image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]

The negotiations had unfolded quite favorably. As expected, I could have pressed harder and driven the price down to nearly half, but I consciously chose not to do so, my reason being that I did not seek to endanger my operations regarding Arbos's training.

With a contemplative sigh, I drew the carriage curtain close, momentarily shutting out the verdant panorama that stretched before me. Our current location lay far removed from the urban landscape; we were en route to the estate, the journey itself signifying a detachment from bustling city life.

This was no ordinary carriage, but an exemplar of imperial craftsmanship. These opulent carriages, distinctly heftier than their common counterparts, demanded four steeds for propulsion instead of the usual two. Its interior was lavishly spacious, though currently only I occupied its confines.

Opting to maintain a discreet profile, I declined the numerous appeals from adventurers wishing to serve as my protective escort. This journey was a solitary one, although I was not alone in the company of my butler, the designated driver for the carriage. The man responsible for this role bore the name Doros. He was a man of no affiliation, having no ties to family or friends. Other contenders existed, potentially better suited to my specific requirements. An assembly of women had expressed interest in serving me, yet I opted instead for this elderly gentleman. Doros was not particularly formidable or intellectually imposing—at least, not to my knowledge. However, his visage exuded an air of quintessential etiquette, nobility, and elegance, tempered by a lack of aggression. He emanated an air of reliability, a trait not easily stumbled upon.

Thinking back upon it, perhaps having such a luxurious carriage was not the wisest choice if seeking to remain discreet...

As for Arbos, I had dispatched a message informing him that my butler would soon be dispatched to retrieve him. After delivering me to the mansion, Doros's assignment was to ferry Arbos to this location. Although a joint departure might have been viable, I harbored a desire to acquaint myself with the estate before any other occupants arrived.

Gradually, the estate—largely assumed to be such—materialized on the horizon. The carriage inched closer, revealing not a mere manor but a veritable castle. Towering stone walls, punctuated by battlements took the scene. Amidst this architectural grandeur, a central edifice rose above the rest—an apparent keep, I surmised.

Nestled amidst a woodland expanse, far removed from the urban hubbub, stood a castle, an ideal haven far from prying eyes.

The carriage continued its advance, progressively decelerating as it approached the entrance of the castle. The gatehouse lay before us, its wide entrance welcoming visitors. Positioned outside this entrance were two guards, tasked with safeguarding the fortress. With synchronized movements, they drew closer to the carriage, one of them signaling my driver to halt with a firm hand gesture.

"In the name of the King, halt!" he commanded.

With the guard's command heeded, the carriage came to a stop, leaving me to contemplate the reason for this interruption from within its confines. Was it merely a customary checkpoint or a more substantial matter at hand?

"State your identity and purpose for being here," inquired one of the guards, his tone infused with an air of authority.

Peering down from his vantage point atop the carriage, Doros's brow furrowed as he regarded the guards. His response carried an undertone of implied threat, yet was delivered with a certain assertiveness, "I bear Viscount Arbious, returning him to his rightful abode. Clear the way."

"Viscount Arbious?" The guard's intonation hinted at surprise.

"By the royal decree of our esteemed King, the occupant within my escort assumes lordship over this estate," Doros proclaimed, his visage exuding an air of command and influence.

The two guards exchanged a glance before turning their attention back to Doros. "Your arrival has been anticipated," confirmed one of the guards, his nod indicating acknowledgment. "A congregation has already assembled; they await your presence within the keep."

"A congregation? Any notable figures among them?" queried Doros.

"The late viscount's adopted progeny, mainly... Though it's not within our purview to render judgments, we refrained from eviction. These children possess an endearing demeanor; given time, the new lord might develop an affinity for them if circumstances allow…"

Upon overhearing their exchange, I impulsively flung open the doors of my carriage, stepping out abruptly. Doros, startled by my unanticipated departure, pivoted swiftly to discern the cause, while the guards surveyed the unfolding scene, their expressions a mix of perplexity and surprise.

Advancing purposefully, I headed toward the carriage's front where the guards stood. Almost immediately, they prostrated themselves upon sighting me. What had prompted them to assume such a submissive stance? Could it have been the intensity of my presence or the somber attire draping my form, the dark yet elegant robes embellished with intricate runes along their borders, each designed to mitigate the influence of the demonic aura that clung to me.

No matter.

"Doros, I shall explore the premises at my leisure. Your presence is required elsewhere; you are well acquainted with the destination," I directed, releasing Doros from his current duty.

