A couple of days later. Morgan and the Basthed stood by the castle's walls as a group of riders approached.

Something was off.

First, Elvran wasn’t around, and Morgan knew his father wouldn't allow himself to be anywhere but leading the group. Second, there was no transport where his mother -who hated riding horses- could be. Only a modest carriage for provisions followed behind.

The soldiers stopped in front of the gate, making space for one of them to advance to the front. Someone Morgan recognized immediately. "Nice to see you again, little Morgan," said the man after dismounting, a neutral smile on his face. It was his brother, Emmer

Without needing to look, Morgan knew Bertrand was making a stupid face at that statement. Despite being older, Emmer was smaller than Morgan and about the same height as Bertrand, who was four years younger and still growing.

"The same, Brother." He felt somewhat overwhelmed. Emmer hadn’t changed much; looking at him brought back all kinds of memories.

Before he had the chance to say anything else, Emmer turned at his cousins. "Cousin Bertrand. Cousin Cailin. It has been a while." He expected Cailin to act sheepish, but instead, she met Emmer's gaze with a surprising intensity that border in a glare.

‘Why is Cailin glaring at him...?’ He blinked. ‘Ah. Right. This could be problematic.’

The news that he would leave had affected the girl a lot. First, she had been inconsolable. But a while later, she seemed unnervingly calm, while totally ignoring Morgan.

Emmer extended a hand to Bertrand. But instead of shaking it, he caught Emmer in a crushing hug.

"Haha, now I see all of you Selbair people are cut exactly the same," said Bertrand. "So stiff and formal!"

Slightly mortified, Morgan sent an apologetic look at his brother and the men that accompanied him. He froze, though, after noticing a man in dark red light armor glaring at him.

‘What’s with all the glaring today...?’ He looked away quickly.

"Heh, you were always an extroverted one." Emmer took a step back as soon as the hug finished.

"You have grown to be a fine young man, nephew," commented Seras.

"And you haven't aged a single day, aunt." Emmer took her hand gently and kissed it. While he meant his words, his gestures seemed rigid. "And Lord Sigmund, it’s an honor to be received in your abode."

"It's no problem. But you can call me just uncle."

Morgan’s expression twitched. The situation was almost the same as his six years ago. It was weird.

“I’ll do.“ He smiled for a moment, then noticed the red-armored man's impatient expression. ”Ah. Right. I’ll introduce you to First Lieutenant Ivonn Sol. I have to thank him for getting me sound and safe all the way here.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

‘Father got an army officer as a bodyguard?’ Elvran had connections with the capital and its army, but the Selbair family had already a capable group of soldiers to their command for such kinds of things.

Though it was a bit weird, it wasn’t Morgan’s priority. "Wait a moment, brother, where are Father and Mother?" he asked. "Are they in another group?"

Emmer stood silent, looking uncomfortable but resigned as if he knew Morgan was going to ask that question sooner than later. "They are not."

His eyebrows knitted. "What do you mean?"

"I came by myself.” Morgan’s eyes widened. ”Because of certain business and other complications, Father and Mother couldn't make the travel after all." Seeing Morgan's expression dimming, Emmer quickly added: "I hope you understand. There was nothing they could do about it."

He nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. "It's fine."

But it truly wasn't.

* * *

It was nighttime. Morgan sat at the dinner table while the food was being served. He would have liked to be beside his older brother; unfortunately, Ivonn choose to sit between them, ruining any attempts of conversation. Noticing his gaze, Emmer shrugged, as if saying there was no case. ‘Doesn’t the man follows his orders?’

Sitting across him, Bertrand played with his fork, looking bored and hungry. Cailin had disappeared somewhere when they returned to the castle and Seras had left to look out for her. So they couldn’t start eating until they returned.

Soon enough a maid approached and whispered something to Sigmund, to which he nodded and then gazed at them. “Well, it looks like my daughter is... indisposed to eat with us, and my wife will stay with her. So we should start-.”

“Finally!” Not waiting for another second, Bertrand started to stuff his mouth.

Morgan sighed and just looked at his food, his thoughts going to his younger cousin. ‘I need to do something about Cailin’.

Suddenly Ivonn cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Lord Basthed, but I was wondering about something.”

“Please call me Sigmund, or Mayor Sigmund if you wish. I’m not royalty, Lieutenant Ivonn.” Sigmund’s expression was affable, but Ivonn's rigidness remained.

“Mayor Basthed... Could you show me some magic?”

Morgan almost choked on his water. Bertrand directly snorted. That sure was about the last thing they expected the intimidating man to say. From Cailin or Bertrand, alright, but not from the hardened soldier.

“Huh? That’s a very curious request but-”

“Not quite,” intervened Ivonn before Sigmund had the chance of saying no. “You are known as one of the most powerful magus on Oman, Mayor Basthed... Well, one of the few if not the only one alive on the continent, actually...” Ivonn ignored the way Sigmund flinched, and continued, “so you can understand why I would like to... presence your prowess by myself, now that I have finally the chance.”

Sigmund noded, grimly serious. “Alright. You’ll be disappointed, though.”

Sigmund lifted his fork with purpose, under Ivonn’s attentive gaze. He closed his eyes for a moment and opened his hand. The utensil remained floating in the same place.

A couple of seconds passed until the fork seemed to remember about gravity and fell unceremonially over the table. And with it, what would have been amazing under other circumstances, felt underwhelming for everyone in the room.

Ivonn glared at the fork as if it was covered in filth. “That’s it?”

Morgan sipped a bit of his drink, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation. Emmer wasn’t doing much better, and Bertrand... He was too focused on his food to notice the weird mood in the room.

“Yes, that’s it.” Sigmund grimaced, grabbing his fork again. “I don’t use magic anymore.”

Ivonn’s eyes were focused on Sigmund. “Why?”

“Sorry, First Lieutenant, but that’s personal.”

“Is that so...? I had thought that for a mage of your lineage, abandoning your magic would be something worst than death.”

Sigmund stared back at the soldier’s piercing eyes and answered after a moment, “there are worst things.” Sigmund continued eating, leaving the conversation as finished.

For once, Morgan forgot about his table manners, rushed to finish his food, and left as fast as he could.