“So… what do you say? Do you accept my proposal and choose to become my son?”

“Just one question before I agree…”

“What is it?”

“Can I pick my own name?”

“No.”

“Good. I’m thinking of something epic like Deathwind or Stor-wait, what?”

“I’ve already got a name picked out for you.”

“What’s more epic than Stormrage “The Unkilliable” Acanthus?”

“Darrell.”

“Okay… although I’ve been exposed to the adoption procedure before and also quite familiar with the concept of taking over a dead person’s identity… in what world is Darrell better than Stormrage?”

“Consider it as a request from me.”

“Really? You want to name me after your dead son who died in a well? Kind of tasteless, don’t you think?”

“It’s actually a good name.”

“Seriously? Do I look a Darrell to you? Come on.”

“You think Stormrage is one of those names that looks good on paper, but it actually has no real world application.”

“Hah! Shows how much you know. There are no papers that can contain the name Stormrage on it. Every piece of parchment will burst into flames if there are any attempts to write the name down.”

“I’m afraid I must insist upon it.”

“How about Bob Acanthus? At least I can make a cool acronym out of Bob.”

“Bob Acanthus… It doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.”

“So does Darrell Acanthus!”

********************

One hour later.

“Okay. So we all finally agree on the terms and conditions of regarding the usage of Darrell Stormrage Acanthus are as follow: Firstly, that any official papers or documentations shall refer to the young ser here as Darrell Acanthus, the usage of the name Stormrage is deemed unnecessary but can be included if the situation calls for it. Secondly, that the only one who is allowed to address young ser here as Darrell in public or private is Ser Derek Acanthus. Young ser can ignore anyone who calls him that unless he is attending certain official ceremonies. In which case protocol dictates that he must be answerable to the name Darrell if called upon by relevant parties or any person of higher authority. But young ser can choose not to introduce himself with the name Darell if he’s not in the mood. Lastly, any person who works or is affiliated with the Darkthus Company is only allowed to address young ser here as Stormrage, but they are not forced to do so if they find it to be silly. Is everyone happy with that?”

asks an exhausted Devlin. The young aide who’s been acting as a mediator for the past one hour looks at the people present in the study room. Everyone seems tired… everyone except a certain person of course who is currently raising his left hand (since his right hand is still broken and wrapped in a sling).

“Yes, you still have something you wanted to add, Darrell?”

“…”

*sighs “What is it, Stormrage?”

The boy puts his hand down.

“I just wanted to point out that I consider Darrell to be my slave name and I am extremely unhappy with it. If you could jot that down in that document in front of you.”

“Duly noted.” says Ser Derek’s personal assistant. “Please sign here… here… and initials here.”

“Finally. Now that this tedious affair has finally concluded, I believe I was promised blueberry muffins? Or is that just a lie to lure me into bondage and trap me in servitude?”

“You have just become the official heir and successor to Ser Derek Acanthus, owner of the most powerful and prominent mercenary company in the Grandiel Continent in which you are virtually guaranteed to inherent, but you’re more exited and happier when it comes to tea?”

“It’s the only highlight of this day really. Now please wake up my old man so we can finally get this party started.”

“…”

The young aide could only sigh before gently shaking a snoring Ser Derek who has fallen asleep in his chair.

********************

Tea in Ser Derek’s garden is rather a subdued affair, not something extravagant that you would expect of an extremely rich man’s house. In front of the boy lays a variety of snacks, cakes and sliced fruits certainly, but the table isn’t filled to the brim with food to the point you can consider it to be abundant.

The current leader of the Darkthus Company isn’t frugal nor is he a wasteful man. When it comes to food, he believes only in eating enough to satiate his hunger and recover his strength. Obviously when Ser Derek is entertaining vain and self-absorbed guests he is prepared to roll out the finest feast in order to stroke their egos. But Ser Derek always made sure any excessive food is shared with the staffs and workers employed in the mansion (after the party is over of course) and the poor people belonging to the various villages in the surrounding area.

