Dustitoz Gaviolos still held a strand of hair from his greatest enemy, Jascias Naveirei. He placed it on the ornate scrying mirror he procured, even within the remote manor that the members of his House seldom used. He stared intently at the silver and gold mirror, at the blurred reflection of his gaunt expression.
“Find, search, scour for the scion of the Naveirei…”
He chanted but without the length required to cast a complicated scrying spell. He was no [Mage] with the knowledge required for such advanced spells, nor the font of mana befit of a [Sorcerer]. He did not spend much of his life studying magic like Escribanorr Naveirei and the rest of his magically inclined contemporaries. Much of his life is spent on frivolities and gaining favors, and enjoying and utilizing much of the privilege in his station. And it showed in many of his Feats.
“...[Noble’s Privilege: Scry Descendant].”
The Feat filled up much of his lack of skills in many areas. One of the advantages of people in his position. It compensated for his lack of magical ability by casting a spell he was shown by a [Mage] in his employ.
The mirror’s reflection shifted, showing Numisley in a house somewhere.
“So that’s where he is…”
The faint smoky glyphs in the mirror showed Numisley’s location. Ascogres is a small town within the territory of House Commerro. He raised his hand slightly as if pulling something from the sky with his fingers.
[Hinder Travel: Severe Storms]. [Mark Target: Lure Monsters].
He did not care if Contiearl Torresso will take issue with his two Feats activating in his dominion. As far as he knows, the storms that will damage his land and attract monsters will not be his problem.
Dosinyu politely entered Dustitoz’s quarters. The [Ambassador] had offered to help him in managing the manor’s affairs, from managing the servants in the household, with the lack of a [Senechal] to receiving messages addressed to Dusitoz himself. Dustitoz knew that this was his effort to ingratiate himself with him because of his mistress, his associate. He was unable to ascertain the real reason why, as he hides his thoughts well, but he let him be to observe him at arm’s reach. Even without a [Senechal] or related Role, he had been a bit more competent than [Senechals] or [Majordomos] that he had employed.
“A [Message] Spell has been sent to you. From a Durvalerron Arro Unos Gaviolos.”
Dustitoz promptly popped a vein upon hearing his half-brother’s name on Dosinyu’s lips.
“Please read it to me.” Dustitoz sighed, slumping in his chair, flicking his wrist to make a gilded goblet of wine appear before him.
Dosinyu smirked for a second, and promptly read the letter verbatim:
Welcome home, Marquis Dustitoz Gaviolos.
I hope that you had learned a lot from your self-imposed exile to Libertalia. I received word that you are now in the manor in Tyrroanir. I figured that you are indulging in your habit of making goblets of wine appear in thin air and engorging in delicacies the poor [Servants] had to prepare; easing the guilt of your great sin towards our Serene Majesty, if you are capable of repentance.
I implore you to stay in the manor for the rest of your life. To retire from the politics of our great House and the kingdom we belong in. Feel free to indulge in whatever hedonism you crave without the judgment of your peers and family, as long as you do not drain the House funds too much.
If ever you fall into the habit of plotting against our Serene Majesty and the Kingdom of Torregorn again, our [King] had vested upon me to enact his Dato Esecuzio, my divine right of execution, no matter what your friends at the Synod might say.
There will be eyes upon you.
Your Patriarch and Half-Brother,
Durvalerron Arro Unos Gaviolos.
Dustitoz ripped out the paper from Dosinyu’s hands and stomped it repeatedly, cursing so profoundly that Dosinyu’s translation charm that he wore around his neck didn’t comprehend many of the Torregornian profanities erupting from the former Duci’s mouth. For the Duci, every word, every drop of ink, every stroke of the quill on the letter oozed with disrespect. His half-brother does not deserve the position that he had been given because he is of lower stock.
“How dare he threaten to murder me! This is favoritism to the greatest extent! I am the true head of the Gaviolos House! I’m of royal blood! I’m the purest scion of Torregorn!”
