Chapter Two: Von Paraval

It was late. The moon shone from above, crescent as it was, it still cast a paltry amount of light onto the city below. The streetlights were strong, but rarely placed. Cedric made his way through the streets during this time, tightly arresting his coat to his body while his mind was elsewhere.

He’d gone through with putting out a few contacts and feelers, getting into conversation with a few big transportation organizations and merchant groups that could move or obtain anything he asked of them. For a price of course, but that was par for the course. With those connections he could leverage his financial weight to obtain anything he so desired within the city, trusting that the men he’d charged would be capable of finding those who had what he sought.

There were concerns of being overcharged or cited incorrect values for what he wanted to purchase, which with a bit of contractual magic was done away with. His middlemen would get a fair share of the price, so long as they delivered.

He sighed and pulled out a timepiece, grumbling that it was past eight and he was still out and about. He’d taken the circuitous way through his business, stopping along various contacts to enter shops and strike deals regarding secondary objectives. This included getting accurate prices for certain goods within the area, striking up conversation with various trades and workmen to get their feel and temperament, along with stopping by the noble district to pop into the higher end shops to gauge their quality and prices.

Poor quality and high prices were what he came away with, filled with plenty of ‘novelty’, but it was good to know that his ‘competition’ within the area wouldn’t be anywhere near as fierce as he’d thought it’d be. He was sure he couldn’t see the full display of what these merchants were capable of fostering, but he doubted that they would be capable of rivaling his crafts.

Cedric took a deep breath as he came to the street that The Warrens rested, his feet ached from the three or so hours he’d been out and about. He’d taken few carriages, as Cedric didn’t exactly enjoy being ferried to every location he desired. It caused too many eyes to turn, and it prevented him from talking with the average man without being outed immediately as a member of the nobility. Some suspected, but his actions in blending in were seen as natural and well-practiced instead of the artificially adapted and well-studied foreigner he was. It made many to see him as the son of some baron within the countryside recently finding his way to the capital.

Barons held a unique social status, being seen as both a member of the commonwealth, and a member of the nobility. High Nobility often shunned or ignored the barons, seeing them as upstarts and up-jumped peasants. However, they held the important duty of being the line of communication between the common man and the higher echelons of society; their voices rang with the desires of the people and their lands, and it wasn’t often for a baron to expect to be treated by the common man as anything else than one’s boss or superior. Respect and cordiality were obvious, but supplication and subservience weren’t as desired by men and women who were often raised to the title out of some deed, service, or perceived value.

The title wasn’t often hereditary either, meaning one’s children couldn’t be expected to be spoiled brats either; needing to earn their own merits if they desired to rise to a position equal to their parents.

Cedric shook his mind of those thoughts as he arrived at the lobby of The Warrens. Immediately he noticed a man out of place sitting inside the lobby. Formal black servant’s ware, an older gentleman nursing a cup of tea. His black hair was speckled white, and the moment he caught sight of Cedric his eyes brightened. He set his cup down and walked over with haste.

“Scion Alkahest!” The man greeted with a wide smile, one that Cedric was surprised to find was genuine.

Cedric raised an eyebrow, “Can I help you, sir?”

The servant bowed his head, a hand crossing his chest. “Scion Alkahest, my liege has invited you to dine with him.” He chuckled, “It is a bit late, and dinner will have passed, but I am sure that we can find another activity; please, come. We shan't keep Lord Paraval waiting!” The man was jovial as he beckoned Cedric along.

The young scion couldn’t help a sigh leave his lips. His feet hurt, his knees were clicking, his head was hurting. Right now, all he wanted was to fill a bathtub with warm waters and fall inside. It was a long day of traveling and meetings and paperwork.

“A long day, Scion Alkahest?” The servant asked inquisitively.

Cedric nodded in agreement to the question, “Please, call me Cedric. And yes, my day has been long. Settling in, getting into the swing of business; you know how it is.”

The man nodded sympathetically, “Indeed. I’ll relay that to Lord Paraval, you must be tired from travel and the needs of the day. Perhaps you would be interested in a bath within the hot springs of the Paraval Keep?”

Cedric didn’t hide his interest and smiled, “That would be wonderful.” He nodded.

“Grand!” The man led him outside of The Warrens, gesturing to an automobile. It was matte black with a lounging plush velvet couch for a seat with a large boxy roof covered in floral golden gilding on the edges of the box. They climbed into the vehicle, a driver at the front of the boxy automobile being waved to by the servant.

Once they settled in and the mana-engine of the automotive started buzzing, did the older man introduce himself. “Pleasure to meet you, Scion Alkahest; my name is Sir Balduran Yovonov, but you can call me Baldur; Head Servant of Lord Paraval.” He pulled out a cigarette, a healthy item that caused one to relax and feel a state of tranquility and control, lit it, and offered Cedric one with a gesture.

Cedric gave a polite smile and accepted the offering, using a bit of magic to light the end of the cigarette as the servant of his grandfather did the same, but with a magic device no different than a lighter.

“Is Lord Paraval in good health?” Cedric asked. The good Lord Paraval was known to be one of the oldest figures within the Empire, up there with the emperor himself; there were a lot of men and women that were just as old, if not as ancient as the Empire; such was the way of experience and those who knew how to survive the ages. Lord Paraval was still virile as ever, with his mother being but one of a long string of children he’d produced in his time on this world. From what he knew of the man from rumors and word of mouth, having never interacted with him, was that he was different from most nobility, especially for a Lord.

His other grandfather, Lord Alkahest was a stoic and stone-cold figure; one who portrayed the image of utmost control, a man of strength and will with inhuman characteristics that made him feel unapproachable. This image was cultivated specifically as to project a message, one that acted as a shield within noble society, stating that the Lord of House Alkahest was strong as ever and without weakness.

Balduran, or Baldur as he insisted on being called, chuckled with amusement, “As spry as ever.” He shook his head while blowing smoke out of the automobile’s window. “My liege was beside himself with joy when he heard you were within his city, and very amused when he heard where exactly you’ve been poking around.” The servant chuckled.

Cedric grinned as well, “Not exactly places those of my ilk poke their noses into, yes?” He asked rhetorically.

Baldur nodded, “Yes, yes.” He agreed, “An outlier you are. A curiosity, and Lord Paraval does so love his curiosities; much like he does his grandchildren.”

An admittance of love and care was something that no Lord would willingly state, and as ‘Head Servant’ this Balduran was effectively his mouthpiece in social visits such as these. Cedric had heard how ‘loose’ and ‘unbecoming’ Lord Paraval was within social circles, his being related to the man had earned him enemies and friends alike, although those relationships only lasted if the conversation that sparked them.

It spoke of just how politically and martially powerful Lord Paraval was to hold such a level of free-expression. He was the former and now retired High General, acting right hand of the emperor himself in the martial conquest of the lands the Empire claimed today. The two powerful men’s relationship was strong to this day, and to get on the bad side of a man with connections into the most core and powerful areas within the military and empire itself was a folly of thought itself.

