The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 885: The Whitemarsh Estate

Fyren returned to the estate some three days later, just as soon as he heard of the demon plots in the city. He took no action, nor did I hear of any disturbances regarding him, but from his soul, I could feel he was uneasy. He never let me out of his sight, even when I studied magic in Haven.

That didn’t change when we made our way to the Whitemarsh estate. The carriage was sized for four, but Aerion and Fyren looked cramped sitting across from Elise and I. For once, I was grateful for our small, slender stature.

"You didn’t have to come. I could have guaranteed their safety," Aerion muttered, staring out the window.

Fyren’s grin was all teeth. "I’m sure. Just think of me as a sightseer. It’s not often I take the time to visit any of the nobles in the worlds I’ve invaded. It’s a novel experience."

I sighed, idly caressing my horn. Fyren had never accompanied us on a formal visit, but to be honest, I was just grateful he remained in his human form. With the look he gave Aerion, I wouldn’t put it past him to transform out of spite.

"I would never," Fyren said, staring at me, the corner of his lip twitching.

I flinched, blushing slightly. "Don’t do that."

Just as I had grown more comfortable reading souls, my own soul had opened up. Sometimes, it felt like he could just read my mind. Maybe he could.

"Just remember to let me do the talking. And Lady Lastlight," Aerion said with a long sigh. "The last thing we need is you fumbling this chance."

"I’m curious to see these mortal negotiations you spend so much time discussing. They seem...pretentious. The only matter of discussion should be who is stronger and who would lose more from a confrontation. What else matters?"

"All in the name of the greater good. Just because someone’s weak doesn’t mean they’re worth less."

Fyren arched an eyebrow. "Curious. For such a righteous sentiment, you don’t seem to believe it."

Aerion shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps not. But that’s the way things are done. After all, even the strongest beings can’t survive alone against an entire kingdom. Kick too many bee hives and it’s death by a thousand stings."

"Sometimes I forget how myopic mortals can be. A single kingdom? You should have seen how the Blacksand Empire trembled before the might of the Lava Dragons, and Sylvarus is no empire."

Aerion was quiet at that, but he didn’t seem bothered or offended. Rather contemplative. I cleared my throat, tail twitching slightly.

"It’s a noble goal, Fyren, to treasure life. If you’re all alone, even if you’re the strongest...the dark isn’t any brighter," I said softly.

Elise took my hand, squeezing it gently. "Don’t worry, you’ll never be alone like that again. I won’t allow it."

"I wonder. Elise, if there’s a chance for you to do something great, to bring light to those in the dark, I hope you take it," I whispered, not meeting her eye.

"And what’s that supposed to mean?"

The carriage came to a stop, saving me from answering. The door opened, and Aerion bolted out, stretching as he emerged into the large, spacious courtyard of the Whitemarsh Estate. The manor was sculpted from a living tree the same size as the Splitbark Estate, with a thick, leafy canopy that shaded the entire complex. Several stone towers rose like trunks upward, forming extended wings and branches alongside the trunk. The wall we’d passed under was thick and solid, reinforced by sixth-level enchantments and topped with turrets and parapets.

As I stepped out, taking Fuyren’s hand for support, I marveled at the ancient, mystic feel of the place. A faint, shimmering mist hugged the ground, remnants of the night’s dew. Gnarled roots from the manor broke the cobblestone courtyard, forming natural hitching posts and railings for carriage routes and footpaths. The soldiers lining the walls and patrolling the grounds were stiff and resolute, their armor polished yet lacking the opulent gilding of the other noble houses we’d visited.

"Welcome, Lord Sunsinger, Lady Lastlight."

I turned at the familiar voice, meeting the eyes of Commander Whitemarsh himself. The tall, gray-haired elf was flanked by several sixth-level soldiers. They lowered their eyes instead of meeting my gaze, adjusting their grips on their weapons.

"And, of course, the Oracle. We’re humbled by your presence," the commander said, giving me a faint smile.

I gave a small curtsey.

"We weren’t expecting the honor of your presence at the gate," Elise said in a formal tone. "Surely there are others more suitable to greet visitors."

"Perhaps, but it’s a duty I take all the same," he replied smoothly.

