Kael's POV
The dining room was a patchwork of wealth and privilege. The flicker of floating mana-lights illuminated the long, polished table of dark oak, their gentle hum serving as a reminder that magic was present even in the ordinary. Each of the silver goblets and gemstone-inlaid plates that sat next to them was evidence of the reign I had established via blood and determination.
As was customary, I got there early. Tonight was a stage, not just a dinner. I planned to take full use of the fact that a well-played supper may disclose much more than the mayhem of a battlefield.
Moments after the others had taken their seats, Adrian—or Ash, as the world insisted on calling him—entered. He took a moment too long to move towards the vacant chair across from me. It was a subtle clue that I might not notice, but others would. I didn't recall Ash Blackwood like that.
"Adrian," I said, pointing to the chair with a flourish that concealed authority out of civility.
With an even response, he inclined his head and said, "Kael." He sat with a deliberate balancing act between relaxed and composed.
Flawlessly practiced.
The others either ignored him completely or whispered their pleasantries. Lyra, who was sitting on my left, observed Adrian with a sarcastic sneer that concealed a glimmer of curiosity. The thick-set warrior with more scars than fingers, Dren of the Iron Vanguard, hardly gave him a look. And the blood mage I trusted the most, Seraphina, looked at Adrian as if he were a very interesting snake.
I leaned forward and said, "I hope you're settling in well."
Adrian carefully considered his response before responding, "Your fortress is… efficient in all that it does. Just as its owner is."
"Effective. A tactful way of saying 'cold and unwelcoming'. Don't take our talks to heart, my friend. Tonight is a time to socialise with my other good friends, some of whom you have met with before as I was made aware." I gave myself permission to smile a little. However, comfort isn't really what one would call our first priority in this situation.
"Comfort is a luxury for the complacent," Lyra said, swirling her tumbler of mana-infused wine.
"But this table implies you're not above indulging in luxuries," Adrian retorted. He glanced at the elaborate place arrangements.
"A keen observation," Seraphina remarked in a silky voice. "But doesn't power require visibility? A monarch who lacks power runs the risk of losing it. And for someone like our host here, one who earned power with his own hands, which is very commendable I must add, he certainly has the right to show off."
Adrian remained unfazed by her scrutiny. "Symbols are helpful until they start to divert attention. They become liabilities as a result. Or maybe you would consider them assets. I dont judge."
For a brief while, the room became quieter as anxiety curled in the air like smoke.
"Well said," I interrupted, holding out my goblet. "So, to strength. We move on to evn greater heights than these."
There was a whispered nod of agreement to the toast. Wine poured out and goblets clinked. However, I saw Adrian's hand hover hesitantly close to his goblet.
"You don't like Mana wine?" I posed a casual question.
Lifting the cup but not yet taking a sip, Adrian remarked, "It's an acquired taste."
Lyra laughed. "Be careful. I don't remember your drinking ability to be all that impressive. If you over indulge in that, you could forget yourself and probable do some pretty embarrasing stuff."
"I'd argue that forgetting some things can be helpful," Adrian stated in an even tone.
A glimmer of laughter appeared on her face. "And, Adrian, what would you forget?"
"Mistakes in the past," he said. "Or maybe the faces of people who have harmed me."
Seraphina whispered, "Well, blood mages were never one to forget or forgive. You also don't seem like the type to."
After eventually taking a sip of the wine, Adrian said, "Perhaps I'm just more practical about it."
"Pragmatism," I remarked as I reclined in my chair. "A quality I respect. It has been useful to me. You are on fire tonight Adrian. Happy to see that. But how has been practical been of help to you?"
"I… ," Adrian hesitated. "I don't know how to answer that.". I saw the little change in his expression, even though his tone stayed neutral.
"Loyalty and pragmatism are not the same thing," Dren growled, breaking his stillness. His voice sounded like steel and gravel. "Pragmatists prioritise their own needs."
Adrian retorted that "loyalty without pragmatism leads to martyrs. They become heroes needlessly. And then they pass away like they were never there, to begin with. Martyrs are of little use to anyone."
There was a ripple of approval throughout the table. Although Adrian was performing his role effectively, there was a flaw in the way he was responding—a hesitancy and a delay that weren't quite normal.
I let the others discuss the advantages of nearby alliances and trade routes while I let the discourse veer off topic for a little. I kept an eye on Adrian the entire time, noting how his eyes darted between speakers and how his fingers delicately traced the rim of his glass.
I leaned forward when it felt appropriate, lowering my voice just enough to catch the attention of the table.
"I've been wondering what you think about magic, Adrian," I remarked. "Especially blood magic. You've always had... original thoughts about the topic. Of course, this was before your strange loss of memories, which is a shame really."
His hold on the goblet became a little tighter, but he didn't flinch.
As if he were testing the word, he repeated, "Original takes on magic?"
I gave a nod. "Yeah, yeah. You once maintained that blood magic isn't always forbidden or sinister, because, like all tools, it is fashioned by the person using it. But a lot of people would not have thought you to be a benevolent person even if you thought yourself to be one."
With sparkling eyes, Seraphina remarked, "A sound argument. But very few possess the determination to use such a tool without giving in to its demands. Do we even need to care for such things?"
"But even so," Adrian said coolly, "Kael has no qualms about using blood mages to his advantage. It's possible that he prioritises outcomes over superstitious beliefs."
I didn't miss Seraphina's eyes sharpening, but a wave of laughter dissolved the tension.
"Outcomes," I said in a composed tone. "That's precisely why I think highly of you, Adrian. You've consistently produced outcomes. However, I can't help but wonder… " I purposefully paused to unnerve, letting the words linger in the air. "To what extent do you recall the events that led you to this point?"
I noticed a glimmer of uncertainty in his face for the first time.
"Memory is a complex thing," he stated. "Particularly in regards to something like pain. There is a reason why certain things are buried or like in my case, forgotten."
"Alright," I said, cocking my head. "Maybe. You do know that sometimes things that are buried have a way of coming to light again."
I made a subtle gesture while fusing a tiny bit of illusion magic into the atmosphere. Adrian blinked as the room around him changed, his eyes wavering.
The trial chamber dissolved away, taking the place of the dining hall. Faintly shimmering were the engravings on the relic that towered over him. Whispers rose, faint at first but becoming louder, as blood gathered at his feet.
Adrian's breath caught as his hands tightened around the goblet, causing his knuckles to turn white. I briefly caught a glimpse of the tenseness in his jaw and the glint of something primordial in his eyes.
The illusion vanished when he blinked once more.
As if nothing had happened, the conversation resumed in the dining hall. I had done that just as a reminder that forget the power I had over him.
Adrian let out a long sigh and carefully put down his cup.
"Well done, Kael," he remarked in a steady yet sharp voice.
I gave in to a small smile. "I accept the compliments. Though I must say, I don't know what you're saying really."
His steady, uncompromising gaze met mine. "You don't, of course."
Unaware of the interaction in our mindscapes, the others carried on with their conversation. However, as the evening went on, I couldn't get rid of the thought that Adrian Blackwood, whatever he really was, might still turn out to be more dangerous than I had thought.
Dangerous men were useful, too. For the time being.