Chapter 154: Unexpected Visitor

Two quick rasps of knuckles rang on Maeve’s bedroom door.

“Young Mistress,” a maid spoke from behind the door.

Maeve stared at her reflection in the mirror, she was still in the middle of doing her makeup.

“What is it?” Maeve called out.

“You have a visitor.”

Maeve rolled her eyes, she wished the maids would be a little more helpful and direct. Then again, they were technically her father’s maids, and they answered to him. She could expect nothing less from the spies her father had placed to keep an eye on her.

“Who is the visitor?”

“He said he works with Lord Mora.”

Maeve sighed. “Tell him my father isn’t home.”

It had been a week since the attack on Castle Mora. The news of the Valley tribe attack had already spread like wildfire in Hollow Shade. Merchants were afraid and the aristocrats demanded swift vengeance. As for the Mora family, excluding Maeve, none of them had visited their family residence in Hollow Shade. In fact, no one really knew much of the aftermath at Castle Mora.

There were whispers, of course, every commoner spoke one new tidbit of information or another every night at the taverns. Most if not all were rumors.

If there was one thing Maeve knew, it was that aristocrats had the vilest of tongues. She dreaded returning back to the merchant academy and having to listen to the snide comments of those spoiled aristocrat brats. Still, she had already missed several days of school, she had put this off for far too long.

The maid cleared her throat, “Young Mistress, he says he is not here to talk to your father… He is here to talk with you.”

“What?” Maeve whispered to herself. She leaned towards the door, “Have him wait at the east wing parlor. I’ll be down in a bit.”

~~~

Maeve pushed the parlor door wide open, “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

An elder vampire sipped tea and sat in a blue velvet chair. He had an immaculate grey beard. A pair of thick-rimmed glasses rested on his nose. A varnished wooden box sat next to his chair.

He placed the teacup down on the small table in front of him. “Not at all, thank you for having me, madam.”

Maeve was a small, thin woman, but she walked with the confidence of a giant. She would not be pressured by any merchant.

Maeve took a seat across from him, folded her legs, and clasped her hands together, “I do hope we can make this quick, my academy lecture starts in half an hour. And before you ask, no, I do not know the whereabouts of my father. You are not the first one of my father’s business partners who has come trying to draw out information from me.”

The vampire adjusted his collar, “Ah, yes, about that. I suppose proper introductions are in order. I am not one of Lord Mora’s business partners. I worked for him, I am in charge of all of his business accounts situated in Hollow Shade.”

“You’re the chief accountant? I’ve heard of you.”

“I was the chief accountant for the Hollow Shade branch. Well, that was until this morning.”

“What do you mean?” Maeve furrowed her brow.

The accountant cleared his throat and leaned forward, “Madam, I would not have come to disturb you in your own home this early in the morning if it was not urgent.”

“What are you saying?” Her crimson eyes narrowed.

“At dawn, I became the chief accountant for all the Mora branches.”

“What are you saying?” Maeve’s voice grew cold.

“Late last night, my fellow associates and I received word from the squadron of covert magi we had sent to rescue Lord Mora. One of the magi we sent was a purple mage. She managed to capture an enemy guard and interrogate him with a mind spell. Although neither our magi nor the captured guard saw the event, they were able to confirm that your family was caught by the enemy and sentenced to be executed promptly… The message had been sent over a week ago.”

Maeve’s face paled, her body grew rigid, “Are… Are you saying my family is dead?”

“I am so sorry for your loss,” he bowed his head.

Maeve sat still. Her family was dead. Her brothers and sisters were dead. Her father was dead. She had dreamed of her father’s death for years, she had even dreamed of her siblings dying on occasion.

Yet, Maeve had never expected this feeling. She had always felt shock and wretched pain every time she dreamed of the death of her siblings. Her father was different. She had not only dreamed but wished for her father’s death for so many years. She thought she would feel relief, happiness, maybe even guilt at his death.

But Maeve did not feel anything, for any of them. All she felt was hollow inside as if the words she had just heard were not real, or perhaps she already believed them to be dead, and this was simply the final nail in the coffin.

The accountant adjusted his glasses, “Excluding myself, every chief accountant of the other branches was at Lord Mora’s party. I would have gone too had I not been so busy here. Their deaths have also been confirmed. As such, I have been placed in charge of all Lord Mora’s accounts. And it falls to me to serve as the executor of your father’s last will and testimony.”

Maeve blinked hard and shook her head, “I’m sorry, what?”

The accountant grabbed the wooden box next to him and placed it on the table. He flicked open the locks and pulled out a bottle of ink, a pen, and several written forms.

The accountant handed her the forms, “The late Lord Mora had designated at the time of his death that his eldest daughter and son fight each other in a mage duel to the death. The victor would inherit all his belongings. However, his eldest son and daughter have also died. In fact, you are the only surviving Mora. Therefore, all of Lord Mora’s estates and assets are bequeathed unto you.”

“What are these papers? I’m not sure what’s happening,” Maeve swallowed and brushed her pale blonde hair aside.

“I know this is a lot to process, but House Mora needs a leader in this hour of crisis. Over a thousand people serve and work for House Mora, they rely on your family to provide for them and keep them safe. With the death of the family leader, everything is in disarray. The people, your people, need a leader they can turn to. You are the only one left capable of fulfilling that role, madam.”

He pointed to the papers, “Those are the transference forms of all of Lord Mora’s titles and accounts. Once you sign your name, you will be the owner of all House Mora’s assets. Madam, you will join the ranks of the Merchant Lords.”

Ironic.

Maeve couldn’t help but laugh. She laughed loud and bright, without care for the strange look the accountant gave her. She laughed for no one, not even herself. The feeling came from deep within and couldn’t stop bubbling forth.

Ironic.

Maeve cried tears of happiness and bitterness. Anger and rage sang through her. She felt like screaming at the top of her lungs and she felt like locking herself in her room and hiding away forever.

Ironic.

The last words her father had told her were, “You have shamed me for the last time.”

Lord Mora had disowned her at the end, yet she was the one who would inherit his seat of power. And no one would ever know.

Maeve never wanted the family leadership, she had never asked for it. And now it was being thrust on her. She did not know if she should feel happy or outraged.

“Madam.” The accountant held the pen in one hand and the ink bottle in the other hand.

Maeve rubbed her cheeks, her makeup was ruined. She had always tried to maintain appearances wherever she went. It suddenly all seemed so trivial.

“Right,” she nodded.

Maeve grabbed the pen, dipped it into the ink bottle, skimmed through the documents and signed her name at the bottom. She handed the accountant the pen and forms. He carefully placed them back in the wooden box and sealed it shut.

“What now?” Maeve asked.

The accountant pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she nodded politely.

He bowed low, “A pleasure to serve, my Lady. Now that you are officially head of House Mora, we can discuss the complete and utter catastrophe your father has left us in.”

“...What?”

“Lady Mora, your father called home the vast majority of his trade ships to the Mortis Grove docks for his birthday celebration. All those ships were burned down during the sacking of Castle Mora. As you may know, most of our profits were made through trade on the Dire River. Now that both the docks and the ships have been burned down, we are in a financial crisis. If we do not act soon our coffers will be emptied.”

Maeve rubbed her temples, “Has the accountant team come up with any prevention plans?”

“Several, but we cannot move forward without your Ladyship’s approval.”

Maeve looked out the window, the sun was beginning to rise above the looming ebon walls in the distance.

“I won’t be able to go back to school, will I?” She said quietly.

“Improbable, my Lady.”

Maeve sighed, “Show me the plans.”