Cedric let a smile crawl on his face, feeling excited in meeting his relative. His close family, being his sisters and brothers were utter disappointments. His mother was cold, distant, and hardly invested in him emotionally. She was either a task master, a source of patronizing disappointment when he didn’t just get something right away or annoyed by his mere existence. His father was much the same, although with his own flavors of unemotional stoic lordship or biting demands.

Honestly, if he wasn’t a reincarnation, Cedric would have a dozen and a half mental conditions. His inspections of his own mind using magic revealed that he was lonely, had a strong desire for touch and understanding, and that he was using his intense love of magic to escape from that reality. Understanding the issue didn’t really solve it though and finding people that he could trust was…difficult.

“Will his Lordship be awake, or will I be spending the night?” Cedric asked.

The servant smiled, “His Lordship will likely be joining you within the hot springs, afterwards, it depends entirely on his Lordship’s desire and whims. If he wishes to rest, then we shall rest. If he desires to go on a late-night hunt with his grandson; who are we to argue?”

Cedric snorted, blowing out a lung of smoke, “How enthusing.” The servant chuckled in response.

“Such is life.” Baldur shrugged.

The two made idle small talk regarding the city and his opinions on it. Before long the automobile came to a halt, Cedric glancing out of the window to find they were within a driveway of paved marble; a large mansion with a great wrought iron gate stood before him.

The two exited the automobile, heading to the gate where two Knights bowed their heads in supplication, allowing them entrance into the grounds. Cedric’s eyes were drawn to the flowers and flora within the gardens, idly recognizing several dozen species and even several bugs and fungi that were valuable within the art of Alchemy.

His steps slowed, before he abruptly turned and walked to a small tree that was growing off the path. He hummed, hands stroking along its bark. He took a leaf from the tree, plucking his cigarette from his mouth to chew the leaf. He hemmed and hawed for a few moments, before spitting the leaf out. “A potent essence of drought and despair, this tree would make.” He muttered, peeling off a strip of bark and inhaling its natural scent. Then his fingers charred the bark, and he smiled at the pungent smoke. “Oh yes, this tree is a fearsome creature. How did you get an infant Nightmare Ent into your own gardens? I don’t even see any protections around this one, how do you deal with the nightmares it emits?”

Baldur was watching Cedric with interest and bemusement, only to flinch at the name of the creature he was inspecting and the following questions. “I, erm, well…” He stared at the small gray tree with odd eyes. It looked no different than the other trees along the path, but now that he stared at it for a moment longer; “I do believe I will be having words with the gardeners.” The servant’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous air of a powerful Knight surrounding him.

Cedric raised an eyebrow, smoking his cigarette as he glanced at the tree again. “I’d not cut the tree down, it's an exceptionally valuable alchemy reagent for a multitude of poisons and draughts. Rare and hard to find, as their kind are usually located deep within primeval forests, harvesting the despair of any creature that enters their grasp.” He hummed, “If only I had a property, I’d take this tree off your hands.” He mused.

Baldur raised an eyebrow as Cedric, “Would you be studying to become an Alchemist, Scion Alkahest?”

Cedric rolled his eyes, “I guess you can say that. I’m a student in many crafts, eternally learning.” To insinuate that he was an Apprentice Alchemist was laughable in his mind, and somewhat insulting in all honesty. However, that was entirely his fault as he didn’t exactly advertise he was behind the current fad brand of ‘Parallax Productions’.

“Many crafts, you say?” Baldur asked, an eyebrow raised.

Cedric nodded, “Alchemy and Enchanting -both arts of the school of Enchantment- are my main focuses. My current focus in my studies would be warding and abjuration.” He turned away from the tree and continued towards the main doors of the foray. The servant followed him in lock step.

“My, a broad range of study to be focused within.” Baldur remarked.

Cedric rolled his eyes once more, “I’ve been learning since I was three and could read, my first books weren’t exalting tales of the Empire, but were rather books of magic and mystic theory. A childhood sacrificed, in all honesty.”

Baldur frowned, “Was it worth it?” He asked.

Cedric chuckled, “Wasn’t much to be offered. Were you familiar with my mother?”

Baldur hummed, “Lady Selwyn? She was…” He grimaced, “Reclusive within the household. Ambitious, to an extent; she always had a certain drive. Cold, would be a way I’d describe her, much like the magic she practiced. The Lord loved her, as he does all his children, although he tends to spoil them…” Baldur flinched, “I don’t mean to offend…” Only to find that Cedric had a wide smile on his face.

“So, she was always a cold bitch.” Cedric chuckled.

Baldur’s eyes widened at the profanity, “You do not have a good relationship with the Lady?” He said slowly.

Cedric shook his head ruefully, “She’s my tutor, a strict one, or a dismissive one. Our interactions with one another are…minimal.” He sighed, giving a bitter smile to the servant, “When I first met her, I thought her my magic tutor. Even after finding paintings and murals with her inside them, her demeanor towards my existence had me rationalizing that she couldn’t be my mother.” He gave a derisive scoff, “She doesn’t deserve that title.” He muttered.

Baldur’s face twisted into a grave frown, “His Lordship will be disappointed.” He sighed, only to be surprised by Cedric’s hand on his shoulder.

“Think nothing of it. I’ve grown used to it.” Cedric sighed mournfully, “In a way, I do hope that Lord Paraval will find me entertaining enough to keep around. Some part of me still yearns for a family…”

Baldur’s lips cracked into a smile, “Young man, that is something His Lordship will be delighted in giving you.”

“Truly?” Cedric asked, curiosity in his tone.

Baldur nodded emphatically, “His Lordship has spawned many children throughout his years, and he has doted on them all.” He sighed, “Eventually they leave his care, and go on to do great things within the Empire; or some take up simpler paths. Your mother was one of his grandest prides; he will be disappointed to learn of her treatment of his grandson.”

Cedric’s brow furrowed, “Has his Lordship met my other siblings?” He asked.

Baldur’s brow furrowed, “I am afraid not. His Lordship has a plethora of children, and even more grandchildren who’ve had grandchildren. It is not uncommon for a grandchild or great-grandchild to never meet the Lord; especially those of a ducal house.” He gave a meaningful look to Cedric.

Cedric nodded, understanding the meaning. Despite being related to Lord Paraval, he did not bear his name. The House of Paraval was of an equal standing with the ducal house of Alkahest, with his mother, one Selwyn Alkahest nee Paraval marrying into high standing. Before she was Lady Alkahest, married to the future Lord of the Great House; she was a Scion working her way through life, tangentially supported and given care by her house. It was by her own ambitions and means that she managed to gain enough acclaim and renown to her own name, that marriage into a Great House was possible.

