The door creaked open as a shadowy figure slipped inside, moving with the careful precision of someone who wished to remain unseen. The figure tiptoed towards the bed, their presence barely disturbing the stillness of the night. Beside the sleeping boy, they paused, the darkness of the room shrouding their features.
"Jake, why are you still awake?" a gentle, sweet voice broke through the silence, and the boy's eyes fluttered open, blinking at the figure standing by his side.
"I won't sleep," he declared with a stubborn tone, his small body tensing as he recognized the intruder.
"And why not?" the voice asked, soft yet tinged with concern.
"Because you haven't been telling me stories anymore," he replied, his voice cracking as he pouted, the hurt in his eyes unmistakable.
"I'm sorry, my dear," she said, her voice filled with regret as she sat on the edge of his bed, her fingers tenderly brushing through his hair. "I've been busy with your baby brother, but you understand, don't you?"
The boy's lower lip trembled, and tears welled up in his eyes, but he nodded reluctantly, the weight of his emotions clear.
"Tell me a story then, Mother, something that nobody else knows," he pleaded, his eyes brightening with a glimmer of hope.
"Alright, my love," she said, her voice soothing as she leaned closer, "I'll tell you a story of a land far, far away—a story passed down through generations in our family."
The boy nestled deeper into his pillows, his anticipation growing as he listened intently.
"Long ago, in a distant land beyond the towering Regin Mountains and the vast Belarus Ocean, there lived a man and a dragon—each the leader of their respective clans. The man's name was Shin Cheong Rong, and the dragon was known as Zhu Ryo Jung. Their friendship was legendary, and their bond grew even stronger when Shin's son married Zhu's daughter."
She paused, her voice growing softer as the tale deepened. "But their joy was short-lived. A great calamity befell the continent, claiming countless lives from both clans, including the bride and Shin himself, who sacrificed his life to protect Zhu's daughter."
"The devastation was immense," she continued, her voice tinged with sorrow. "The human sects and the dragon clan were nearly wiped out. The Dragon King, gravely injured, used his last strength to save Shin's child before taking his final breath. Together with the remaining survivors, Zhu's son set sail on a ship, leaving their homeland behind forever."
The boy listened, his heart heavy with the weight of the tale.
"After months of perilous journeying, they arrived at Falcon Harbour in the Sven Kingdom. They were strangers in a new land, but with the help of local merchants who spoke their language, they began to rebuild their lives. In time, they learned the customs and culture of this new continent, the Land of Dusk."
"The Dragon King's son eventually departed, but the surviving clan members stayed, building a new home for themselves. They renamed their family the Vermonts and settled in the Damascus Kingdom of the Grand Relios Empire. And that, my dear child, is how our family came to be."
She finished the story and turned to look at her son, only to find that he had already drifted into peaceful slumber. Smiling softly, she leaned down to kiss his forehead, her lips lingering as if to imprint her love on his dreams.
Before leaving the room, she whispered, almost to herself, "My child, be brave, because someday, I—"
A sudden, bright flash accompanied by a sharp echo of the word "I" cut through the silence.
"Don't leave me, Mother!" Jacob jolted awake, his heart pounding, tears streaming down his face as he cried out into the darkness. "Don't leave me alone."
A knock on the door interrupted his anguished thoughts.
"May I enter, young master?" a deep, mature voice inquired from the other side.
Jacob quickly wiped his tears and composed himself before answering, "Yes, Remvar, please come in."
Remvar, the loyal attendant of Jacob's late mother, entered the room with a concerned expression. He was a stout man with greying hair, impeccably dressed, his posture exuding a lifetime of dignified service.
"Young master, are you not feeling well?" Remvar asked, his eyes scanning Jacob for any signs of distress. "I rushed here as soon as I heard the noise from your room. Is everything alright?"
When Jacob's mother had passed away, her dying wish had been for Remvar to care for her son. Now, the attendant's eyes gleamed with worry as he awaited Jacob's response.
