BlueShear
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Chapters 15-16
🕑 Added 2024-10-07 04:58:39 +0000 UTCThe carriage rumbled up the cobblestone path which led to the main entrance of their modest two-story manor—passing sparse woodland and dense thickets to either side as it bounced, jounced, and rocked its way ever closer. A magnificent thing of polished metal and burnished wood, it had to have been large enough to fit a dozen people or more. Its prestigious bulk accompanied by several flapping banners, ennobling its already impressive silhouette.
The straight-backed driver was dressed resplendently, in azure blues and snowy whites. Clearly tailored with the use of vibrantly dyed cloth—the likes of which their subsidiary branch couldn’t hope to afford. It was to the point that even the four mounts leading the carriage, each no doubt of the highest quality breed, were more immaculately groomed than some of the family elders. Even at a glance the wealth disparity was as clear as it was vast, and they hadn’t even seen the carriages occupant yet.
Flashing periodically in the early morning sun, the silver crest of the Beckonfrost Household shown prominently to either side of the carriage. It depicted a shield, embossed with a blooming blue bell lily, which overlapped two crossed swords coated in frost.
“And you’re sure that they’re the same as the rest of these pit-sniffers?”
Hey now, there’s no need to be rude, Jun subvocalized, trying to set a good example and all that. And, in that they’re family? Yes, I’m quite sure.
“But!” Ivory exclaimed, clearly as unsatisfied with this answer as she had been the last dozen times she’d asked. “But their things are all so pretty, and colorful, and grand, while everything here is so old, and stained, and smelly. And I don’t just mean the furniture, Jun! Don’t even get me started on the people! Those horrible old aunties especially. Anyway it can’t be rude if it’s true. Haven’t you been paying attention? They do it all the time! It’s abhorrent, Jun. Decorum entirely unbecoming of noblemen, I swear!”
Yes- well, no. I’m not so sure about that… Because, just for the record, that it’s true actually makes it more offensive, not less. If anything-
“I’d bet everything I own even their noses reek of the stuff. It’s a wonder they can smell anything at all past the wafting cloud of their own noxious fumes.”
You see, it’s comments like that-
“I’m continually surprised not a one of them has melted straight off by now. I know mine would, if it was subjected to such torturous treatment. If I had a nose that is, it most certainly would have. Very strange-looking things, noses. I must say, I much prefer a smooth exterior, myself.”
Jun had to repress a smile.
That so? Well, to answer your unspoken question, all their fidgeting and, ahem, ‘pit sniffing,’ is likely a product of our soon to be guests. They’re all very desperate to make a good impression.
“Well, if that’s the case they’re all doing quite the terrible job of it. Just get better things I say. Have they tried being something entirely other than themselves? Really! It can’t be all that hard,” she pronounced somewhat imperiously—her words and intonation evoking the very spirit of Lady Maisell. “Smarten up, I say. After all, I managed it just fine, and look how well that turned out!”
Ivory shook her stolen jewelry pointedly. Jun had to cough to mask the noise.
For the love of-! Saints preserve me. A single morning in that woman’s company and already she’s a critic.
Word had been sent around noon of the previous day, that an envoy from the main branch would be arriving this morning. Naturally, upon receiving this momentous, nigh unprecedented news, the branch transformed into a buzzing hive of activity—everyone pitching in to make sure their humble old estate was as cleanly presentable as humanly possible. Jun had, for obvious reasons, missed out on a good majority of the preparations. And had, as a result, been tasked with all that was left. All that was left. He hadn’t been allowed rest until mere hours before the carriage's arrival. At which point he’d been dragged unceremoniously from his bed, forced into a too small suit that didn’t quite reach his ankles, then made to stand awkwardly on the steps of the entrance, alongside the rest of the family.
Practically delirious from lack of sleep, and sick with anxiety whenever he thought about the future, Jun was in no mood for this whole charade. Because, while he recognized that it had been something like fifty years since last their small branch’d had direct contact with the main house—let alone received a blasted envoy from them in person—it wasn’t as if it had anything to do with him. Right? Had he simply been left to his own devices, the meeting would’ve, no doubt, gone off without a hitch. Surely, he could’ve been allowed another hour or two of sleep. Well, he was sure he would have fallen asleep, sooner or later, if he’d been given half a chance.
After enough time spent lying wide awake, contemplating the futility of creation in a world that only ever seemed to want to take, surely, he would have drifted off eventually. Surely, he would have... probably. Well, on second thought, maybe this interruption was for the best after all.