It was not truly a political marriage, and instead one facilitated entirely by Selwyn. Cedric was familiar enough with his mother’s mindset that she likely chose House Alkahest as a means of furthering her power as a Sorceress and politically within the Empire. House Alkahest gains a woman of strong blood, powerful magic, and capable mind; while she gains the knowledge, support, and resources of a House steeped with history of Magic. A history that House Paraval lacks.

This ‘lack’ of a political marriage meant that it was less a marriage between House Paraval and House Alkahest, and more individualistic and personal. Honestly, it’d feel right for the two pieces of ice that he called parents to have an arranged marriage. But, instead, it was two high-functioning psychopaths agreeing to get married for the sake of their personal ambitions.

With the marriage, pageantry must be upheld. He knew that the two houses were allies by blood, but that tie only went so far; it was lip service, as far as Cedric was concerned. Although, that might be neglect on the side of the Alkahest, and not the unwillingness of House Paraval.

“I see.” Cedric muttered, thinking deeper of this revelation.

He’d thought that his siblings would at least have met the Lord, being their Lordly Grandfather on their mother’s side of the family. They were significantly older than him, after all, and if they were the clout chasing hawks that he knew his brothers to be then interaction with their grandfather, a once Great General of the Imperial Army, would potentially open doors that would otherwise be closed to them.

‘Come to think of it, why did Grandfather go around my father and mother to send me to the Academy?’

Cedric was here in Paraval to the complete ignorance of his mother and father. He’d obtained a letter from his Lord Grandfather explaining that he’d signed him up to the Paraval Academy of Magic. Not exactly truly unique, considering that he traveled a ton around the country anyway. But Cedric usually kept his wandering within areas that were within his family’s territories, moving between estates and cities under his family’s domain.

Why his grandfather’s letter specifically directed him to not mention that he was headed to Paraval; Cedric was entirely clueless, but now he was beginning to have his suspicions. He was being keyed out of something, and that was annoying him greatly.

The pair of them fell into a silence, entering the grand manor, a decadent place; although it had a rustic and comforting architecture accenting its generous decorations of beast furs, mantled heads of great beasts, and tasteful pieces of art.

“The baths are this way, Scion Alkahest.” Baldur bowed, beckoning him into a rustic wooden locker room. “Your things will be taken care of by the maid staff.”

Cedric frowned, “My things will not be touched.” He said a bit harshly. His face softened, as did his tone, “My apologies, Sir Balduran. I have things on me that I would rather not be touched. I usually do my own laundry and cleaning.” He sighed deeply.

Baldur looked amused and curious, but bowed and turned to leave, but not before Cedric could stop him one more time.

“And Baldur, please, call me Cedric.” The servant smiled and ducked out of the room.

Cedric undressed, keeping his items small and compact within the changing rooms. He then headed for the hot springs attached, opening the door to find an outdoor pool deck, braziers decorating the location with satisfactory mood lighting. It surrounded a pool with a dragon’s mouth pouring water into its bulk, steam wafting up and into the starlit night.

Cedric moved into the pool, groaning as his muscles and body started to relax themselves. He closed his eyes as he waded deeper into the warm waters, soon reaching the dragon’s head, sitting on the ledge of the pool and resting his head against the stone. He drifted in and out of thought, eventually opening his eyes and calling on his magic. With playful half-lidded eyes and a relaxed expression, Cedric started to manipulate the waters in front of him.

A glob of water separated from the pool and floated at eye level, and with a flex of his hand the water froze over into a sphere of perfect ice. He twirled his finger and watched as the ball of ice turned back into a sphere of liquid, then started to change and shape itself to his desires.

He pursed his lips together and blew softly at the ball of water, the winds of his breath enchanting it and dual casting well-practiced sound-magic that he’d not learned from any old dusty tome or book; but rather outright invented.

The ball of water floated on its own, even without his input, and with a tap of his finger on the surface of the water, a deep bassy drum sounded out. He grinned and started to whistle, each bit of breath that brushed onto the ball of floating water weaving yet another concept that tied itself to the floating ball of water. He tapped his hand on the water, and like playing an invisible audio-set, he started changing the tunes, pitches, playing entirely different instruments; each tap, each strum, each pluck of the surface caused a new instrument to play.

And like clockwork he fell into an old and familiar action of audio-tuning, mashing together sounds and instruments, distorting their sounds, or adding new ones to a complex and chaotic tune that slowly turned to harmonic mastery. It was familiar work, as in his old life he was an audio engineer, working with sound was a familiar thing to him. One that he’d deigned to not taint with efforts at weaponizing something that gave him such peace, as devastating as one it might be. Instead, he’d taken his talents further in this life, music being something of a personal hobby of his own separate from his all-consuming need to learn magic. It kept him balanced, in a way.

The orb of water fluxed like it was an audio-visualized, warbling and wobbling to each strum and strike, each pluck of smooth strings, and the avalanche of sound. Cedric lulled his head to the sounds, closing his eyes and letting it play on its own as he leaned back, lowering the volume ever so slightly to rest his eyes.

He felt the water move.

Opening his eyes he was met with the sight of a large man, likely around six-foot five, bulky and with weathered skin that has seen much. Scars, wounds, made by neat blades and ugly magic alike decorated his form. A beard of black peppered with salted strands of white was neatly arrested to his chest by rings of mythril and adamantium. His ears too were pierced, rings of the same metals decorating them just the same. His hair was loose and long. Fair white and black hair draped down to his shoulders. He looked like a warrior. Like a Northern Barbarian, like a man named Conan, but from a different land entirely than the famous barbarian.

Yet, unlike his appearance, he carried himself with refinement. With a gentle step and calm mien that bellied the hardened appearance of a strong warrior.

Cedric swallowed, pushing his hand into the water and lowering the volume on the music in the same action. The audio visualizer calmed slightly, and now only the steady beats truly made any sound.

“A marvelous display of magic.” The man said calmly, his eyes locked onto the audio-visualizer with a keen gaze of interest and intrigue. “Made from but a few breaths of air and a wave of a hand; such was its simplicity, that it was your grace and skill in creating this beautiful tune that looked like it was the true challenge in its creation.”

Cedric straightened his back slightly, bowing his head, “Lord Grandfather.” He supplicated.

He heard a heavy sigh, “Yozef…” He muttered, the name of his grandfather on his father’s side ringing a bell. It was rare for anyone to call a Lord by their first name, and if anyone could do it, then it’d be Lord Alkahest’s equal. “Be away with the trivialities of formality, son. You are among family now. Save such things for your enemies and rivals.”

Cedric smiled bitterly, “Hard to do when such things are one’s family.” He muttered.

