Today, we celebrate the memory of Marquis Elarion Vilaris, my father, as well as a Mythic class Ash awakened, whose wisdom, strength, and dedication to the arcane arts have left an indelible mark on our society and the kingdom at large. His mastery over ash and decay symbolized his resilience and passion, traits that defined his long and illustrious life. Though his physical form has returned to the elements, may his legacy continue to inspire future generations of awakened individuals. May his soul find peace, and may his memory burn brightly in our hearts forever.
Viscountess Enara Vilaris.
Vilaris estate, sector 5.
Year 2275.
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Aodhán sat solemnly in the expansive hall of the Vilaris's mansion the next evening, his expression somber, just like he'd practiced with Daruk the evening before.
The hall was decorated in red and ash, the Vilaris's family colors, and the transparent glass roof displayed a sky overcast with dark clouds as if nature itself mourned the passing of the former patriarch of the Vilaris's family.
As the ceremony began, Aodhán adjusted the collar of his suit, feeling slightly out of place and doing his best to ignore the curious and narrowed gazes of several extravagantly dressed nobles. They were all dressed in black, which at least aligned with the theme of the burial, but the outfits were so flamboyant and gaudy that the embroidered sleeves of the woman seated next to him poked his head despite the meter of space between them.
“You're glaring.” Daruk whispered, and Aodhán shifted his expression once again. It was hard to maintain his somber expression, though, as he could feel the gazes of several nobles glaring at his head.
Still, he forced himself not to turn and glare at them. Instead, he reviewed his status screen to pass the time, after which he once again sent another message to Lupin, who had yet to reply to any of his messages.
With nothing else to do, Aodhán turned his attention to the row before him, where Cyrus and his friends sat confidently, their posture relaxed but respectful.
They weren't the only academy students in attendance. In his line of vision alone, Aodhán spotted at least a dozen people he recognized, but when he tried to turn around, Daruk pinched him and subtly gestured for him to pay attention.
Aodhán sighed and focused his gaze on Viscountess Enara Vilaris, the daughter of the deceased, and Alesh's grandmother, as she climbed the stage to give her speech.
Lady Enara Vilaris stood before them, her pupilless gaze somber and her slender frame trembling slightly as she ran a hand lightly through her ashen gray hair. She was dressed in a simple black gown whose only decoration was a slight flicker of flames, reminiscent of coal embers at the hem of the dress.
“Thank you all for being here today.” She began, her voice unwavering. “We gather to mourn my father,
Lord Elarion Vilaris, and to celebrate his life and the legacy he has left behind." She paused, looking out at the gathered faces, before proceeding. "My father was a man of great vision and wisdom. He taught me that true nobility lies in our actions and how we treat others. He always put the needs of our people above his own, and he was a beacon of hope in times of turmoil. Elarion Vilaris was not just a lord; he was also a loving father, and he faced every challenge with unwavering courage and honor."
Her voice grew stronger. "As we stand here today, let us remember him with gratitude. His spirit lives on in our memories and actions. Father, we will miss you every day, but we promise to carry your ash within us. Thank you for everything, and may you find peace and rest, knowing that you left this world a better place."
With those final words, Enara bowed her head to the ornate casket filled with the ash of the former patriarch, and the crowd stood up.
Aodhán joined them, bowing his head in reverent silence for a minute in honor of the deceased. When Enara finally stepped down from the stage, Aodhán sighed in relief, reminding himself that Alesh Vilaris was a friend, or at the very least, an acquaintance, and the least he could do was show up and honor his grief.
The ceremony continued with a dirge sung by a choir, their voices echoing through the hall, and Alesh, dressed in a jet black mourning suit, moved to stand in front of the casket along with the rest of his large family. His face was a mask of sorrow, but he nodded gratefully to Aodhán and Daruk when he saw them.
As the ceremony continued, nobles mingled quietly, exchanging condolences and engaging in muted conversations.
“Remember what we practiced.” Daruk whispered to him as they prepared for the inevitable. “You're not afraid of them, but you're not proud either; you're humble but not submissive.”
“Got it.” Aodhán nodded and let out a deep breath. “I'm ready.”
“Good.” Daruk smiled, and they turned to a trio of approaching nobles, one of whom they recognized. Aodhán smiled. “Hi Grendar, fancy meeting you here.”
She grinned, showing an excessive amount of teeth. “Well, I wish I could say the same for either of you. Unfortunately, I can't.”
