Realm of Monsters-Chapter 599: House of Goldelm Part 3

Chapter 599: House of Goldelm Part 3

“Oginum will never be Aric’s. So long as you stay in this city, people will see you as the true power of House Goldelm, they will never respect Aric as the head of the House. Your brother will resent you for stealing his inheritance. That sort of resentment will eventually devolve into war. At that point, it doesn’t matter who wins, our House will lose.”

Freya’s expression fell and she felt a rising panic in the pit of her stomach. “So what do I do?”

“You’ll do what I did for your father. You’ll leave Hollow Shade.”

“You want me to— leave…? You can’t be serious. Where would I even go?”

“You’ll come back with me to Frost Rim.”

“But this is my home. I can’t just leave!”

“If you don’t want to tear apart your family and watch them die in an internal succession war, then you will.”

Freya bowed her head and hid her expression behind her golden locks. “...What must I do?”

“You will leave Oginum here.”

“What? But it chose me.” The words slipped out of Freya’s mouth before she realized what she was saying. For all the trouble the hammer had caused her, she suddenly found herself reluctant to give it up.

“That may be, but so long as it’s in your possession it will hurt your brother’s standing. You must give the hammer to him.”

“But he can’t even wield it.”

“Even still, just having it by his side will give credence to his position.” Ingrid folded her hands on her lap, “It will take me a few days to settle your father’s affairs. Once I am done, we will go ahead with your brother’s investiture ceremony. It is imperative that the ceremony is held in a public area with various witnesses from across the noble Houses and that you are seen among your brother’s supporters.”

“And then what?” Freya whispered.

“You and I will leave for Frost Rim the next morning. The sooner the better. I’d wager all together, we’ll be here for another four or five days at most. By the end of the week, we should be on the road back to my home Frost Rim.”

“Will I be a prisoner in your home?” she asked sardonically.

“You will be my guest of honor. You’ll have all your needs taken care of.”

“I already have that here.”

“No, what you’ve had is a stipend, an allowance, from your father. You won’t have any such limitations when you’re by my side. Buy whatever you wish, I’ll take care of it.”

“How generous, you take my freedom in exchange for coin,” she scoffed.

Ingrid sighed, “I know it’s not easy for you to understand, but your departure is for the best. I am trying to make it as comfortable for you as I can.”

“When will I be able to come back?”

“In a few years. Your brother needs time to establish himself.”

“How many years?”

“I can’t give an exact estimate—”

“How many?”

“Five, at the earliest.”

Freya sighed, “That’s not too terrible.”

She could always invite her friends to visit her in Frost Rim. With the new wealth her aunt was offering, she could easily finance all their travels.

“I can live in the City of Mountains for five years. Yeah, I can manage that. I’ll be back here in no time,” Freya muttered, trying to convince herself.

“I think you misunderstand. You will only be able to visit Hollow Shade, for a few weeks at best.”

“W-What?”

“Your permanent presence here will always be a threat to your brother’s rule.”

“Is that why you rarely visited?”

Ingrid patted her niece’s back. “The sacrifices we make for the greater good of our House.”

Freya swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t want to leave. I have friends here, people I love.”

“They can always come visit you.”

“It isn’t fair.”

“I know, but we all have our part to play.”

“You said my limits stretch far further than this place, is that what you meant? Some sort of pitiful compliment in order to make it easier for me to leave this place?”

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

“No. Your ability to wield Oginum is a mark of true potential. You don’t have to be stuck in Hollow Shade.”

“But what if I want to? I don’t want to go to Frost Rim, I want to be here, with the people I love and who love me.”

“Your limits are great, but they are limits nonetheless. You cannot stay. I have made my decision, Aric will be the next lord.”

“I don’t care who gets to be the next lord, I just want to stay in my home!”

“And do you think that hammer gives you the power to disobey your elder’s command? You are still a Goldelm and you will obey this family’s command.”

Freya sneered. “And what if I say no?”

“Then you will be exiled, without a shred of coin or that hammer by your side. Is that what you want?” asked Ingrid calmly.

The anger in Freya’s expression died away and she slumped her shoulders in defeat. “…No.”

“We all have limits and parts to play in life. The sooner you understand that the easier this will become.”

Freya stood up from the stone bench and bowed stiffly. “Thank you for your words of wisdom. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to think about.”

As Freya walked away, Ingrid called out, “I am only trying to help you, please remember that.”