The Lord grimaced visibly, the display of emotion unsettling to Cedric. He’d built such a sturdy and strong foundation, an image of ‘Lords’ and their nature within his mind. Such a simple act, such a simple reaction; and it shattered such perceptions instantly. His grandfather sighed deeply, looking pained. “When I heard from Yozef that his youngest grandson was coming to Paraval, I was surprised. When I read deeper into his letter, I was infuriated. When I calmed, I was disappointed.” He stated, drifting off towards a distant wall to rest himself against.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

‘Two dudes, chilling in a hot-tube, five feet away because they ain’t gay.’ The intrusive meme popped up, still surviving even nineteen years after his death.

“Your Lord Grandfather has been keeping a keen eye on you, Cedric. He made mentions of you having great achievements in the realm of business, rich beyond even Counts and Viscounts with lands under their rule. Powerful and skilled in magic, and a drive to always keep learning.” He smiled softly, “I truly thought you were my little girl’s son. Ever intelligent, ever cunning; my little Selwyn. Then I learned of your treatment within your house.” His soft smile turned into a grim frown of pure disappointment. “I must apologize for not raising your mother better. For feeding her ambitions so greatly that she would revoke even her own family…” He shook his head, almost in disbelief, “It goes against everything I ever taught her.” His voice echoed said disbelief.

Nubinor Paraval rubbed at his temples, “Where did I go wrong?” He whispered.

Cedric chuckled at the display, familiar with the ever so human reaction to one’s spawn and their mistakes, “I believe it was not the nurturer at fault, at least not entirely, but the environment all Scions grow up within. It feeds ambition, fans the flame that started from a spark of want and desire. Is it not human nature to always want for more, after all? The flame grows, until it is all that is left.”

Cedric’s sardonic chuckle and smile turned into a frown, disappointment and scorn lacing his expression, “My mother. She’d only pay attention to my achievements. My prowess. My rate of learning and understanding, in performing her tasks, in learning her words and thoughts. A tutor. A teacher. A mold. But nothing ever more.” The smile reappeared, dim and slight. “She wasn’t even good at doing that.” He said, voice light in amusement and smug satisfaction; like her being poor at something was some victory. “I always performed better learning on my lonesome; I always feared showing her too much. Like she’d try to steal my talent in the arts I found sanctuary.”

Lord Paraval gained a hint of intrigue on his face, the distraught father fading as he listened, before sharpening on his last words. “Parallax Productions.” The man muttered, Cedric not reacting to the mention of his branded product. “An interesting name.” The man said, curiosity laced in his tone.

Cedric smiled blandly, “I’m a nerd.” The word ‘nerd’ within the English Language didn’t have a parallel to a word within the common tongue of the Empire; not holding the concepts and refinement that the word ‘nerd’ had gone through in some seventy years since its inception in the 1950’s to describe a worthless or foolish person; which before he’d died described the future Shitcoin, AI Geeks, and Computer Science Kings of the world. Instead of outright saying the word ‘Nerd’, Cedric used a word that was commonly used to describe people fascinated with obscure topics and esoteric magics; somewhat like how someone would describe an Arcanist or similarly devoted scholar of the Arcane Arts.

It should be noted that this word didn’t describe people who worked in the technological or mundane ‘academic’ fields of the world, even those of advanced education, as Technology was culturally seen as a novelty and primitive art that only the peasants tried to learn and understand. The Nobility paid little attention to the Colleges and Universities that the common-folk set up; only paying close enough attention to them to make sure magical knowledge and practices were fettered from any aspect of their education; or at least reduced enough to make them satisfied with always being their betters.

“Parallax is the observed displacement of an object caused by an observer’s change of point of view. It’s mainly used in Astronomy for calculating the distance of faraway stars using trigonometry. The name truly means ‘Distant and Alternate Perspectives’ Productions, if one wants the entire ‘thought’ behind the name.”

Nubinor blinked, “Distant and Alternate Perspectives; outside the box thinking.” The man mused.

Cedric smiled, how fun is it to sometimes observe ‘sayings’ and figures of speech that never change, even worlds and languages away.

“I’ve purchased a few of your products, in truth.” Nubinor stated, making Cedric blinked; not having known that and wondered what he’d produced to capture the attention and wealth of Lord Paraval. “Nylex, Spirit Bonding, Visions.” Nubinor’s face sported a wide smile as he listed those names, Cedric’s ears going red, as did his cheeks.

“O-oh.” Cedric muttered. “T-those.”

Bedroom enhancers.

Nylex was a relaxant and an aphrodisiac; a very mellow aphrodisiac and one that was exceptionally easy to produce in massive batches and sold like hotcakes whenever he put them up for auction.

Spirit Bonding was a…

Cedric frowned, old, bad memories rising with the mention of that product he’d long since tried to forget about. An old wound rising to tear itself open.

It initially wasn’t meant to be a bedroom enhancer and was instead his attempt at understanding the perspective of animals and creatures with lesser intelligence than humans. He wanted to know how and what they felt and thought, to experience life behind the eyes, body, and mind of a bird. He experimented with an old pet frog that he kept captive to harvest its mucus for reasons. Spirit Bonding needed a drop of blood from two entities, mix the blood into the potion, then have both entities ingest a bit of the potion. Cedric and his Old Frog, Celebrimbor, got to experience one another’s senses and minds.

Celebrimbor died soon after ingesting, as Cedric's mind was too much for the creature to handle and comprehend. Cedric on the other hand obtained the full experience, even that of dying as a frog and the panicked induced moment of a quick if brutally confusing death.

He’d had a tick of flies arousing hunger in him for days after the fact but wasn’t deterred from the ‘disastrous’ result from the first test of the potion and was instead inspired to use it on a sapient entity.

He…

Cedric kissed his teeth, reminded of past mistakes; pivotal points of his life that had molded him into the man that he was today.

He’d effectively mind-controlled a maid and used the potion on her. Cedric wasn’t exactly in the best of minds, to his defense; isolated, entirely devoted towards developing potions and magic; he’d already thought of the servants around him as ‘lessers’. Not because of their race, status as slaves, or anything like that, although there was a certain level of truth in the latter. But the servants that watched him were deemed as…enemies.

In his mind, adapting to this new and unfamiliar life as it was; everything was new, and everything was strange or confusing.

What the human mind doesn’t understand, it fears, and many things in Cedric’s life had been painted with that brush. The closest representation of oppression inside his life, and a facet that he could actively harm and rebel against were the servant staff assigned to watching him.

Like a prisoner bashing out the security cameras inside their cell, he wiped their memories, played with their feelings, and like a puppeteer; he derived sadistic enjoyment in deriving spiraling stories of drama from them.

He’d taken one, a random maid that he found easy on the eyes, and effectively mind controlled her to willingly take and experience the drug with him; he’d planned to erase her memories of the event afterwards.

He underestimated the effects of Spirit Bond.

Cedric soon found that on entities that were of similar levels of sapience; it functioned like the cure to loneliness. Panacea to Doomer-level ennui and numbness to a world that one feels like it doesn’t understand them, doesn’t want them; that they don’t belong, can’t belong, and will never belong.

