June 15th, year 024 Angels Descent
It had been a few days since the class had visited Kline’s parents. Over the couple of days since, Kline had been in a rather foul mood. Primarily because after his father left for work, his mother actually followed through with her threat and showed the class an entire room coated in baby portraits of him.
The teasing had been a lot, and he had generally refused to leave his room for much outside of meals. Despite the class all promising not to tease him anymore.
Despite this, they were currently in the process of preparing for their visit with Maxwell’s family. Lord Silvers, Maxwell’s father, himself had requested the entire class attend the meeting so he could assess them. This had caused both Maxwell and Kline to show deep looks of connor on their faces. Theirs was the only friendship Silvers had ever approved of.
Regardless with the order given, they had all gone about preparing for a meeting with a Sinful lord. Putting on their finest clothing, while the girls focused on putting on makeup and their most elegant dressed. They had been told this would not be a friendly chat but an official meeting with the head of state for the Pride Region.
It seemed even for his son Silvers would treat it entirely as a business meeting, allowing nothing personal. Rosy and Jack had been one hundred percent behind in helping them prepare. So the boys waited around the dining table in well-tailored suits for the girls to arrive.
It took a considerable while for them to finally hear footsteps begin to descend the stairs. Looking to the source, the class saw Rosy, and Jack descend, looking haggard but otherwise proud of their efforts. Not far behind the pair were Daisy, Bea and Tasha, all walking with the elegance that spoke to their stations in society.
Each wore gowns that would’ve bankrupted a lesser merchant, with countless ornate gems sewn into the clothes themselves. They had added a level of makeup that accentuated what noble society valued, which was pale skin that showed no markings of sunlight and rosy cheeks.
Looking at the girls, Bea in particular, Gunter couldn’t help but show a dopey grin. He was already smitten, but with her current appearance, Gunter could not hear anything but his heart beating in his ears. Maxwell himself felt a little quickening of his pulse at the sight of Tasha, who, for once, didn’t look like she had just woken up.
“So… how do we look?” Daisy asked.
The boys were unsure of how to respond to the question. As with many males of all species, when prompted with the question ‘How do I look?’ they had learnt not to just say fine. Their teacher, however, stepped forwards; despite being an orphan, he was raised around many women of terrifying power, and part of his survival was learning a cosmic truth.
While saying, ‘You look beautiful without makeup’ may be the truth, it is rarely an acceptable answer in such situations. He knew that makeup was a skill that took time and effort to learn, and saying the above phrase was the equivalent of saying to an artist that the canvas looked beautiful without that paint on it. So pulling on ample experience, he spoke words that would etch themselves into the boys' brains.
“Your skills with makeup have only served to further enhance your natural beauty.”
Despite the makeup, it was obvious the three girls were blushing at the compliment. The three boys, however, made sure never to forget such wise words. Words that would serve them well far into the future and even many generations down the line.
“So I have got us a carriage,” Alex began, seemingly not noticing his words' effect on the class.
“A carriage chief? Aren’t we walking? It’s not that far.”
“No, Gunter, we are arriving as High Nobles at the behest of his Lordship Lord Pride. It would be rude for us to arrive on foot despite its the practical option. The girls' hairdos may come undone if we walk; a carriage will ensure their efforts are not wasted.”
Climbing into the carriage, the class turned to Maxwell to press him once more about his father. Despite the fun they had, had at Kline's expense for his baby pictures, their other target had been Maxwell, who they tried to drill about his father. Only for him to deflect and avoid the subject entirely. With their only other sources either avoiding them due to the teasing or out on business, they were left to wonder what the Sinful Lord of Pride was actually like.
“Come on, Maxwell, tell us what your dad is like,” Tasha pressed.
“Father,” Maxwell corrected.
“Same difference.”
“No, Tasha… A father is the one who sires you; a dad is the one who raises you. He is my father.”
Maxwell's words spoke far more than he had intended them to. The subtext was so clear that it may as well have been a squeaky red nose on a clown's face. Maxwell clearly wasn’t fond of his father.
“Sir, what about you? What can you tell us about his father?” Bea asked.
“If I had to choose one word to describe him, it would be Icy.”
“He’s cold?”
“Yes, but more like a glacier than an ice cube; he can grind even stone to dust just by his very presence. He moves at his own pace, and you cannot stop him from moving no matter what you do.”
“What a terrifying-sounding man,” Daisy muttered.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Kline replied, shuddering.
“He personally approved who Maxwell was allowed to make friends with. Anyone who he didn’t approve of was immediately removed from his life.”
“You don’t mean…”
“No, Tasha, Maxwell's father didn’t kill them. They were just exiled from court. I was only allowed to associate with Maxwell as I was expected to serve the family when I inherited my family's position. That required me to be somewhat familiar with the Greyback family.”
“So, did you have any other friends?” Tasha asked, looking at the moping Maxwell, who was idly looking out the carriage window. His only response was a soft shake of his head.
“Before coming to the academy, I was the only one he ever associated with. Even at school, he still follows his father's orders. It’s why he stayed in sir’s lessons. Lord Greyback wanted to ensure he had lots of links and debts to call on from sir.”
