[Lesser Missile Defense] and [Speed Interposition] are what Cultrost gained in his recent Awakening. He did not count how many Awakenings he had undergone from their journey from Libertalia to Torregorn. Despite the arrow wounds he had suffered from the last battle, he had treasured each wound despite feeling them less than he should with his [Ignore Pain].

He stood up from the bedroll, seeing the gates of their destination from afar. Their caravan was rolling among the fertile fields that surrounded the city of Ascolitica.

“Cultrost?” Racieros’ worries evaporated as he saw Cultrost awake at last.

“Don’t move too much, knucklehead!” Numisley scolded his brother for moving too much.

“Look who's talking, spending too much blood in his Feat.” Cultrost weakly bantered. Numisley was still feeling a bit woozy from his [Bloodbound Contract]. For the past few nights, he wondered why his [Bloodbound Contract] feels heavier than when he used it in Libertalia. He surmised in his journal that it might be because of the difference in status between him and Castellan.

The Inglorious Hands, or rather a quarter of them had accompanied the caravan of Numisley out of penance from hurting a scion of the House. The guards of the gates of Ascolitica were wary of an unfamiliar caravan with armed men and two [Traders] that they haven’t seen before. Until Numisley showed them his Signo Dato and Racieros appeared before them to show them the Commerro’s crest.

Numisley was still sitting in the wagon, while Cultrost remained restless, walking beside the two wagons despite his brother’s protests. The healing potions had closed the wounds, but it would take time to completely heal. After Racieros scolded him, Cultrost shrugged and hopped back on the wagon.

The vast city was unlike Ovespuerte’s port city, where it felt cramped in many areas. It was not Libertalia’s Baunt where it was an ancient megacity with a lot of space to spare. The markets had dominated much of the space in Ovespuerte, and many of the buildings used by commoners had seen better days.

This city was clean and more organized with more expansive and well-maintained roads. The atmosphere was lively, with many people preparing for the grand reception for the coming nobility. People were setting up paper streamers hanging on ropes that crossed from roof to roof. [Acolytes] were sticking written prayers on paper on the buildings on either side of the main roads where the other noble houses’ caravans would enter. The citadel sat on a flattened hill at the center of the city; its low walls with the hill’s height were enough to defend against any siege.

Cultrost stared at a stone statue depicting a man standing atop the broken prow of a sinking ship, holding a gleaming cutlass and a jagged sword of coral. The lapiz-encrusted stone waves possess the illusion as if the waves were still flowing outwards, frozen in time. He realized that the statue resembled Numisley’s facial features. The same small nose and serene facade.

“Palden. We’ll catch up. Me and Cultrost will come back later.”

Numisley and Cultrost hopped out of the caravan. Cultrost followed his brother as he suddenly limped closer to the statue. Numisley ducked awkwardly with his cane, trying to read the worn plaque with his limited understanding of the local language. Somehow, he understood what was written.

Duellitarro Marr Naveirei.

[Champion of the Coasts, Duelist Lord of the Rending Waves].

“Surf through the waves of strife.”

“Numisley?”

“I-I just want to take a look.”

Cultrost skirted around Numisley and saw a tear in his eye. He stared forlornly at the statue, a wave of nostalgia eerily washing over him. This was more than homesickness for a place he didn’t live in. A place he didn’t know yet. As if the statue of his ancestor calls for his bloodline.

“Sorry. I didn’t know why I did that.”

“There’s a word for it. I think?” Cultrost held Numisley’s shoulder. “Nostalgia?”

“How can I feel nostalgic for a place that I haven’t been to before?”

“I don’t know.”

“The [Royal Sculptor] who sculpted Duellitarro’s Triumph etched a Feat in the stone. [Evoke Emotion (Sculpture): Ancestral Awe]. According to the History of the Naveirei by Sasres Jastrellan.”

A stranger appeared before them. Cultrost speedily interposed between Numisley and stranger with no discernable features.

“The fuck–who are you?” Cultrost demanded.

“Apologies. I was doing my daily walks around our city. Let me remove my Ring of Anonymity.”

The magic that enveloped the stranger dissipated. What appeared was a man with the same curly blond hair and small nose as Numisley. However, unlike Numisley, he possessed a more scholarly appearance. He possesses a more scholarly bent, and it showed in his appearance; his spectacles, and his thin frame. He was no Numisley who can charm women with a glance, but his noble blood made his homeliness more regal.

“I overheard you two. And you, I see the resemblance. You are…one of us, aren’t you?”