“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.” Daruk replied, his expression cold, and Aodhán sighed. “Is that all? Or do you have something else you want to say to me?”
Grendar sniffed disdainfully and eyed him. “I guess the newspapers were right; I always knew there was something shady about you.”
“Well, it isn't a storm cloud if it doesn't cast a shade, now is it?” Aodhán smiled, unfazed. “Now if that is all, I see a few important nobles who are actually worth my time, and I would hate to miss them.”
Daruk chuckled as they walked away from Grendar and her posse, and Aodhán shook his head. “That young lady is nasty.”
Daruk smiled. “You should have seen her during the simulation exercise. Real mental case.”
They moved towards the drinks stand, but before they got there, they were approached by another group of nobles, and before long, they were soon surrounded, both by people they knew and others they didn't. Most of them were fellow academy students, though, who just wanted to introduce Aodhán to their parents and friends. Aodhán nodded politely, smiling when necessary and scowling at anyone who made a rude comment. He wasn't a noble, so he didn't have to fake any niceties; thus, whenever anyone made a disrespectful statement, he fixed them with a glare and insulted them right back.
Well, maybe he didn't exactly insult them right back, but he made sure that his annoyance was made very clear. Despite the rage simmering within him, though, Aodhán refrained from releasing his aura. Apart from the fact that it would have been extremely disrespectful to do so, it would have soiled his budding reputation and labeled him uncouth and ill-mannered.
Daruk was separated from him at one point, led away by Gwendolyn, Lupin's friend, who also hadn't received any message from her, and Aodhán soon found himself surrounded by a gaggle of noble ladies, all requesting to see his familiar.
“Maybe some other time, lady Racquel.” He bowed his head to the daughter of a random Viscount in attendance and quickly excused himself. On his way, he grabbed a glass of sparkling gold wine and downed it in one gulp. The drink burned its way down his throat, and he grimaced before downing another. The second glass hit him like a punch to the gut, and he shook his head to dispel a wave of dizziness before it took hold.
He moved to the array of snacks provided, but just as he placed the first shortbread on his paper plate, a loud voice called out. “My word, if it isn't the child prodigy himself.”
Aodhán turned to find a pudgy, red-faced man moving towards him. Rather than weave through the mingling crowd, the man barreled through, and Aodhán instantly recognized him.
“Nice to meet you too, Viscount Bloodmoon. My sincere apologies for rejecting your invitation; my schedule was quite full at the time.”
Viscount Bloodmoon laughed and rubbed his belly. “You'll just have to make it up to me sometime soon, perhaps after your exams. There is much I would like to discuss with you.”
“Oh, can we not discuss it here?”
Viscount Bloodmoon shook his head and leaned forward conspiratorially. “I'm not exactly in the right mental space to have any serious conversation.” He smiled and gestured to the cup in his hand. “Wine and all.”
Aodhán smiled. “It's alright, my Lord; I'll do my best to honor your next invitation.”
Viscount Bloodmoon laughed and patted his shoulders before leaving to speak with someone else.
“Crisis averted.” Aodhán muttered to himself and turned back to the snack table, but a figure soon joined him. Aodhán plastered on a smile and prepared to deal with the next curious noble.
“Ah, Aodhán Brystion, the young awakened with the ‘accidental’ familiar.”
The man was tall and meticulously groomed. He looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn't until the man introduced himself that Aodhán recognized him.
“Viscount Cedric Alaric. I've heard much about your remarkable feat, both from the press and from my brother. Surely, such talent would be wasted without proper guidance. Have you considered joining a family that could elevate your status and skills?”
Aodhán tamped down on the rage that tried to burst forth and smiled tightly. “I appreciate your interest, Lord Cedric, but I'm quite content with my current affiliations.”
“I see.” Viscount Cedric chuckled and gave Aodhán his card. “My brother warned me; you might say that. Nevertheless, feel free to text me whenever you change your mind.”
Aodhán hummed in response, trying not to grimace as the Viscount walked away. He glanced at the card that contained the Viscount's chip address, and without hesitation, he threw it into his spatial storage. Daruk returned a minute later, with a half-full cup of sparkling wine held in his hand. He downed the drink and grinned. “How are things going?”
Aodhán took in the din of boisterous conversations and the cluster of dancing nobles. “This has to be the most upbeat funeral I've ever attended.”
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Daruk chuckled. “It's the funeral of a Mythic class awakened who has lived for over two centuries. Of course it's upbeat.”