The level of connection Cedric had with that maid had him feel unrivaled levels of possessiveness and sexual attraction towards her, and visa-versa.

He was around twelve when he made the first batches of Spirit Bonding.

His family was waiting for this moment and used it to send a message to Cedric to not ‘sully the family’s blood with those of lesser worth’. It was a drawn-out affair, servants easily spotting the missing link of their entourage, certain bits of physical evidence that were impossible to disclaim; a sloppy mess of Cedric floundering with his illusions and enchantments to now cover the activities of two people. A whirlwind romance of a young boy -who was a man- discovering puberty again, this time with the added influence of easily accessible drugs, mind magic, and crushing loneliness.

An absolute recipe for disaster, and one that would’ve crashed and burned even without his family’s…intervention, if he could even call it that.

As the servants were under orders to not engage in sexual misconduct with their charge, even with all his manipulations; magical, social, and alchemical, she resisted his advances. Because underneath his sweet words, and mental manipulations; she knew what would happen if they were caught. The survival instinct was strong, but Cedric’s magic was stronger.

Cedric had used mind magic to get around any of the maid’s misgivings, not knowing what they were at the time. Mind magic never was reading the mind like it was a book, but interpreting feelings and emotions. He’d interacted with many Beast-Kin minds and found them different to most human minds, having heightened senses and their brain chemistry was just wired differently. Her fear of death was interpreted incorrectly, and he banished those misgivings of their relationship; thinking he was correct and nothing bad would come of it, as he was ignorant of those orders.

His pressing, magical manipulations, possessiveness, and taboo hunger of a closer relationship with someone in this life had his first ‘friend’ -even if alchemically generated- was somehow made worse with it being entirely his fault for taking her agency away from her.

Then she was taken from him.

She was hung, slowly, brutally; with him watching. The dribble of piss haunted him for the following year and got him hooked on sleeping aids until he’d gotten his mind organized due to wanting mental defenses, which involved a reorganization of his mind and psyche.

That was…an unpleasant process.

He reiterates; if he wasn’t a reincarnate, he’d be a literal monster in human skin. He already was morally flexible and very emotionally damaged; but this was some ‘Tragic Villain Origin Story’ type shit. He hated his father after that fact for years, and then he gets tossed into solitary confinement not a few years later; not mentioning all the other little instances of shit that only built and built. By the time he got tossed into that stone prison, protecting the one thing that he loved in this new life of his; he started to absolutely loathe his father and family situation.

The memory of that damnable drug he sold to get it out of sight had him frown deeply. He didn’t even think about Visions, a cheap and easy to produce psychedelic drug.

“My wife and I used Spirit Bonding, and our stock of Nylex was well used.” His grandfather mentioned with a salacious grin after seeing Cedric’s reaction, only to furrow his brow as the embarrassment faded from the teen’s face and a deep frown and heady sense of hatred leaked from the boy’s lightly flaring magic. Emotion was easy to project using both energies, Aura more so than Magic, but Nubinor was an old hand at detecting the rising rage of a Mage whose ire he’d earned.

“I stopped making those; sold the stocks that I made, spread it out over the course of a few years, then tried to forget about it.” Cedric muttered. “Spirit Bonding, not Nylex.” He corrected.

Nubinor frowned, “Bad blood, or something happen’ in the lab…?” He posed, voice soft and probing, trying to help.

‘Dear Lord, when was the last time someone did that?’ He couldn’t remember. That was a sad, sad thing indeed.

“I…I made Spirit Bonding when I was young; around eleven or so. I’m good at Enchantment. The arts of the mind, that is. My family likes to watch me using servants; I like my privacy.” He licked his lips, “It was easy to practice my arts on them, glossing their eyes, breaking their minds like a giant’s fist to a castle made of sand.” Nubinor’s eyebrows raised at the mention of the powerful and dangerous magic, and the very young age he was using the magic.

“Spirit Bonding was made for curiosity’s sake. A desire to see, to experience what it was like to be a frog, horse, fly, bird, or similar. To feel what they feel, what they think, and it didn’t work. There was a two-way connection that I couldn’t block without ruining the experience of ‘feedback’. It caused the creatures to experience too much and caused a brain aneurysm as they tried to understand what they were biologically incapable of…” He shook his head, knowing he was just trying to distract himself with his analytical and clinical analysis of the potion and not its actual repercussions.

Nubinor listened to Cedric speak, the young man’s voice calm, although there was a tide of repressed emotions that was being slowly expressed through his warbling magic, changing the tune of the soft music that the orb of water that floated over the spring. The old man swam over to Cedric’s side of the pool, growing closer and spreading his Aura in a way that softly rested his presence over the young man, reassuring him with his presence.

Cedric felt the effect and took a fortifying breath, speaking again as he organized his thoughts. “I’d been abusing those powers, those abilities for years. It felt so natural to just pick and choose. I chose a girl, young, but likely in her twenties? Couldn’t really tell, she was a beast-kin, tiger girl, very pretty. Wanted to feel what it felt like to be a girl, y’know? Well…You know how it feels, the connection. Makes you feel like you’ll never be alone, that you’re understood by someone; completely, utterly, down to your soul.” There was a bitter tone in his voice as he mentioned that, like a man talking about something he couldn’t have and was jealous as a result.

Nubinor smiled softly, memories of him and his wife drinking that potion and falling onto each other in a sensual dance of passion; revitalized passion that he’d felt was dimming, dying, slowly withering away as they aged and retreated into a state of apathy. How things stopped being interesting, how one another was just a boring facet to their long, long lives. How many new and exciting feelings had he experienced with those few potions this boy created? Battle and War, in his youth he once called those things his true love, straight to Roslin’s face even. She’d laughed and chimed that he was a muscle headed brute.

Decades passed and arguments were heated, and those words that he once uttered as a young boy felt like they haunted his relationship; until they’d partaken in the Spirit Bond. Until they felt like they found each other again.

They’d started sleeping in each other’s bed again, smiling when they found one another in the halls. Holding hands, going on picnics, adventuring out and slaying monsters like they were young again. Living life, not going through the old motions of one that felt like it’d been lived to death.

Nubinor wanted more, Parallax stopped selling, new products came out and they tried those, new experiences, fun, strange, erotic, or just plain out of this world. Spirit Bond was never forgotten, the spark that reignited the fires of life in two loves that had started to wither.

“House Alkahest has rules to their servants, biased towards other species, and even classist; believing all that weren’t of noble human blood to be unworthy of their blood. Those that break that rule, die; a brutal message to a child, chilling ‘proof’ that any act of love towards another race or species can only end in tragedy.” Nubinor’s face turned solemn and sad as Cedric continued, “I was twelve then.” Cedric’s voice was cold, and unemotional. “Twelve years of loneliness and apathy towards others, of feeling trapped and repressed and hunted and watched. Paranoid…” Cedric almost…tasted the word.