The butler, without dissent, complied, and the carriage executed a graceful turn before departing with deliberate haste.

The guards, once back on their feet, exhibited residual tremors in their bodies, their unease was still palpable. My conclusion inclined toward the notion that my aura, to some degree, provoked this reaction. Nevertheless, I paid this phenomenon little mind. It was only natural for the weak to fear the strong.

Since they knew who I was, I deemed formal introductions unnecessary. Thus, I strode forward, tracing the path laid before me, disregarding the guards who trailed at a respectful distance. The cobblestone path led me toward the primary keep—an imposing stone structure, elevated above its counterparts, its windows cloaked in crimson-hued stained glass. A visage wrought in the vein of Gothic architecture akin to those found within my infernal domains.

Proceeding along the garden-fringed trail that led to the keep, the guards' silence mirrored my own contemplative disposition.

The garden sprawled expansively, a central fountain casting cascades of water skyward. An array of trees, towering hedges, and diverse foliage painted the scene, a verdant tapestry meticulously tended to. Yet, these botanical splendors failed to captivate my attention; my focus remained steadfastly affixed to the keep.

At length, we arrived before the keep's gates, the guards advancing to address me. "My lord, allow me the honor of unsealing the gates for you."

I waved off their intent with a subtle motion of my hand, fingers extending from within the recesses of my robes. As my hand gestured upward, the portcullis responded, ascending, while the doors nestled behind it obediently swung inward.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Caught within a state of awe, the guards remained suspended in a state of bewilderment.

The interior of the keep was a testament to antiquity, a relic of times long past that defied the contemporary age. Rustic chandeliers hung from the ceiling in a linear arrangement, exuding an aged charm. The stone walls bore the signs of wear, devoid of modern wallpaper, instead, a shroud of moss covered the walls. A tattered orange carpet stretched across the floor, extending from the entrance to the far reaches of the corridor where a spiral staircase leading to the second floor was located. Gazing upon this scene, my displeasure grew. Despite its substantial proportions, this estate lacked the luxurious quality I had hoped for.

Clearly, someone has been tending to the gardens, so why not the keep? Still, looks like I've got a lot of work ahead of me...

The ground was uneven and marred by imperfections, a testament to neglect demanding correction. The ceiling, mirroring the state of disrepair, elicited a siMilar need for restoration. Nevertheless, these physical concerns paled in significance compared to the figures who awaited my presence within.

Two individuals, a young girl, and a boy, materialized in the grand tapestry of the keep's hall. These individuals presumably represented the offspring of the late viscount—victims of the prince's action, stripping them of their inheritance to repay his debts.

Recognizing my inclination for privacy, the guards withdrew from the scene, facilitating an environment conducive to private discourse.

Bowing before the worn carpet, both youngsters adopted a submissive stance, palms pressed against the floor as they prostrated themselves. At the precise moment when the gates parted, their gazes gravitated toward me. Mere children, scarcely older than Arbos, their countenances belied their innocence. The boy projected an aura of trepidation, whereas the girl seemed oblivious, radiating an aura reminiscent of sanctity.

Proceeding with caution, I approached them, my footfalls measured upon the carpeted path. The girl bore no traces of hostility and appeared oblivious to my dark aura, yet the currents of her magical energies aroused a measure of alarm.

Standing in their presence, my back to the ascending staircase, I issued a directive. "Rise."

Compliantly, the pair resumed their upright positions, their faces turned toward me. While the boy's demeanor was characterized by apprehension, the girl exhibited a lack of awareness, seemingly undisturbed by my presence. She appeared marginally younger than the boy, a difference only evident upon closer inspection.

"Why don't you introduce yourselves," I prompted, inviting them to step forward.

The boy complied, edging hesitantly toward me, his head bowed and gaze cast downward. His voice, though soft, resonated with a trace of determination. "We are the offspring of the late viscount. In light of our lord's passing, we remain nameless."

Stepping forward in the boy's stead, the girl assumed her place before me, capturing my attention with her poised demeanor.

"The head of the household is traditionally responsible for naming us," she conveyed with an air of quiet authority, "for we are bound by the legacy of our ancestral crest and abide by its laws."

Distinct from the practices of the mainland nobility, the southerners adhered to a distinct tradition. In their hierarchical structure, it was the prerogative of the faction's leader to designate names for those in their direct service. While tempted to rectify this deviation from the norm, I resisted the urge, recognizing the complexities inherent in cultural variations.

