(Path of the Dragon Mage: Exiled) 49. Mother (Patreon)

Part of Corvus – the part that still saw himself as a prince, even in exile – wanted to jump off NightShade and run to his mother. Ask if she was okay... if she was furious with him for leaving against her wishes. If she was proud of him for surviving outside the palace among the common folk.

That was a childish, naïve part of him. He knew that now.

Looking at her, he saw for the first time that she was not only his mother, but also a terrible threat.

He and the phalanx of calvary were still down the road. The only way he’d been able to recognize her was because of his Night Vision.

Nevertheless, he didn’t have much time to act.

Corvus had not touched his free attribute and skill points. He knew now that was because despite Larissa’s prodding, Salt’s training, and everything he’d seen and learned as Gwen and Roan’s friend... Unconsciously, he had hung back.

Now was the time to act.

Swiftly opening the menu, Corvus accessed the attribute points first. He had a total of 7 to spend.

He placed one in Speed, one in Stamina to bring the base attributes to 9 apiece without his ring and necklace and special attributes adding more. That left five points.

Two went into Wisdom, and the remaining three went straight into Charisma.

He had seen his mother use her own charm force of personality as a weapon. The only way he could hope to win against her was to do the same.

A feeling of warmth suffused through him. He closed his eyes, soaking it in. He only hoped they gave him the edge he needed. When he opened them again he turned his attention to his skills list.

Fourteen skill points to spend.

Something else caught his eye. The General Skill token.

Perhaps it was an advancement to his wisdom, but he knew exactly where this should go. He had declined Throwing Accuracy as a combat skill, but as a general skill...

Ding!

Congratulations!

Your Throwing Accuracy skill has been upgraded to a General Skill.

You receive a +5% bonus for any throwing-related skills. In addition, you have a 5% chance of a critical hit within a combat situation.

Ding!

Knife Throwing has been moved from Dual Wield (General) to Throwing Accuracy (General).

Immediately, Corvus added two more skill points to the Throwing Accuracy skill, holding his breath.

His Rune Magic had not been able to advance for a period after it reached level ten. But that had been a class-based skill. Therefore, the Path would insist on a certain amount of growth before he was allowed to continue. His throwing accuracy was not part of his class. He hoped that would make a difference.

It did.

Ding!

Throwing Accuracy has reached Intermediate 1

Special Attribute penalties will no longer take effect for all subskills of Throwing Accuracy.

That meant his Royal Blood and Ambidextrous penalties would no longer apply. He would lose out on the 3% bonus from Ambidextrous but gain the 5% for the new generalized skill.

That was a good trade, but Corvus was not done yet. If he and Gwen were to get out of this mess in one piece, it would not be by combat. He still had 12 sill points to use.

He poured five into Deception, bringing it up to Intermediate 1

Ding!

For reaching Intermediate 1, a 5% efficiency bonus has been added for all subskills as well as a 1% for a wild lie to be believed.

Ding!

You have gained a new subskill of Deception - Diplomacy

Beginner 1

7 more points.

6 went into Emotional Control, bringing it to Intermediate one. It was his first basic skill that had reached that level. Unfortunately, it didn’t offer any bonuses like the sub-skill, but he felt... different. Like a mask had been placed over his face. He had a much better chance of showing the world only what he wanted to see.

His last point he added to Rune Charge, bringing it to Intermediate one.

Ding!

You may now see how much mana will be required to power a rune.

Everything but the class points he still could not access was spent. They were nearly at the gate. He had now armed himself with what tools he had. It was time to confront his mother.

The people waiting cried out when they came within normal view. The gate opened. His mother did not rush to him, and he stayed seated upon NightShade’s back.

Finally, after what felt like an age, Vesper minced over to peer up at him.

“Corvus?” she asked as if she was not entirely sure.

His fingers tightened in NightShade’s dark mane, but he felt the mask of Emotional Control firmly in place. “Mother.”

Gwen sucked in a hitched breath in surprise. Thankfully, she said nothing.

“Your Highness,” Captain Landry said to Vesper. Dismounting, he bowed low to her. “It was as you said. We discovered Young Lord Corvus in the care of General Solt Cartwright, but the other group had reached them first.”

Vesper made no visible reaction, though an unseen wind rustled the tops of ornamental grasses planted at the roadside. “What happened?”

“I believe that is the Young Lord’s story to tell, but by the time we arrived... there was no one left alive.”

Vesper’s gaze locked to Corvus. “Your Talent?” she asked breathlessly. “Has it emerged at last?”

He had told Solt yes, but that had been an easy lie to someone who could not verify it.

“No,” he said. “Solt Cartwright is every bit the fighter rumor paints him. In addition, he has a bit of Earth Talent to help him.”

