Chapter 37: Back home
In a large castle painted in white and gold, with a flag fluttering at the pinnacle, the flag bore the image of a roaring lion, and knights with the same emblem stood guard at the gates in expectancy.
Soon after, a loud trumpet was heard, and a large carriage with a lion image engraved on its sides slowly made its way to the castle gate.
A young man in attire reminiscent of a jester spoke loudly, "MAKE WELCOME THE FIRST SON OF THE ESTEEMED VANDEMIRE FAMILY!"
Calmly stepping out of the carriage, Greg studied the knights standing on either side, forming a path that led him to the castle.
As the knights lifted their swords in acknowledgement of his presence, Greg made his way to the courtyard and spotted his father, standing with messy red hair and a wide smile on his face.
"There’s my son!" Leon shouted as he spread his arms wide.
Showing no signs of emotion, Greg calmly walked into the arms of his father and whispered, "Hello, Father, I see you haven’t showered."
Taking a step back, Leon discreetly sniffed his armpits before defending himself, "Ahem, I was very busy."
"Big bwuddar!"
A little boy with red hair and a wooden sword in his hands ran under Leon’s legs and hugged Greg tightly.
Patting his head with a chuckle, Greg spoke, "How are you, Thornhill?"
Not changing his position, Thornhill responded, "I’m fine; Mommy got me a sword!"
Waving the wooden sword at the crouching Greg, Thornhill continued, "And Daddy’s always saying how much he misses—"
"Okay! Let’s go inside; we don’t want to keep your mother waiting," Leon interrupted nervously.
Lifting the protesting Thornhill and covering his mouth, Leon quickly entered the castle alongside Greg, who trailed behind him.
Entering the well-furnished living room, with a soft rug covering the entirety of the large space, portraits of different sizes depicting past patriarchs, and a couch lined with silver alongside tables that carried the same silver shine, Leon whispered something to one of the nearby maids before turning to Greg.
"Your mom’s training, and she’ll be out soon, but before then, tell me about your journey."
Using this opportunity, Thornhill nimbly escaped his father’s grip and ran into a room while waving his sword in the air.
Sitting on the comfortable chair alongside his father, Greg spoke, "I experienced a fair share of adventures."
Leon nodded and leaned back into the chair with a calm expression.
"But I’ll skip to the most important part and the major reason for my return." Greg’s expression turned solemn as he spoke.
"We were attacked and nearly killed by some members of the Crimson Blade."
The atmosphere became still as Leon opened his eyes with eerie calm and asked, "Were there any casualties?"
Greg shook his head and explained, "My two guards were in critical condition, but luckily they’re stable now. I sent them to the kingdom’s best healers to make sure there were no complications."
"And you?" Leon asked.
"I also sustained some minor injuries," Greg answered.
"Don’t lie to me. I can sense your mana flow is erratic... you used the mana augmentation technique, didn’t you?" Leon asked with narrowed eyes.
Seeing that he couldn’t get away with lying, Greg decided to come clean as he narrated his encounter with the Crimson Blade—while skipping over the parts that involved a certain man.
Obviously, a man as smart as Leon could tell there were some missing pieces in the narration, but he decided to remain silent and continued listening.
"And I decided to come back home to let you know of the situation so you could plan accordingly," Greg concluded.
Leon finally sat up straight and looked at Greg with narrowed eyes.
"There are a lot of holes in your story," he started.
"First, you said you were nearly killed alongside your bodyguards. I would assume your attackers were nothing less than A-rank and extremely skilled to be able to take all of you down. Yet somehow you managed to escape, but with the picture you painted, I highly doubt you could achieve such a feat without any assistance."
Before Greg could come up with an excuse to deceive his highly perceptive father, a far more skilled negotiator came to his rescue.
"Our son comes home and you start interrogating him? Is that what a father should do?"
Leon’s body stiffened, and the calm, calculative demeanor he had a second ago completely fell apart, replaced with a nervous expression as he slowly turned his head to face his wife.
"H–honey, Greg’s home!" Leon responded nervously.
"I noticed, darling," she replied with an amused expression as she brushed a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.
Greg stood up and walked briskly to his mother’s outstretched arms, burying his face in her bountiful bosom.
"Fufufu, my baby is back home~," she smiled as she ruffled his hair.
"And unlike some people, I believe he has the strength to overcome any challenge," she added.
Leon smiled wryly and slouched into his seat as he heard her provocation.
Releasing the hug, Greg examined his mother for a moment before commenting, "You look well."
"Your father makes sure of that," she replied with a knowing smile.
"Vyriana!" Leon whined.
"What~, I didn’t say anything~," Vyriana teased with a smile.
Greg, who stood awkwardly in the middle of his parents’ flirting, coughed lightly and spoke, "I’ll be in my room."
After sharing a few harmless conversations, Greg went upstairs to his room and closed the door after receiving greetings from the servants and maids.
Sitting on the large bed that rested in front of a window, Greg sighed heavily and tapped his storage ring—which brought out different-colored cores, ranging from red to yellow.
Arranging them in a circular form, he sat in the middle in a lotus position with his eyes closed.
A few minutes passed and the color drained from the cores as gusts of wind blew around the room, causing a few paintings to dislodge from their positions.
After a while, Greg slowly opened his eyes, and the drained cores turned to dust, flying out of the open window.