The carriage came to a swaying halt before the grand steps to the main entrance. The rhythmic panting of winded horses the only thing to disturb the still silence. Until, that is, said calm was shattered completely by the clack of the coachman’s heels on stone. Hopping down easily from his perch, the well-dressed man made for the carriage doors. Opening them with practiced ease, the coachman stood aside just as an expensive looking boot poked out from the shadowed interior.
From the carriage emerged a man of middling height and better than average looks. His white blond hair wasn’t styled overly much. Cut short, it was well maintained, while his clothes were clearly of an expensive make. A cut above what even the coachman wore, which itself put the best of their branch leaders’ faded finery to shame. Jun noted idly that, like his coachman, the man was dressed in the same white and blues of their family colors. When he finally looked up to see the entire branch standing in ranks and staring at him, he flinched back slightly—his eyes showing his surprise.
Silence reigned for a few long seconds as neither the man nor the elders could think of what to say. The envoy was the first to break the tension.
“Oh! Uhh… hello.”
In unison the branch lord, his immediate family, and the majority of the elders—those not rendered mute by their nerves or failing mental faculties—responded in kind.
“It is an honor to invite your esteemed personage into this, our humble abode!”
Jun winced at the decidedly unnecessary volume—his nerves already on edge from a lack of sleep and general anxiety—and was in turn just a fraction too late in kowtowing with the others. Somewhere behind him, an unseen family member didn’t miss the opportunity to right this unforgivable wrong, by grabbing him by the hair and shoving him down until his bent posture more or less matched the others. Once more an especially uncomfortable silence followed.
Jun really wasn’t sure what they’d been expecting. Such a painfully awkward spectacle could really only warrant an equally awkward response.
“Ah! Y-yes… well. Do you…? Do you think we could maybe go inside?”
Lord Darius cleared his throat, cheeks turning red. Once more the branch lord bowed his head before responding.
“Of course, my lord. On behalf of this branch, please allow me to apologize for our unforgivable lack of decorum. It’s just that it’s… ah, it is not every day that we are blessed with an honored guest such as yourself!”
The crowd parted down the middle as the branch lord led the befuddled man forward—his coachman following closely behind as they made their way into the cool interior of the entrance hall.
“Please, right this way. It was a bit short notice, but we’ve prepared a light feast to show our gratitude to the main household for their recognition of our insignificant branch.”
Lord Darius led the envoy around a few more bends before they finally entered the main dining hall. There they were met with the tantalizing aromas of the kitchen staff’s morning labors. A series of dishes were still being placed upon the long dining table by harried looking servants that, at this point, might as well’ve been asleep on their feet.
“If we’d had more time, we might have been able to prepare a true feast befitting your station—not that we begrudge the main branch their rights in these matters, of course!”
Lord Darius cleared his throat once more, face turning even redder in the quiet that followed. It didn’t help that the envoy appeared to be just as flabbergasted. Before he could place the other foot in his mouth, however, the envoy intervened.
“I… had only really intended to stay a short time, but I suppose I could eat. There isn’t any real immediacy with regards to what I’ve been tasked to deliver.”
From his vantage near the head of the procession, Jun saw the way the lord’s face went still at the mention of a “delivery.” Likely meant to hide his true reaction, he couldn’t hide the glint of greed which shone brightly in his eyes.
“Deliveries? Hmm… This is the first time I’m hearing of such a thing,” Lord Darius said, trying very hard to sound casual.
“Oh, yes that’s right. We might as well get that out of the way before we eat. Wouldn’t want to sully them with greasy fingers after all,” the man laughed awkwardly, eliciting a chorus of forced laughter in response.
“Markus, you made sure to grab the box for me, I hope?”
The coachman stepped forward, revealing an ornate, opalescent box, inlaid with flecks of gold, cradled in the man’s steady hands.
“Of course, my lord.”
The envoy frowned.
“Come now Markus. What have I told you about calling me lord? You make it sound as if I’m as old as my father.”
“You have made it quite clear to this servant, that he is to refrain from doing so, my lord,” the coachman said with a bow.
Jun noticed the hint of a smile tugging at the servant’s lips. The young master only sighed.
“Oh, have it your way, you stubborn old man. Hand over the box then, would you? Though, for the record, I’ll have you know this conversation isn’t anywhere near finished.”
“Of course, my lord,” the man said as he carefully passed the box over.
The greed in the room was almost a tangible thing, so that when the envoy held the box out before him and cleared his throat theatrically, all eyes were on him.
“Now then! Ahem. On behalf of Her Grace, Lady Cecilia Adivander Beckonfrost, Duchess of Edore, Matriarch to the venerable Household Beckonfrost, I present to you—our kindred branch cousin’s—a gift given in good faith and with the highest of expectations.”
