Fiend's Fourth Hurdle

The room had quieted again.

The map of the kingdom lay shattered beneath the force of Talen's blow, tokens scattered across the floor like broken dreams. Only the heavy breath of men and the silent shifting of armor filled the air. The chair to Talen's right remained untouched.

It was Melisa's seat.

The former Third Blade of Velrane.

No one sat there. No one ever would dare to do such a thing. That place belonged to her, and if not to her, then to no one. Talen had made that clear with a silence more sacred than the dead.

Ergon watched that chair with tired eyes. A moment passed before he remembered himself.

What was he doing here?

He had no blade to offer, no wit to command troops. He hadn't trained, hadn't read a single page of a military report in his life. He had nothing to give in this meeting.

So why had Talen invited him?

That question had circled his thoughts the entire meeting. His father had spent years pretending Ergon didn't exist, treating him like an embarrassment at family gatherings, a joke in noble circles. Talen never let him near matters of importance, never let his name leave his lips in pride. Then how come that today he had ordered him here, to Lion's Rock, to sit among giants.

If Ergon had been younger, sharper, if he had shown any promise, the reason would be obvious. Let the boy watch and learn. Let him prepare for the burden of command. But in his current state?

That didn't make any sense.

"Thank you, my warlords," Talen said, rising from his chair. "We shall meet again on the battlefield, when the time comes."

One by one, the great generals bowed and began to take their leave. Iron and steel moved past him like a tide. Ergon lowered his head, already stepping back with them.

"My sons," Talen added suddenly, "you may stay."

The words stopped Ergon in his tracks.

His heart thumped.

His feet froze.

He turned, slow and uncertain, to see Hans, Leo, and Bron all halting as well. Each of them nodded with ease, used to being called upon. And yet for Ergon—hearing it now, being included in that phrase—it felt weird. For a moment, even if small and quickly fading, he had been counted among the sons of Talen Drakmore.

He stayed.

The doors creaked as the warlords exited. Cassandra was the last to leave. She walked with a swagger that was impossible not to notice. Her leather armor hugged her form like a second skin, and despite her broad build and masculine posture, her hips still swayed with intention. Before stepping out, she glanced over her shoulder and winked at Leo, a grin tucked beneath her lips.

Ergon's eyes had followed her briefly. For all his usual weaknesses for curves, her muscles, her thick neck, her biceps and gait were enough to dampen any interest. She was still much leaner compared to the thick-necked generals, but when Ergon imagined Felicia, Velicia, and Elicia's bodies beside Cassandra, her muscles made her look too manly. Cassandra may as well have had an average body of a male soldier, but she was an anomaly among women.

The door closed behind her as the silence returned.

Ergon breathed in and out for a moment.

He swallowed. Then dared to speak.

"Father…" he started carefully, "may I ask… why have you called me here?"

Talen stared at him.

The pause stretched, not long but long enough to make Ergon regret asking.

"Reason?" Talen finally said. "You are a Drakmore. A son of mine. Isn't it time you start acting like one?"

Ergon's eyes widened.

Had he heard that right?

He wasn't sure if it was recognition or accusation. He stepped forward, keeping a hand to his heart.

"Ah… Father! I am truly honored. I learned much today. I assure you. I won't disappoint you. If you need anything, anything at all... I will give my best."

Leo and Bron shifted in their chairs. Leo let out a breath that might have been a chuckle. Bron didn't bother hiding his smirk.

Talen leaned back, looking unimpressed.

"How can I entrust you with anything," he said, glancing at Ergon's gut, "when there is no trace of valor in you?"

Ergon flinched, but forced himself to hold his ground.

"I… I can train. I'll grow stronger. I can fight. I'll learn—"

"Look at your brothers."

Talen's voice cut through like a sword.

"Look at Hans. Look at Leo. Both are Blades of Velrane. Warriors without peer, known no defeat. Masters of battlefield and command they are. And your younger brother Bron is already leading armies second to Leo in every way that counts. They are my true legacy. I can trust these men. They are truly my sons."

Ergon looked at their prideful postures, their sharp eyes, their lives of earned respect. And then he looked at himself.

"And now look at you."

Talen's voice cracked like thunder.

"You stand there, carrying the blood of my ancestors only in name, proclaiming to train, claiming to get better, barking like a dog, promising but not delivering. Am I a fool or an idiot to take a promise made by a failure of a son who bears no trace of my blood within his veins?"

He slammed his fist down.

The table cracked in two. The doors behind them flew open.

Ergon staggered backward, a hand to his chest.

"All barks but no balls!" Talen roared. "What have I done wrong to be cursed by this stain on my House? My fathers and forefathers and the ones who made this House the great House it has become, and I who sweat and bled and carried the House name for years and years to get here, to the top of the realm, just for you to spend my heritage and my money and my blood on this whore and that whore who bore no resemblance to your dear noble of a mother who I had loved and Gods had loved to trust us with a child!"

Ergon couldn't respond. The mention of his mother burned in his ears.

"Your mother," Talen spat. "good and noble, but inferior to Melisa, may I die for her and join her in the Heavens. And the gods, in their cruelty, thought fit to give us you."

Ergon's guts twisted in what could be called a mix of pain, shame and anger.

He had never known Marya, so why did those words cut him so deep? He asked himself.

"I sweat and bled," Talen went on. "My fathers sweat to build Lion's Rock and the strongholds who strongly hold our House and this Kingdom together, and they fought so our name could last forever, and here, their blood, my own failure of a son, can't even effort to go up from their stairs."

Ergon wanted to speak. I climbed them though. It was hard but I still climbed all ten floors. But he didn't dare to utter those words.

"Tell me, then," Talen leaned forward with a mocking gesture of a face, "how can I believe a single word from you? Why should I trust anything that leaves your mouth? How can I believe a weak man's words and promises who happens to be of my blood by a curse of Gods."

Ergon's mouth opened and closed. His eyes burned, and his throat felt raw. There was no answer that wouldn't feel like another excuse.

Talen watched him and nodded slightly.

"No answer. As I thought."

He stood as the chair behind him scraped the stone floor.

"There are weak men in this world and strong ones. The weak try to convince the world with words. The strong? They convince it through power."

Ergon hesitated.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward. His knees bent, wobbling beneath his weight, but he managed to kneel.

His voice cracked.

"Yes, Father. Please… guide me. I want to be a true Drakmore."

He didn't dare look up.

Something unexpected followed.

Laughter.

A deep, shaking laugh filled the room. Talen was laughing. The mad, monstrous kind of laugh that made men either laugh with you or run for cover.

Ergon looked up, looking confused.

What Talen said next was something that Ergon could never have seen coming.