony guild masters flocked to him like chickens and began to throw strange titles at him and acting as if they were friends and not strangers, who were meeting for the first time.
Vern just responded with a small smile.
That expression from someone who didn’t know him well would look shy, and a bit flustered, but from those who knew him, it was a smile a golden eagle, ready to strike.
Guild masters didn’t know any of it and just continued their attempts to draw Vern’s attention.
In their minds Vern was just eighteen years old, who never experienced wide world under the wings of his overprotective brother.
It seemed that brother was so overprotective he even spread false rumors that Vern was sick, just to keep him away from people.
Wouldn’t such a child naturally want to break out of his cage, no matter how cozy it was?
It would be easy to drive rift between brothers if Crimo continued his overprotective behavior.
It would be also easy to deceive Vern with promise of freedom and put a hand on the card against Crimo, they so desperately needed right now.
So they worked hard to paint Vern’s face gold, and he easily responded to them.
Thankfully, even if he stayed mostly silent, he was just taken for a kid, who didn’t develop his social skills yet.
That let Vern simply observe them.
‘… Grandmaster Pomegra doesn’t seem so eager to participate in this conversation, huh?’
He eavesdropped on Pomegra’s warning to Scarlen a few weeks ago, and he heard from Scarlen that she seemed to know about the assassination’s plan details.
Now, she just stood at the side, lost in thoughts it seemed.
Vern withdrew his gaze from the elderly woman and focused on the braising chickens before him.
*-*-*
After Vern left, Crimo was lost in thought.
He double-checked the defense circles again.
He checked on his baby sister, Hibis’ well-being.
He analyzed again what happened in the last few hours.
He thought about what he knew about vampires.
And he worried about the future.
Suddenly he frowned and looked up.
Scarlen was standing over him, his eyes meeting his.
Crimo’s frown deepened.
“What’s it?”
“My Lord… May I see your arm?”
Scarlen asked very softly, but that somehow made Crimo feel even worse.
He thought of dismissing him, giving him some work to distract him, but… It seemed that Scarlen would disregard that order and just stood here, at his feet, waiting for a permission.
Finally, Crimo gave up and give Scarlen the arm he thought was in a better condition.
Scarlen put on gloves at some point (adding to Crimo’s growing annoyance) and very carefully lifted Crimo’s sleeve, making sure not to touch his skin as much as possible (which Crimo found even more frustrating).
By Crimo’s standards that arm was better.
Just a bit red and swollen.
There were no blisters, nor his skin was coming off.
But Scarlen’s lip trembled when he looked at it and his eyes fogged up.
After a few seconds, Scarlen finally let go of Crimo’s arm and stepped back.
Thud!
And promptly threw himself at his feet, his head hitting the floor making a loud sound.
Crimo stared at kneeling Scarlen for a second and then asked with a cold like a night breeze voice:
“What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry my Lord. I’ve failed you.”
“How?”
“I should have protected you.”
“…”
“I shouldn’t have let you get hurt like this.”
“…”
“I shouldn’t have let you ever face such a danger…”
Scarlen’s voice was slowly breaking into incoherent mumbling.
“Scarlen.”
Crimo called out to him, but the man didn’t raise his head.
Crimo tried a few times, but it didn’t work.
Frustrated, Crimo considered calling Scarlen by his real name, but thinking about how much Scarlen hated that name, he gave up.
Instead, he reached out and grabbed Scarlen by the shoulders, lifting him up.
Because the man seemed unwilling to stand up or to raise his head, Crimo just put his head on his thighs.
Scarlen abruptly stopped mumbling and went stiff like a log.
After Crimo put a hand on Scarlen’s head to prevent him from running away, both of them went silent for a long moment.
“Scarlen.” Crimo broke the silence, while his fingers started to play with Scarlen’s hair. “None of it was your fault. All of us misjudged the danger.”