Nubinor swallowed, feeling something was…off. Cedric’s tone was becoming strange, the magic that he’d once sensed swirling around and off the young man’s form fading into the background and blending in with the ambient energies of magic.

Was he controlling his magic so tightly that even this display of repressed emotion was being contained?

“I just wanted a friend, so I made one, took one; and it was taken from me.” Cedric’s eyes narrowed, hard, unforgiving; hateful. “It was wrong, I was wrong; I know that. I shouldn’t have…I…I overstepped; intoxicated on the power I thought I’d mastered.” He said so freely, unburdened by the admittance of a fault that he’d long since rationalized and accepted.

Yet, like medicine, the aftertaste lingered. And this was no medicine, but an opening scar that dug deep inside his psyche. “My family thought they taught me a lesson.” He frowned with grinding teeth as a hidden undercurrent of rage swam in his eyes, “They did, oh they did. Just not the one they were teaching, but one that I learned; the mind is a precious thing, and to alter it, to change it, to bend it, to alter one’s destiny.” Cedric let out a deep breath, “Is sin. Utter sin, and I am the Sinner. But I know it is sin, and so I don’t do it lightly. I don’t enjoy it, I can’t anymore; I was burned but refused to be twice shy. Because it is too useful, too powerful of a means to justify not using it for a result.” His body coiled tightly; muscles tense as the tension of the statement brought to fore was as cathartic as it was a burden.

Cedric took a deep breath, breathing in. Breathing out. Centering himself. Controlling himself.

“You’re a good man, Cedric. Better than most.” Nubinor whispered softly, reassuring his grandson, trying to sympathize with Cedric’s plight.

“Good?” The teen muttered, as if struck; he looked up at Nubinor, and seemed to realize something. “You…don’t understand.”

The Lord of more than three-hundred years of age, cocked his head. “I…guess I don’t.” It was hard for the elder to admit that. “I’m a Knight, a Warrior.”

“Then you’ve fought mages.” Cedric stated without hesitation or doubt, to which Nubinor nodded easily.

“You have killed.” Cedric next stated.

Nubinor furrowed his brow and nodded again; that was obvious.

“Then, perhaps I can phrase it differently.” Cedric mused, “I do not kill the body. I kill the mind. With a twitch of my finger, just as easily as you could turn me into a gib of liquid; I too could do the same with a hundred men’s minds.”

The old lord raised an eyebrow, “Truly?” He asked with a disbelieving grin.

“You do not believe me?” Cedric’s own mouth twisted upwards in a challenging grin.

Nubinor chuckled, “Try me.” He fortified his body, strengthening his spirit and flaring his Aura; prepared for any trick-

Nubinor blinked, wondering what it was that he was doing. Why was he inside the baths, and who was…?

His memories came back, and he gasped, freezing as he stared down at the teen that stared up at him with half lidded eyes; yet they looked dangerous to the old lord. Like an elf’s. Uncanny, dissecting, analyzing.

“I could’ve erased everything.” The raspy voice of his grandson murmured as the young man sunk down into the waters, his mouth vanishing underneath the surface. He turned that blood curdling gaze down to the water’s reflective surface.

Instead of his voice that spoke, it was instead the orb of musical water, his grandson’s voice calmly continuing; “Implanted a poison to the mind, slowly wasting it away like natural dementia. Twisted it to any desire and redefined the man you know yourself to be. A terrifying power, is it not? It scares me every day I look at people and remember that I hold the power to crack their skull open and start poking. In a blink of an eye, they could suddenly stop being and become something else. Identity death was always a great fear of mine, and to hold the power to exact that fear onto others?... It scares me.”

Nubinor swallowed thickly, keeping a calm demeanor even as he felt an icy pit form within his chest. He felt like he was dancing with something anyone loathed to do; even for someone as powerful as him. There were plenty of dangerous creatures in this world. Dragons, Liches, Zealots of Dark Gods, Ancient Elven Warriors and their Magi, or the deadly Dragon Slayers of the Dwarven Holds. He’d fought plenty of people and monsters, slain many, but there were always those that made him pause, that made him feel real wary fear.

There were few things as terrifying as a mentally unstable, or rather an emotional Mage, especially so for one as powerful as his grandson had just shown himself to be. Nubinor’s Aura, a soft presence that had pressed onto his grandson, had been infiltrated; subverted and secretly injected with ambient releases of magic that leaked into the environment around him. His defenses were meaningless with the clever and insidious insertion and injection of magic that had blended into the ambient energies, invisible, yet entirely controlled and directed.

The old Lord suddenly realized this magic had permeated the entire environment, water, and even started to leak into his skin and muscles; his blood, the air that he breathed had been saturated by the magic!

A level of control that Lord Nubinor Paraval hadn’t heard of in his long life, which only made it even more terrifying as the young man before him did so subconsciously. An accidental feat of magic released by the spread of his own emotions, kept in control over what Nubinor could only fathom to be relentless training, and then capitalized on by the subconscious mind that guided the magic with concept and perceived thought.

Mages called this kind of casting Wild Magic, but how Cedric wielded it was unthinkably terrifying and alien to the concept of that means of casting; so much so that Nubinor was hesitant to even call it so.

Mages were always collected people; strong of mind, steadfast, iron willed, and smug in their control of their own mind and the intellect that guided it. To show emotion, to lose control, to be controlled by one’s emotion; it was either the mark of a bad mage, or the breaking point of a good one.

When mages lost their shit, everything around them tended to do so as well.

Nubinor watched as Cedric swam deeper into the pool; not paying the old lord any attention as the young man had lost himself inside his own mind. Lord Paraval watched as his grandson dove into the depths of the spring, vanishing into the waters.

He tensed; instincts honed screaming at him that something was unfathomably wrong.

Nubinor blinked, then blinked again. He swatted at his face, horror decorating his expression as he saw his hand shift and distort, textures and colors swimming like the liquid slime that he flew threw and the fire of burning ice that he breathed.

Nubinor wasn’t prepared for the psychedelic experience of Cedric’s means of ‘centering’ himself. The Lord nearly lost his dinner and vomited into the pool as the world shifted into a thousand-thousand different colors; colors that the human eye wasn’t even able to see, and he had no reference, no realm of concept for. The swirling colors organized themselves into shapes and textures that spat in the face of common physiques; bending itself into a non-Euclidean structure that added a fourth dimension. Like a drawing coming to life, Nubinor swam and thrashed inside this prison of the mind, this hellscape of sensations; they were too intense!

And in the same micro-instant they were nonexistent.

On.

And then Off.

‘Have you tried turning it on and off?’ A voice in a strange foreign accent asked.

It echoed inside Nubinor’s mind as he floated in a blackened void devoid of any sensation or perception, his screaming voice lost in the darkness; so quiet that he couldn’t even hear himself think.