"I'm fine, Remvar. It's nothing," Jacob said, his voice steady as he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
"Young Master, are you still blaming yourself for Madam's death?" Remvar asked softly, his head bowed, the sorrow in his voice unmistakable.
Jacob paused, turning his head slightly. "No, Remvar, I'm not," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... it's nothing. Don't worry about me."
He walked to the bathroom, his steps heavy with unspoken thoughts.
"Master Jake," Remvar called after him, his tone formal yet tinged with affection, "I forgot to remind you that today is the Family Gathering Event of the Gathering Festival."
"As you know, Young Master, today is the third day of the festival. You haven't attended much of the festivities this past year. Will you be attending this one?"
Jacob paused at the doorway, considering his response. "No, this year I will, Remvar," he said with quiet resolve before disappearing into the bathroom.
The Gathering Festival was a grand spectacle, held twice a year for the noble families of Marquis rank and above, including the esteemed Vermont lineage. The entire region under their governance was swept up in a festive fervour, as if the very fabric of society was being rewoven with joy and celebration.
Markets bustled with activity, their vibrant stalls and colourful awnings a testament to the excitement that gripped the townspeople. Merchants hawked their wares, from intricately crafted silverware to rare, glowing fabrics, while the sweet scent of sugar-coated pastries wafted through the air, enticing all who passed by.
Even royalty sometimes graced The Gathering with their presence, their stately carriages and ornate finery a sight to behold as they mingled with the nobility. For one glorious week, the usual social hierarchies were set aside, and the very atmosphere seemed to vibrate with anticipation and camaraderie. The festival was a carefully choreographed symphony of events, each day dedicated to a specific tradition that had been passed down through generations.
The festivities began on the first day, known as the 'Meet Up', where all the noble families converged in the hosting region, their flags and banners proudly displayed as they made their way towards the grand central square.
The following day was the 'Greeting', where the Host Family formally opened the festival with a grand procession, their dignified presence commanding attention from all present. This was followed by the Family Gathering, a roundtable meeting of the heads of each family, who convened to discuss matters of state and strategy while their children were introduced to one another and spent the day together in merriment.
Then came the highly anticipated Tournaments of Inheritance, spanning three thrilling days that would determine the future course of many a noble household. The children of the host family competed in three tournaments, each with three stages:
the Test of Knowledge, where their understanding of history, politics, and philosophy was put to the test; the Test of Magic, which showcased their mastery over arcane arts and elemental forces; and the Test of Combat, where martial prowess was pitted against cunning and strategy.
The difficulty of the tests was adjusted according to the participants' ages, ensuring that each child had a fair chance to shine. The first two rounds were contested among the host family members, while the Challenger's Round allowed guest family members to challenge a host family member in a bid for advancement in the inheritance hierarchy.
Winning these challenges could alter one's rank in the noble lineage, potentially granting access to new lands, titles, and privileges that would secure their family's position for generations to come. The stakes were high, but so was the excitement – for in this world of intrigue and politics, the art of competition had become an essential part of life itself.
As the week ended, The Gathering Festival culminated in a grand finale, with fireworks illuminating the night sky and music filling the air. It was a fitting conclusion to a celebration that had brought people together across social strata, forging bonds that would last long after the festivities had ended.
The ultimate victor was crowned 'Lord of the Gathering,' with their heir rank elevated to 1st in perpetuity, securing their family's position among the nobility for generations to come. This esteemed title came with significant privileges, including a seat at the Council of Lords, where they would advise on matters of state and participate in the decision-making process that shaped the future of their realm.
In rare cases, a participant who demonstrated unwavering excellence, triumphing in all three stages of the Tournaments of Inheritance – the Test of Knowledge, the Test of Magic, and the Test of Combat – earned the title of 'Ruler of the Gathering.' This extraordinary achievement was reserved for those who had conquered every challenge, including successfully defending their position against all Challenger's Round battles.
The Ruler of the Gathering was accorded a special gift, a symbol of their unparalleled prowess that would be treasured by their family for years to come. This keepsake might be a finely crafted amulet imbued with magical properties, a rare manuscript containing ancient wisdom, or an exquisite golden statuette depicting the virtues of leadership.
