NOVEL NEXT 114: A parting gift
114:
Lord Ramav Nezaria and his daughter, Valeria, gazed upon the scene unfolding before them with complete stupefaction.
Aleph let her amethyst streaked hair unfurl, while Zirel made no motion to hide his distinctive blade.
“You’re…,” Valeria muttered, taking a deep gasp to still the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. “A Longstradia. Silver hair streaked with amethyst, you’re from the main line,” She muttered, looking dazed as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.
“Royal Uncle,” Aleph greeted, using the official form of address meant for a noble to address a much older man.
“Lord Nezaria,” Zirel greeted. “I trust you have been doing well,” He said, the impish grin on his visage telling him that he was enjoying the moment.
Lord Ramav Nezaria’s gaze shifted from Aleph to Zirel, his lips pursed and his expression tense as he considered the situation.
Then, his eyes widened slightly in realization as everything about the situation clicked into place.
“A Longstradia and a Nottrakon working together,” Lord Ramav spoke, his age finally seeping into his tone as the mask he had so carefully constructed, cracked. “Fate has ways of getting us all, I suppose,” He remarked, his tone sounding closer to a lament.
“Do not be so glum, Royal Uncle. You are as much of an enemy of my honorable father as I or Aleph is, now, are you not?” Zirel mocked, his tone more amused than scathing.
“Why?” Lord Ramav bitterly asked, his open palms held splayed out on the table instead of being held beneath the table.
He no longer expected an attack.
“Aleph’s intentions should be as clear as day, Lord Ramav. As for mine, must you really ask? I do not care about the throne, never have. You know that. Yet the throne compels my royal blood, draws me into the bloodthirsty bickering of my siblings without paying any heed to my desire. They crossed the line first, so I struck back by allying with a Longstradia and ripping apart their brazen conspiracy,” Zirel replied, a flicker of hurt seeping in his otherwise gloating tone.
“Then it was you?” Lord Ramav asked. “No, he would never have told you about the assassination. Did you overhear one of your father’s Elite Guard discussing the conspiracy?” Lord Ramav asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Me?” Zirel asked, his lips curling up into an amused grin. “You overestimate me, Lord Ramav. I am not nearly as terrifying as Synrak over here,” Zirel gestured to Tom with a flourish of his hands.
“I suppose you will not tell me how you came across the exact time and place my daughter was to be assassinated,” Lord Ramav asked, his tone a bit reluctant as he did.
“I’m not,” Tom confirmed, his gaze flickering behind him as the Royal Knights continued screaming out their demands. “But, Lord Ramav, I will grant you a gift before the three of us depart.”
“You plan to face an army of Royal Knights with just the three of you?” Lord Ramav asked, as he gazed into Tom’s eyes.
“Surely, Lord Ramav, you do not expect us to walk into the eye of the storm without a ticket out of here,” Tom replied, as amusement tinkled in his gaze. “Or would you be willing to fight against them on our behalf, declaring civil war before you are ready? Most of those Knights are loyal to individual Noble Houses and I am sure you will have many rallying to your cause, but that would require time.”
“Like a Nezaria would be willing to defend a Longstradia,” Aleph derisively added. “Thankfully, my alliance with Zirel will do far more damage to the Nottrakon Family’s reputation than me being found on your estate could, but let us not pretend to be what we are not,” She lambasted without holding anything in reserve.
Lord Ramav’s expression darkened, but there was no hint of anger visible on his expression.
“You saved my daughter, Aleph of House Longstradia,” Lord Ramav said, his tone clouded as gratefulness mixed with guilt. “For that, you shall have my eternal thanks and my honesty. It is true, if we are to rally Noble Houses to the cause, we cannot engage the Royal Knights yet. Neither will they raise a hand against us until the lines are carved in the sand,” He admitted.
“Didn’t expect anything else. You are doomed, Lord Ramav. By saving your daughter, I have set you on a course to clash with the Nottrakons, those that condemned my parents, my sister, my entire family. Whether you win or perish, it is not my concern. The Nottrakons shall suffer and even if they survive, it shall be known once and for all— to trust house Nottrakon is to bring your own demise,” Aleph looked Lord Ramav in the eyes as she said each word, spelling out the weight of the life she had saved.
Valeria winced.
Lord Ramav’s expression turned grim.
Tom put a comforting hand on Aleph’s shoulder.
“I spoke of a gift, Lord Ramav,” Tom reiterated.
“A gift…,” Lord Ramav mused. “Your gifts are quite heavy, Synrak. You are a walking paradox. Both Longstradia and Nottrakon have united under your banner. What do you stand for, I do not know. But go on, I shall at least hear you out.”
“As my companions can attest, Lord Ramav, I am a man of odd wisdoms,” Tom began.
“That he is, Lord Ramav,” Zirel chimed in. “If the two of you were to fight, I would bet my coin on him,” He added.
Lord Ramav’s gaze sharpened and he studied Tom in a new light after those words. Conventionally, the aged Noble had more in the firepower department compared to Tom and both parties knew that.
But Zirel Covan Nottrakon’s words were not something to be taken lightly.
“So, I will offer you a question and then an answer. If you win this war, Lord Ramav, which I hope you do, I am curious as to the kingdom you will build. So, I ask you, what kind of a ruler do you think is most remembered by the masses, long after his era has passed?” Tom asked.
Zirel gazed at Tom, giving him an intrigued look, while Aleph raised an eyebrow at the question.
Nothing in Tom’s actions or behavior had suggested that he was interested in the ruling class, yet he had managed to ask a question that every other individual in the room was interested in hearing the answer to.
“A wise king who thinks beyond his years,” Lord Ramav Nezaria replied after considering Tom’s question for a few moments, the older man’s gaze piercing into his own.
“Wrong,” Tom calmly replied. “I could tell you that it is a kind king. A benevolent ruler. I could tell you that it is a diligent king, earnestly working for a better future. A wise king, thinking not years but decades ahead of the present. But it is none of those. People are fickle, Lord Ramav. Their memories are short,” Tom explained.
“What is the answer, then?” Lord Ramav humbled himself to ask the question, from a man that had been acknowledged by both Longstradia and Nottrakon.
“A king that dares to challenge the status quo, that is the only one that is remembered, Lord Ramav. Consider that there is more to talent than the blood flowing through your veins, more to Renovia than the Noble District, more to governance than oppression. Consider that and I promise you, Lord Ramav, your world shall become a more interesting place,” Tom offered the best advice he could, drawn from the history of another world.
Nothing Tom said would compel Lord Ramav into doing anything, not after his actions had thrust him into a war.
If he won, it would be on his own merit and if he lost, it would be the same.
But Tom could try. Or rather, he couldn’t stop himself from trying.
Aleph blinked.
Zirel looked at him like he had grown a second head.
Valeria seemed a little dazed.
Lord Ramav simply held Tom’s gaze, before his words came, slow and measured, “For as long as I live, Synrak Veralis— I shall not forget your name.”
Tom held his gaze before nodding.
“I wish you luck,” He said. “Now, I suppose we can clean your front yard up a little before we depart. Oh and Valeria, give Zenakris a chance, would ya? He really likes you,” Tom threw the last part in, before he turned and threw open the manor’s double doors.