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The Slave's Son Saga [Grimdark Progression Fantasy]
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-eight: The Secret Behind the Bookshelf (Part Three)

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-eight: The Secret Behind the Bookshelf (Part Three)

Intersecting with the group, Maels observed the streams of tears that leaked out of the boy’s eyes as the four men responded to his presence with deep bows and formal greetings. Once the formalities had been exchanged, he turned his gaze on the oldest of the four, a kind-faced man with cunning eyes, and spoke in a neutral tone.

“Daven. Was it you lot that injured the boy?”

“Boy?” Visibly confused, Daven stumbled with his response. “If you mean this demon spawn, then yes, it was us. He had the nerve to curse Lucian in our presence, so it was only natural for us to teach this heathen a proper lesson.”

Something about the bruises that covered the child’s body left a bad feeling in Maels’s stomach. Kneeling down to get a proper look at him, he couldn’t help but feel pity at the poor lot that the youth had drawn in life. Resting a hand on the boy’s small back, he activated an advanced healing spell that quickly erased all signs of injury on the pale, slightly emaciated body before him.

“We shouldn’t judge him for the mistakes of others. His people were the only ones to openly seek repentance after the devil Drune had lost its hold on them all those years ago, and to this day they’re still suffering and sacrificing to that end. If you need a reminder of this, just look now where you’re taking him.”

“Yes, Your Grace. I’ll be sure to remember your words.” Daven ducked his head in a tactful manner, though Maels knew that neither he nor any of the others had been convinced by his reminder.

“You’d do well to. See how they look now, almost indistinguishable from you or me. If it weren’t for those eyes…”

“What you say is true,” said another man, Hal. Giving Maels a subordinate stare with his left eye—the only one an apparent thief had left him with when he had been robbed as a child—Hal knelt down and picked the boy up in his arms. “Forgive us, Your Grace, for we’ve lost ourselves in a moment of weakness. To hear someone curse Lord Lucian, and from a demon spawn no less, it was quite difficult for us to hold back.”

“He’s lived an ignorant life. All of them have. Just do well to remember this in the future, for anyone that sacrifices themselves in the name of Lucian and for the good of our fellow believers is somebody that is worthy of our respect, at least on some levels.”

“Your wisdom has enlightened us,” said Daven, who bowed his head with a friendly smile. “We’ll be sure to have some decent food sent to their quarters to commemorate this newest of their contributions.”

“Decent food?” Looking closely, the boy’s ribs were fully outlined on his skinny, shirtless frame. “Have you not been feeding them as I instructed before I left for Cessia?” Seeing the varying levels of hesitancy that each of the men showed, Maels controlled his temper and said in a collected tone. “From here on out, feed them proper meals. If it’s not something that you four would eat, then don’t give it to them.” Voice taking on a darker tinge, he added, “I hope that I won’t have to repeat myself in the future.”

“Perish the thought, Your Grace.”

Looking up and down the dark hallway, Maels gave them a light nod. “You’ve got a task to do, so I won’t keep you any longer. Ah, before I forget. I’ll be distributing some gifts later to reward the long years of service that you all and many of our people have dedicated to me and my family. I do hope that you’ll accept them.”

The men exchanged glances, their moods visibly lifting as they thanked him with superfluous words. Afterwards, they bowed once again and then promptly took their leave.

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If they’re on their way to the lower chambers, then it seems I’m no longer needed there. Changing course, Maels made his way to a small room on the palace’s first floor, at the northeastern corner of the hexagonal structure. This was a sparsely-tread area of the palace where hardly any servants had reason to visit, and for good reason. This area was dedicated to several rooms of various sizes, each with its own purpose in regards to religious ceremony.

It wasn’t long before he arrived at the desired room, within which he could already sense several familiar auras. These belonged to servants of the palace that had served under its previous lord, an old friend of his father’s that he’d never gotten around to meeting. Upon receiving the White Palace as a reward for his endeavours, he had paid all of the servants and attendants of the former joint-ruler a hefty sum and then promptly dismissed them. He’d replaced all save for a select handful—including the men on the other side of the wide oaken door—with his own servants and subordinates.

Just then, the lights flickered on. Evidently, energy had returned to the magical circuits that controlled nearly every enchantment that powered the property. Seeing this, Maels abruptly dismissed his basic illumination spell—along with those that were still following the servants that he’d run into earlier at a distant part of the palace—and then opened the door with solemn hands to reveal three grey-robed figures that were gathered around a large slab of precisely-hewn stone. An elliptical diagram had been carved into the pale bricks that made up the ancient floor, the room empty save for the area around the central slab as well as the sparse crystalline light sources on the ceiling.

A body lay on the cold bed of rock, the pale blue of the corpse betraying that it was of a similar temperature to the rough surface beneath it. A pang of sadness filled Maels’s chest as he beheld the young boy’s unmoving form, this one a couple of years younger than the one that he’d just encountered. Similarly, his long hair was jet black, like something from the depths of a bottomless abyss.

“Your Grace,” said the men in unison.

Maels entered, closing the door behind him.

“What brings you here, Your Grace?”

To the beady-eyed man that had just stepped forth, Maels said, “I’ve decided to personally preside over the proceedings this time around. I feel that as the new ruler of this palace, it’s only right that I do so considering all that he has sacrificed for the sake of the good people of this household, and even further, this county.”

“You need not trouble yourself over such trivial matters,” the man hurried to say from beneath his hood. “Please, allow us to take care of small things such as this.”

Maels shook his head and walked over to the table, where he gently lifted the lid of one of the boy’s eyes with his thumb. There were no whites to these eyes, only the same jet black as the hair that covered the child’s little head. “How long did this one last?”

“A little over a month, Your Grace.”

“Why use young ones like this? They’re much stronger when they’re older, so it’s better for both parties to hold off as long as possible.” At least, that’s how his father had always made use of the Kets, of which he had owned several thousand.

Hearing this, the man glanced back at his companions, a bit hesitant. “As Your Grace knows, slaves such as these are almost impossible to purchase these days. Their low birth rate and their overall unwillingness to propagate has made them even more valuable, considering that every lord from here to Alta is trying to acquire them. In truth, we only had two remaining, and just now the last one was…”

Ah yes, thought Maels, the Altians had been buying and freeing Inverted slaves quite fervently in recent decades. He’d often thought about selling his slaves to some of the lords down south, giving them better lives while vastly increasing his fortune at the same time. That, however, was impossible for someone of his station, considering the hostility between the empire and the isolated southern kingdom. Not only that, but many of his future plans hinged on these slaves, so for the greater benefit of the good believers of the Faith, it was necessary that he keep them.

Your sacrifice does not go unseen, he thought sadly as he traced his thumb down the boy’s face.

“I’ll have a hundred more sent here by the week’s end.” Saying so hurt his heart, since death was guaranteed when subjected to the curse of soul-siphoning. Still, such a sacrifice was necessary in order to power the estate, which was one of the main administrative buildings within the county.

“A—a hundred?”

“My father had a habit of collecting them. As a new ruler in this county, it’s only natural that I use my own resources for the good of the people here, especially the ones that live on my estate. Don’t you agree?”

“Your benevolence knows no bounds, Your Grace.”