He felt so sick to his stomach that cold sweat broke out on his back. The glowering look in his father’s eyes was the exact one Verne always got as a boy when he did something wrong - which felt like it was anything he ever did. But he wasn’t a boy anymore; there was nothing he would get in trouble for.
It was hard to convince himself that with his parents right in front of him. It felt surreal, as if he walked right into a nightmare. His mother’s eyes were downcast as if to apologize to the world of the things that he’s done.
“Why are you here?” Verne managed to ask. “I thought - ”
“We are here in the event you fail your mission,” Lord Teverin said. “In which you did. We have much to discuss about this, son.”
Verne narrowed his eyes at his parents’ long time porter. Pinnlo was expressionless and showed no signs that they had previously seen each other in Gymor. “I think you have much to explain as well,” he replied.
He felt thin fingers clutch at his arm. His mother had stepped forward, her eyes wide and urgent. “Not here,” she said in a hushed tone. She looked… strange. It wasn’t just her usual cowed and frightened look, there was something else shining in her eyes. He couldn’t quite see it and he blamed it on the darkness in the streets. She turned and the three of them started down the largely empty street.
They made their way between two unmanned stalls. The table and shelves were devoid of products, probably cleared for the night. A few storage boxes were pushed to the side and his parents led him to a dark entrance behind the storage boxes. He was only able to see properly when Pinnlo lit a lantern to aid his parents down a set of steps. At the bottom of the corridor was a shabby red door.
“What is this place?” Verne breathed out.
“A den of degeneracy,” his father spat back. “Before it was cleared out.”
“Why have you brought me here?”
“Please, Verne,” his mother whispered. She tugged at his hand in no specific direction. She just pulled it as if to warn him of something.
The red doors pushed open to reveal a mess of an interior. What looked like the remains of a bar lay in shambles with broken glass strewn around. The tables, chairs, benches and counters made of wood were almost all destroyed. Splintered pieces of wood scattered the broken floors. However the majority of the rune lanterns affixed to the walls were still working and dimly lit the area. It seemed to be an underground bar of some kind before it was destroyed.
Some walls were broken through as well, revealing smaller private rooms along the sides and back. Verne could see one of the smallest rooms had the remains of a curved bench. On the wall hung a slashed painting of what could be the emperor’s palace.
His study of his surroundings was cut short when Pinnlo closed the door behind him. He glared at the porter, his hand tight on the handle of his sword at his hip. “Will I have a thorough explanation of what I saw in Gymor?” he asked. Pinnlo did not have a change in expression.
“He was fulfilling his duty,” Lord Teverin said. Verne spun around to stare at his father incredulously.
“His duty? He was at the scene of a Gate opening.” Verne desperately looked between his parents. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”
“And what would you know what fulfillment looks like?” his father thundered. Verne winced. “Your superiors send you to deal with the filth and what happens? You stumble around making a fool of yourself.”
The filth? “What is your meaning, father?” Verne demanded.
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“I heard you nursed that… monster back to health as well,” Lord Teverin continued. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. I would never have sent you out if I had known beforehand.”
“Are you talking about Aris?”
“They are the reason why this is happening, you moron,” his father said, voice rising. “The whole reason why the Parts are angry. The hubris of these… filthy half breeds. And you think you should gallivant around the empire with them?”
“Back then… Did you send me out with Ral and Aris so I can eliminate them?” This made no sense. His father was acting strange - as overbearing as he was as a parent, he never gave any inclinations that he thought of the Caelisians that way.
Lord Teverin spun around and backhanded his wife so hard she was thrown off balance and stumbled to the ground. “You said he would be able to do it,” he snarled down at her. He picked up a fistful of her hair so her terrified face was right up to his. “You said he’ll understand!”
Verne was rooted on the spot in horror watching his mother cry as his father slapped her again. It’s happened before. It’s happened so many times. He remembers each time. It was like his rage couldn’t be contained and beating Lady Attan was the only thing that could calm him. Lord Teverin would never beat his son but his wife… that was another matter.
“Why is a common born more useful than my own son?” Lord Teverin roared, throwing his wife forcefully onto the splintered ground. “How many times do I need to be humiliated until you learn a fucking lesson?” He viciously kicked the cowering Lady Attan on the ground.
Verne trembled, internally screaming at his body to move. He should be the one being beaten. He should be the one punished. He should be there at his father’s mercy as evidence to the terror left behind by his grandfather. His mother had landed on the broken floor and the upturned splinters were driven into her hands. Blood smeared on her pale skin. The sight drove Verne to finally move.
If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he moved as fast as Ral or that Yscian. One moment he was frozen solid, the next he had his father’s collar clutched in his hand. But he wasn’t able to move any further for two reasons:
First, he felt cold steel at his throat. Pinnlo had been behind him and was there to defend his parents as he always had for most of Verne’s life. Second, he felt a hard lump within the fistful of his father’s shirt. It had sharp corners and edges and the size of it told him it was a talisman.
Pure fury drove him to squeeze until the little wooden talisman broke. The cloth and his hand muffled the sound.
“Stop being a coward,” Verne snarled. “And face me instead. Your failure. Instead of just beating a defenseless woman like you always do.”
His father gave a disgusted scoff and nodded at Pinnlo, who immediately withdrew. “You know nothing about this… ‘defenseless woman’,” Lord Teverin said acidly. He looked around the ruined bar. “If it wasn’t for me, she would be better suited to a place like this. They called this the Red Veil, did you know? A place for whore and whore mongers, but with more money and alcohol.”
“Are we just here for you to spew venom at your wife and son?” Verne retorted. “You needn’t have gone through all the trouble.”
“No, Verne, we are here to make up for the mistake that is you,” Lord Teverin said. “Since you failed to take care of the twins. Our family has to make it up somehow. So I will make it up with you.”
Lady Attan threw herself at her husband’s legs, sobbing wildly. For the years he had beaten her, not once has she begged for anything. Not even for him to stop. But now she begged while barely coherent through her sobs. “Please don’t do it,” she cried out. “Please! Please, Venag….”
Lord Teverin gave her another vicious kick and she fell away with a whimper. Pinnlo swiftly was at their side.
“My lord, he has a talisman,” Pinnlo said.
“From that runist?” Lord Teverin snorted. “Take it.”
Verne quickly stepped back, but his father drew his sword and pointed it at his mother, who was still begging. He gritted his teeth and drew out the talisman and put it on Pinnlo’s outstretched hand.
Immediately after he gave up the talisman, his father turned and gestured at a wall, summoning a huge array of dark pink runes that spread all around the ruined bar.
“No, don’t do it,” his mother begged again. This time, Verne knew what she was begging against.
Aris was right, the Bringers were opening another Gate right at the Heart - and his father was the one doing it.