Gunmage-Chapter 197: Not an outing

The rays of the sun filtered into the room, waking Lugh up.

He stirred beneath thick, silken covers, nestled in the largest bed he had ever slept on.

His original room was completely destroyed, and although this place was large and grand—extravagantly so—that point was made clear by the exotic plants, stained glass windows, a personal library, and a rock formation from which an artificial stream glided down artistically stacked stones.

Yet despite its luxury, it felt hollow. This was where Lugh had currently taken up as a temporary residence.

The word temporary was used, but Lugh doubted he would ever be told to leave. Even if his original space was fixed, it had been located on the ground floor.

After what had happened... no, they would never let him stay there again.

Security had been tightened significantly, but Lugh still doubted someone like Isolde or Selaphiel would take such a risk again.

Both women, in character and behavior, were startlingly alike. That probably explained why they got along so well—or why Selaphiel had gone so far as to threaten the Caldreth family for their daughter’s hand in marriage.

That part had always remained a mystery to Lugh. But lately, a theory had begun to form.

To him, it almost seemed like Selaphiel was intentionally collecting individuals with the best magical aptitudes to fold into her bloodline.

And when she couldn’t find suitable candidates, she simply... married them herself. It was as unsettling as it was brilliant.

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He clicked his tongue.

Although it was all conjecture, Lugh felt he wasn’t far from the truth. The only question—the most important question behind most of the chaos that haunted him—was a simple one:

Why?

Shaking his head, Lugh stood and stretched.

Dawn brought with it noise. The manor was already alive with footsteps and voices, bustling like a beehive.

After hearing that Selaphiel would attend Lyra’s duel as well, Mirelle had thrown a fit. This time, her sister had taken her side, also wishing to witness the battle.

The elf had graciously allowed them to follow—but Lugh knew better. It wouldn’t just end there. It never did.

Now almost everyone wanted to go. No doubt Mirelle had flaunted the opportunity. He couldn’t imagine Sela doing that—she wasn’t the type.

This wasn’t a picnic outing.

But Lugh knew no one would listen to him, which was why he didn’t even bother speaking up.

The brief lockdown imposed on the branch family had been temporarily lifted—only for the younger generations and a few adults who would serve as guides, protectors, and supervisors.

If Lugh had to guess, it would mostly be Edrin and a handful of the most trusted family members. He reckoned there had to be almost fifteen of them in total.

On one hand, socializing was going to be a pain. On the other hand, no one said he had to socialize. He could just ignore them as usual.

It didn’t take long for Lugh to hear a knock on the door.

"Come in."

With his confirmation, the door opened and a small parade of maids, butlers, and servants filed in, rolling behind them a hanger containing a high-quality outfit of black and red—tailored with silver-thread trim, fine buckles, and embroidery that glimmered faintly in the light, like ink on enchanted parchment.

The material looked both militaristic and ceremonial, the kind of clothes worn for events where a blade and presence were equally needed.

Lugh shook his head. He still couldn’t get used to this.

...

In the large Cross manor, Lyra, who still hadn’t woken up by that time, stirred blissfully in her sleep when the door to her room banged open.

She groaned, her voice unnaturally deep and gravelly.

"Sofia. I’ve warned you for the last ti—"

"Big news!"

Her sister didn’t wait for her to finish, already running to the bed and diving onto it like a cannonball. Lyra felt the weight crush the air from her lungs.

"Get off of me, you—!"

"Big news!"

Sofia repeated, bouncing excitedly.

Lyra sighed, already defeated.

"Sofia, would you kindly stop crushing me with your weight?"

Sofia gasped.

"Are you calling me fat?"

"Yes I am! Look at those pudgy cheeks!"

Her fingers reached for Sofia’s face and began pulling.

"What are you two doing?"

The voice came from nearby.

It belonged to a woman dressed in threadbare nightclothes with deep-set ocean blue eyes and luxurious black hair ruffled from sleep—Xhi, who had been roused by their morning noise.

"Oh. Good morning, Priestess,"

Sofia said, nodding respectfully.

She didn’t know why exactly, but something always told her to be very respectful when dealing with Xhi. It wasn’t just her status—it was the way she moved, the weight she carried in silence.

"Keep it down,"

Xhi muttered, turning away and pulling the pillows closer around her head, entirely ignoring the chaos in the room.

Considering how much the patriarch loathed Lyra—and the fact that she was literally here to usurp his position—they were lucky to remain in this room at all.

That luck was thanks in part to the Cross family’s ancient elven ancestor, who had been nearby at the time, or perhaps attracted by Xhi’s presence.

But that wasn’t the only reason.

Xhi and Lyra were also sleeping in the same bed for security purposes—mostly Lyra’s.

It was almost laughable. After being forcefully removed from a military hospital—declared a member of the Cross family, disowned or not—her relatives had changed their tune quickly once she woke up and still refused their conditions: to abandon her military post and be used in a political marriage.

Riding that momentum, Lyra had eventually challenged the head of the family to a duel—a right granted to all Cross-born from birth.

It had driven her father mad. He had declared her ungrateful, illegitimate.

But Lyra didn’t care. She was used to being seen as a disappointment in her family.

All of that would change today.

She turned to Sofia.

"So what’s the news?"

Sofia’s eyes gleamed.

"The Von Heim family are coming!"

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