Freya paused at her words, but she didn’t meet her gaze. She left without a word.

~~~

Wenna wiped the sweat off her brow before grabbing another platter full of bowls of soup. With both hands full, she moved through the kitchen, dodging other barmaids rushing through. She slipped past the cooks, each deft step practiced over hundreds of busy nights.

Walking out of the kitchen she inhaled a breath of fresh air. Someone had been smart enough to crack open the windows in the main tavern room. The cool brisk air swept through the dozens of tables and patrons, carrying away their stuffy scents and the heavy smell of alcohol.

Tonight was busier than most. The city’s council had authorized the paid reconstruction of the entire Trade, Commoner, and Bourge Districts. With the city’s coffers finally flowing, the various guilds had begun hiring extra sets of hands to hasten the reconstruction. Stonemasons, carpenters, and more were constantly needing more help. With the deaths of so many and the loss of their homes and stores, there were plenty of people looking for any work they could get.

Like so many taverns left in ruin, Wenna wasn’t sure her family’s tavern would recover from the warlord’s attack, but seeing the place full of life once more gave her hope. Her family had been lucky, the barbarians had only looted their goods and had left the old building relatively unscathed.

After some bartering with a few of the merchants trying to salvage what they could, her mother had managed to get a hold of a few dozen barrels of ale. When news of their fresh stock reached their regular patrons it spread like wildfire so much so that Wenna didn’t recognize half of tonight’s patrons.

She placed her two platters on a table full of hungry men and women, and handed out the bowls of stew with a deft hand. Picking up the platters she went to head back into the kitchen when she spotted a small lone figure sitting at the end of the bar.

Odd. There was an empty spot next to them. With all the people cramming into the tavern tonight, the sight of an empty stool at the bar made her curious. She walked over to the lone patron and gave her warmest smile. “Good evening, have you been helped yet—?”

She tried to peer under the patron’s cloak but their hunched posture made it impossible.

“I haven’t,” said a voice, not a deep pitch, but certainly a man’s.

“Well, that just won’t do. What can I get you, sir? We have some hot stew and our courier just brought in some fresh bread from the bakery. We also have the best ale on this side of the District.”

“I’ll have two bowls of stew, four loaves of bread, and a tankard of your strongest spirit.”

“We only have ale.”

“Then I’ll have two tankards of that.”

Wenna eyed the empty bar stool. “Are you waiting for someone?”

The figure shifted slightly. “I am. Are you here to tell me I can’t reserve a spot for them either?”

“Someone already told you?”

“Two of them actually. I took their spots.”

“Ah… Well, so long as you pay you won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“Good to know.” A silver coin flipped out from underneath his dark cloak and landed on the bar with a small wobble.

Wenna smiled and snatched it in a blink. “I’ll be back with your food and drink.”

She hurried away as fast as she could. It wasn’t often someone paid with silver in a commoner-owned tavern. Coupled with his clean cloak and its obvious expensive fabric, she had no doubt that she was dealing with a merchant. Perhaps his usual tavern had gone up in flames like so many others.

It wasn’t long before she returned to the bar. “Two bowls of stew, four loaves of bread, and two tankards of our finest ale, just as requested.” She shuffled the food and drink onto the bar, and lingered, curiously.

“Thanks.” He reached out and grabbed a loaf with both his hands, ripped it in two, dipped it in the stew, and wolfed it down.

Wenna couldn’t help but notice his hands, a shade of pale blue. A drow then. But strangely, he had claws, pale white, almost silver in the candlelight. A black ring made of two thick bands was wrapped snugly on his left index finger. A polished ruby sat between the ring’s bands. There was some symbol etched into the gemstone but his hands moved too fast for her to make it out.

The man paused in his somewhat rabid eating and glanced up at her. His cloak obscured his eyes, but she knew he was looking at her. He didn’t say anything, simply stared at her, waiting.

Wenna put on her most charming smile, then leaned forward on the opposite side of the bar, giving him a clear view of her breasts. It was a simple tactic she admitted to herself, but one that disarmed many a man.

“I haven’t seen you around here before, stranger,” she noted.

“I suppose not.” He grabbed another loaf of bread and ate it with the soup, his interest in her seemingly gone.

“Well, if you’re searching for a new tavern to frequent you’ve come to the right place. We’re small, but we’re one of the oldest taverns in all of Hollow Shade. We know how to treat our own,” she said with a hint of pride.

He nodded. “The food tastes good.”

“Of course it does, my father is an amazing cook. Try our ale, you won’t regret it.”

The stranger grabbed the tankard and downed it all in one go. He licked his lips and sighed.

Wenna’s smile faltered. “Is it not to your liking?”

“No, it’s just— I prefer something stronger, I guess. Or at least, I used to.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

Before he could answer, a familiar woman sauntered over to the table, dressed in the deep red garments of the architect’s guild. “Wenna, just the person I wanted to see. Give me two ales, please.”

Wenna beamed at her frequent patron. “Letty, it’s great to see you! Long day at work?”

“You have no idea. My guildmaster keeps getting flooded with more and more jobs. We can hardly keep up.” Letty slid into the empty bar stool and glanced hungrily at the stew next to her. “Ooh, I’ll have a bowl of that too.”

“Have it somewhere else. That spot is taken,” said the man between bites.

Letty curled her lips wryly. “Waiting for someone?”

He didn’t respond and kept eating.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” She brushed back her blonde hair and tried to peek under his cloak. “You could at least tell me your name before asking a woman to give up her seat.”

“Move.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m Letty. What’s your name, handsome?”

“Stryg. Move.”

“Like the Lord Veres?” she chuckled. “I guess it’s a start. Wenna, can you get another drink for my friend here? So, where are you from, ~my lord?” she said coyly as she ran her fingers across his shoulders.

In a flash, he grabbed her by the back of her hair and slammed her face into the bar with a solid crack. Her head snapped back up from the sheer force. Blood splattered across her face and broken nose. For a moment, she looked around in a daze, swaying from side to side, before collapsing to the ground in an unceremonious heap.

“Hey! What the fuck!?” A half-drunk man shouted from nearby. He stomped over, a snarl on his lips. “Oi! You! Pick on someone your own size—!”

Stryg tossed his empty tankard at the drunk’s ankle and tripped him mid-stride. The man stumbled forward into Stryg’s awaiting hand. He grabbed the drunk’s head and slammed his face into the side of the bar with a loud crack. The drunk fell back, out cold. His front teeth were gone and his nose was broken three ways.

Wenna watched in stunned silence. It had all happened in the span of five breaths. Like so many others nearby, she slowly turned to the stranger in question.

He was examining the blood flecks on his fingers as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Wenna finally caught a clear view of his ring and a terrifying chill ran through her body as she recognized the sigil of House Veres.