A vast and sudden silence. A conversation, whispers and songs. A weeping trumpet, a fathomless creature with many eyes, slumbering, slumbering, dreaming of him? Of everything?

Nubinor clenched his teeth, fear, terror, horror in his bones screaming at him to flee; to escape!

The eyes widened to wakefulness.

Nubinor screamed, but he didn’t exist anymore.

Then they closed.

The Lord gasped, his heart restarting as he clinically died for several seconds; Aura roared from his soul, sundering the infection of magic that had infiltrated his bones and brain, breaking free of the ensnarement.

Nubinor came back from the slowly dissipating unreality to find Cedric floating in the water, back down and face up; the young man’s eyes lost in a vision that Nubinor knew that he’d only glimpsed.

The orb of water beat methodically; it was its song. The maddening trumpets, Nubinor realized with a deep shiver down his spine. Nubinor took a fortifying breath, and focused on his grandson, feeling the young man’s state with his Aura and limited, but experienced depth of knowledge regarding magic.

The teen was lost in his mind. Nubinor could feel the magic within his skull was roiling with such a strength and force that he was utterly aghast at how Cedric was keeping such magic in control; for a single wrong move could spell brain-death in an instant.

His grandson had just had a cathartic breakdown right in front of him, and Nubinor was in awe at how well he hid it, how easily it came and went. Like an ebbing tide, quiet and still, calm and sedated. Then a city ending wave and the calm coming crash. Even more so was that Nubinor was impressed in how well Cedric had controlled it. The illusion that he’d just experienced; that was no instinctive and random casting. That was a well-practiced self-meditation, trying to reign himself in and put himself back onto his equilibrium.

He found it deeply disturbing how he put himself back onto his equilibrium, those realms, those creatures, that experience. He’d never felt anything like it, and even now his nerves shook from memories of recalling those instances.

Nubinor kept his Aura shroud to its greatest strength and waded over to where Cedric floated, scooping the young man up and taking him to the shore of the pool. He retrieved a towel and wrapped them both up and took the teen over to a nearby relaxing swing chair.

It was there that the old lord waited, and eventually Cedric broke from his trance. They sat in silence.

Then Cedric started to talk again. He never choked up, never paused or hesitated. He just…spoke. He poured his heart out without a stutter to his words, outright stating that he needed someone to just…know. That it was unhealthy to keep it all bottled up.

He spoke of his experiences in his House, his loneliness, his traumas, his fears of the outside world and the desire to face them. He spoke of the hatred that he had for his father, the contempt and disdain he held for his mother; the pragmatic understanding he had of Lord Alkahest and his respect, and fear of the terrifying patriarch of his family.

He spoke of the apathy he held for his absent sisters and competitive brothers, and the systems of Scion recognition that had so spurned him of Nobility. His grudging filial responsibility he felt he held for House Alkahest in respects to the education and resources that they allowed him, and when he tried to convince himself of renouncing his attachments to the House; the materialistic bond manifested itself as a weight that kept him chained to a name he never wanted or wished for.

Nubinor listened to it all with a great stony frown on his face, the night bleeding deep as time passed, the swing creaking with every odd repetition. “House Alkahest has done you no favors, and while I understand your feelings with them providing you an education, name, wealth, and more; from what you’ve told me…” Nubinor grimaced.

While Cedric seemed to focus on two great acts that he found slighted him the most; the murder of an unnamed slave that the young man mind controlled and drugged into loving him, and the confinement into the House’s Dungeons after a claim of ignorance towards his grandfather’s interest into the young man that valued his privacy; those were just the crowning tip of the colossal iceberg.

His abuse at the hands of his brothers, the neglect of his mother and father, the fact that most of his social interactions came from social balls and the servants that were charged to watch and report on his every action. His grandson spoke of his experience with loneliness, which explained why being confined into solitude by his father affected him so greatly, likely working up on a real fear of his, to be left alone for years and not mere days.

“But…they taught me magic.” Cedric argued weakly, the young man leaning forward and running a hand through his hair. “I…I love magic. It’s the one thing that was a light in my life; and while it burned me, while it cut me deep. I only have myself to blame for that fact.” The young man’s face twisted in deep emotional pain, “I just hate when my family rubs salt into those wounds, or when they act to restrain, limit, or manage my work.”

Nubinor’s brow furrowed, seeing deep into a problem that even Cedric himself seemed blind to. The young man was utterly obsessed with learning and practicing magic. No, he seemed very aware of that fact; but rather, he seemed to find that as a good thing. Like it was the one thing -and likely was- that he lived his life for. With nothing else within his life, sheltered as he was as a scion, the young man claimed magic as his one ‘true love’; reminding Nubinor of his youth when he once thought combat, battle, and war was all he wanted.

Even with that unique perspective that was greatly similar to Cedric’s own devotion towards magic, Nubinor remained doubtful that he truly understood the passion this young man proclaimed. Cedric, shameful as it was, reminded Nubinor of a slave. How ironic was it, that this young man who was born into the highest of echelons, saw his titles, future responsibilities, his very name, and the family he came from as chains more insidious and binding than the magics that the Empire used to brand slaves.

Untrusting, paranoid of betrayal from a family that showed him no love, with nothing save his own wits, mind, and power to cling to in a world that he likely felt most alone within.

What a dark and pitiful existence, one that could’ve been avoided by simply extending a hand of friendship to a young boy, teen, and now young man.

The older man chuckled softly, “You are a very fixated person. Devoted, I’d say.”

Cedric chuckled, “If there were a God of Magic, I’d be their pontiff and most fervent of zealots.”

Nubinor laughed, “A religious man, are you, Cedric?”

Cedric shook his head, “No, no; a heretic, more like. I’ve read some larger and more general picture text regarding the Gods, and I have some…heretical spells and arts that I often use to protect myself from their scrying and unique blessings.”

Nubinor hummed, “A good precaution to have. Have you heard of the Dark Gods?”

Cedric frowned, “I have. Never by name or scripture, but general osmosis through several texts, and some rare mentions. Stricken from most books; meant to limit access and knowledge, and thus prevent worship I assume.”

Old Lord Paraval gave a hum of confirmation, “Indeed.”

“I’ve never truly met or greatly interacted with the faith though.” Cedric mused, “My family is separate from any faith entirely.”

Nubinor gained a cheeky grin, “Would you mind an old priest’s faithful words?”

“You’re religious?” Cedric asked with surprise and intrigue, “Few noble families are, what with the state separating from church.” He grimaced, “Lessons of the Seventh Fall.”

Nubinor laughed, “A historian as well. Truly, you are an erudite man, Cedric. But it is true that I do not openly practice my faith, or truly interact with any church or institution; I was born into the Seventh Empire, after all.”

Cedric’s eyes widened, “Truly? The Seventh Empire fell…three hundred or so years ago?”