"Let it be known that you shall be called Fear of House Arbious," I announced, addressing the boy with measured resolve. The name I chose reflected the fear I perceived emanating from his demeanor—a manifestation of his apprehension and unease.

Shifting my focus from the boy to the girl, I contemplated her appellation.

"As for you… Your nature is an unforeseen one," I mused aloud, my thoughts engaged in the delicate task of ascribing a fitting name.

"You, henceforth, shall bear the name Celestie," I declared, bestowing upon her a name that encapsulated the aura of the celestial—suggestive of an unexpected yet profound quality I sensed within her.

Unlike the boy's subdued acceptance, the girl's gaze engaged mine, her voice laced with deference as she ventured a query. "Why Celestie?"

"You find fault with the name?"

"No, but—"

"In that case, there's no cause for objection."

"I merely seek an explanation."

Damn it, she's persistent.

"Celestie is a name associated with a deity of bygone eras. She was renowned for her captivating beauty and unwavering resilience—qualities that set her apart. I perceive the echo of her spirit within you."

Though this deity is fictional, this embellishment should intrigue and flatter her and silence her at the very least. And As anticipated, her countenance transformed into one of awe, a hushed sense of elation enveloping her.

"Now, with that matter addressed, I have a query for you."

Both youths stood a little taller, straightening their backs, their silence echoing like a calm breeze as they awaited in anticipation.

"I have an inclination to have you remain here. Yet, in my view, one's presence by my side ought to be earned through merit. Therefore, I ask you this: What can you contribute to my cause? Why should you stay here?"

Celestie seized the moment, her response immediate. "The late viscount was a scholar of sorts. He imparted to me knowledge of arcane arts. My knowledge and practice allow me to cast spells of the third tier. If you wish, I could instruct you as well! My proficiency is well-regarded, deemed by many as exceptional!"

Her enthusiasm exuded radiance, her eyes sparkling as she spoke. Internally, I couldn't help but suppress a chuckle. A third-tier spellcaster offering to educate me was an amusing proposition.

Nonetheless, casting third-tier spells at her age was impressive, endowing her with undeniable merit. Pairing her with Arbos might be beneficial.

Directing my gaze to the boy, I found him still reticent, nerves manifesting. His timidity seemed rooted in shyness and a reluctance to engage in dialogue.

"Your offer is appreciated, though I'm skeptical about the prospect of you instructing me in magic. Nevertheless, I discern merit in retaining your presence here. Thus, you've passed this evaluation. As for your brother…"

My pace slowed, affording him an opportunity to respond, yet his apprehension still held him in silence.

Celestie, a proactive figure, interjected, eager to support her brother. "Please disregard my brother's reluctance to speak for himself! He lacks finesse in the realm of magic and wields no proficiency in weaponry."

My initial thought verged on concluding him as useless, but I refrained from vocalizing this judgment. Yet my expression spoke volumes of my thoughts, a detail she picked up on.

"Wait, sire! I implore you to listen."

A lull settled in, my gaze turning toward her as she made her plea.

"Sir, my brother possesses an exceptional gift, albeit one distinct from magic or combat skills."

My curiosity piqued, I prompted, "And what gift might that be?"

With a timid voice, the boy contributed, "I can communicate with the trees... I am the steward of nature in these grounds. The gardens you traversed, Your Grace, owe their upkeep to my endeavors."

"The gardens..." My personal distaste for the gardens emanated from my demonic disposition. Nevertheless, the girl ardently advocated for her brother's worth, and this peculiar talent of his intrigued me. Conversing with trees? Absurd, yet potentially beneficial.

"You take care of the gardens... Is that right... They were quite lovely I must admit... Very well... I request a demonstration of your abilities. Not immediately, however. Do you object?"

The boy swallowed audibly, his gaze locked onto me.

"I wouldn't dare object my lord. I shall strive to validate your trust."

"Excellent," I acknowledged, shifting my attention to Celestie. "As for you, Celestie, I'm new to this estate and require a guide. Would you be willing to undertake that role?"

Eager anticipation ignited within her eyes, her response swift and unwavering.

"Without a doubt, my lord!"

With her agreement, we parted ways with Fear, leaving him to attend his usual duties. Not that I knew what those were. It was Celestie's objection that prompted me to allow him to prove his usefulness and without it I would have most likely gotten rid of him.

She is a great negotiator... I'll give her that... But for now... Let's explore.