The Ruler's title and accompanying gifts were not mere accolades; they represented a profound commitment from the noble families to recognize and reward outstanding talent. By acknowledging the exceptional abilities of their peers, the nobility reinforced the values that had guided their own ascent: courage, wisdom, and strategic acumen.
As Jacob emerged from his brief respite, he made his way to his clothing chamber, where Remvar awaited him with a warm smile. The elderly butler's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he announced,
"Master Jake, Madam Revonna has already selected your outfit for the gathering."
He gestured towards an elegantly displayed ensemble that took Jacob's breath away. The striking outfit consisted of a rich, dark-purple royal overcoat, intricately embroidered with golden thread and adorned with the Vermont family crest; a crisp black shirt, its snowy white collar framing Jacob's face like a porcelain cameo; a slender white tie, knotted perfectly to accentuate his strong throat; and a ruby-red vest that matched the piercing hue of his eyes. The ensemble was completed with snow-white pants, expertly tailored to showcase Jacob's athletic build, and Oxford-styled black shoes, polished to a high shine that reflected the finest craftsmanship.
Overwhelmed by the sheer thoughtfulness of it all, Jacob felt his emotions surge once again, threatening to spill over into tears. He hurried towards Remvar, embracing him warmly as he would a trusted friend.
"Thank you, Remvar, for everything you do for me" he whispered, his voice trembling with gratitude.
Remvar's expression softened, and his voice took on a gentle warmth as he replied,
"It's my duty to take care of you, Young Master. And I will also relay your thanks to Madam Revonna."
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he assisted Jacob in getting dressed.
As Remvar worked, his voice softened with nostalgia, and Jacob detected a hint of sadness beneath his words.
"Madam would have been very pleased to see how much you've grown," Remvar said, his voice barely above a whisper. Jacob's heart swelled with sorrow as he replied,
"She sure would, Remvar."
Remvar's expression turned resolute, and he placed a gentle hand on Jacob's shoulder.
"You must show the others that you are also one of the heirs of the Vermont family," he encouraged, his eyes locking onto Jacob's with an unwavering intensity.
For a moment, Jacob forgot about the festival and the gathering ahead. All he could focus on was the weight of Remvar's words, and the realization that he had a responsibility to uphold not just as Jake, but as a member of the Vermont family. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead.
"For sure," he replied, his voice quiet but determined.
Remvar nodded, his expression proud and reassuring.
"You will do marvellously, Young Master. I have every faith in you."
As Jacob prepared to leave the room, Remvar whispered a prayer,
"May Madam be with you, Young Master."
Jacob smiled softly, then stepped out into the hallway.
The corridor outside his room was quiet, almost eerily so. Jacob lived in a secluded mansion on the sprawling Vermont Estate, far from the bustling activity of the main grounds. As he made his way down the white marble path, he noticed two shadows moving in the distance. Curiosity piqued, he approached them and found two female servants engaged in a whispered conversation.
"Are you certain the rumours of the 6th Master being cursed and causing the kind Madam's death are true?" one of them whispered.
"Shush, not right now! How do you think the Master would react if he saw us hanging around and talking about that?" the other hissed.
"He would kindly ask if you were here to lead him to the event today," Jacob's voice cut through the air, startling the women.
They turned, their faces draining of colour as they realized who stood before them. "Kyaaaaaaaaah!" they shrieked in unison.
Suppressing a chuckle, Jacob spoke gently, "So, are you here to guide me or not?"
"We apologize for our misdeed, Young Master," one of them stammered, bowing deeply, her voice trembling with fear.
"And are you here to guide me?" Jacob repeated, his tone kind yet firm.
"Yes, Master," the other servant replied, recovering her composure. "We are here to escort you to the event location at Porcelain Lake."
"Then let's go," Jacob said, gesturing for them to lead the way.
The servants guided Jacob through the marble pathways of the estate, leading him towards the crossroad where the gathering would take place.