Right now, the boy is sitting opposite of Ser Derek. To the right of the boy stands the mansion while to the left of him, a few meters out, is the place where the former sealed well used to be situated in. Synnove as usual refused to sit and join the boy and Ser Acanthus for tea, insisting on standing two steps behind her master. Devlin meanwhile is currently in the process of fetching another person who Ser Derek insisted should also be present during this occasion.

Any first time guest to the mansion would never have noticed the recent changes made the garden. After the remains of Ser Derek’s second wife and his infant son were gathered and buried in the local cemetery, Ser Derek had the sealed well torn down. He ordered the hole in the ground to be filled with a mixture of earth and concrete.

Ser Derek also commissioned and erected a medium sized statute of a winged angel holding a child right over the place where the sealed well used to be.

Usually, you would have to wait several days for such a deep foundation to solidify. Erecting a heavy object so soon is a recipe for disaster but Ser Derek has managed to get himself the service of a mage who specializes in earth magic. The man didn’t even hesitate about spending a small fortune in order to hire the mage, since magic is rare in the Grandiel Continent and the fee to employ such specialist in some cases can range from extremely expensive to downright exorbitant.

“So Darrell, what’s on your mind?”

“…huh, what? Sorry. Still haven’t gotten used to being called by that name.”

“Are you still thinking about that funny joke that made you laugh out loud in my study room before this?”

“No, we’ve moved way pass that. I’m currently pondering something else entirely.”

“Can you share it with me? The private joke, I mean.”

“It’s really not that funny.”

“I like to hear it, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Then how about we play a game? You try to guess, no matter how broad it is, the subject matter which was going through my mind at that time. If you win, you’ll get a really special prize.”

“And if I lose?”

“Then you won’t get the really special prize. I thought that was pretty self explanatory.”

“How can I accurately know what goes on in your head? I’m not a mind reader.”

“Which is why I’ve already stated that you’re allowed to vaguely guess what I was thinking about at that particular moment. And to make it easier for you, I’ll give you three guesses. Heck, I’ll even let Synnove here to be on your team. But you guys still have only three tries to share between the two of you.”

“…I don’t know. This game seems to favor you a lot.”

“Oh come on. I could have been thinking about sneezing kittens. If you say I was thinking about something living, you‘d still win.”

“Can’t you give me clue?”

“Fine. It has something to do with what we’ve been discussing in your study room. Remember the moment I seemed to have lost my collective shit and started giggling uncontrollably? Maybe I heard you say something funny preceding it? Maybe it’s because of something else that we talked about after that? Who knows?” says the boy with a smile.

Ser Derek ponders briefly before answering.

“Right before you burst out laughing, I said that I will protect your two friends Marven and Athorius with the full might of my company… Did you find it amusing that two days ago my son Joze kidnapped and threatened to kill them while today it was the father’s turn and he offered to keep them safe?”

“That’s oddly specific, and very wrong. You don’t have to think too deeply about it. Remember, two chances remaining.”

“I offered to protect your friends but I failed to keep my own wife and son safe. Was that the reason why you’re laughing while almost being driven to tears?”

“…Gods. You really are reading too much into this. Try to keep in mind that it was just a bad joke. And you only have one chance left by the way.”

Ser Derek is quiet for a while, immersed in contemplation. He opens and closes his mouth several times. Just as he was about to make his third and final guess, a voice can be heard coming from behind the boy.

“Does it have anything to do with the names that Master wishes to be called with?” says the pigtails maid.

Ser Derek looks at the boy who in turns smiles weakly and gives out a small sigh.

“I knew letting Synnove be on your team could almost be considered as cheating.” murmurs the boy as he takes out a folded piece of paper which he had hidden in his sling. Then boy then puts the folded piece of paper directly in front of Ser Derek.

“Your prize…”

“I don’t understand. That subject matter was what made you laugh your head off like a godsdamn maniac?”