Numisley’s eyes are agape with incredulity. His mouth is unable to speak as he had always done, to impress or assert himself above others.

“The Naveirei? Are you…related to me?”

“Yes.”

“We should talk in a more private place.”

“What about…should I tell Palden?” Cultrost interrupted.

“Oh, the documents,” Numisley remembered about having to register their caravan to the Merchant’s Guild. “Cultrost, can you do it for me?”

“Me? Wait, you, where are you taking my brother?”

“Brother?” The stranger who seems to be related to Numisley sputtered. “Did his father take a second wife?”

“Our father. I’m adopted by them. I’m his brother.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. Pardon me for my rudeness. I’ll take him to the Bibliotecca Tor Ciudelar–the Citadel Library. I’ll tell the [Guards] and the [Librarian] to let you through when you come to us later.”

Cultrost was split between accompanying his brother and doing what they were supposed to do. However, he stepped away, since he needs to do his part for Gildin Trading. He would run towards that library as soon as he finished registering in the Merchant’s Guild.

“Stay safe.”

“I’ll be back.”

Cultrost followed the path of their caravan while Numisley went with his relative. They walked unnoticed through the roads filled with people preparing for the celebration of the opening of the first library in Ascolitica. The two soon arrived at the citadel’s first gate and after the older Naveirei was recognized by the [Guards] even with his Ring of Anonymity.

“There will be a red-skinned Satyr with long hair coming later. His name is Cultrost Gildin, right?”

“Yes.”

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“Let him through. My orders. He’s one of the [Merchants] that we hired for the feast.”

“Yes, Lord Naveirei.”

The [Guards] followed his orders, opening the doors within the gatehouse. Numisley found himself limping up the inclined road that coiled around half of the small hill where the citadel sits. He can see the full splendor of the city of Ascolitica under the clear blue skies, a flat land dominated by red roofs, towers, and fields of crops that stretched for miles, with a few villages under Ascolitica’s purview.

He stumbled, but the older Naveirei caught him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t walk properly. Since I was born.”

“Can I take a look?”

“Who are you, anyway? I went with you because I want to know the answers. At least tell me your name when you dragged me here.”

“Anteojor. Anteojor Unor Naveirei. Pardon me. I was…alarmed when I figured out that you were one of us.”

“How did you figure it out anyway? You did say you overheard us. I didn’t say anything about my origins.”

“Yes, I overheard you because of my Earrings of Hearing. But it was my…superior intellect that put the pieces together.”

“You sound like an egotistical [Sage].”

“Sorry. What I meant, is that you mentioned ‘nostalgia’ when you were talking with your ‘brother–’”.

“He is my brother!” Numisley was gradually getting annoyed by his relative.

“I know–anyway, that’s how I figured it out. You looking at the statue of our ancestors with awe. What I’m meaning to say–It’s not just my intelligence alone, but it's what we are. Whoever possesses the heritage of the Thousand Bloodlines, will be smarter, stronger—better than the commoners.”

Numisley looked around, but fortunately, they weren’t any “commoners” within earshot.

“What, so you think you are better than other people?”

“Well–no–yes–I mean, what I want to tell you is that you have a very potent bloodline. This is why–I’ll tell you in the library. By the way, you should invest in more anti-eavesdropping charms. This is also why I was able to eavesdrop earlier.”

They had arrived at the final gatehouse, unraveling the citadel. The inner city was different. The fact that there were more integral buildings like the city’s central church and the Mage Guild speaks to how important they are that they were within the city’s most fortified area.

They walked towards the library, a wide solid stone building two stories high, with wide blurry crown glass windows to provide the lighting for the inside. It was guarded by [Guards] with spears, but they let the two through.

They were first greeted by a framed map of the Six Lands behind glass; its parchment was slightly worn, the vanishing ink dignified by age. The library was serenely empty, its chestnut bookshelves and hallways waiting for new visitors. Its books are neatly lined up and recently brushed. The freshly furnished wood of the shelves was sketched on with the runes required for the incoming enchantments to preserve the books; nothing as grand as the greatest libraries of the Six Lands, but enough for the oldest books to last a decade.

They sat on the farthest table in the library, away from prying eyes from the windows.

“[Ward of Muffling].” Anteojor drew a glyph with his finger on the table. The geometrical glyph dimly glowed. “Finally, we can talk. So which Naveirei did you come from?”

Numisley thought the spell he cast is very useful. However, he had already learned that he isn't inclined to the magical arts. The next best thing that he can do in order not to be eavesdropped on is to buy magic items or have a [Mage] working for him, as his relative says.