Vesper stared at him for a beat too long as if waiting for the wind to tell him if he was lying. Corvus felt the air coil around him – the wind trying to determine if his words were truthful. He sat still, mentally leaning on his deception skill for all it would give him.

Finally, Vesper reached up to him. “Come. It’s too cold for you to be out here, and it’s inappropriate you should ride such a beast...” Perhaps she was not as collected as she initially appeared because only then did she seem to notice Gwen. “Who is this?”

Corvus hesitated before he dismounted, reaching up to help Gwen do the same. She needed no assistance, of course, but appearances must be made.

“This is Anita Cartwright. General Solt sent her along to help in the kitchens. She is... my personal friend.”

Gwen bobbed her head. “Ma’am,” she said, making Corvus wince.

“That is Highness to you,” Vesper snapped. She stepped up as if to loom over Gwen, but she’d always been a slight woman. They were nearly the same height. In fact... Corvus had several inches of height over her.

When had that happened?

“Technically,” Corvus said, “It’s not Highness, either. Gwen, this is Lady Vesper, former wife of Prince Cipherus–“

“That is a temporary situation,” Vesper interjected.

He continued speaking over her, “And yes, she is my mother.” He turned to her, continuing with confidence he did not remotely feel, fear tucked behind his mask. “I assume you got my letter?”

“What letter?” Vesper asked. For the first time since he remembered in his dealing with her, she seemed to be off-balance.

Captain Landry stepped in. “I believe he means the letter Prince Cipherus's men intercepted.”

“Ah.” She flicked her hand as if such a detail didn’t matter. But it meant everything to him.

Corvus turned to the captain. “Those weren’t the King’s men?” He should have asked this before, but so much had happened this night he felt like he was running a step behind. “They were wearing the King’s colors.”

Landry hesitated, looking to Vesper who was the actual power here.

Vesper sighed. “Of course they were your father’s men. As foolish and arrogant as he is, he still has the power of the crown. I simply directed my own men to follow his.”

“Then, as far as you’re aware the King doesn’t want me dead?” Corvus pressed.

“The King doesn’t care about you one way or another,” she said. “That is his mistake. one which he will surely rue.”

Those were bold, treasonous words. Vesper had never spoken in such a way within his hearing before. But perhaps she felt braver now they were in the middle of nowhere.

Corvus was also certain she was wrong. He did not dare look in the direction of the spy but felt his presence.

The only thing he knew for certain about the man was he didn’t work for Cipherus. Else he would have killed Corvus and Solt during the times he broke into the estate.

It was notable Vesper had not asked about his dragon egg, either. Was she not aware of it, or did she not care?

Vesper took his arm in a grip that was meant to be caring. The way her nails dug into his skin spoke otherwise.

“My son, you like tired. I’m certain this has been a traumatizing night, so I have prepared a room where you may rest.”

She tried to pull him away, but he resisted. “I would see to Anita’s comfort, first.”

“The kitchen girl?” she asked, glancing back to Gwen who stood by NightShade, all but forgotten.

Had it been a mistake to steer her attention back to her? He thought it might, but he had no choice but to continue. “And her horse. It was General Solt’s from the war, though he insisted she take it with her. A parting gift.”

Again, he felt the coils of air surround him and again he braced himself against it using his deception skill as his personal shield.

“Very well,” Vesper said. “Do as he says, Landry.”

Vesper turned, Corvus’s arm still in her own. This time, Corvus followed.

He shot one glance back over his shoulder to Gwen, trying to communicate with his expression that she should run for it the moment she got the first chance.

Gwen scowled at him, and he had the feeling she wouldn’t be compliant.

He waited until they strode into the manor before he spoke again. It was a grand place, empty and full of echoes. Their footsteps clicked over stonework smoothed over by someone with a high Talent of earth.

The manor was conspicuously bare of most furniture. Corvus guessed it was a summer or part-time residence, and not often visited.

“Come,” Vesper said, still tugging him along. “Your room is this way.”

He sighed. “Mother, I’m not tired.”

“Nonsense, a growing boy like you–”

“And I’m no longer a boy.” He wrenched his arm from hers. “Mother, why are you here?”

“We followed Cipherus’s men. Have you already forgotten–”

“The whole truth, mother,” he interrupted. “Starting with why Landry calls me Young Lord.”

She huffed, stamping her foot like a child. But she had never physically scared him. Corvus waited out her displeasure.

Finally, Vesper said, “Fine. Let us talk.”

She led him through the estate to a large room on the southern side. While opulent, it was as sparsely furnished as the rest of the manor. There was a writing desk in front, and a four-poster bed beyond a half-closed set of curtains. That was it.