Standing up and stretching his body, Greg called out, "What do you have for me?"
The room fell silent before a cackle resounded, "Kekeke, still as perceptive as ever, Master Greg."
A shadowy figure stepped out of the wall with a wild smile.
"Cut to the chase," Greg spoke with a blank expression.
Laughing lowly, the shadowy figure said, "The Rothschilds’ security is extremely tight, so I wasn’t able to get much information about that boy—not that he had anything special to start with. I still don’t know—"
"I don’t need your opinion. I only need the information I requested," Greg interrupted as he sat on his bed calmly.
Scattering and reappearing in another corner of the room, it answered, "I apologize, Master Greg. I’ll cut right to the chase."
"He was a boy toy for the last child of the Rothschilds—Miriam Rothschild—for a few months. Somehow he managed to earn her favor as she slowly became fond of him."
"It wasn’t until a month ago that the major change happened. Upon the arrival of Oliver Rothschild—your best friend—Miriam instructed him to wear the robe Oliver wore during his first-ever subjugation mission. Needless to say, it was a bad idea, but we both know Miriam wasn’t always the brightest bulb in the shed."
"Insulting the royals shan’t be tolerated. Your head should be in the ground right now if not for the years you have served this family loyally. Know your place," Greg spoke coldly.
A shiver ran down the shadow’s spine... if it even had one, and it responded with hidden nervousness, "My apologies, young master."
Fiddling with a small staff, Greg replied, "Is that all the information you managed to gather on the subject?"
Shaking its head, it continued, "Oliver was obviously incensed that a mere boy toy dared to wear a robe that carried much value to him, but due to Miriam and Ava’s intervention, he instructed the subject to participate in the upcoming tournament in order to defend the honor that came with wearing such a robe."
Greg’s expression changed to one of surprise as he thought, ’Clark is participating in the tournament? But he’s F-rank... yet again, if it’s him, I’m sure he won’t do too badly’.
"Is that all?" Greg asked.
"Yes."
"Very well, you may leave. Tell the other night walkers to be on the lookout for any suspicious transportation of weapons before the tournament," he instructed.
Nodding, the shadowy figure slowly melted into the wall and disappeared.
The room fell silent once again as Greg fell into deep contemplation.
...
In the living room, Leon’s head was on Vyriana’s lap as they conversed.
"Something doesn’t add up," Leon said as Vyriana played with his hair with a loving smile.
"What doesn’t?" she asked.
"Greg’s story. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful he survived the ordeal, but it just doesn’t make sense that he did."
"So you’re saying he should have died?" Vyriana asked with a frown.
Shaking his head hurriedly, he clarified, "What I’m saying is, there has to have been someone who assisted or even saved him at the last minute."
She hummed softly and urged him to continue.
"The problem I have is, why would Greg want to protect someone to the extent of only divulging information that doesn’t directly relate to the person?"
Vyriana closed her eyes and continued twirling his hair as she responded, "Maybe it’s a girl and he has a crush on her?"
"That’s not possible. Love cannot influence Greg’s decisions to such an extent," Leon rejected flatly.
"What I think is, the person that saved him would most likely be a man whose strength surpassed Greg’s and subsequently earned his respect," Leon analyzed.
"So they must have been close," Vyriana inferred.
"Most likely, but not close enough for him to be able to trust his back to him—which explains the dire situation he said he found himself in."
"The man must have come in last minute, defeated more than five A-ranks all by himself—I would assume there were more since they usually move in groups—and still had enough energy to help Greg and his guards safely out of the hideout, which must’ve been laden with traps."
Vyriana remained silent as she watched her husband explain with so much detail that it almost sounded like he was there.
’His deductive skills are out of this world’, she thought proudly.
Placing a kiss on his lips, Vyriana suggested, "Although your assumptions leave little room for doubt, we should ask the two guards that were with him for the full story."
Shrugging with closed eyes, Leon relished the soft feeling of his wife’s lap and the occasional flutter of his heart at her gentle gestures.
...
In an empty void somewhere in space, a being’s voice resonated throughout the fabric of time.
"Why has my descent been delayed?" it asked with a voice that caused space to tremble.
"Master, I apologize, but the person instructed to retrieve the relic hidden in the temple of Xyrox was killed," another being spoke, its tone enshrouded in fear and undisguised respect.
"Hmm... I sensed a divine energy from that place some time ago... tell me, have any of the seven elders made moves?"
"N–not that I know of, your majesty."
"...I doubt ⬛⬛ would bother to make a move for something as small as this," it muttered.
After a few minutes of silence, the being spoke, "Go back, tell Voxliak to fix whatever issues he has and see to it that my descent is not delayed any further."
Nodding frantically, the other being hurriedly left, its figure finally visible.
Three reptilian eyes that shone red and blue, oily green skin that looked like it would drip at any given time, four legs and arms that constantly twitched as it moved.
The space tore open as a bright light permeated the void, and the grotesque being hurriedly left through the opening.
As the portal closed, two eyes that looked like they carried entire galaxies within them slowly opened.
"The divinity I sensed there was far too pure," the being mumbled. "This doesn’t make sense, but I’m sure it won’t be enough to halt my plans."
Reassuring itself, the being slowly closed its magical eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
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Pesky author is here again~, but don’t worry, I’m not going to beg for your powerstones today. I just want to know if you liked the Chapter or not. (Gimme powerstones!)