And, with that brief announcement, he opened the box with a flourish, revealing the rather plain looking contents within. It took a second for the ones closest to recognize the two items. Then, once they had, a ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd in a wave—the items’ identity relayed in tones of awed disbelief.
Even the branch lord, who’s expectations had undoubtably been high, was apparently struck dumb by the gifts.
“What is it?! What is it?!” Ivory practically buzzed. “Jun, don’t be stingy. You should know how little I like not knowing things by now.”
Jun, for his part, would’ve been happy to answer her, if only he knew how.
“This… this is,” Darius bowed deeply. “Please, if you would Lord Damien, convey our utmost gratitude to the matriarch for her extraordinary generosity! On behalf of this branch, I can say with utter confidence we will do everything in our collective power to be worthy of such a prize! Furthermore, I will personally make sure that these unparalleled opportunities find those most worthy of the honor, you have my word!”
And with that, Darius reached a tentative hand forward, only for the box to elude his grasp. The branch lord looked up sharply, his face a mask of confusion. The envoy merely retreated another step back and shook his head apologetically.
“I’m sorry, branch lord, but I was given very specific instructions for those individuals I’m allowed to give these to.”
The branch lord straightened.
“Ah, yes of course,” he coughed into his hand. “How presumptuous of me. The Matriarch would know who’s most deserving of such attention. But… Is there truly no room for further discussion? I would nominate one of my sons were that the case, great lord. They are all very competent cultivators. My eldest has proven talented enough to reach the first stage of the foundation establishment realm at the tender age of sixteen. Surely, he must warrant some further consideration.”
The envoy shook his head slowly.
“No. Unfortunately there is no room for negotiation. The Matriarch was very explicit in that regard.”
Lord Darius’s face fell at the news.
“Luckily for you though,” the envoy continued. “I believe that shouldn’t prove too much of an issue here, seeing as one of the recipients is, indeed, one of your sons. I believe him to be your eldest, is he not? Cedric?”
Immediately, both the patriarch and his first wife’s faces lit up.
“Yes! He will not disappoint you, lord!” blurted Alindra. “You can be sure of that! He is a very talented young man with a fierce will and strong body. I would even go so far as to say he has a good chance of taking first-place for himself!”
The envoy looked taken aback by the sudden outburst. This coming from the previously demure and shy lady wife to the branch lord. Lord Darius placed a restraining hand on his wife’s arm. Immediately, much of her earlier jubilance bled away.
“Pardon my wife, Lord Damien. She can become overly excitable where our sons are concerned.”
“No! No need to apologize. If he is, indeed, as talented as she claims, I look forward to seeing his performance at the tournament,” he smiled at Alindra who smiled back in return.
There came a delicate cough then.
“If I may,” came a second female voice. “With the matter of the first entry pass all settled and in good order, who, might I ask, will be receiving the second?”
In an instant, the attention of everyone in the room shifted to Lanyue, Jun’s mother. Including that of the lord envoy.
“Oh! I-! Umm. Uhhhh…”
A hearty slap to his back elicited a grunt of surprise from the envoy. Lord Damien twisted around to glare at his insubordinate coachman—cheeks already stained a deep crimson. The tall man, for his part, appeared just as unflappable as always—that same enigmatic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. With a cough, the envoy turned back to the crowd, though Jun noticed how he pointedly refused to meet his mother's gaze a second time.
“Well. Admittedly it was a name previously unknown to me. Though the matriarch apparently has very high expectations. Is there a Junwei present?”
————————————————————
Ivory giggled.
“Hey, doesn’t that sound a lot like your name, Jun? Only it’s a lot longer, and of course it can’t be yours. After all, anyone with half a brain can tell you’re in no condition to be fighting. Fighting for your balance maybe. Remember? Because of the time you fell down? Very embarrassing, I must say. Anyway, if an errant breeze is enough to bowl you over, I’d hate to think what a decently thrown fist might do. It would be like punching babies. And you know how little patience I have for baby punchers Jun. Not that I’ve ever met one of course. But, even if they were extremely polite and gave me all sorts of wonderful things, I very much doubt it’d sway my opinion. Much. Say, don’t you think it’s rather rude for this Junwei person to keep the nice man waiting?”
You…? I don’t even… Ivory, you can still see my screens, correct?
“Yes? But I really don’t see what that has to do with…? Oh…? Oh! Oh… oh no.”
As every eye in the room abruptly jerked in his direction—many of them plainly showing the same disbelief he felt—Jun turned his head in his mother’s direction, as if some way, somehow, she held all the answers. What he saw there only left him even more confused.
