Heirs of Hyarch

As the last of the maids went down the hall towards the stairs, Myron let out a shaky breath. Aether, dealing with those men had felt like balancing on a sword's edge.

When they had told him of the death of those servants, they had vaguely threatened him with a warning that a similar outcome would happen if they did not get their coin. Myron had reassured them, although with him departing, he had no way of ensuring the aldermen held up their deal. While they likely did not have the men to seriously threaten Hallowscroft, the town watch probably did not have the men to stop them from causing damage or being nuisances.

It left Myron feeling a little guilty. If something went wrong, he wanted to be there, to try and resolve any problems. But it was out of his hands now. Either the aldermen would trust in the note he sent, or they wouldn't.

As for what was in his hands...well, the key to his father's room. Myron reached out and unlocked the door, then opened it.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was musty, a strange scent that Myron knew was not due to dust or anything like that. It was not the smell of decay or death, but he wasn't sure he would call it one of life, either.

Stepping inside the dimly lit room, Myron looked over it. The bedroom was laid out much the same as he remembered. Unlike a number of the other rooms in the summer house, it seemed the room and its furniture had not been damaged by the mutinous men. Denys's feelings of pity towards his father had been shared, a relief to Myron.

In one corner, sitting in the wheeled chair he'd always complained about having to use, was Lord Esmund Hallowscroft.

He seemed...so small. Myron knew, from Edeline's words, that their father was not the same man he once was, but he had assumed that meant his mental state. He had actually engaged in a mock sparring match, with his father seated in his chair. That had been not long before he left. Aether's blood, was this the effect of Kalvarel's spell as well, to reduce him to this state?

"Shit..." Nela said audibly behind him as she entered the room. Not the greatest first impression, Myron had to admit in a bit of dark amusement. For better or worse though, Lord Hallowscroft paid no attention, just sat there.

"He's even worse than last time," Edeline said softly, joining them.

That, at last, finally drew their father's attention. "You came?" he asked, his voice having a slurred rasp that Myron could not remember being there either.

"Yes, father." Edeline moved closer to him.

"I'm sorry, I told him about you. But he's a good friend. He deserved to know. You understand, right? He knows...you should know. You do know she's not dead. The rest are dead, but she's not. You need to know...she's not dead."

If they had not pieced together an idea of what had happened, this really would seem like mindless rambling. Still, Myron was stricken that his father was reduced to this state. He was not that old, definitely younger than Morgivel by at least two hex years.

Lord Hallowscroft kept talking. "He'll protect her, he'll protect you. He'll be a good man. He has to be. He'll keep it secret, he'll keep it safe. I tried. I couldn't. He can, he will, he must. Go find him. He seeks the hex. Tell him to protect it."

"Would removing the spell even help?" Nela asked.

"I wouldn't bet on it doing all that much," Hamond said with a shake of his head. "I never saw my mother in a state quite like this, but I didn't see her that often as she weakened and grew worse. Also, I can't be sure if the spell could have different effects on different people."

That was certainly possible, Myron thought. Still, they ought to make the effort. "Remove the spell anyway."

"Very well. Katharsis logos."

Their father immediately went silent, slumping down. For a moment, Myron wondered if he had made a mistake. Suddenly, Lord Hallowscroft rose up. "No. I was supposed...to be his friend. I have to be his friend. You did this to me. Take this spell off of me. Take this spell off of me!" He reached with one trembling hand towards Hamond, who stepped back.

"We just did," Edeline said.

"This...is not right. It's not right, not right, not right..." Myron found himself shaking, despair growing inside at his father's disjointed words. Rambling he may be, this was indeed not right. And Myron had no clue if there was anything he could do to fix it.

"For what it's worth, Father, I'm here," he spoke up, making sure he could be heard.

Lord Hallowscroft stopped and peered up at him. "Who are you?"

"It's me, Myron." The dread grew further.

"Wait, you were...you're dead. Don't lie, I saw the letter. You're...you're an impostor."

Myron's mouth opened and closed, as he struggled to find words. Letter? Who would have sent a letter telling of his death. Unless... "A fake," he said out loud. It had to be Kalvarel - that was the only explanation.

He wasn't the only one who thought such. "We need to find that letter," Edeline told them, her face pale.

"We'll look for it," Hamond said, heading for the door. He stopped, realizing that Nela wasn't following him. She'd instead moved over to near the bed, looking down at the bedside table where a thin book sat. That was not surprising. Lord Hallowscroft did enjoy reading a fair amount. Edeline had gotten her love of books from somewhere.

Nela moved the book. "Is this it?" she asked, grabbing a piece of paper that had apparently been under the book. Tossing the book casually onto the bed - Myron winced, knowing Edeline would not like that - Nela trotted up to him.

On taking it, Myron could see it was indeed a letter addressed to his father. Condolences about him falling on the field of battle...there was something unsettling about reading of his own death, Myron had to admit. The date did line up, having been sent shortly after the period he and Nela had been separated from the rest of his men.

The letter was supposedly penned by a minister of His Majesty, a man named Alecenor Winterscroft. An interesting choice of an alias, assuming it was indeed not genuine.

Hamond came up and looked at it. "I can't tell for sure, but I don't think this is Kalvarel's doing. It wasn't written by his hand."

So that raised the question of why it had been sent. Was it a ruse by a different agent of the Spellking working elsewhere in the kingdom, or a simple error? There was no way any of them could know for sure, not here and now. What mattered was that Kalvarel had likely exploited it, pushing Lord Hallowscroft more firmly under his control.

And equally likely, further breaking the man in the process.

"It's alright," Nela said, grabbing Myron and holding him tightly.