“When you offered me the chance to become your son, I thought of various possible names that I can give myself. Among them, one which nearly made me pee my pants, was the name Bates.”

“I don’t get it. What’s so funny about-“

“Master Bates.” the pigtails maid cuts in. “Master here would have insisted that every servant calls him that.”

Ser Derek stares in disbelief as he switches his gaze between the boy and Synnove who is standing right behind him.

“Hilarious.” says the pigtails maid solemnly.

“Like I’ve said…” grins the boy. “It was just a bad joke.”

Ser Derek could only shake his head. He looks at the folded piece of paper lying on the table in front of him, his so-called prize for winning the boy’s absurd guessing game. Ser Derek recognized the folded piece of paper as the same scrap of parchment that the boy had previously took from his desk.

“I’m guessing my prize isn’t the piece of paper itself, but what’s written on it.”

“Why don’t you open it and find out?”

Ser Derek hesitantly reaches for the folded piece of paper before he opens it slowly. He reads it and there’s a small look of realization which begins spreading across his face.

“This is…”

“The current location of a one Frank Lazlo. You know him as-“

“Franklin Ladislaus…”

“Yes, one of your former servant who worked here. He quit about a year after your second wife and baby son went missing, citing family issues, which is funny because he has no living parents and was the only child.”

“He was the one Joze paid handsomely to spread false leads for me to follow.”

“Correct. Since Joze has given up the name of his accomplice, your men have been tirelessly working around the clock trying to find ol' Frankie here. But they keep running into dead end.”

“He disappeared and went into hiding. Either he feared Joze would kill him because he knew too much or maybe it’s because he always had a gut feeling I will find out the truth one day and seek him out.”

“The Grandiel Continent is a big enough place. If one wishes it, one can slip through the cracks, never to be found even if you got a whole kingdom hunting you down. Anyway, I thought I’d saved you the trouble and just point you to the right direction.”

“I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“You won the information, fair and square. And rest assured, I would have given it to you eventually. Maybe tomorrow before I leave for school.”

“How did you…”

“You have your network of spies, I have my methods. Anyway, do you still remember what you first inquired of me while we were sitting at this table?”

“I asked you what was on your mind.”

“Well for starters, right now, I can only express dissatisfaction which borders on suspicion regarding the lack of blueberry muffins in front of me.”

“Relax. I had my cooks quickly prepare your favorite treat as soon as we left the study room. Blueberry muffins taste even better when they’re fresh from the oven. Oh look, here they come now.”

The boy’s neck snaps to the right in order to see, faster than a whip being cracked. A second later, a long string of expletives complaints can be heard escaping from the boy’s mouth to signal his disappointment.

“That’s not a cook carrying a tray of hot piping blueberry muffins emerging from the mansion! That’s just Devlin wheeling out a paralyzed Joze.”

The people who are sitting down in the garden enjoying tea watch as the two figures approach them. The smiling young aide continues to push the incapacitated former heir to Ser Derek until they finally reach the table. Devlin parks Joze and proceeds to stand by Ser Derek’s side.

Right now, Joze who's currently strapped to a wheelchair is parked between Ser Derek and the boy. He is currently facing the garden with the mansion to his back, the usual position Joze generally sits when he was having tea with his father several times before this.

“Good afternoon, son. Nice of you to finally join us.”

*whimpers “…”

“You look a little pale, son. Didn’t I tell you before you need to go out and exercise more? Get a little sun?”

“…”

“Anyway, we have company today. I’m sure you are quite familiar with him.”

Joze’s reply could only be described as a small sob.

“Hello Joze. Or should I call you brother? I don’t know what's the appropriate term here is.”

“…” even though Joze’s face looks like he’s on the verge of crying, there’s a sign of puzzlement mixed into it as well.

At this time, a servant approaches their table and sets down a tray of freshly made blueberry muffins. It takes all of the boy’s will power not to jump up with joy right there and then. Even though he wanted nothing more than to immediately eat the blueberry muffins that are currently sitting in front of him, the boy chooses to restrain himself. I’ve waited an eternity to eat them. What’s a few moments more?

