Isten stared out in front of him into a pale flame that danced above a pool of molten wax opposite him. Out of forefront, Lucien’s face was painted an orange hue by the golden candelabra, a tense expression was illumined by the candlelight. It was sat upon a beautifully embroidered tablecloth that decorated the dining table.

His hands gently brushed the wooden oak table, which was smooth from the varnish that tinted it a dark brown, before moving to the cutlery. He raised the silver knife and fork, which were polished to an outstanding degree, then carved out a chunk of meat from his plate. The only sound present was that of metal against ceramic plates.

A blissful aroma of exotic foods and spices drifted like a languid haze around the room. It was not discouraged by the cloud of tension that oppressed the atmosphere, instead choosing to linger. The vocal silence was finally broken by a voice.

“What have you been up to these years you’ve been gone, Isten?” Malus asked with a smile.

“I’ve spent most of my time learning. There’s not much you can do in the countryside, other than that, really. Fortunately, Mother and Father had hired some fascinating teachers for me in recent years, and they gave me an outstanding education!” Isten replied. His parents smiled proudly in response.

“Ah, and what did they teach you?” Malus responded curiously.

“I have been taught a diverse range of subjects, but we predominately focused on learning to deal with political matters.” Isten answered.

“Good. You’ll need to gain experience, though.” Lucien spoke, cutting into the conversation.

“Can you give me some specifics? I’m curious at how competent you will be.” Malus asked, almost abrasively.

“Well…” Isten was caught off guard. “A multitude of subjects, all of which correlate to becoming an aristocrat. I've studied about government and regency for the maintenance of our property and land, as well as for politics, and foreign relations. I've also learnt economics and history to understand the lineage, and to further the continuation of, our great country. I was taught different musical instruments, poetry, and calligraphy. I’m not too sure what else to add!” Isten gave a nervous chuckle.

He gave a quick glance to Lucien and saw his father nod in satisfaction at the variety of Isten’s education. The rest of the Blodyn’s joined in with him. Isten breathed out a sigh in relief.

“Wonderful. Are you excited for your court debut? It will be a demanding test of all your knowledge. You will be in competition with your peers, some of whom have greater experience than you.” Morrigan placed her hands under her chin.

“Of course, Mother. I have been preparing for this for many years now, so I am exhilarated for the opportunity.” Isten replied honestly.

A sharp tap resounded throughout the room, Isten jolted in surprise. He attempted to recover his shock under a hasty brush of his hair, though no one noticed. Lucien raised his hand from the table, and rubbed his brow. A heavy expression weighed upon his face.

“Isten, before your court debut, you are to be introduced to Ilys Lafant. After, our Houses shall announce your engagement to her. She is to be your fiancé.” Lucien spoke firmly.

Morrigan looked at him in shock, her eyes flickered with rage. She forcefully placed her cutlery onto the table. “What is this of a marriage proposition?” She demanded in a cold voice.

“It is necessary that we broaden our family’s alliances, particularly after the Pontiff’s message last week, and no less because of Praeteritum,” Lucien stared Morrigan down. “So far, we are only in alliance with your family, Morrigan. That is not enough for us to pass through the coming storm unscathed.”

“I am sorry, Isten, I truly am,” Lucien relented, somewhat, raising his arms to a shrug. “In an ideal world, I would have preferred to let you have the liberty of time to choose your own life. However, a civil war is on the horizon, let alone conflict with Praeteritum and Citadel. I cannot risk the destruction of our family over your own individual freedom.”

“I understand, Father.” Isten said sullenly, cowering into his chair. He knew from a young age that his life would be restricted, that he wouldn’t be able to make every decision that he wanted to. Though, the pain of having those decisions stripped from him still hurt every time it happened.

The room dimmed slightly as a candlelight extinguished into the molten wax. A nearby servant exchanged it with a fresh candle.

“Good. I am glad that we came to an understanding.” Lucien responded with a smile, though Isten’s eyes were fixed onto his plate.

Lucien was impressed with Isten’s maturity, that he responded so cooperatively with the decision. He looked upon Isten with more warmth, though Isten himself couldn’t tell. This demand had weighed heavily on him these past few days. More than he’d like to admit.

The tension refused to be defused, continuing to haunt the room with its oppression. Isten toyed with his food, unable to eat it under the added stress of conflict with his family. While a battle raged within him to start eating again, the languid haze of smells still hung in the air.

The aroma was made up from an amalgamation of imported spices and herbs, as well as vegetables and meats that were harvested from Cymorth’s manor farms. This assortment of foreign and domestic foods could be found within their meal tonight.

“Isten was explaining to me earlier that he met our father on the journey here, to Pentref.” Eiddil broke the silence.

“I did!” Isten responded. “I also met Rupert Honnen as well. They both treated me cordially. Rupert even gifted me with a Channeler’s weapon.”

“Did he? You never told me that.” Eiddil raised an eyebrow in mock jest.

“Yes!” Isten gave a short chuckle. “He made it from some wolves that the army killed on the way toward the frontier.”

“How sweet of him. Rupert has always been generous.” Morrigan exclaimed.

“Speaking of them. Grandfather and Rupert, both told me to let you know of this, Father. On the first day we met, I encountered something… peculiar.” Isten said with revulsion. Lucien looked intently at Isten with interest, to which Isten returned the gaze.

“An old woman came up to my carriage and her body degenerated in front of me unlike anything I’ve ever heard of before. But when she died, she told me something that not even grandfather or Rupert could understand. They told me to pass it onto you.”

“Oh dear, darling. Were you alright? We shouldn’t have let you come here alone!" Morrigan complained. Isten noted that her eyes were filled with worry. "Nor should you have ever come into company with those two incompetent buffoons, they evidently didn't do their job in protecting you. I'll have a word with them, once I see them again..."