Because instead of the look of shock or incomprehension he’d been expecting, his mother appeared… pleased? No. Almost… smug? But wait that couldn’t be right. What did she know that he didn’t? There was this oddly contented smile on her lips as she looked back at him. And then, almost conspiratorially, she winked.
Okay, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Alindra was the first to put words to her incredulousness.
“Th- This has to be some sort of mistake! That boy isn’t even a cultivator, and you want him to join the kingdom’s triennial tournament? Whose idea of a joke is this?”
The envoy looked a bit miffed at being questioned so openly.
“Well, I don’t know anything about that. All I know is that the matriarch was very insistent. Young master Cedric and young master Junwei have already been enrolled in the triennial tournament's registry. In two years' time, they are to convene at the capital. Where they’ll be joined by many other powerful scions from all across the frontier. With that in mind I would suggest you put all your energies into preparing your sons accordingly, rather than waste it on meaningless protests.”
“But-!” Alindra continued. “This simply can’t be true! You expect us to give a good showing and then strap us down with dead weight? Can’t you see that this could be detrimental to the Beckonfrost Households’ reputation as a whole? What will the other houses think when one of ours drops out during the very first round?”
Jun, who would normally have been offended by this public dressing down, honestly concurred with the demon empress for once. He would be little more than dead weight in such a setting. Perhaps he might shine in the arena of commerce, the battlefield stalked by stadium vendors and underhanded organizers, but on the fighting stage? In his head he scoffed. Yeah, not likely. He couldn’t imagine what the matriarch had been thinking. Or his mother for that matter, seeing as the contented expression had yet to leave her face. Jun stepped forward, ready to put an end to this nonsense.
“She’s right,” Jun said. “I not sure of the Matriarch’s intentions, but I would be more liability than help.”
Alindra, at first shocked by his unexpected assistance, quickly turned back with a look of smug satisfaction.
“See? Even the boy agrees he’d be useless. Please lord, I have two other sons of no inconsiderable talent. Surely they should be considered before this untalented trash.”
Jun ground his teeth. Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to side with the devil. He should have disagreed on principal, he decided, no matter the actual truth of things. With a sudden lunge, Alindra snapped her arm forward, quick as a snake. Clearly intent on snatching up the entry passes before anyone could tell her otherwise, she didn’t actually manage to get very far before the case slammed shut with a definitive snap.
For a time after, the only sounds in the hall were its occupants’ careful breathing. And, when at last the envoy spoke, his voice came out as cold as the arctic frost that was their collective namesake. In an instant, all those present abruptly remembered they were not just speaking to any old messenger, but to a powerful scion of the main branch itself. By all rights, he was likely a cultivator of a calibre beyond even their wildest imaginings. And to make matters worse, he might as well have just been insulted to his face.
“I apologize if I somehow insinuated this was a discussion,” the man intoned softly.
Being the object of his apparent ire, Alindra flinched back, though she wasn’t the only one. In fact, everyone was taken aback by the literal decrease in temperature which accompanied his tone.
“The fact of the matter is, each of these items is their recipients to do with as they see fit. Not yours. End of story. End of discussion. If you truly insist on turning this simple fact into an incident, I implore you to please leave your formal complaints with the Matriarch’s head secretary. She’s available at all hours, five days out of the week, and is a positive delight to be around. And if, after that, you still insist on making trouble, you may always feel free to take it up with me.”
The room went eerily still. No one daring to move or even make a sound. Though, Jun noted with growing anxiety, that appeared to be less and less voluntary by the second. Misty clouds escaped past dozens of quivering lips. Lips which had all taken on an alarmingly blue tinge. The oppressive aura of biting frost doing more than just chill them down to their very bone marrow. It stiffened them unnaturally, as if trapping their bodies within invisible blocks of ice. As if every vein, tendon, and muscle fiber had suddenly developed thick layers of frost.
And the most terrifying part of all? The envoy seemed almost oblivious to the effect his domineering presence was having on the rest of them, as he first stared into submission a terrified Alindra, then a meek Lord Darius. And then, just as suddenly as it’d appeared, the oppressive aura vanished.
“Now,” as if a switch had been flipped, the young lord reverted back to his usual chipper demeanor. “Why don’t you two boys come up here and take these things off my hands before I too find myself tempted.”
The man waited patiently, scanning over the heads of the crowd in search of Cedric. A frown formed on his brow when no one appeared.