Aodhán smiled lightly and gestured toward Viscount Cedric's retreating figure. “He tried to recruit me, just like all the others. Barely an hour into this event, and I've received more than a dozen proposals to join one family or the other.”
Daruk shrugged and took a shortbread from Aodhán's plate. “You're a champion candidate with no noble affiliations; you're essentially fresh meat.”
Aodhán shook his head and turned his attention to the stage where Alesh and his family were discussing with a few important nobles. His gaze landed on the music band next, before moving onto the cluster of dancing nobles at the center of the courtyard.
He had feared that he would be assaulted by excessively curious nobles during this event, but Daruk had dismissed his worries. According to him, nobles cared too much about their reputation and wouldn't shame their families by picking a fight with him in an event like this. The night wasn't over, though, so Aodhán was still prepared for the unexpected. Perhaps the nobles wouldn't attack him here, but he couldn't afford to relax either.
As his eyes roamed the courtyard, his gaze landed on a group of noble ladies, who were all staring at him. Most of them just seemed curious, but more than one stared at him with a lustful expression. Their attention made him uncomfortable, and he turned his gaze away from them immediately.
“I'll be right back.” Daruk grinned as he dropped his now-empty wine glass and moved towards a group of students from his simulation group.
Unlike him, Daruk was enjoying this party, and Aodhán couldn't blame him. This was what Daruk had always wanted, what he'd spent many years training for, and now that he had it, Aodhán wouldn't deprive him of it just because he had no idea how to party.
Still, Daruk's presence had granted him a reprieve from obnoxious nobles, and only a second after he left, Aodhán found himself surrounded by a trio of young lords.
They were all siblings, judging by their similar facial appearance, but Aodhán focused his attention on the strongest, a purple-haired giant who was almost 7 feet tall and had a swirl of runic tattoos on the left side of his face. His black pupils were ringed by two bands of gold, and from the pressure his core emanated, Aodhán estimated him to be around the 36th to 40th tier.
The young lord extended a hand in greeting. “I'm Kolvir Rockhelm, first son of Baron Rockhelm, and I must confess that ever since I heard the news about your familiar, I’ve been dying to meet you.”
Aodhán grimaced and introduced himself. “Nice to meet you too, Kolvir. I'm glad our meeting has put an end to your suffering.”
Kolvir's siblings also introduced themselves. The second brother was named Roquib, while the last brother was named Keith.
After the introductions, Kolvir leaned forward and whispered conspiratorily. “Is what the newspapers say true? That you were aided by an artifact?”
Aodhán sighed and folded his arms, already tired of the conversation. When he didn't respond, Kolvir frowned. “I'm just asking because, you know, it's wrong to lie to the whole world that a thing is possible when in fact it isn't.”
Aodhán scoffed. “I don't remember telling the whole world anything.”
Roquib, the second brother, glared at him. “You know, if it weren't for Ascendant candidate Lightus, we wouldn't even be approaching you so civilly. Yet, after lowering ourselves to speak to you, you don't even have the decency to treat us with respect.”
Aodhán closed his eyes and tamped down on his rage as it threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn't wait for the twisted effect to be over; having to constantly deal with and manage his emotions was exhausting, and the subtle jabs and insults of the nobles weren't helping matters at all.
Before he could respond, though, Daruk returned and politely pulled him away, leading him past the group of lustful nobles and towards a small gathering of important nobles.
When Aodhán saw them, he stiffened, but Daruk grabbed a glass of sparkling wine from a passing servant and handed it to him. “Drink this; you'll need it for this next part.”
Aodhán glanced back at the group he was about to meet, and without hesitation, he downed the glass, scrunching up his face in distaste as the wine burned down his throat.
“Okay, so as much as I'd prefer you skip this part, it would be very rude to leave this event without at least saying hello to everyone of them, and since they're all together, I figured you could do this at once.”
“Can I, though?” Aodhán asked nervously, but Daruk waved a hand dismissively and chuckled. “Absolutely. I believe in you.”
“Okay.” Aodhán nodded. “Let's get it over with.”
He squared his shoulders and pushed his nerves aside. So what if they were Mythics who could easily detect a lie from a mile away? He didn't need to quaver and shiver in fear; after all, he still had principal Zatya and ascendant candidate Lightus protecting him.
Not that any of them were present right now, though, but still...
When they arrived before the group, Aodhán and Daruk bowed in greeting, and it wasn't until one of them spoke that they raised their heads.