“I hate this place,” Vesper said in a pout. “The Shield Estates are much more to my liking, but we have no property of our own in these desert hovels.”

She flicked her wrist, and a gust of air slammed the door. Another flick and Corvus felt tightening against the insides of his ears. The room beyond looked... warped slightly as if the light from the lit candles could no longer penetrate the space. “You put up an air shield,” he said, “To protect our conversation.”

He had come so far with runes but couldn’t begin to approach the power his mother wielded so effortlessly. It was aggravating.

“Of course I have,” she said. “Now, what do you need to know that is so important?”

He had seen her play these games with others before. She wanted him to restate his question, and perhaps make a mistake while doing so.

Well, he was done playing her games.

“What’s happened in the Palace while I’ve been gone?”

Her face darkened and she knew this question has displaced her.

“Your father has remarried. You have a new stepmother from the Gemstone family. She’s a girl barely older than your... friend. You haven’t gotten her pregnant, have you?”

He ignored the barb. “You told me that Cipherus... that he would have no more children.”

Her smile was all the answer he received.

“And you did this with a charmed object,” he pressed.

“These are the questions you wanted to have answered?” she asked, heading to a table and pouring herself a goblet from a wine bottle sitting out.

“No,” he said. “What is the blight?”

She nearly choked on her first sip of wine. “Excuse me?”

“The blight,” Corvus repeated. “All the commoners speak about it, and yet I’ve never heard of a noble child falling ill with it.”

“How am I supposed to know?”

He didn’t need his Detect Lies skill pinging at him to know she was not being truthful.

“You’re lying,” he said calmly.

Vesper set her goblet down. “And how,” she said, “Would you know that without a Talent for air?”

Corvus said nothing, and Vesper didn’t either.

Finally, she shrugged. “You are correct, of course. The blight only affects those of the common class. No, I don’t know why. And I don’t care. The sickness started centuries ago. Since then, there has been no one strong enough to overthrow the throne.” She lifted an ironic eyebrow. “This is hardly a bad thing.”

“It is when it kills children.”

“Children who are often born into families with too many mouths to feed.”

“When I was among those commoners, I ran into something interesting,” Corvus said. “An old reading primer of a poem I had long forgotten: A world of dew is a world of dew. And yet…”

“So?”

“It makes me wonder, Mother, if there is more to this blight, this world, than we see.” The Path system, for example. Did she know of it?

She snorted as if he had made a joke. “What does it matter what commonors think, or read? You’ve always been soft, Corvus. If you are to someday rule, then you will have to understand the throne must be protected at all times.”

“How can I rule,” he demanded. “I’m no longer legally Cipherus’s son.”

“I told you that was temporary. There are many Paths to the crown, Corvus. You should thank me. Because of my efforts, your grandfather considers you to be the next Lord Shield. Do you have any idea what–“

She stopped, realizing what she just said. Then she cocked her head, studying Corvus as if he were a particularly interesting bug.

Corvus was too upset and angry to smile. He only nodded once, acknowledging the unspoken point.

He had gotten his mother to answer his question without him re-asking.

“Well,” she said. “Perhaps your time among the common folk has done you well.”

“Yes, I think it has.”

“Now I have a question for you.”

“Ask,” Corvus said, which was not the same as, I’ll answer it.

“Your dragon egg. Have you had any luck hatching it?”

Corvus considered what to tell her and how to lie. There seemed to be little point. “No.”

“Where is it now?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“I hope by that you don’t mean the ruins of your former master’s house,” she said with a laugh in her voice.

“How did you know it burned down?” Corvus asked.

“The wind,” she said simply. “And the wind will tell me where the egg is, if I ask it.”

Lie.

Oh, learning of a large fire on the other side of a flat lake was well within Vesper’s capabilities. But he had grown up among people with the elemental Talents. He knew their theoretical limitations. Starella had a Talent with air as well.

His egg was tucked in his bag of holding which was covered by a thick layer of brush. Air could get in, but very little of it.

“No, you won’t.” He turned to the door as if to let himself out. “I think I am tired, mother. I’ll find my way to my room, thanks.”

She barked a laugh, drained her goblet before setting it down.

“Do you think I led you to my rooms?”

With that, she stepped smoothly past him. Another casual gesture and the heavy door opened to the sucking power of the wind.

After walking through it, she turned back to him.

“Sleep well, my son.”

The door closed and he knew without touching it that a wall of air would prevent him from reopening it again until she let him.

This was his new prison.

A/N: Heads up, about half an hour after I post this I'm heading off for a hiking weekend! I'll respond to comments Sunday or Monday. :)