To the boy, the tray full of blueberry muffins in front of him is worth more than all the riches in the Grandiel Continent combined.

Ser Derek, upon seeing the confused look on Joze’s face, chooses to enlighten him.

“Son, meet your new little brother and the latest addition to our family. He’ll be replacing you as my heir now since you’re going to be a bit busy recuperating and recovering from your injury.”

“HE’S DA WAN WHO PUT ME IN DIS CONDITION!” as soon as Joze screams that, his eyes recoil in horror. If he could move his hands, Joze would have used them to cover his mouth. But as they are currently hanging uselessly from his side, Joze could only mouth the word ‘sorry’ over and over again in Ser Derek’s direction.

The boy meanwhile is developing a sense of curiosity regarding the manner in which Joze is speaking. It looks like his tongue is swollen which made him talk funny. Did Joze swallowed a bee and got stung? wonders the boy. He is tempted to use his powers to find out the answer but the boy chooses not to.

He didn’t want to discover anything that might destroy his appetite, particularly when he’s about to enjoy a tray full of mouth watering blueberry muffins.

“Joze…” says Ser Derek in his trademark soft voice, the boy secretly shudders every time he hears it. “I’ve reminded you time and time again never to speak when you’re in my presence. If you value your life, if you wish to extend it even by one more second, never let a word escape from your mouth and finds its way to my ears. Are we clear on that?”

Joze nods his head up and down vigorously, signifying his agreement. His head and his neck, those are only things left to him that are still in his possession. Not including of course the small glimmer of hope that he may one day escape his predicament.

“Good. Now, there are a few things we need to get out of the way first. Joze, ever since your current condition requires you to stay in one of the smaller room on the ground floor, I’m thinking about letting your new little brother here move into your old room on the second floor. I mean, you won’t be using it because it’ll be a hassle to carry you up and down those stairs.”

Joze silently endures it, but everyone can see the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

“Awww, dad. I don’t want Joze’s old room. Can’t I get the empty room in the northeast corner? No one’s using it, and I like the feel of the sun on my face when I’m waking up in the morning.”

“Anything for you, Darrell.” smiles Ser Derek.

Joze’s eyes popped wide open upon hearing the boy’s newly acquired name.

“But it seems to be a shame letting Joze’s old room go to waste like that.” adds Ser Derek as he scratches his chin which isn’t even itchy at the time.

“I know!” exclaims the boy excitedly. “What if we turn it into a recreation room? We can play a few games of pool, throw some darts. It’s also big enough that we can hold poker night there.”

“Good idea, son. But what do we do about Joze’s old stuff? Even though the mansion is huge, I don’t think I can find the appropriate space to keep them.”

“Oh, how about if we just donate his things away? Joze won’t be needing them, and I’m not too keen on receiving hand-me-downs.”

“That’s some sharp thinking, Darrell. I’m sure some of the staffs here would be delighted to take those junks off our hands.”

“Dad, on my next school holiday, can you take me shopping in the Capital? They have a great selection of furniture there and I’m thinking of decorating my new room with-“

“Fadher…” a trembling voice suddenly disrupts the boy which made him look to his right.

Right now the boy can see a stream of snot and tears falling down Joze’s face. His eyes were deep red with various veins sticking visibly from his forehead. There is also a small trickle of blood flowing from one corner of Joze’s mouth, he must have bit his lips so hard he drew blood.

“Wat wood modher say… if she can see… how you are treating me…” Joze manages to choke out those words through gritted teeth.

The boy glances to Ser Derek who is sitting directly in front of him. The man’s face is a mask of nothingness. The boy suddenly finds himself holding his breath, afraid of what was about to come next.

Ser Derek shakes his head and sighs. He slowly lifts up his right hand and holds it there, palm wide open, as if waiting for someone to hand him something.

