The Stocklodes were not just a gentried family sworn to the Dialemacks; they were also a branch family of the very same. Branch families, like the term implied, were distantly related to a major family, usually started by a sibling who failed to inherit the title.
In reality, being both gentried and branched meant that the Stocklodes were virtually no more important or influential than a run-of-the-mill commoner family. However, Vesta’s father took great pride in his distant descent from the marquesal Dialemacks, and refused to settle within “low society.” Instead of taking up what he considered to be a commoner job, his father had opened a charity school within one of the local churches, educating and caring for local impoverished children prior to them entering preparatory school.
Naturally, running such a school took a significant financial toll—far greater than the Stocklodes could actually afford—and Vesta’s childhood had therefore been spent in poverty like those of the children his father taught. He’d had one thing in abundance, though: books. Vesta’s father had scraped together the money to provide Vesta with as many books as possible. “Reading was my only joy,” Vesta had said, smiling sadly.
The turning point came shortly after Vesta entered preparatory school. In an experience similar to that of the many illegitimate children of nobles who (after quickly being legitimized) went on to attend the Royal Academy, Vesta’s outstanding grades and decent magical aptitude soon came to the attention of Marquess Dialemack, and discussions for Vesta’s adoption began. The marquess intended to pit Vesta against his biological son, Rudio, to encourage both to push themselves to further greatness while also handily acquiring himself a spare successor just in case.
Like all prominent noble families, however, there were those who vehemently opposed the idea of anyone other than a true Dialemack inheriting the title, and after a number of lengthy arguments, Vesta was instead taken in as a ward. Even though Vesta wasn’t currently a threat to Rudio’s succession, there was still every chance that could one day change—say, if Vesta married into the family instead, or the marquess pushed for adoption once again. Vesta was still in a perfect position to steal Rudio’s future out from under him if he so desired, which explained why Rudio detested the very sight of the younger boy.
With all of this still going on behind the scenes, I’d been keeping busy too—fistfighting my way to victory in Godolphen’s stupid challenge, joining the Royal Order with the king’s approval, apprenticing myself to Captain Dew Orwell, and so on—and had thereby made matters worse, according to Vesta. The Hill Path Club became the talk of the capital. The second-year students got over their fear of Rudio and started joining in droves, leaving only those students unlucky enough to hail from the Dialemack Region on Rudio’s side. Rudio had even formed his own club (clearly a complete rip-off of my own), but soon after the defection of the second-years, the marquess had ordered the club’s disbandment, and most of the members had made their way over to the Hill Path Club instead. Many saw Rudio’s attempt to compete with the Hill Path Club as a political struggle against me (albeit not one I’d been aware of), and his complete and utter defeat had lost him the confidence of a fair number of his supporters—something I (as the founder of the club) and Vesta (as one of the club’s original members) were supposedly responsible for. At this point, we’d apparently incurred so much of his hatred that “killing us, resurrecting us, and repeating the process three times” (a direct quote, according to Vesta) wouldn’t be enough to appease Rudio’s rage.
“But truthfully, I want to become a scholar and push the boundaries of knowledge as we know it. I’m not fit to be a marquess, and I’ve got no desire to be one anyway. I kept trying to tell Rudio that for years, but he never believed me... Now he won’t even speak to me,” Vesta said downheartedly, thus concluding his monologue.
Finally...
To be honest, I couldn’t really care less about most of what Vesta had revealed. I wasn’t interested in political struggles or inheritance disputes, and I didn’t plan for that to change. The only part of the whole thing that had caught my attention was the fact that Vesta apparently loved studying enough to want to become a scholar.
Chucking another branch on the fire, I offered Vesta some perfunctory words of encouragement as though his current ordeal had absolutely nothing to do with me. “Sounds pretty rough, man... Well, whatever will be, will be!”
Vesta slumped. “Please, Allen, I’m begging you... Fey and Jewel told me, you know? They said you basically told them to let Rudio dig his own grave, even though you could have shut him down right there and then... You didn’t just want to defeat him, did you? You wanted to destroy him. Even Fey and Jewel have started saying you’re being a bit too cruel.” He sighed wearily. “I know Rudio’s entirely to blame, but please, just put an end to it. People have started saying Marquess Dialemack should make me his successor instead because of all of this! It’s getting out of control, Allen!” he pleaded, almost desperate enough to make me feel sorry for him. Almost.
I laughed. “Destroy him? I forgot he existed until you reminded me—how could I have been trying to destroy him? It’s all a big coincidence, Vesta. Also, seriously—is everyone at the Academy dealing with all of this political crap as well as their schoolwork? At least being a total bumpkin means I don’t have to get involved with any of it... It all sounds pretty annoying.”
Our precious school years are too fleeting already! As if I’d waste them doing things like forging friendships exclusively for my family’s benefit...