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Duke Everwynn - Chapter 10

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Arcane Inkdustries

A fantasy writer of novels and comics. Happily talking about fantasy, three wonderful daughters, and the trials and tribulations of indie life.

Chapter 10

It had been more than a week until Felton finally emerged from the tower.

He appeared at lunch one weekend day. His clothes were soaked in a deep navy colored liquid, torn about the elbows and knees. His hands shook, and the butler looked from one end of the table to the next.

But his hair was immaculate, swept back to reveal a calm face. He nodded to each member of the staff in turn, and then took his seat at the head of the table.

The children all stood up, and rushed forward.

“Is Everwynn ok?”

“What happened in the tower?”

“Felton, your clothes!” Drake shouted. “Did you get struck by fashion?”

Felton nodded to them all. “Settle down, settle down,” he said, as if nothing happened at all. “I am merely here for a brief constitutional breakfast, and then I will be back to attending the duke.”

“It’s lunch,” Doramont muttered.

Felton smiled. “Then I assume you have had two salads today, Doramont.”

The boy sulked, sinking deeper into his plate of pot roast.

Rosamund stepped up. “Is Duke Everwynn ok?”

Felton tapped his plate, and smiled as a plate of eggs and toast appeared before him. “Ah, wonderful.” He dug into the meal for a full minute before answering.

“Duke Everwynn is at present recuperating after a boisterous conversation with members of his family,” Felton said. “They have been…gracious, enough, to lend some aid to the heir.”

Rosamund frowned. “I thought that the duke was the last surviving member of the family.”

“He is indeed.”

“Then how…?”

“Best not ask questions which I will be bound to hazard a guess, young lady,” Felton said. He finished the meal and stood up.

“Gwen, Indearie,” the butler said. “Have either of you gone through your Awakening?”

Gwen frowned, and looked at Drake. He winked, floating a few eggs into the air.

The young girl reddened. “No. We haven’t done any magic yet.”

Felton’s mouth twitched in disapproval. “Perseverance, ladies, perseverance. Everwynn is trusting his house into your care.”

Gwen wanted to protest, but he was right. She needed to figure this out. But even though Drake had explained that she could do magic, he hadn’t explained how. Only said that she’d know when it clicked, then laughed like it was a little private joke. She had torn through the library trying to find an answer, and nothing. No clues, no hints, and no books on magic that didn’t obviously reek of fantastic romance tripe.

Indearie nodded. “I’m sorry, Felton. We’ll try and do better.”

“Try implies failure,” Felton said. “Trying is what children do when they are tying their shoes. Learn to do magic, or find another way to be useful.”

“Like what?”

Felton smiled. “Children, this is not an academy of magic or witchcraft. We are the seat of power for the Everwynn duchy. You sit in the middle of one of the greatest lands for thousands of miles. Your charge here is to maximize your talents to the best of your abilities. It is through your efforts, your ingenuity, where you will bring honor to these lands, the Everwynn name, and most importantly your own.”

Drake belched. “Basically figure it out yourself, moron.”

Felton sighed in the blonde boy’s direction, but he didn’t correct him. He stood up, and bowed to everyone.

“I will say that I have reviewed your living spaces, and have found your standards of cleanliness have not dipped in my absence, so well done.”

“He just did that?” Indearie hissed. “Just walk into our rooms like that?”

Gwen nodded, a little incensed herself.

“Doramont,” Felton said. “This is your last warning. You are looking more pale than normal. You need to have a fully balanced diet.”

“I’ll get to it,” Doramont promised.

He left soon after Felton. Gwen collapsed on the table, groaning.

“I need to find a way to actually get this done!” Gwen shouted.

Drake rolled a couple eggs her way. He flew off into the air, howling with laughter as she chucked the eggs back at him.

Indearie smiled, and laid a hand on her. “Want to practice together?”

Gwen nodded, grateful for the help. But first, she needed a walk, and a chance to think.

“Meet me in the library in an hour?” Gwen suggested. “I just want to breathe for a second.”