“But that’s…”
“Tasha, that’s politics. I am well aware of his attempts to get me under his thumb. But I have magic words that can stop him.”
“You have a spell that can stop my father?” Maxwell asked, sitting up and looking at his teacher.
“They are difficult and may cause much hardship. But if you want to live your life how you want, you can use it.”
“What are they?” Maxwell asked, grasping his teacher in his hands.
“No.”
“You won’t tell me?”
“No, the magic word is ‘No’. Maxwell, whether the world is against you, No is always an option.”
“What if saying No will get me disowned?”
“It is still an option. It may not be one you’d like, but it is still an option. When the time comes, you will have to weigh what it is you want. Profit, loss. Is the price of making your own path something you are willing to pay?”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Easy for you to say,” Maxwell grumbled as he leaned back in his corner against the window.
“I have made many hard decisions and know I will have to continue to do so. I press forwards, though, never wondering what may have been because I am what is, and that is what should matter. Maxwell, whatever decisions you make, own them. Whether that means cutting your connection to family or staying linked despite the pain it causes.”
Maxwell, however, didn’t respond and only stared out the window at the city that was an appropriate shade of grey. A storm was clearly on the way in from the ocean and would likely make landfall while they were inside Pride’s Tower.
“We have arrived, my lords and ladies,” the carriage driver said as he opened the carriage and placed a step for the passengers to climb down.
Each thanked the driver as they stepped out, with Alex palming a few silvers into his hand as an extra tip before they left him to enter the tower's main lobby. The Lobby itself was massive; the concourse rose all the way up till just before the ninetieth floor of the tower, with each floor having balconies overlooking the centre.
Looking around, the class could appreciate that the tower itself would be hell to storm. Not only was it tall, but every floor had firing angles on the floors below it. With enough ammunition, any force trying to raid it would find its numbers decimated before they even reached the halfway point.
Moving gracefully up to the main desk Alex and the class were welcomed by Lord Pride’s personal Bak Stah’Ber butler. The man gave a deep bow to Alex and Maxwell before turning to the rest of the class only to give a light bob of his head.
“It is an honour to finally meet you, Lord Alexander. I am ashamed to say I missed you the other day.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Alex reassured the rat-faced man. “I arrived late, and it was for a private meeting. I would not wish to impose on someone like yourself.”
“Of course, you must impose on me, for that is my purpose,” the two men exchanged the noble equivalent of ‘no, you hang up’ till, eventually, Bak Stah’Ber relented.
“Oh, please follow me this way; we have the lift all charged to take you to the light dome.”
“Light dome?” Tasha repeated.
“Yes, the tower, alongside serving as a residence for the seat of Pride and a sundial for the city, also serves as a lighthouse on foggy nights. The radiance of the stored light is like bathing in the light of heaven.” He explained as he shot Tasha a look of disapproval.
“Tasha, please refrain from asking questions,” Alex hissed as the class stepped onto a raised circular platform that began rising steadily.
“Aren’t there any railings?” Gunter asked, noticing a very immediate health and safety issue with the lift.
“No, anyone foolish enough to fall to their deaths when rising up the Tower of Pride very much deserves their descent,” Bak Stah’Ber explained, looking at Gunter as disapprovingly as he had Tasha.
Arriving at the ninetieth floor, the class dismounted the platform and followed the diminutive, hunched man through various tunnels till they reached another platform built into a large pipe going upwards.
“This will take you the remainder of the way.”
“You aren’t coming?” Maxwell asked, looking at the butler with worry.
“No, young master. Your father wished to meet you and your… acquaintances in private,” he spoke the word acquaintance as if it left a foul taste in his mouth just saying it.
“Thank you, Bak Stah’Ber,” Alex said as he bobbed his head and stepped onto the platform gesturing for the class to join him.
Stepping onto the platform, the class all turned to face Bak Stah’Ber, who shot a sinister smile at all of them. To anyone who didn’t know the family of servants, they would assume he was going to kill them. However, they knew well enough to know that is just how they smiled. Though having heard about Maxwell's father, he may actually be showing an accurate expression.
The platform slowly rose up and moved past the remaining ten floors, arriving at the very top floor, right below a giant magical crystal that naturally absorbed sunlight during the day and could shine at night when triggered.
Placed directly beneath the crystal was a large horseshoe-shaped desk in the centre of which sat a man whom the colour grey would be best to describe him. Grey hair, grey eyes and grey clothes. The only thing not grey about him was the aura he radiated which, just as their teacher had warned them, was icy cold.
“Father, we are here,” Maxwell began as he approached his father's desk, only to stop when Silvers held up a finger to stop him, only to continue working through the document he was working on.
“Son, what did I say about when I was working?” Silvers asked in a disapproving tone that could cause knots to appear in a person's stomach.
“Never to disturb you,” Maxwell sheepishly replied.
“And yet you proceeded to do so? Am I wasting my money with the Academy? Are you unable to recall such a basic order?”
“Forgive me, father,” Maxwell replied, lowering his head.
“I shouldn’t need to forgive you. You need to do better. Now Alexander, let’s get this bothersome appointment over and done with. I have a considerable workload and little time to waste on such trifling matters.”