~~~

Stryg cupped his hands together and slowly pulled them apart. A grey orb floated in between his hands. The orb was not misshapen nor did it wobble. It stood tall with pride, floating for all to see.

“I did it. I did it!” Stryg yelled excitedly.

“A stable illusion without any defects, well done,” Vayu Glaz smiled.

The true purple high-master mage sat cross-legged across from his student. They were in the wind-chimes room, high up in one of the mage academy’s buildings.

Vayu placed his hand down on the small wooden platform they sat on. Arcane symbols flared to life across the platform. The wall, consisting of sliding doors, opened wide. The wind blew into the room, throwing the large wooden chimes into disarray.

The chimes sang their chaotic melodic tune as the wind flowed through them. The sounds echoed through Stryg’s ears and made it hard for him to focus. He squinted and took deep breaths. The grey orb did not wane.

“The illusion isn’t breaking,” Stryg grinned.

“It is a start,” Vayu smiled knowingly. “Now, try to get the orb across the room.”

Stryg slowly raised his hands, the orb swam through the air and floated towards the chimes.

“Remember, Stryg, the goal of the exercise is not about strengthening the illusion. Illusions have innately weak infrastructure, no amount of reinforcement will keep it from breaking against a strong object.”

“The orb will break the moment a chime hits it, no matter what. I remember,” Stryg nodded.

“Precisely, which is why you must focus on restoring the orb every time it is damaged. Only then will you manage to get the orb across the room.”

“I’m still not very good at restoring my illusions, even a simple one like this,” Stryg admitted.

“Yes, I know. It takes years of practice to be able to restore illusions quickly and perfectly. We are just practicing. So long as you keep trying you will eventually manage a proper illusion restoration.”

Stryg swallowed, “Easy for you to say.”

The grey orb slowly flew into the chimes area. The illusion floated between two swaying chimes. Stryg narrowed his eyes and focused, he carefully kept the orb moving still and away from the chimes.

“Don’t focus so much on trying to avoid getting hit,” the dark elf added.

“But if I don’t, the chime will hit the orb and it will shatter,” Stryg frowned.

“That’s the point. Illusion restoration,” Vayu smiled wryly.

A gust of wind swept past the room, the chimes howled loudly and slammed into each other. A chime knocked right towards the orb. Stryg’s eyes widened. His fingers flexed and flicked to the left. The orb dashed to the left and dodged the chime. Another chime came right behind it. Stryg curled his fingers inward. The orb dropped low.

Vayu’s teal eyes widened as Stryg’s hands began moving erratically. The grey orb vibrated with energy as it jumped, avoided, and ducked between several chimes with quick precise evasion. Beads of sweat formed on Stryg’s brow. His lilac eyes stayed on the orb, never blinking.

After a minute, Stryg lowered his hands and gasped for breath. “D-done.”

The grey orb floated gently on the other side of the room.

Vayu rubbed his chin, “The goal was to restore your illusion when it was damaged by the chimes. Instead, you evaded damage entirely.”

“That counts as something, right?” Stryg asked hopefully between breaths.

“It’s something, alright,” he muttered.

Vayu stared at the strange little goblin. The kid had managed to move his illusion with an expert deftness Vayu hadn’t even seen in purple mage adepts. It was odd. The boy couldn’t even manage a single proper restoration spell, yet he had just managed to pass his illusion through the wind-chimes room unscathed.

The dark elf wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation. The goblin boy was running before he even knew how to walk.

Vayu only knew one thing for certain as he stared at Stryg lying on the ground, gulping deep breaths of fresh air.

The boy is talented.