Startled, Myron realized he had tears in his eyes. His frustration and grief had started to get the better of him. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths, calming himself.

"The letter was wrong." Edeline had returned to their father's side. "Myron is alive, and is right here."

"No, the letter is truth. He said so, and...he never lies. He seeks the hex, the princess...a crown. I lost everyone and everything else. He will protect what is left...because nothing is right. It's not right."

"Listen to me." Edeline's voice rose, becoming harder. "Kalvarel is dead. You're free. It's over. You're free now."

"Birds are free, princesses and lords are not. Besides, if he's dead, there's no one else. I'll have no more heirs, not in all of Hyarch. I'll have to keep being a lord until there is."

"What do birds have to do with anything?" Nela grumbled, giving Myron a confused look. Myron didn't have an answer. There really was no getting through to Lord Hallowscroft. Their father had lost too much of himself to the spells and the grief to be saved, at least today.

To Myron's utter shock, Edeline drew her sword.

"What are you doing?" Myron said, barely holding in the urge to scream at his sister. Myron knew the answer the moment he asked the question, because it was the obvious end of the dark trail his own thoughts had laid out before him. The only guaranteed way to set Lord Hallowscroft free, right there.

"Do you really think he's going to get better?" Edeline's voice was just as strained. "We were too late. If we had been quicker, if we had acted faster...if I had...it's over. All I can do is send him off to be at peace."

"You want to hold the sword more steady," Lord Hallowscroft interrupted, making Edeline bounce up in surprise. "Ready and steady. Who taught you...how to use a sword again? It wasn't me. I'm just a lord...no one listens to me. Except him, of course."

For a moment, just one moment, Myron could hear his father again. He'd been given that very same pointer on a few occasions, learning the stance and posture for wielding a blade. A surge of hope filled him, made him more determined than ever.

"That's the father we know," Myron told his sister, stepping between her and their father. "We may not be able to stay to see him recover, but he can recover."

"Do you remember what I said before about losing your family?" Nela added, "That hasn't changed, you know."

Edeline's sword wavered a bit more, but she did not move or speak.

Hamond let out a deep sigh. "I know how it is. I've thought long and hard about if I could have done something to relieve my mother of her pain. And I won't hide the truth here. He may regain a little of what he once was, but he will never fully be himself again. I won't disagree that it would be easier for him to just receive this mercy."

"Then tell him to let me by," Edeline whispered.

"But that's only half of the situation. He was alive when we walked into this room. If he is dead when we leave, they will know we did it. And they will send out word of it immediately. If we want any amount of additional time to put distance between us and here, we have to leave Lord Hallowscroft alive."

Edeline turned painfully slowly to face Hamond, looking uncertain.

"It's your decision in the end. Whatever you choose, I'm not about to try to stop you. Just be ready for the consequences."

Her decision...Myron could not deny he had briefly considered the same. And he had to concede, as much as he hated the conclusion, that Hamond also understood the effects of the spell better than they did. Ultimately, while he knew he could never bring himself to kill his own father, he could not really bring himself to stop Edeline either.

Myron moved out of Edeline's way.

Edeline stood there, thinking for a moment that stretched out far too long. Finally, taking one single step back, she let her sword drop to the floor. It bounced once with a clatter, then lay still.

"What am I even doing?" she asked sadly, looking down at the dropped weapon. "My mother...both of them...they wouldn't want this."

Myron took a step towards his sister, but Hamond was there first, putting his hands on Edeline's shoulders. "I know it's hard, but we're here to help you. I'm here to help you." Something about the gesture seemed all-too familiar to Myron. It was almost like...

...almost like Nela and him.

Myron gasped, realization hitting him all at once. Edeline defending Hamond to him. Hamond choosing to willingly follow her away from Hallowscroft. There were probably other signs he'd missed as well, with the threat of Kalvarel drawing his attention. But it was clear now that there was something between the two of them.

As for whether they were aware of it themselves, Myron couldn't tell. It had taken him quite a while to understand his own feelings for Nela. She'd figured it out first, not wanting to say anything in case he didn't feel the same. Nela probably also had figured it out, now that he thought about it.

Surprising though it may be, Myron felt oddly satisfied as he watched the two stand there. They had talked about arranged marriages during their initial reunion, although even then Myron had been hiding the truth. He supposed that if he could find his happiness outside of such, Edeline deserved the same. And Hamond, secretive as he had initially seemed, was a good person. He was sure of it.

Nela cleared her throat. "Don't we need to get going?"

"Nowhere to go, nowhere to stay. You should stay here...wait for him to help." Lord Hallowscroft had started to ramble again. "Stay a while. Bring in a minstrel...you can listen to a song. A song of swords, a song of storms."

"We cannot," Edeline said, looking over at him. "We do need to get going. Do not worry...you'll be fine here. By Aether, I swear it."

"Aether? I owe him. I have the coins to pay...just give me a moment to send someone."

Edeline shook her head, smiling bitterly despite the tears on her face. "Farewell." She turned and walked over to the door to wait. Hamond followed, standing close by.

Myron knew it was his turn now. "Father, thank you for everything."

"Don't know why you're still pretending to be my son. But you're welcome. Always welcome. Why not stay a little longer? I know someone you...you ought to meet."

"We met already," Myron said, "I...wish you the best." He nearly said that he would see him later, but that was nothing but a fool's dream. No need to give false hope, even if his father would likely not remember it. "Farewell...my lord."

"Yes, gather the men and leave. Just make sure they come home."

Myron paused, wondering if this was one final small glimpse of the man Lord Hallowscroft had once been. He'd likely never know, he realized.

Turning his back on his father, he walked over to Nela. Taking her hand, he left the room.