Tiberius stood before the front door of his childhood home, holding his breath. His hand hovered over the silver embossed walnut, sensing the ancient wards prickling against his bare skin. The cold, numb tingle of the magic as it tasted his blood. The soft clicks of many dense mechanisms turning, the door sighing smoothly open on its hinges. The atrium beyond was busy with activity, not so different from the last time he’d stood here.
Many people in House Umbra livery, from their soldiers to a soot-stained fire tender. They did not stop for him, at least not right away. Tiberius drifted in, and asked the closest person to lead him to whoever was in charge.
He’d not expected to be led to the barracks. Personally, he’d never taken much interest in this wing of the estate. It was far from the family living chambers and the library and the gardens. Plus it stank like too much male habitation, sweat and dirty socks. He applied a little too much force to open the heavy doors, frowning when they bounced off the wall. Some minor enchantment at work? He knew his own strength and that wasn’t it.
Beyond the doorway there was a tight cluster of men and women – and a robed man commanding them. Not a sibling or cousin or even a mage, at that. Pale lyrium tattoos on his throat and hands were the only thing to give him away, to spark Tiberius’ memory. Tacitus Ursus. He’d cost a fortune to retain, exiting the Legions with honors in command and strategy. It was gratifying to find that the investment had not been wasted.
“Err– right.” He supposed that after so long, it wouldn’t matter if he took in the events of the last half-decade tonight or in the morning. He watched the other people depart, bearing their curious stares with poorly feigned indifference. The news would be everywhere by sundown. His gaze flicked back to Tacitus, confused as he went back over what he’d said.
Milord. Head of the House. That wasn’t– couldn’t be right. If Grandfather was dead then he had done all of this for nothing. Been trapped in a country he despised for six long years for nothing. Agreed to marry a woman he didn’t yet love for nothing. Tiberius shook his head, lips twitching.
“Show me.” He turned on his heel and walked from the room, making a direct path toward Grandfather’s living quarters. A tower in the garden, slightly apart from everything else.
Many people in House Umbra livery, from their soldiers to a soot-stained fire tender. They did not stop for him, at least not right away. Tiberius drifted in, and asked the closest person to lead him to whoever was in charge.
He’d not expected to be led to the barracks. Personally, he’d never taken much interest in this wing of the estate. It was far from the family living chambers and the library and the gardens. Plus it stank like too much male habitation, sweat and dirty socks. He applied a little too much force to open the heavy doors, frowning when they bounced off the wall. Some minor enchantment at work? He knew his own strength and that wasn’t it.
Beyond the doorway there was a tight cluster of men and women – and a robed man commanding them. Not a sibling or cousin or even a mage, at that. Pale lyrium tattoos on his throat and hands were the only thing to give him away, to spark Tiberius’ memory. Tacitus Ursus. He’d cost a fortune to retain, exiting the Legions with honors in command and strategy. It was gratifying to find that the investment had not been wasted.
“Err– right.” He supposed that after so long, it wouldn’t matter if he took in the events of the last half-decade tonight or in the morning. He watched the other people depart, bearing their curious stares with poorly feigned indifference. The news would be everywhere by sundown. His gaze flicked back to Tacitus, confused as he went back over what he’d said.
Milord. Head of the House. That wasn’t– couldn’t be right. If Grandfather was dead then he had done all of this for nothing. Been trapped in a country he despised for six long years for nothing. Agreed to marry a woman he didn’t yet love for nothing. Tiberius shook his head, lips twitching.
“Show me.” He turned on his heel and walked from the room, making a direct path toward Grandfather’s living quarters. A tower in the garden, slightly apart from everything else.
05-02-2024, 03:23 PM