Indearie nodded. “I’m just going to be practicing my dances in the ballroom.”

The two left each other.

Gwen ran out the door, thinking. She wasn’t angry, just frustrated. Everwynn was counting on her, and it mattered. Deveren was on his way, and trying to find his way in. If they didn’t stop him, he would take on everyone, and they’d be left worse off than if they had gone to Sea Gate.

She walked up the stairs to the roof, trying to think about it. Ok, Drake always seemed to be able to just do magic. Make things float, and catch them with magic.

It was effortless, and did everything he wanted it to do. It had to do with the hand motion, and a concentrated effort of will, but what was the trick? How did it go from him just wishing for something, to it becoming real?

She flicked her hand out, reaching for a brick. Anything. Come on, now. Give her something to work with.

Nothing came.

“What’s the secret?” Gwen said to herself. She sat down on the stone tile, and thought. What was she missing?

She walked along the edge of the building. It curved to the east, and she ended up walking towards the greenhouse.

That gave her an idea. She kept moving, and eventually stood just on top of the greenhouse.

Clear blue glass was held together with iron grating, curved in a perfect half oval. She slid down, landing on the grass two stories below, and let herself in.

The greenhouse itself was filled with all manner of trees and plants. Fruit-bearing, dangerous, some that shivered as she walked past. She quickened her pace, looking around for Doramont.

“Hello?” she called out. “Doramont, are you there?”

No response. She kept moving around, trying to find him.

The plants here were…it didn’t make sense to her. All of the greenery seemed like they were planted haphazardly, without a clear aesthetic. She had stolen into gardens before. You matched type with type, and tried to create a color scheme from there.

She could see apple trees dotting around the landscape. A field of flowers that were every kind imaginable reached out towards her. A single dirt path that looped in on itself more often than not. All leading to a trail of lilies floated in a makeshift pond.

Gwen leaned down trying to get a closer look. Was there a plant in the bottom of the pond? It seemed to be beckoning, letting her see a small piece of pearly light at the bottom.

A hand grabbed her by the shoulder, and threw her back into the path.

Gwen turned, hands out, ready to strike. Doramont ignored her, and leaned over the water, shaking his head.

“She’s still in her infancy,” he muttered. “It’s a crucial developmental stage. No one is supposed to look at her yet.”

“Her?”

“The faunus subnautica,” Doramont said. “I’ve been nurturing her for the last two years to be able to survive underwater. And now you come and muck through all those months of work.”

“I’m sorry!” Gwen exclaimed. “Geez, I was just looking for you.”

“Well, next time knock on my door,” Doramont muttered.

“Were you there?”

“No. And you would have left. My problems solved.”

Gwen bit back a sharp retort, and settled for stamping her foot. “I wanted to ask you some questions.”

“No.”

“About magic.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on!” Gwen shouted. “I wasn’t the one who threw those eggs in your bed, that was Drake!”

“Keep your voice down!” Doramont hissed. “The fauna were just fed. They’re sleeping.”

“They’re plants. They don’t sleep.”

“Fat load you know,” Doramont said.

Gwen grimaced. “Well then, help me understand.”

“Why should I?” Doramont asked. “With any luck, you’ll get frustrated and leave again.”

Gwen stopped breathing.

“You think that wouldn’t get out? You think we wouldn’t know you walked out on us?” Doramont asked. He stood up. “You think we wouldn’t know that you were the one who got Everwynn in trouble?”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Gwen said. Her heart was starting to beat faster. Doramont was in his element, his home ground. She didn’t even have one of her own.

Back in Callgar, if you stepped onto someone else’s territory and were caught, you had two options. Run, or deal. You turned tail and tried to get back to safety, or you negotiated your own ransom. Fighting would never come to mind. Those who fought would only die.

Gwen didn’t think Doramont was the kind of criminal who would try and kill her.

She stood up. “I just wanted to ask a question.”

“I think you should go.”

“How does your magic work?”

“Get out.”