The Mythic who had spoken was a small woman who was dressed in a simple black gown, designed similarly to that of Enara Vilaris. Aodhán immediately recognized her as Marchioness Nzinga Vilaris-Syraveth, the wife of the Marquis of Emberveil and Enara Vilaris younger sister.
“You're the one the press refers to as the child prodigy, aren't you?”
Aodhán swallowed nervously and responded. “I've heard that that is what they call me.”
“And do you agree with them?” This time, it was Duke Solaris himself who had spoken, the ruler of sector 5, and Cyrus's father.
Aodhán was inclined to say no at first, but he remembered Daruk's advice and instead replied. “I do agree with the prodigy part, sir, less so with the child part.”
The duke blinked, surprised by his response, but rather than smite him on the spot like Aodhán had expected, Duke Solaris laughed, and a second later, the others followed suit.
“You know, I was at the tournament when you bonded your familiar, and it was indeed an impressive feat.” A Mythic he didn't recognize spoke in between laughter, and Aodhán bowed his head in gratitude. “You know what.” Duke Solaris began. “I've decided that I like you. Young Awakeneds these days are so easily cowed and skittish; I'm glad you're a man with grit.”
Aodhán grinned. “Thank you, my lord.”
“How very respectful.” Nzinga Vilaris commented, and although she smiled, Aodhán sensed a hint of disdain in the slight downturn of her lips. “You truly are a gem among the rubble; however, I wonder if such power in inexperienced hands might lead to unintended consequences.”
The laughter died almost immediately, and Aodhán grimaced. “I understand your concerns, my lady, but I'm committed to mastering my bond and ensuring my abilities are used properly.”
“Make sure you do.” She replied, her smile as sharp as a blade. “It's always a shame to snuff out a talent before they're even completely formed.”
Aodhán swallowed, and the duke nodded in agreement. “Nzinga is right. The binding of a familiar is never an easy one, even for us Mythics, and I would dearly hate to have you investigated and put behind bars.” The Blackwell mission flashed across his mind, and Aodhán winced. “I would hate that too. I promise to do my best to prevent that from happening.”
“Good.” Duke Solarion replied, and a moment later, they dismissed him. Aodhán turned back, grabbed Daruk, and when he felt he was past their hearing range, he whispered. “Is Varéc the only thing people are going to keep talking about?”
Daruk Shrugged. “He's the only thing worth talking about.”
Aodhán glared at him, and he sighed. “I didn't mean that in a mean way; it's just... Varéc's the only reason we're even here. Look around you; how many commoners do you see?”
Aodhán didn't need to. The answer was none. He and Daruk were the only commoners present.
“See?” Daruk continued. “The only reason why I'm even in here is because of you, and because I also happen to have a bloodline, so I don't stand out too much, but Varéc is what makes you a champion candidate. If it weren't for him, you'd be no different from me and Yurin.”
Aodhán shook his head. “Yeah, well, I'm tired already, and I want to go home.”
Daruk grinned. “I hear you, but we can't leave yet. We still have to say goodbye to our host, which means—he gestured to the stage where Alesh was still standing and discussing with several nobles—we need to wait for him to come to us.”
While they waited, Aodhán realized that aside from the evolved and advanced class awakened, no one else cared how he bonded with Varéc. The Mythics didn't care, and even when principal Zatya had asked, she hadn't pushed for an answer even though she knew he had been lying. Even Ludacris hadn't commented on it.
While he pondered their disinterest, Alesh finally made his way to speak to them. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he managed a weak smile. “Thank you guys for coming; it means a lot to me.”
“We're glad we did.” Aodhán responded sincerely, and Daruk asked. “How are you holding up?”
Alesh sighed. “It's been... difficult, but seeing familiar faces helps. I saw some nobles approaching you earlier; I hope they weren't too forward.”
Aodhán chuckled awkwardly as he noticed a few heads suddenly turn in their direction, obviously listening in.
“It's been…interesting.” Aodhán replied. “Some want to recruit me, while others think I'm a danger to myself and to the world at large.”
Alesh chuckled. "It seems like you had a great time then.”
“I did.” Aodhán nodded. “I'm ready to leave, though.”
Alesh smiled and bowed slightly. “I wish you a safe ride back home. You too, Daruk; I look forward to beating your ass at the next simulation.”
Alesh flushed with embarrassment as a noble lady turned sharply to glare at him for swearing, and he quickly apologized. “I'm very sorry, Lady Ursula. Slip of tongue.”