“What did she say? It must have been serious for it to scare even my senile fool of a father.” Malus asked with derision.

Isten frowned at their reactions but continued forth repeating what the woman said.

“Two survive as one dies; one dies from another’s lie.”

“Two survive causing another’s demise, a single lie is all it takes for one more to die.”

“Draped down and hooked into death’s hearth; the child is forced to flee infested with a parasitic heart.”

The prophecy stunned the room into silence for a moment. They looked at Isten with surprise.

Lucien frowned, and then shook his head with uncertainty. “I need more information about it first before I can come to a conclusion on what it might mean.”

“From what I remember, grandfather said that it was a necromantic plot and that they were intending on harming us. He claimed that she had been possessed before she died. I don’t think he explained much more than that, though.”

“I see. I’ll send some of my staff to investigate it in the coming days. For now, don’t worry too much about it. You were most likely not their target, just the only medium available for the prophecy to be spread.” Lucien responded with a reassuring smile.

“Yes, I agree. You shouldn’t worry about it Isten. The old man is known to be senile from time to time. His age probably played up causing him to place too much importance on this small matter.” Malus mocked with contempt. He lowered his fork, chewing a mouth full of meat.

Isten glared at his uncle and retorted. “He came to his conclusion having witnessed the old woman die before me. Although he didn’t see her arms and neck snapping into inhuman angles, he saw the corpse and the pool of blood surrounding her.”

“Calm down, Isten.” Lucien attempted to conciliate Isten.

“Malus, you as well. Provoking my son after he suffered from a traumatic event is unbecoming of you.” Morrigan chided. Malus snorted in response.

“Alright, this is quite enough. After all, this was meant to be a celebratory meal, yet we’ve only spoken so far about difficult topics.” Eiddil interrupted. He closed any further attempts for the continuation of the topic with a stern glare.

The room fell into an awkward silence. Once again, Isten tasked himself with toying with his food. He felt awkward as he was repeatedly at the centre of these difficult conversations, even starting one himself.

‘Damn it all!’ Isten complained to himself. ‘This has been disastrous so far...’

He forced himself to start eating again. He ate some broccoli and roasted carrots, hoping to appease his anger. ‘The food is delicious, though.’ He thought.

“Father. When can I start learning Malevolency?” Isten asked, breaking the silence.

“Soon, though I can’t teach you anything myself. I will look into contacting a tutor for you within the next few days.” Lucien responded. “However, the person I do have in mind will only be available for you in about a month’s time from now.”

“I see. Can I ask who it is?”

“His name is Toran Rhosyn. He is currently in Citadel, but he should return to Cymorth soon. He is my apprentice, and soon to be your protectorate.” Lucien replied.

Isten smiled to himself, excited about the prospect of beginning Malevolency training in the coming month. Some of the tension from the earlier part of the meal evaporated with this elation.

The evening meal finished as slowly as it began. Despite it being a difficult evening, Isten did appreciate the food which slightly compensated for its awkwardness.

The conversations towards the end of the meal were filled predominantly with small talk as Isten’s family reintroduced themselves to him for the first time in years.

The family had moved into the drawing room where they kept each other company by telling stories. Isten watched as Malus cut a cigar, raised it to his mouth, and inhaled a puff, then exhaled a cloud of smoke. They poured out into an ashy fog. It pervaded the room with an acrid smell.

Time passed quietly until a knock interrupted their evening conversations.

“Master Lucien, you have a letter.” A servant appeared at the door. Lucien nodded for his entry. “The letter has a royal stamp.” The servant continued.

Lucien took the letter and read it. His face became serious, and he whispered something into Morrigan’s ear. He then left the drawing room.

Morrigan turned towards Isten with an apologetic look on her face. “Lucien and I have to attend a political gathering tonight, Isten. I’m sorry that we've been... absent today... Particularly on the day of your return. However, our attendance has been required by the Crown Prince Uriel. It would be a grave offence if we ignored his invitation.”

“I see. Take care, Mother, Father.” Isten responded with a nod.

Morrigan left the room shortly after, and the room fell silent. A puff of smoke fogged Isten’s vision as Malus took another breath of his cigar. He smiled, stood up and left. Isten was now alone with Eiddil in the room.

“It would probably be best if we all retire to our rooms now.” Eiddil sighed with resignation. “I will see you in the morning, Isten. I am sorry about today ending so poorly.”

“It’s alright, Uncle Eiddil. See you in the morning.” Isten smiled sullenly.

They both left the drawing room, but they split at the corridor with Isten continuing forwards and Eiddil turning left. They bid each other goodnight, and Isten walked towards the south-eastern corner to the spiralled stairs.

He entered his room again, and shivered, it was still cold. Frost lined the windowpane, though Isten suspected that there was more now. He closed the scarlet curtains and stood before his wardrobe.

He undressed himself and changed into his evening wear, which were blue and white silk pyjamas, and sat down in his chair to read a book. It was titled, The Tenure of the Tripartite. A book on legitimacy of power, and the power held by the tripartite.

While he was part way through studying the book, a harrowing scream pierced the night. It came from down the hallway from Isten’s room, though it was hard to determine how far away it was.

Isten jumped at the scream. He was unprepared for its sonorous noise late at night, particularly when he was filled with so much anxiety left over from the evening meal. He stood up and paced his room in contemplation.

'One of my uncles should be able to deal with it, surely. They are far more powerful than I am, it is unnecessary for me to get involved.’

‘Damnation, I can’t just ignore it though, they might not have heard it. It shouldn’t be dangerous, this is House Blodyn’s property after all.’

Isten steeled his resolve and opened his door to investigate the source of the scream. He crept down the corridor as silently as he could.