As if Scarlen could no longer hold his breath, and he also couldn’t breathe with his nose buried in Crimo’s cloths, he turned his head slightly, finally allowing Crimo to get a glimpse of his face.
His black eyes were a bit red and sunken.
He didn’t seem to have any intention to speak, so Crimo continued with a wispy voice, while thoughtfully twirling a strand of red hair with his forefinger.
“We were convinced that they would aim at Vern and centralized our powers there. In fact, it was you who insisted that I should have more protection, and it was me who stubbornly refused.”
A lock of red hair tightly tied around his finger, so tightly it cut off the blood flow.
Crimo observed the gradually growing white tip of a finger.
“I dismissed yours concerns. I also disagreed when Vern said I shouldn’t be close to the ceremony hall. I only allowed Master Sangria to be around, because I thought HE would be safer with me, than left in the mansion, anxious about everyone’s safety.”
Scarlen shifted his head slightly and Crimo’s finger was released from the grip of hair.
He returned to slowly combing through them.
“It’s not just that. I never considered why I feel sick in strong sunlight, why I feel like vomiting after eating anything solid, why I’m constantly sleepy and showing signs of starvation, even though I should have proper calorie intake… I never looked for the answer. I didn’t want to. Because of that I left a weakness for others to explore and didn’t have any idea about it…. Scarlen. Today’s matter was the consequence of my prolonged negligence of myself. You have no fault in it. In fact, I probably wouldn’t be here today if not for you. For your fussing over me, for handling matters outside for me, so I wouldn’t have to go out, for making sure I sleep enough, for those damn blood transfusions you did every time I fainted…”
Crimo chuckled, now realizing it was probably why he didn’t starve yet.
“… So don’t blame yourself for something that is not your fault. You did everything you could.”
Scarlen didn’t answer.
He just laid like that, quietly listening. Neither disagreeing nor agreeing.
Crimo talked some more.
The topics gradually became random, Crimo talking about whatever came to his mind.
About an hour later…
“Scarlen.”
There was no answer of course, but Crimo gave up on hearing one for a long time ago.
“… Is Master Iben your granduncle? Are you going to call him gruncle?”
“…. …. … He is just my distant uncle.”
“Oh.”
Crimo was happy about finally receiving an answer, but he was also a bit disappointed.
“That’s a pity. I hoped to see you introduce someone looking almost as young as you as your granduncle.”
Scarlen didn’t reply.
Perhaps he didn’t find this as funny as Crimo.
Instead, he quietly asked.
“… My Lord, will you allow me to put ointment on you?”
Crimo thoughts paused for a second, and then he carefully chose his words.
“Yes, under one condition. Just call me Crimo during that.”
“… I’ll make sure to keep quiet during the procedure.”
“No. You will have to tell me exactly which part you’re going to touch, so I don’t teleport away.”
Scarlen’s face hardened a little, but some kind of resolution flickered in his eyes.
Crimo finally smiled a little.
*~*~*
Author's note: Hello, precious reader! Hope you're doing well. Sorry for this sudden hiatus. My body decided to proclaim its solidarity to all people striking during the Christmas season and I had to take some time to recover. As a thank-you gift for your patience and continuous readership here is drawing of Crimo and Scarlen from the last scene.
image [https://64.media.tumblr.com/17845cf459fae779a4b116ea70d2abef/065e28f03a20df0f-26/s1280x1920/fbf98ce976ba49c8feebe698313e25ffbfa13644.pnj]
[ID: A white skinned man with silver hair, red eyes with streaks of silver, and red robe with silver engravings sits in a chair, with one hand on the head of brown skinned, red haired man with black eyes and black robe with red engravings, who has his head on silver-haired's (Crimo's) knees. Scarlen (red-haired) has decorations and earrings in color of Crimo's eyes and hair. Crimo has decoration in the color of Scarlen's preferred mana color (color of the engravings on the robe) and silk belt in the color of his eyes. End of ID]