“Apologies, lord,” said lord Darius, somewhat cowed. “But my son is currently bed ridden. There was an… attack near the forest line two days ago. He has yet to recover and is currently in no condition to receive such a gift. If you would allow me to-”
“Well, that simply won’t do,” he interrupted. “Markus, take one of the servants and visit the boy’s quarters. If he’s still alive after a spirit beast attack, the damage can’t have been too severe. Use one of the peak-grade vitality restoration elixirs. That should be enough to get him standing. If not, then I dare say little else will.”
There were gasps of surprise at the casual flaunting of wealth. Jun knew well that even a low-grade elixir was probably too much for most families to afford period, and it certainly wasn’t something a branch like theirs could afford to just give away willy-nilly. Truly, the elites of the Kingdom were on a level of their own. That he could likely have done the same or more was neither here nor there.
“Yes lord,” the coachman said before marching off in the wake of a servant.
“So,” the envoy said as he turned back to Jun. “You must be this Junwei!”
“Please, no one calls me that. Just Jun is fine.”
He could practically hear the stiffening of spines at this apparent lack of deference—the feeling of that cold aura still fresh in everyone’s mind. The envoy on the other hand, simply quirked an eyebrow and smiled all the wider. Intellectually Jun knew he should feign deference like the others, but, at this point, he honestly couldn’t be bothered. He’d spoken on equal terms with more influential men than this young lord, and after the week he was having…? Kowtowing just didn’t seem like a possibility at the moment.
“Huh, okay. Just Jun it is then. Well, “Just Jun” I present you with your very own tournament pass,” he flipped open the lid revealing the two entry passes.
Entirely blank on the front, it was the shape and size of a paper talisman. A metal ring was embedded in the top, where a braided red cord was looped through and tied off. Jun stepped forward, breaking from the whispering crowd. When he was immediately before the smiling cultivator, he made to reach forward and grab his entry pass. But, suddenly thinking better of it, he paused. Much to the crowd’s annoyance, Jun cocked his head to the side, and took a second to think.
From deep within the recesses of Jun’s inner jacket, Ivory stirred.
“Would that really work?!”
Not sure yet. We’ll see.
Jun focused on the items.
“You said that I could do whatever I wanted with this, correct?”
“It is yours to do with as you see fit.”
“And what’ll happen when I touch it?”
Based on the man’s earlier reactions, Jun had a hunch, but he wasn’t sure. The glint of delight in the man’s eyes told him he’d been more or less correct.
“It would imprint itself onto your soul shell and become unusable by anyone else.”
So it could be used by someone other than himself. He had hoped for that to be the case, but hadn’t known how exactly that would work.
“And if I wanted to sell it instead?”
An outcry of disbelief and anger arose throughout the dining hall. Lord Darius and Alindra both made to step forward, but an icy look from Damien stayed their hands. He returned his gaze to Jun.
“Then you would have to do so without touching it, I’m afraid. And I, unfortunately, cannot leave the box with you, if that’s what you were thinking.”
Undeterred, Jun pondered the conundrum for quite some time. On the one hand, he didn’t particularly want to reveal even one of his secret abilities. Especially not here of all places, with these people, though he doubted they’d pick up on what it meant even if they saw it up close. On the other, he knew that the pass would be all but wasted on him. Not to mention, if he could actually sell such a treasure, it might make meeting his impossible deadline all the more likely. He looked to his mother who looked at him right back, neither encouraging nor discouraging. Coming to a decision, Jun opened up his system screens and found the only section he felt a true kinship with.
|Merchant of Promise|
Allowed access to the System Approved general marketplace.
He opened up the general marketplace with its nostalgic ringing chime. He found the icon for “Auction House” and—skipping over his many bids currently in progress—he created an auction listing of his own. Selecting the entry pass on the left with a mental request, he saw the envoys eyes widen and eyebrows raise. No doubt in response to the sudden pop-up request asking him if he consented to the pass being transferred into Jun’s custody. The man must have mentally agreed, because in the next moment, without any warning, the leftmost pass disappeared. At the same time a new icon blipped onto his screen—listing one “triennial tournament pass” as “now on auction.”
The hall exploded into exclamations of equal parts shock and outrage. Alindra grabbed Jun roughly by the arm and spun him around none too gently. She questioned him in that special way she had wherein she clearly cared very little for his response. Spittle flying from her mouth and veins bulging at her temples, it was unlikely anything he said would’ve assuaged her. With expert ease Jun ignored her ranting—still hung up on the last words he’d heard the envoy mutter before the sounds of the branch’s displeasure drowned everything else out.
“A merchant's title. Incredible. I hadn’t believed her, but she was right. Truly remarkable.”
Wait a minute. Just hold on one second! What was that supposed to mean?!
And so, it was just as he was running through the implications of the man’s words, that all hell broke loose.