He turned back to them, and Daruk grinned. “Like I said countless times last week, it was a lucky win. We're ready for all your tricks now; you won't take us down so easily next time.”
They laughed and spoke for a few more minutes before Alesh waved them goodbye and moved on to speak to the couple next to them.
“I guess we're free to go now.” Daruk muttered, and Aodhán sighed. “Finally!”
They walked out of the courtyard and past a sprawling garden filled with ash and red flowers, but as soon as they reached the courtyard's entrance, Aodhán turned his face away from the camera flashes that erupted in a blinding flurry. It wasn't that he hated having his picture taken; in fact, he'd always considered himself satisfactorily photogenic, but he just wasn't used to being on the other side of the camera. Also, giving the reporter a hard time brought him immense satisfaction.
They dodged behind a large rose bush, laughing as they hurriedly made their way towards the main gate, but the camera flashes followed them, and Aodhán cursed as another reporter emerged from an underbrush in front of them.
Chuckling, they dove into a small, dark corridor and ran past a cluster of young nobles, including Cyrus, Kellan, Grendar, and Lilith.
Cyrus sneered as they walked past, and Grendar smirked disdainfully, but Aodhán ignored them, and after several twists and turns, they finally found a small hallway that led to the main gate.
Relieved, they ran forward, but just as they exited the hallway, they came across a man whom Aodhán had heard much about but hadn't yet had the pleasure of meeting. The man turned at the sound of their footsteps, and when he recognized them, he pulled his daughter from their carriage and walked towards them.
“Viscount Harding.” Aodhán bowed slightly in greeting, while Daruk followed suit. “It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
The Viscount laughed and patted Aodhán's shoulders, completely ignoring Daruk. “Ahh, the pleasure is all mine. I was very impressed with your showing at the tournament and was looking forward to speaking with you. Alas, my daughter here is quite terrified of crowds.”
Aodhán turned his gaze toward the girl. She was short, and had the same round features as her father. The girl curtsied, and Aodhán returned the gesture with a slight bow.
“Janine is a little shy.” The Viscount sighed, seemingly both frustrated and bemused at the same time. “Hopefully, she'll become more courageous after she awakens next year.”
“If I awaken.” The girl replied curtly, but the Viscount simply smiled and continued. “I know that you must have received many offers by now, but I won't forgive myself if I don't at least extend one myself. I see the news the press prints about you, and we all know how invasive they can be.” He chuckled and leaned forward. “There's an easy way to get rid of them permanently, and that is to affiliate yourself with a powerful noble house. This shields you from the extremities of the press and even limits what people can say about you.”
“Because slandering me would mean slandering the reputation of the noble family I'm affiliated with." Aodhán finished.
The Viscount smiled and handed over his card. “Exactly. I can offer you that. My family can offer you that.”
Aodhán accepted the card and placed it in his storage space with all the others. “Thank you for your offer, sir; I'll think about it.”
“That's all I can ask for.” Viscount Harding replied. “And tell your elder brother that I have a job for his particular skillset. Text me if he's interested.”
“I will.” Aodhán nodded and sighed when the Viscount turned back to his carriage, pulling his daughter along.
“This entire night has been a mess.” Daruk scowled. “I know nobles are obnoxious, but the blatant disregard is...
“Annoying?”
“Dream shattering!” Daruk exclaimed. “It's like he didn't even see me.”
“Most nobles don’t.” Aodhán smiled sadly. “Even when they talk to me, they only see a potential asset, weapon, or underling. They don't care about me; all they care about is the prestige it would give their family if I affiliated myself with them.”
Daruk shook his head and grinned. “The part about being rid of the reporters was cool, though.”
Aodhán shrugged. “We'll have to find another way to handle them. For now, though, we'll just have to suffer their insufferable presence.”
They soon made their way out of the Vilaris estate and headed towards the carriage they'd commissioned for the night. An hour and a half later, they arrived at their home.
It was night already, and although the sky still bore the glow of dusk, it was almost midnight. Aldric was the only one still awake, and he shushed them as he opened the door. “Mom and Dad are asleep.” He gestured towards the dining room. “Come, I need to know all that happened.”
Daruk groaned and shut the door behind him. “If you ever hear me speak favorably of nobles again, I permit you to boil my bathing water.”
Aldric's eyes widened, and he whispered urgently. “Now I really need to know what the hell happened.”