“Devlin…” whisper Ser Derek, his voice almost being drowned out by the strong wind that is suddenly blowing throughout the garden.

“May I remind you ser, that Sarah is still in the Shahjahad Kingdom and it will take her at least a month to get here.”

“I know, which is why I asked for your knife instead of using the sword I keep in my cane. Such a long blade would reduce my accuracy. And besides, we also have Gordon on standby in the manor, don’t we?”

“Yeah, but he’s not very good in the art of healing as Sarah.” murmurs Ser Derek’s personal assistant. Devlin proceeds to take out of the concealed knife tuck inside the young aide’s left boot before handing it over to Ser Derek.

Before Joze could react, Ser Derek reaches over and delivers several stabbing motion towards his son’s abdomen and chest. Joze couldn’t even scream, Ser Derek has his left hand covered around Joze’s mouth, silencing him, while his right hand is still busy thrusting the knife repeatedly into his son’s body.

Blood begins to spurt out and sprays everywhere from Joviel. The boy leans back, avoiding most of the thick crimson liquid, but some still manage to land on his bare feet, staining them.

“I know you can hear me, so for your own sake I hope you’re listening well.” whispers Ser Derek into his son’s ears. “Mention your mother again and I will cut out your tongue like I did previously. But this time I won’t have Gordon attach it back. No… I will slice it into thin pieces, cook them in front of you, and then proceed to force-feed you bit by bit.”

Ser Derek doesn’t wait to see if his son understood his warning. The older man proceeds to twist the knife that he has in his hand, making Joze crap his pants and pass out from the pain. Ser Derek pulls out the knife and drops it onto the table. The stained blade makes a clattering noise as it hits against the various plates and cups.

“Devlin, please take Joze to Gordon for treatment. And tell Gordon not to fret, I’ve managed to avoid hitting all the important organs.” says Ser Derek as he continuous to carry on his poised demeanor, seemingly unfazed about what he just did to his own flesh and blood.

If you can overlook the fact that Ser Derek’s hands and clothes which are currently dripping wet with blood, you could have sworn that there is nothing unusual about the older man. Ser Derek’s hair is still neatly styled, not one hair out of place, while his breathing is calm and composed.

Devlin immediately pushes the wheelchair containing the unconscious and heavily wounded Joze towards the mansion, leaving a trail of blood as they rush towards the nearest healer that the Darkthus Company has in its employment.

As Ser Derek turns his attention towards the boy, he notices something odd. The boy is currently weeping. Wet tears are heavily falling down his cheeks that could give Joze’s crying face a run for its money.

“What’s wrong?” asks Ser Derek who is deeply alarmed. He didn’t know that his violent outburst would invoke such a strong reaction from the boy. Ser Derek suddenly finds himself afraid that he has accidentally alienated another one of his sons.

“Blood…”

“What about the blood?” Ser Derek tries to coax an explanation from the boy. An intense sense of regret begins to well up in the older man’s throat.

After a few moments, the grieving boy manages to blurt out the reason for his extreme lamentation.

“You got… you got blood all over my blueberry muffins.” explain the boy through long sobs. “And the chef has no more ingredients left to make them. Trust me. I’ve checked.” cries the boy as he continues his wailing.

********************************************************************************************

Yaaaay! We jumped 1 place up to number #33. Just another 3 more places before we reached the #30th spot. Thank you those who voted. My heart has now fully healed.

This chapter is dedicated to readers Adc190, SnakeDevil 505, SpartanLoki, as well as the countless others who are kind enough to leave a review.

So is this Darrell name thing gonna catch on? Will the boy finally get his blueberry muffins? Will the author run out of ways to deny the boy his craving? Has Synnove been relegated to a background character? Find out next week on Demon Hero Reaper Saviour No Blueberry Muffins For Old Men...

Leave a review if you wanna help me reach the 30th place in the Best Rated category or a comment if you see any plot-holes, glaring grammar mistakes or just wanted to show your appreciation.