Dosinyu silently laughed at the irony of Dustitoz's words.
-
A few days ago in Ovespuerte.
“Why did you send your younger brother to Ascogres?”
Torresso Commerro stared down his impertinent son at breakfast. His firstborn whom he cherished the most, yet often irks him because of his righteousness and integrity that gets in the way of what is necessary.
“To keep him safe. Until I know the reason why are you acting erratically. Why do you make the Household Watch search for people only to release them on the same night? Is it because of the strange people I saw that night?”
The air in the hall quieted.
“It is not your business, Verrespadion.”
“Does Mother know?”
Silence, again. The air between them quivered.
“I’ll take that as a no then.”
“My son. Return your younger brother here.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“I refuse. And I think he will too. Until you give me a valid reason. This is my business too. The House’s business is my business.”
“You’re more suited to swinging a sword than ruling a county.”
The words stung.
“It’s better than being a liar. I’ll pray for you to stop your apostasy, Father.”
“[Emergency Spell: Chains of Draining]. [Hall: Suppress Hostility].”
Verrespadion tried to move, but it feels like his body lagged behind his mind. He stared at the fried fish, and he knew that his father poisoned him somehow with a disabling tincture. He didn’t have time to pray for a Miracle to manifest, as he was tightly restrained by heavy chains that materialized from the stone pillars of the hall. He tried to manifest his Feats, but it seems like the hall itself suppresses his combat abilities.
“There’s one thing you got right, my son. Racieros should stay at Ascogres for his safety. I decided that I’ll not be weak anymore. I’ll deal with this now, as soon as I can, as best as I can. Then he can come home, and I shall tell you everything, my son.”
An entire bevy of [Knights] and the common soldiery of the castle barged in the hall, pointing their spears at the bound Verrespadion.
“Pray for me in the meantime.”
The [Knights] handled Verrespadion gently and with care, as they moved him to the nicest part of the castle’s dungeon. Verrespadion’s cell was furnished, complete with a bed and a padded couch, and shelves of books to keep him company. Although a dozen or so [Guards] were assigned to keep watch on his cell, barring him any chance of escape, they are allowed to follow any of his requests as long as he doesn’t leave his cell.
After a few days, Torresso detected a weather-changing Feat in his domain, although he can’t exactly pinpoint where.
-
Numisley and Cultrost were cooped up in the house for a significant part of the day. The heavy rain didn’t stop. This was a problem because it made it harder to carry goods to the wagons that Palden procured within Ascogres.
“Dry the rations!”
The sacks of bread, nuts, and other long-lasting food that were gifted to them by Racieros are now wet from the rain. Graten was giving orders to his men as usual and coordinating with Yulvres and his men to lift the sacks inside the warm house. They were less bothered by the rain than they expected, being imbued with Palden’s Feat that made the workers under Numisley’s company have more endurance.
“Can we travel in this weather?” Cultrost asked Palden.
“I traveled in worse. In the Stokeburn Desert back home, it rained glass. I avoided wild-magic storms whenever I can though, even with my [Weather Resistance] Feat for the caravans I led.”
“Glass?”
“Glass storms. Sand storms with glass bits…I guess you brothers never went far west, huh.”
“Yeah,” Numisley interjected. “Our father said that the lands near the Great Desert are riddled with [Sand Pirates] and such.”
“You’re really our secret weapon, Palden,” Cultrost said, crossing his arms.”Without you, we would be long dead already.”
“Secret weapon? I’m just doing my best to fulfill your father’s wish.” Palden remained humble even if the brothers complimented them. Racieros meekly walked into Çienten’s candlelit home, prompting the [Brewer] to scramble towards him.
“My lord, do you need refreshments and snacks?” Çienten deferred to the younger lordling who had entered his home, not daring to elevate his head a single inch. For people like him, it is a blessing that one of the nobility entered his home, believing their presence alone consecrated their abode.