“Like your son?” Alex asked, a spark of ire entering his voice.
“What could be more inconsequential than one's own relatives? Now give me your report, and I can finish what I planned to do.”
Alex released a frustrated sigh as he reached into his pocket and took out a notebook. The class noticed this was clearly different from the one he had taken out for Kline’s meeting. Kline’s notebook was green, but Maxwell’s one was evidently blue.
“Maxwell has grown considerably since he came under my tutelage. He has mastered many specialised magical techniques, some of which I created and are under imperial seal. He has also briefly apprenticed under Insithrilax and gained his approval.” Alex stopped mid-report as Silvers held up a hand to stop him.
“I am yet to hear a tangible result my son has achieved. So far, you have been praising yourself, not him. All this about stuff you have done that he can now do. It is pathetic, son. Are you only capable of following?” Maxwell visibly tensed up under his father's gaze.
“Sir, with all due respect, you are discounting something many highly skilled fighters and mages have failed to do. Your son is in a group of only a couple handfuls of people who are able to do what he can.”
“So where is he positioned in that number?”
“Pardon?”
“In the ten or so people, where is he positioned?”
“It shouldn’t matter.”
“I argue it should. You are training someone destined to be a diplomat in combat skills. I can’t help but question why you feel the need to do so. Is your faulty humanistic teaching the reason he caused a diplomatic incident I am still cleaning up after?”
The class could barely contain their shock. Maxwell’s father had not a single time raised his voice above that of a normal speaking tone. Even the way he spoke of Maxwell's very tangible achievements felt cold and distant.
“Silvers… You put too much on Maxwell.”
“And whose fault is that? Would it maybe be the human who ruined my first son and is spoiling my second?”
“Father!” Maxwell said, stepping forwards.
“Son, you will not speak unless spoken to,” Silvers quietly said with such a monotone that it made the hairs of all present stand on end.
“Alexander, I will admit you have succeeded in making my son a skilled fighter. But we are not a warrior clan. All you have done is develop skills that serve no purpose in his chosen path. Now I have heard enough from you; I expect this report in writing before you leave my city.”
Having ultimately dismissed Alex’s attempts to raise up Maxwell’s profile, Silvers rose from his desk and approached the rest of the class. The class stood stiffly to attention as he walked in front of them, examining each.
“Maxwell, are these your friends?”
“Yes sir,” Maxwell stiffly replied.
“Not anymore. Cut off all contact with them. Even Kline, it is a shame to see he has developed a will of his own.”
“Father?”
“No protesting, son. They are unworthy of our position and unworthy of you. You will cut off all contact with them, and I will organise to have you withdraw from the academy. We can fix what this human here has done.”
“But Father!”
“I will not take any more lip from you, son. Now say goodbye to your former friends and go to your room. I’m sure Bak Stah’Ber can organise someone to collect your belongings.”
Maxwell felt the beast within him stir. His father had always controlled every single part of his life. The only freedom he ever experienced was when he went around Kline’s home. Kline’s parents were more parents to him than SIlvers was. Swallowing the bile that threatened to rise up, Maxwell walked over to his classmates only to turn around when he was standing with them. He remembered what Alex had said on the drive over to the tower.
“No.”
“What was that?”
“I said No.”
“To what?”
“To everything. I won’t cut off contact. I won’t let you withdraw me from school. I have, for the first time, made friends I can trust. I will not let you ruin that like you do everything else, father! This is the reason Mother left!!”
“You dare spea-”
“Yes, father. I am not your toy. You are the reason Celes turned out so wrong. I will not let you make me like him. I will not be your little puppy.”
“Son, I am willing to forgive your words… now stand by me…” Silvers' tone told everyone present he wasn’t playing around.
“No.”
“Do you wish me to disown you? Do you no longer wish to be a Greyback?”
“Father…” Maxwell hesitated before firming his resolve as he felt Kline and Tasha’s hands on his back.
“I do not wish to surrender my name… but if it frees me of you, I will welcome it!”
“Son…” for the first time, SIlvers’ icy demeanour cracked only to reassert itself.
“I have no need of a son who cannot obey simple orders. Begone from my sight, you disappointment.”
Turning his back to the class, Silvers approached a balcony overlooking Port Staine and ignored their presence, waiting for them to leave. The class quietly ushered out of the office, leaving only Silvers and Alex in the office.
“Sir?” Bea asked after him.
“I will be along shortly. I need to have a private word with Maxwell’s father.”
The class hesitated to leave their teacher alone when he was clearly furious with SIlvers. But felt it best to get an increasingly distraught-looking Maxwell away. Descending using the lifts, they exited the tower just as the first few drops of rain began to fall. Quickly climbing into the carriage that was still waiting after dropping them off, they waited for their teacher to return.
It didn’t take long for Alex to return with a dark mark slowly appearing on a swelling eye. He had clearly been punched in the face.
“What happened, sir?”
“I walked into a door… don’t worry…. Let’s go back to the compound. I think we could use some booze.” The class quietly nodded as they collectively focused on comforting a shell-shocked Maxwell.