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Inside the long hall, Baron Ravencroft was standing with his head lowered.
He was not sitting in his own house.
That alone showed the difference in status.
The long hall belonged to House Ravencroft, but the person sitting at the end of the table made it feel like Ravencroft was the guest. The old man sat in the largest chair with one leg crossed over the other, one hand resting on the armrest, and the other hand holding a silver wine cup. He looked to be in his fifties, but his body was still strong. His hair was deep red with many streaks of gray. His beard was short and sharp. His eyes had the color of old fire buried under ash.
A red cloak hung over his shoulders. On the cloak was the mark of House Velkhur, a burning ember inside a black shield.
His name was Lord Garran Velkhur.
He was an elder of House Velkhur’s side branch, Dorian’s grandfather, and a Fifth Circle fire battle mage. He was not from the main duke line, but he was still a true Velkhur elder. In front of a baron like Ravencroft, he did not need to speak politely. He did not even need to pretend.
Around the hall stood several Velkhur guards. They wore red-edged armor and had serious faces. Their presence made Ravencroft’s own guards look like nervous servants. Adrian stood near the side of the room with a pale face. Tina was sitting on a chair, still weak after fainting earlier. Her face was swollen, her eyes were red, and her fear had not fully left her. The death of Dorian had broken her confidence in a way even Lucard’s slap had not.
Lord Garran slammed the wine cup on the table.
The sound made several Ravencroft servants flinch.
"How dare someone kill my grandson?" Garran said. His voice was rough and heavy. "A boy from that Vardros family killed my grandson. From where did they get that courage? How is it possible? That family never had someone above Rank Three knights or Circle Three mages. Never. Their blood was weak. Their inheritance was small. Their house was already falling even before it was destroyed. So how?"
Baron Ravencroft lowered his head more.
"My lord, House Marovain’s people were protecting him."
Garran’s eyes turned toward him slowly.
Ravencroft continued quickly, "My people could not do anything. Lucard came out of the Marovain shop with Marovain guards behind him. Lady Celia Marovain herself interfered. Dorian fought him, but Marovain protected House Vardros openly. After that, things became chaotic."
Garran’s face twisted with rage.
"Fuck those Marovain."
Nobody in the hall dared breathe loudly.
Garran’s fist tightened. Flames flickered between his fingers for a moment before disappearing.
"They killed my seventh favourite grandson."
Tina lowered her head.
Adrian did not know whether he should feel fear or confusion over the words seventh favourite. He wisely chose silence. With the number of children and grandchildren noble branches had, some elders really did keep mental lists. It was cruel, but common enough. Being someone’s seventh favourite was still better than being forgotten completely.
Garran stood halfway from his chair, then sat back down.
"Send people to the Marovain shop. Ask for an explanation."
Ravencroft’s face changed.
"My lord, how can I? I am only a baron, and they are House Marovain."
Garran looked at him as if he had heard a pig try to discuss poetry.
"You idiot. You will not ask them as Baron Ravencroft. You will ask them on behalf of House Velkhur. My grandson was killed while he was a guest in your house. He was killed in your city. You hosted him. You owe us action."
Ravencroft swallowed.
Garran leaned forward.
"Or do you want me to go there myself?"
Ravencroft quickly raised his head a little. A thought formed in his mind. If Garran went with him, then the pressure on Marovain would be much stronger. A Velkhur elder standing at his side would make the matter far more serious. It would also protect Ravencroft from being treated like an ant by Marovain.
"My lord," Ravencroft said carefully, "if you go with me, it will make it a strong case."
Garran’s eyes became colder.
"I am Garran Velkhur. If I go there, things will truly become worse." His lips curled in anger. "You know I have some problems with one of their elders."
Ravencroft froze for a moment.
Then his eyes widened slightly, as if he suddenly remembered something important.
"My lord Garran, I forgot to tell you. Robi Marovain arrived in the city a few days ago. We have not received any news of his departure from the city guards."
The hall became hotter.
Garran stopped moving.
His hand slowly tightened around the wine cup again.
"Robi Marovain is here?"
Ravencroft lowered his head. "Yes, my lord."
The silver wine cup bent in Garran’s hand.
Wine spilled between his fingers.
The name had struck something old and ugly inside him.
Robi Marovain.
Garran had known that one handed bastard for decades. They had been rivals since youth. In training camps, hunting games, noble competitions, treasure appraisals, auctions, and even drinking contests, Robi had always stood in his path. Robi was sharp, careful, and talented, but Garran hated him because Robi never bowed to him properly.
Garran had defeated Robi many times, but most of those victories had not been clean. When they were young, Garran won a duel after secretly damaging Robi’s practice sword before the match. During a monster hunt, Robi found the beast’s real nest first, but Garran sent men to block his path and then claimed the kill before the judges arrived. During a treasure auction, Robi almost bought a rare ruin key, but Garran spread a false rumor about the item being cursed and forced him to hesitate.
Worst of all, years ago, during an expedition, they fought over an ancient ruin map. Robi reached the treasure chamber first, but Garran used a hidden trap formation to delay him.