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry at the moment.”
Yulvres and his remaining men heard Çienten address Racieros, and they dropped the sacks and clamored to kneel before their lord.
“Hey!” Graten shouted in surprise, as they saw the rest of the sacks dropped on the ground.
“My holy lord.” Yulvres greeted with deference. “We will do our duty to the Naveirei like you asked.”
“You have my gratitude.”
Racieros kept up his stoic countenance. He was taught how to address commoners and people in the lower castes. As the nobility of Torregorn, they are supposed to embody the divinity inherent in their position as the enforcers and keepers of the laws of civilization. Yulvres and his men went back to lifting their supplies inside the house.
“You ain’t coming?” Cultrost asked Racieros.
“Unfortunately.” Racieros found himself grazing Cultrost’s finger before he swiped his hand away to slap him on the shoulder. “Stay safe, Cultrost.”
“Of course.”
Numisley smiled and turned to oversee the preparations for the trip. Soon, they set off, riding away from Ascogres. The horses that Palden steered didn’t seem to bother with the heavy rain, which only grew stronger as time went on. Racieros watched them ride away, as they brought the storm with them. Soon, Ascogres became unbothered by the rain, showered by the sun’s light under clear skies.
A full day has passed, and it was still raining. The grey clouds covered the moon and stars, plunging the night into darkness dimmer than midnight. Only the harsh lightning gave way to vague pillars of light that illuminated the forest. Graten sat with Palden on the coach’s seat, helping him navigate the shadowy glade with his [Dark Vision]. Even with Palden’s Feat that expands the interior of every wagon of his caravan to five times their size, the inside was still cramped.
“Why is still raining?” Numisley grumbled.
“Even the swampy Bottoms isn’t this wet!” Josaif, Graten’s deputy grumbled loudly.
It was impossible to set camp in this rain. The fires they would’ve set up will be snuffed out, and it was impractical for them to set up camp regardless of Palden’s Feats that would help. Some of them had already slept, leaning on each other or on the wagon’s canvas. Cultrost kept waking up because of the lightning’s rumble.
“Cave a few gallops away.” Graten pointed to the right.
“Right?” Palden shouted, his voice muffled by the heavy drops of rain.
“Trust me!”
After swerving through trees, bushes, and rocks with Graten’s guidance and Palden’s expert maneuvers from decades of experience, they stopped next to a cave at the side of a small rocky hill. The wind howled more intensely, swaying the trees of the forest until many of their branches fell off. The people in the wagon woke their sleeping companions to hop out of their wagon. They wore their coats to protect themselves from the rain, and one of Yulvres' men threw a glowing stone to check for beasts that might be living in a cave.
Fortunately, it was safe to enter the cave. However, Graten with his sharp vision and senses saw several shapes moving through the trees and passing by the bushes, breaking branches as they walked.
“Elementals! Wolves!” Graten shouted, using [Alarming Command] to make his men mobilize.
Many of them armed themselves with crossbows and began loading them with quarrels they freshly bought from Ascogres with what little money they had. There was a low layer of fog marching towards them, covering the ground and its bushes, stones, and flowers as if it was a slow wave creeping toward the coast.
Within a moment when lightning struck a tree nearest to them, the light revealed three irregular levitating apparitions of raging wind that caught the rain and incorporated its droplets into its raging swirling mass that were vaguely shaped like Human torsos. More had appeared, seeping through the trunk of thick reddened trunks of the tall trees like ghosts. Even without faces, it is apparent that they were incensed by the sudden storm that made them manifest. This storm wasn’t supposed to come until after summer.
Within the fog that formed a low wall in front of them, Graten saw feral canine shapes pacing within the fog, patiently encircling the Gildin Brothers and their entourage. The few people who had shields raised them as Yulvres and Graten ordered them to form a defensive line.
They have no choice but to retreat to the cave.