“My parents? Before that, how can I trust you? I know you’re related to me. How should I know that you don’t have ulterior motives?”

“I–It’s a good thing that you’re already cautious. As you may already heard…I think, that there’s an inherent danger in being part of a Noble House. Assassinations and slander from other Houses. I do not wish to be a part of that. I merely am an unimportant person in our House, hence why am free to do as I please most of the time. Mainly, reading books. Books won't stab you in the back. Books will never slander you–wait this is false…”

The scholarly Naveirei coughed meekly.

“Apologies for the tangent. But, my motive is that I’m concerned for you. And you are my relative. Of course, I would help. I have nothing to gain by helping you. Out of the kindness of my heart, I suppose.”

“Hm. I’ll accept that.” Numisley lowered his guard a bit. “I’m the son of Jascias and Maryhiana Naveirei. I need to prove my lineage. Count Commerro is trying to kill me."

"Because you're the scion of their enemies."

"I–Yes."

Numisley was glad that he didn't have to lie about his circumstances, although it may be not far from the truth as Anteojor explained the feud between the Naveirei and Gaviolos Houses, in which the Commerro's were loosely affiliated with the latter. Numisley's parents, with the help of the Naveirei House, had restored the royal line when the Gaviolos House briefly usurped the throne.

"So why is the Gaviolos House still alive then? They had betrayed the kingdom, right?"

Numisley had to ask. He needed more information about this kingdom to help him in the long run.

"I heard it's because of Marquis Dustitoz pulling favors to the Archbishop of the kingdom to lessen his sentence."

"I see. Is there someone who can help me?"

"Marquis Escribanorr Tres Naveirei. Your uncle, and my father. If you are the scion of the main family, that means you are my cousin."

"Can you take me to him?"

"The House has been busy preparing for the opening of the library. I could ask him if he can make time for you. We could meet tomorrow if you’re going to deliver your wares.”

“Count Commerro also hired me to sabotage your party. With rotten fish. Tell him that too. I won't do Commero’s bidding since you will be helping me.”

“It was nice meeting you. Meet me tomorrow in the castle’s larders before evening at sunset. In the name of the Houses, I hope you the best. I wish to see you again, officially. As a family.”

The glyph traced on the table dissipated. They turned their heads towards the library’s main doors as Cultrost suddenly opened them.

“Brother! Are you okay?” Cultrost rushed to Numisley.

“Of course. You can trust him.” Numisley reassured.

“I mean no harm, truly. I’m Numisley’s cousin.” Anteojor introduced himself to Cultrost. The Satyr shook the hand of Numisley’s blood relative.

“We’ll see you tomorrow.” Numisley bid his farewell

The two Gildin Brothers soon left the library and the citadel, heading towards the inn below. Anteojor Naveirei, with his Ring of Anonymity, rushed towards the Naveirei’s castle.

As soon as he was inside, he removed his magic ring and pocketed it. His relatives, the few of them that can attend had seen their reclusive relative briskly walking as if in a hurry. Through the decorated halls of the castle, he finally arrived at his father’s office.

“My lord, Marquis–”

“I know. I got something important to tell him.”

Anteojor barged into his father’s meeting with the eight [Enchanters] he employed. Miffed, his father stared at his impertinent son. The eight [Enchanters] gave way to the young [Lord].

“I assume there’s something important that I need to know?”

“Over privacy spells.”

“Excuse us.”

The [Enchanters] were told to wait outside on the padded benches. As soon as the doors were closed, the [Mage Marquis] activated a spell circle on his lacquered desk, deploying a spell greater than what Anteojor cast in the library. The windows were darkened to prevent outside spies from reading their lips.

“Son. You need to work on your manners.”

Anteojor abruptly kneeled.

“Forgive me, my lord.”

“You wouldn’t barge in without a reason. Speak up.”

“I–I discovered our lost cousin.”

“Cousin?”

“From the main family. Lady Marhyiana’s son.”

The greying [Marquis] jumped from his seat, wide eyes scanning the room. He knew that the former head of the Naveirei ran away with the kingdom’s [Royal Spymaster] to the Free Continent, Libertalia.

“Son. You’re telling the truth right?”

“On Naveirei’s honor.”

“So. They had a son, huh…”

“He needs us to prove that he’s one of us.”

“Of course he does. But I’ll judge if he’s worthy of our House or not.”

Anteojor told the rest of the story about Numisley’s circumstances. The next day, the Gildin Brothers prepared themselves for the Naveirei House.