“Three hundred and ten. I was but a boy when it started to decline, and then fractured when I became a teen. Ancients will tell tales of how they’ve watched Human Empires rise and fall like the sun’s dawn and dusk. I’m nothing truly special.” The old man shrugged.

Cedric gave a considering hum, “I’ve always wondered why humans on Orevale constantly structure themselves into an Empire; it’s been proven to fall near constantly with still preserved records of the First Fall laying around; although I guess any Empire would eventually and inevitably collapse in the time periods that most have stood.” Cedric mused, “I’d say that an Empire could last anywhere from a hundred, to five hundred years; any longer would require specialized forces -like multiple loyal Emperors- to bind the Empire together through sheer might and willpower.”

Nubinor chuckled, “The fourth had a system like what you speak of, but -ironically enough- Adultery was what ended that Empire; it broke the trust between the Empress and the Emperor, as the Empress was laying with the emperor’s brother. The three of them were a trifecta of magical and martial might; unbeatable but fell to infighting and a dissolution of trust.”

“What a mess.” Cedric shook his head, “Humans, even as old and powerful as they become, will continue to be human; I guess.” He mused. “Honestly, I’d not have it any other way.” He shrugged.

“Oh?” Nubinor quired.

“Would you want a Gnome on the throne?” Cedric asked sarcastically.

Nubinor barked out laughing, picturing the image with growing hilarity.

“Still, what God or Goddess do you Worship, Lord Paraval -er, grandfather?” Cedric asked.

Nubinor calmed, the soft grin on his face fading as he started to lecture, “There are many Gods across many cultures. However, with the advent of the Fall of the Seventh Empire, religious orders have been isolated from the ruling class; although concessions need still be made to keep their members militant against the forces they rival.” He spoke in reference to the Infernal forces of Hell. “To perpetuate Imperial Culture across the Empire, the Emperor needed a religious icon that the Empire’s Culture could grow around. It was, however, agreed that allowing free-worship of all faiths -or at least those that do not break Imperial Law- was beneficial to the Imperial Seat of Power, as introducing competition into the central faith would indirectly decentralize and polarize militant sects of certain gods; preventing a God from calling all their faithful to wage a bloody crusade against the very same Empire that unified them.”

The Al-Asha Yoshem Crusade was a bloody time, a civil War that pitted the Blood Servants of Yoshem against the Priesthood of Al-Asha the Blazing Light; the resulting feud broke the Empire as faithful servants within all classes turned their blades on one another in an instant.

It was, ironically, the Priesthood of Al-Asha that threw the gauntlet, as Yoshem taught moderation and control over murderous and wrathful intention; a useful tenant to have within a militarized force that once dominated the continent.

“The Imperial Faith is that of Iso, God of Inspiration.” Cedric muttered.

“Correct. Iso was a Dwarven and Gnomish God brought to the Empire in its very youth; the missionaries coming from the old Drakforn City Hold.”

“Which is now a part of the Empire.” Cedric commented.

“Yes. The emperor is a man that sees the Gnomish and Dwarven populations of the world as little different than Humanity; although like our earlier joke, there are differences and discrimination. Humanity wouldn’t allow a gnome or dwarf to rule them.”

“Yet the Dwarves and Gnomes do?” Cedric asked.

“In truth, all Gnomish and Dwarven cities and holdings under the Imperial Banner are more like Vassal states; they rule themselves with their own internal laws. They bow to humanity, the emperor, and the Empire for several reasons. The dwarves pay a certain tribute and taxes to the Empire, but they make back disgusting amounts of wealth through trade with the greater whole of the Empire. They enjoy luxuries and commodities that are brought through every inch of the world, and in this way, we dominate them economically as their cities dug deep into the Earth are limited in the variety of resources they can harvest. Culturally, we’ve adopted Iso, the God of Inspiration as our Imperial Faith, with scripture, religious icons, colleges, institutions, and chapels being built wherever Imperial influence spreads. This has done great wonders in our relationship with Clans that follow similar faiths.”

Cedric stroked his chin, “Iso wasn’t chosen randomly.” He stated. “The technological development of the Empire; it’s been planned by the emperor?”

Nubinor grinned, “Very perceptive, Cedric. You recognize the power of the technologies that the Empire is developing?”

Cedric rolled his eyes, “Of course. I’m not blind to the advancements that the common folk have made; I’m a merchant after all, and Parallax Productions has made some magitech and artifice.”

“Most mages and sorcerers are blind.” Nubinor mused. “A rare few have seen the benefits and have been utterly enthralled; there seems to be very little middle ground between it. Either a mage is utterly dismissive, or entirely wrapped up in the potential of the advancing technologies being churned out by the colleges and institutions.” Nubinor shook his head, “Regardless, the Imperial Faith of Iso is designed for the common folk and industrial expansion of the Empire, producing goods and products at a rate and sustained quality never seen before. However, as can be imagined, the introduction of the Imperial Faith has been slow going in many regions. Which is good in its own right for preserving culture groups.”

Cedric hummed as he tossed that around in his head. “Use the faith of Iso to soak up the peasantry and those without identity, tying them to the Imperial Faith and thus the Empire, while preserving cultural identity of one’s own territory as cultures and faiths feel like they’re under attack.” Cedric mused, “It has room to backfire, but competition in a free market is the best way to see growth and innovation. How ironic.” He chuckled. Cedric turned his eyes to a proud looking Nubinor, “What faith does House Paraval hold?” He asked again.

“We keep to Yorm and Wyka; the faith is more prominent in select areas and culturally preserved locations within the city, and of course the countryside.” Nubinor stated.

“Remind me of the faiths; I’ve heard the names, but well, I’m somewhat foreign to the city.” Cedric said apologetically.

Nubinor smiled indulgently, “Not a problem. Yorm, God of Skies and Snow; Heavenly Giant, his grace biting like the chills of frost inside one’s bones. Wyka, Hag of The Forest, brambled hair, robe of thorn; gnarled staff and biting curse on winter’s frozen breath.”

“Hardship and perseverance.” Cedric muttered to Nubinor’s encouraging nod.

“Indeed. Old Gods, Yorm and Wyka are, yet we keep their traditions well.”

“Fascinating.” Cedric murmured, looking out towards the calm pool of water, steaming still with heat. The two men relaxed on the swing, comfortable in the ensuing silence.

“Cedric.” Nubinor said softly.

“Hmm?”

“You’re always welcome in my home, son. Always.”

“...Why?”

“...Why does anyone love their grandchildren?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.”

And so, they sat, both men utterly comfortable as the late night’s winds chilled them, magic and Aura protecting them from the chill.

Balduran came late during the night to check up on them, to find Cedric using magic, showing Nubinor Paraval images of distant stars and planets. The servant left with a smile, the image of the star struck expression on the old Lord’s face as he gazed at distant worlds and stars never leaving his mind as he did so.