Chapter 012

  In the dining hall, the heavy oak table groaned beneath Ness’s culinary handiwork. In the centre sat a grand platter bearing steaming scrambled eggs, dusted with fresh herbs. Beside it lay a pile of crusty, dark rolls, radiating the intoxicating aroma of freshly milled grain and yeast. The feast was rounded out by cubes of aged, golden cheese and thinly sliced meat baked almost to a crisp. A honeyed drink of a deep amber hue cooled in a clay pitcher.

  At the scent, a predatory gleam ignited in Darian’s eyes. He no longer resembled a Raven, but a wolf that had just spotted a defenceless sheep.

  “Damn it all, Aria, your cook is a true treasure,” he muttered appreciatively, dropping heavily into a carved chair first. “Up north, we eat mostly salted pork and hardtack like stone, washing it all down with plain water.”

  Immediately after speaking, he snatched one of the crusty rolls, dunked it in butter, and sank his teeth into it without hesitation.

  Aria, Ethan, and Belmond exchanged amused glances and followed his lead, taking their seats.

  “Enjoy your meal!” they chimed almost in unison.

  “Mhm... enjoy...” the warrior mumbled indistinctly, his mouth full of hot bread, crumbs finding sanctuary in his beard.

  “Brother, you could do with brushing up on your manners a little,” Aria said, shaking her head with an indulgent smile. “It’s worth knowing how to behave among civilised people sometimes. I don’t know if Father would have approved of such conduct.”

  Darian waved off her remark, then served himself a solid portion of eggs.

  For a long moment, the only sounds in the dining hall were the quiet clink of cutlery against porcelain, rhythmic chewing, and the dull thud of clay mugs being set back on the table. Once the initial hunger was sated, Ethan wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.

  “I assume the entire expedition will take us around two weeks,” the scholar began, his focus shifting from his son to Darian. “It all depends on the pace at which we manage to reach the port in Karnoth. To save time on the return journey, I have already booked passage on the Ember. Thanks to that, we will be home in the blink of an eye.” He paused for a moment, sending his brother-in-law a sly, though clearly joking, look. “Well, it wasn’t cheap, as usual,” he sighed, picking up his fork and turning it over like an ancient artifact. “Not everyone has your connections, Darian. You need only flash your legion insignia to be let aboard. We, humble scholars of tangled history, must pay an absolute fortune for the privilege of sailing the Lumtean Currents—a sum only wealthy merchants can afford.”

  “The privileges of a bloody trade, my dear scholar of dust. Spilled blood has its price, and the Emperor knows how to properly value the loyalty of his officers,” the veteran replied in a calm, deep voice, precisely cutting a slice of hard cheese. “Besides, what do you expect? The Empire only has them, and there are but five.”

  “Strictly speaking, six such artifacts were unearthed,” Ethan corrected. “However, the last one serves primarily as a donor of parts to keep the rest in the air. Universal access to them would greatly accelerate all research and discovery... But, in the end, it is transport meant for military purposes.”

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  Darian gave a crooked smile. The old scar bisecting his brow twitched slightly.

  “Believe me, enduring the company of the mages from the Circle of Fire for the entire voyage is no pleasure, and most people wouldn’t even set foot there. They are frightfully irritable when keeping the hull aloft on fickle auric currents. There must be silence, and that is that. I’ve seen it more than once: someone disturbs them, and then... poof! Ash, and over the side.”

  “I will grant you that. There are too many closed-minded fanatics among them. Though, to be fair, they are not all like that, and one must simply know how to behave,” Ethan nodded.

  His uncle’s eyes rested on Belmond. He narrowed them, sizing the boy up with a sharp, tactical gaze.

  “And speaking of the future... what of you, boy?” he asked bluntly, resting his forearms on the table. “What has awoken within you? The potential of the mind hidden in the Locus, or the Nodus pulsing alongside the heart? You are old enough now to be absolutely certain which of these organs has ultimately formed in your body.” He fell silent for a fraction of a second, then smiled with the acumen of a seasoned tactician. “Actually... Judging by your build, your broad shoulders, and how firmly you plant your feet, I suspect your Nodus Auricus already beats with a proper, thick rhythm. One only has to look at you, boy. The blood of the Vesperons... It could be no other way. You are an Auromancer, like me and your mother. Am I right?”

  “That’s right, Uncle. I am an Auromancer,” Belmond said proudly, glancing at his mother.

  “Very good. Melee combat shapes true character,” Darian commented with approval. “So, which academy have you chosen for him? Or is it straight to the Legion, like the rest of the fledglings?”

  Before Ethan could answer, Aria laced her fingers together and rested them on the table, interjecting with her innate, firm decisiveness.

  “We will not send him straight into Legion service. Though he would certainly gain valuable experience there, I want him to continue his education. We have two schools in mind, brother. We haven’t made a final decision yet.”

  “Which ones?” Darian raised an eyebrow in curiosity, turning his mug of honeyed drink in his hand.

  “We are considering the local academy here in Tyron, due to its proximity and the solid foundations it offers, which will perfectly complement the training I have given him thus far,” Aria answered smoothly.

  Darian immediately grimaced with distaste and waved a dismissive hand, making it clear he didn’t care for that idea at all. Seeing this, Aria continued:

  “But Ethan believes, and I partly agree with him, that Belmond is ready for Gildara. The academy there is a veritable forge of the elite. If he is to fully master the abilities of a true Auromancer...”

  Before Aria could finish, the dining room door creaked softly, and Jareth stood in the doorway. One would look in vain for courtly elegance in his attire—he dressed simply and practically. The sleeves of his pale shirt were rolled up to the elbows, revealing hands worn and rough from daily labour, and his brown drill trousers perfectly fit the image of a man devoted to his duties. With his arrival, a subtle, homely scent of well-oiled saddle leather and smoke from a favourite pipe drifted into the air. Darian looked up, his nostrils flaring, and smiled broadly in greeting.

  “Yes, Jareth?” Ethan spoke mildly, looking up.

  The steward cleared his throat discreetly, stopping at a safe distance from the table, then bowed his head with his innate respect.

  “My Lord, my Lady...” he began in a businesslike, grave voice. “The horses are waiting in the courtyard. They are saddled and fully ready for the road.”

  “Thank you, Jareth. You may return to your duties,” the master of the house replied gratefully, offering the servant a warm smile.

  The trusted steward gave an affirmative nod. Without unnecessary delay, he turned on his heel and left the room. The door closed smoothly behind him with a quiet, barely audible click of the latch, leaving the family in suspense.

  Belmond tightened his grip on his fork and shifted his gaze to his parents.

  The silence that fell after the steward’s departure was broken by Darian’s firm voice.

  “Since you are setting out shortly anyway, I shall ride with you to Tyron, if you don’t object. I still need to meet with the local Radmirs and discuss a few matters.”

  “Of course. At least we shall have the opportunity to talk in peace on the road,” Aria replied with a gentle smile, and Ethan endorsed her words with a slow nod.

  “I will leave you to yourselves, then. Say your goodbyes in peace,” the uncle offered.

  With a loud scrape, he pushed his chair back and hauled himself up from the table. Paying no mind to domestic conventions, he simply grabbed a roll from the basket, deftly tore it in half, and stuffed a few thick slices of roast meat into it.

  “I’m going to tend to my horse and dump my gear from the saddle.”

  Not waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and strode confidently from the dining hall, sinking his teeth into the makeshift meal the moment he crossed the threshold.