He started to turn, then paused, glancing at Fyren. His eyes widened, and his hand fell to the shining sword hilt at his waist. The move was instinctive, and his hand relaxed so quickly I doubted it had moved in the first place.

"I see you’ve brought another demon with you. I was aware of the one in the Oracle’s personal guard, but this one..." His voice wasn’t quite as composed as before. "Might you introduce us?"

"Forgive the imposition, but given the circumstances, he insisted on coming along," Elise said, "He is known as the Lord of Ash, a fire demon serving directly under the oracle."

Fyren and the commander scrutinized each other, weighing each other’s build, stance, and composure. I shifted anxiously, tail flicking slightly. After what felt like forever, Fyren nodded shortly, though didn’t speak.

The commander nodded back and turned, beckoning us to follow. As the exterior indicated, the inside was plain and militant, with simple adornments and furniture. The servants all bowed or curtseyed respectfully as we passed, and more than once, I caught glimpses of young elves peeking out at us from behind doorways or from down long hallways. They all wore plain white clothes reminiscent of the uniform, with swords belted to their waist.

"It’s the custom of our house," Commander Whitemarsh said, noticing my interest. "All youths and wards of the Whitemarsh’s vassal houses are required to practice discipline and engage in military training at the estate for several years during their first fifty years. It prepares them for their future roles as officers and nobles in their futures."

"You too?" I asked, looking at Aerion.

"Some, though the Sunsinger house is a small, fringe house connected to the Whitemarsh. We weren’t considered important enough to keep as wards for more than a few years."

"A mistake we haven’t repeated since. You and Lady Sunsinger are evidence that strength can arise from the humblest of blood. Now, we thoroughly test youths of lesser houses to check for potential rather than just relying on pedigree."

"At least some good came from it," Aerion muttered. "Then again, I might not have become an adventurer had you given me the red carpet into the military. Who knows what would have happened then?"

"There are many paths, yet only one to tread," I murmured, staring at one particular boy who looked no older than me. I turned to Commander Whitemarsh. "That one, there. Who is he?"

The elf craned his neck, noticing the youth before he ducked back into a hallway. "Esvitt, I believe. What of him?"

I stared listlessly, a strange stirring in my soul. The Oracle of Eternity was restless, tugging at the edges of my consciousness. "He’s...different."

Elise took my sleeve and whispered, "Xiviyah?"

I blinked, shaking my head. I realized everyone was staring at me, except Aerion, who had his eyes fixed on where the elven youth had disappeared. My cheeks warmed, and I looked down, gripping my skirt.

"Sorry, it’s nothing."

"I see," Commander Whitemarsh said slowly. He scrutinized me a moment longer before turning and leading us on. "Come, Lady Whitemarsh awaits."

I cast a look back before Elise tugged me on.

"What was that?" she hissed.

I gripped my skirt tighter. "Sorry, I just...I felt something. Like I did for the prince in Blacksand."

She stiffened at the mention of the crown prince, absently tugging on a lock of golden hair. "Really?"

"It’s been doing it more often," I mumbled, touching my chest. "The Oracle, that is. Ever since I reawakened it, it’s been...different. My aura’s stronger, too. It’s harder to control. It just wants to flow everywhere."

"Now’s not the time, Xiviyah," Fyren said in a low voice. I’d never told him before, but he didn’t seem surprised. Had he read my mind, or had Fate...no, if she knew something, why wouldn’t she tell me herself?

Our party came to a stop before a set of grand double doors. Commander Whitemarsh waved forward, and a servant knocked twice. After two seconds, they opened it, allowing us through. Elise took a deep breath, straightened her back, and led the way.

On the other side of the doorway, the tree opened up into a room. But unlike the audience chambers of the Splitbark manor or the Verdant Grove, it was just that: a room. Several crimson couches lined the walls, with low tables between them, and lamps made of crystal lights. Lady Whitemarsh sat alone on one side, absently sipping a cup of tea. She looked up as we entered, her ancient, weathered face creasing in a smile.

"Thank you, Erran," she said, nodding to the Commander. She turned to us, her tired-looking eyes looking us up and down. "Come, sit. There is much we have to discuss."