The air was stale. A kind of staleness that is known only to books. Not just one or two, but hundreds. The dusty times let off an odd smell, comforting to some, whilst offensive to others.
One such man found it to be the most welcome of scents, as he sat in the midst of the dim library, perusing one of the dusty old tomes. "The Biography of Sedribald the Curious" is what he was reading at the moment, engrossed in the details of the old scholar's life, particularly his development of the philosophy of ethics.
He lifted a finger and turned the page carefully, creaking the old chair as he did so. He relished these rare moments of silence, escape. So many times recently he had been interrupted, having to aid in some political meeting or teach some nobles how to think. Pompous fools.
He himself was no noble, but held more power than most. A higher up of the regional Scholar's guild he was held in high prestige for his wisdom and council. For Out of all the books in his library he had read all but a handful. Most nobles would have a library twice his but never once touch the tomes. They would much rather be touching the breast of a serving wench or a bottle of wine.
He sighed, finding it hard to concentrate. It didn't help that his back was disagreeing with the firmness of the chair. He was getting old. A fact he had come to grips with by his early 30s. That was 40 years ago.
He read through a couple more pages before closing the book. He stretched then stood up slowly, making his way around stacks of paper and dusty furniture. The rest of his mansion was clean, but he didn't like anyone messing with his library. Not even to clean. He liked to keep things precisely where he left them there.
With slow steps he reached the door to the large hall, stepping out surely into a brightly lit, fine wood walkway. He spotted a figure moving away to his left and called out, "Simon... bring me the letters if there are any."
The butler replied with, "Right away Wisdom."
Before he scurried off.
Wisdom. Such a bold title that he earned after reaching the pinnacle of the scholar's guild. He was far from arrogant though and oft wondered whether he deserved it or not.
He moved to a small room, with a large central table around a couple of plain but extremely comfortable sofas. The fireplace was out, and the two windows open to let in the breeze of the fine summer morning. He looked out and took in the city. His estate was in the middle of Grey Stone, where the people bustled and moved about constantly.
He sighed, knowing that the peaceful part of his day was about to end. The feeling was accentuated by Simon stepping into the lounge with a stack of letters in his hand. He set them on the table next to The Wisdom's tea, stepping off to the side as if waiting for more instruction.
The bearded man sighed, taking a sip of the black tea before turning to the letter on top of the pile. It had a wax seal with the crest of the Golgon House, a Phoenix holding three roses. He grumbled and tossed it to the side.
The different Houses never had anything important to say. It was all pomp and circumstance, in an effort to suck up to him. He was tired of all the ass kissing nonsense. He rifled through a few more letters like this, stopping to open just a couple from the Higher Nobles that sought a meeting or advice, placing these in a desperate pile to be addressed in more detail.
He paused as he reached a plain looking letter, that bore no wax seal but rather was tied by string. He opened it slowly, curiosity taking hold.
He read through the plain handwritten letter that simply said, "I've found one... be on the lookout. He has the text... Best of luck!... J.S.M. "
The Wisdom shot up out of his chair, nearly spilling his tea. He was visibly shaking and Simon seemed concerned. The letter in his hand started to crumble a moment later, black charred pieces of paper falling down like snow as if it had been burnt to a crisp.
After a moment it disappeared altogether and the Wisdom turned to his butler, a crazed look in his eye as he said, "cancel everything for the day and schedule an emergency meeting with the Duke.
"Yes your wisdom" Simon replied, making a quick exit to go perform his duties. He knew that look in the old man's eye. It meant trouble. It was a look he had seen but a handful of times.
The tea was not as good before the disruption, the wisdom thought, as he sat holding the small cup in trembling hands. He waited then, the wait of a truly impatient man who wondered more than anything what to do. For change was coming, and he wasn't sure the duchy, let alone the kingdom was ready...
...
Alder woke abruptly to the sound of banging on his door. "Wake up wake up!" A childlike voice called from behind, "come eat then let me show you around!"
He grumbled, knowing it was the other young master and his new "brother". He hated the idea of having to get along with him, but simultaneously welcomed it. It could be worse...
He got out of bed and quickly dressed into the plainest looking set of clothes in the wardrobe. He turned and noted his knapsack again, and the book. He settled for picking it up and throwing it over his shoulder. He wanted to read it and thought maybe he would get the chance if he took it along.
He could hear the shuffling of impatient feet on the other side of the door as he reached to open it, coming face to face with David who gave him a big smile. "Sleep long enough?" He asked sarcastically, to which Alder just rolled his eyes.
David talked his head off as they made their way to breakfast. He told him of the house and his father's Spice trading business. He told him about a hiding spot he wanted to show him behind a tree out back. He mentioned boring studies with The Scholar and the exciting Noble Swordsman training in the courtyard with a real knight.
All of it seemed so out of the realm of normal for Alder. Truly, David had no idea how privileged he and his family were. It was clear in the lack of awe the boy gave to the immaculate paintings and furnishings they passed. Whilst Alder took it all in like it was some sort of wild dream.
Before long they had reached the dining room. The same place he had eaten in the night before. He was greeted by the Master and Mistress, whom Alder found out that the Master was an Earl, a noble title that gave him some power in the region.
His stomach growled as he looked at the feast laid out on the massive wooden table. A whole baked chicken, fruits, bread, and cheese. Oh the cheese was superb. It was a fine hard cheese that would have cost his family an entire years worth of earnings to buy. Yet his new family were eating it like it wasn't worth more than a commoner's household.
Something about that angered him a little, and he wasn't sure why. But his hunger took over and he was happy to partake with them.
Minutes passed of silent eating before the Earl started to speak, "So Alder, tell us about yourself would you? You seem to have good manners. Odd coming from one raised by Helda..."
He stopped eating some grapes to respond, skipping over the Helda part to answer, "Aah well I'm not quite sure what to say. I am not nearly as interesting as this house or you all here,"
"Well that cannot be so... Helda wrote of how you killed a Goblin the other day, surely you have some skill with the blade to accomplish a feat so young. You get that from her I suppose."
He blushed and started to shake a little, setting down his food. He pushed back tears thinking about the fight to the death with the green monster.
The mistress came to his rescue saying, "Come now dear, he clearly doesn't want to talk about such things, and neither do I wish to hear of killing anything over Breakfast. For another time surely."
The earl nodded and went quiet for a moment, mumbling a weak apology before saying, "I couldn't help it. He is my Sister's Son after all. The strength of an Adventurer runs in his veins."
Alder spoke out then, the image of Helda riding away on her horse flashing in his mind, "She is not my mother. I am not her son..."
Silence filled the room, a chilling scene as he looked at the stunned faces of everyone. David was looking around confused, and Alder could tell he didn't dare mutter a word in the tense situation.
The Earl has dropped his utensils and the Mistress was giving Alder a strangely disgusted look. "What?" Alder said, and was about to say something else when the Earl cut him off,
"You aren't my Sister's son? Well then who are you?"