Alaric sat in his rented room, admiring his newest creation. The pistol gleamed in the dim light, its steel parts perfectly crafted to conduct mana efficiently. He had integrated the Flare Shard into the design, enabling the weapon to unleash waves of fire despite his low mana output. It was a masterpiece of ingenuity and resourcefulness.
"Perfect," Alaric murmured, running his fingers along the barrel. "This will give me the edge I need."
Over the course of the next few weeks, Alaric continued to refine his designs. He commissioned several iron parts from local blacksmiths and acquired more Sinon wood. The combination of these materials would ensure that his weaponry remained both functional and formidable.
When all his supplies were gathered, Alaric knew it was time to return home. He packed everything carefully, making sure his new creation was secure. As he prepared to leave the Veil Dukedom, he sent a letter to the Vargas estate, informing them of his impending return.
Back at the Vargas estate, the household was abuzz with the news of Alaric's return. Count Vargas was relieved, though he wouldn't admit it openly. The constant rumors and whispers had been a source of frustration and concern.
"He finally decided to come back," Count Vargas said, reading the letter. "Perhaps now the rumors will die down."
Damian and Eliza were curious about their brother's activities, though for different reasons. Damian was eager to see if Alaric had managed to make a fool of himself, while Eliza was more interested in the potential disruption his return could cause.
"He better not bring any trouble with him," Damian muttered.
Eliza shrugged, a sly smile on her lips. "We'll see what he's been up to. It might be entertaining."
Their mother, Isabella, was indifferent. As long as her favored children were safe and content, she cared little for Alaric's doings.
"At least the gossip will end," she said, sipping her tea.
As the news spread through the estate, the servants prepared for Alaric's arrival. The atmosphere was a mix of anticipation and unease, with everyone wondering what the prodigal son had been up to during his absence.
The day finally arrived. Alaric's carriage rolled into the courtyard of the Vargas estate. He stepped out, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. The familiar surroundings brought back memories, both good and bad.
"Home," Alaric said softly, taking in the sight of the grand estate. "Let's see how things have changed."
Count Vargas stood at the entrance, flanked by Damian and Eliza. Their expressions were guarded, betraying their curiosity.
"Welcome back, Alaric," Count Vargas said, his tone formal.
"Thank you, Father," Alaric replied, bowing slightly. "It's good to be home."
Damian snorted, crossing his arms. "So, what have you been up to? More foolish experiments?"
Alaric met his brother's gaze evenly. "I've been busy, Damian. Perhaps you'll see soon enough."
Eliza stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "And what have you brought back with you?"
"A few things," Alaric said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You'll find out in due time."
Isabella appeared behind them, her expression as unreadable as ever. "At least you're back," she said coolly. "The rumors can finally stop."
Alaric nodded. "Yes, Mother. The rumors will stop."
He walked past them, heading inside with a purposeful stride. He had much to do and many plans to set into motion. As he made his way to his quarters, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. The months of preparation and hard work were about to pay off.
Back in his room, Alaric carefully unpacked his belongings. He placed the new pistol on the table, its presence a silent testament to his determination and ingenuity. He would show them all that he was more than they ever imagined.
"Let the games begin," he whispered to himself, a determined glint in his eyes.
From the very next day, annoyance started to follow Alaric like a persistent shadow. His siblings, Damian and Eliza, were unbearably curious about what he had been up to during his time away. It didn't take long for their probing questions and intrusive behavior to begin.
At breakfast, Damian leaned over the table, fixing Alaric with a scrutinizing gaze. "So, brother, what exactly were you doing all this time? Something worthwhile, I hope?"
Alaric took a sip of his tea, he already knew this would happen since they had called him in the dinning table,meeting Damian's gaze with a calm demeanor. "I was working on a few projects. Nothing that would interest you, Damian."
Eliza smirked, pushing her plate away and leaning back in her chair. "Oh, come on, Alaric. You don't expect us to believe you were just 'working on a few projects' without any details, do you? Spill the beans."
"I see no reason to satisfy your curiosity," Alaric replied, his tone even. "My business is my own."
Damian's eyes narrowed. "Always so secretive. What are you hiding, Alaric?"
Alaric sighed inwardly. He had expected this, but it didn't make it any less tiresome. "Nothing that concerns either of you. If you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to."
He stood up, leaving the dining room with a calm exterior that belied his growing irritation. As he walked through the corridors of the estate, he could feel their eyes on his back, burning with curiosity and suspicion.
Throughout the day, their interference continued. Damian "accidentally" bumped into him in the hallway, trying to peer into the scrolls Alaric was carrying.
"Oops, my bad," Damian said, his tone dripping with false sincerity. "What are those?"
Alaric quickly tucked the scrolls under his arm. "Just some notes. Nothing you'd be interested in."
Eliza cornered him later in the library, pretending to browse the shelves. "Are you sure you're not up to something, Alaric? You've always been the odd one out. Maybe it's time you shared your grand plans."
"I assure you, Eliza," Alaric said, his patience wearing thin, "there is nothing grand about what I'm doing. Now, if you'll excuse me."
The day dragged on, with Damian and Eliza's thinly veiled attempts to pry into his affairs growing increasingly transparent. Alaric maintained his composure, but inside, he was seething.
As evening approached, Alaric retreated to his room, hoping for a moment of peace. He sat at his desk, the pistol—his latest creation—gleaming in the candlelight. He picked it up, feeling its weight in his hand, a reminder of his capabilities and the secrets he had managed to keep so far.
"They'll never understand," he muttered to himself. "They're too blinded by their own arrogance."
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He sighed, placing the pistol back on the table. "Come in."
The door creaked open, and Geralt stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. "Master Alaric, I trust you're settling back in?"
"As well as can be expected," Alaric replied. "Damian and Eliza have been insufferable."
Geralt nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "They're just curious. But you should be cautious, Master Alaric. They won't stop until they get some answers."
"I know," Alaric said. "But I have no intention of giving them any."
Geralt hesitated for a moment. "Is there anything you need? Any way I can assist you?"
Alaric shook his head. "No, Geralt. Thank you, but I need to handle this on my own."
"Very well," Geralt said, bowing slightly. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."
As the door closed behind the steward, Alaric leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. His siblings' constant prying was a nuisance, but he had faced worse. He would continue his work in secret, biding his time until he could reveal his true intentions.
"Patience," he reminded himself. "All in due time."
He picked up the pistol again, feeling a sense of resolve. No matter how much Damian and Eliza tried to interfere, he would stay the course. He had come too far to be derailed by their petty curiosity.
"This is just the beginning," Alaric said softly, a determined glint in his eyes. "They have no idea what's coming."