“Felton and Everwynn want me to learn…”

“Don’t speak his name!” Doramont shouted.

Gwen reacted before he could. Her foot lashed out, catching him right behind the knee. He swung out, wildly. She spun on her plant foot, jumped, and slammed her heel into his back, driving him to the ground.

Doramont let out a gasp, the wind being knocked out of him. He rolled on the ground, gasping to fill his lungs.

Gwen frowned. No, that wasn’t how that was supposed to go. She hadn’t come here for a fight. But if Doramont blamed her for Everwynn, then he wasn’t going to help her at all either.

“Sorry,” Gwen said. She never wanted a fight. But when it started coming, she wasn’t going to be the one down on the ground.

There was a rustle on the ground. Gwen turned, and jumped out of the way of a tree root snaking towards her. A branch swooped down, ready to take her head off. She ducked, and rolled out of the way.

Gwen stood up, and looked around. Everywhere, the plants were ripping themselves free of the their resting place, they crawled, hopped, scurried, all towards her.

She backed up, trying to escape. But looking around, it all seemed the same. She was surrounded by a horde of enemies, and they all wanted her dead.

“Stop!”

The plants froze. Doramont coughed, and got up on one knee. “Get back to your homes,” he said. “I’m okay.”

Nothing moved. They seemed unsure. A few of them bristled, the thought of Gwen getting away too much of an affront.

“You are all on a strict regiment,” Doramont reminded them. “And I will not play music at feeding time if you do not get back right now.”

That got them all moving. They returned to where they were, shoving and pushing every other stalk out of the way. There was a slight tussle amongst the poppies over who had the right dirt, but a stern look from Doramont cut it short. In less than half a minute the greenhouse was still again.

Gwen looked at Doramont. She tried to understand what was going on in his head. Why had he saved her? How did he use so much magic instantly? Did he truly want her dead?

Doramont kicked at the dirt in the path. “They are on a strict diet. Human blood has way too much iron in it. Screws up their entire meal plan. And being out of the ground for even a minute can really harm their growth.”

“Ok?”

“What I’m saying is I didn’t stop them for you,” he said. “I stopped them because I didn’t want the poor things hurt because you had to get punch happy.”

“Or kick happy,” Gwen offered.

A branch smacked her down to the ground. Not hard, but certainly not playful.

“Hercules!” Doramont chided. “Now everyone will want a turn!”

“You named them?” Gwen asked from her back.

“They’re my friends,” Doramont said.

Gwen frowned, and looked around. “All of them?”

“Every tree, every flower,” Doramont said. “Grass and ivy tend to have a sort of groupthink, but it’s the bushes that really give you lip. Especially roses.”

Gwen nodded.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…”

“Spit it out, Gwen!”

“Your magic is very different from Drake’s.”

A hush settled on all of the plants. They shivered, and tried to turn away.

Doramont was stock still. Tension wracked all throughout his body.

“That…that little puck, that miniscule little blonde demon, wouldn’t know real magic if it flipped him inside out and used his innards for ball games,” Doramont muttered. He spat. “Flying eggs, food fights. That idiot has never met a dish he wouldn’t chuck thirty feet into the air.”

“So what is magic to you?”

“Sympathy,” Doramont said. “Creating a bond between yourself and the world around you.”

“Okay, but how?”

Doramont pointed at her.

“You listen.”

Dead by the Book

I didn't ask for a destiny.

Especially one that says that I'm supposed to destroy every god in existence.

It made the name William Creed a curse. Made me turn tail and run from the only home I knew. Left my friend, my favorite ghost, and hoped that the gods would just forget about me.

But now I'm back. Chasing the one good paycheck I've seen in years. Chasing some kid who's in way over his head, searching for a book that could break reality.

I'll have to take on dragons, the undead, a whole cosmos of deities, and my own mother.

Welcome to God Street. Where miracles become realities.

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Arcane Inkdustries

A fantasy writer of novels and comics. Happily talking about fantasy, three wonderful daughters, and the trials and tribulations of indie life.