After the grand welcome, Alister steps into Neptura Castle's entrance hall, his gaze taking in the high ceilings and the old tapestries that adorn the walls, telling the stories of his family's proud history. The castle feels both impressive and imposing, its stone walls heavy with memories and shadows of the past. It is a place of both grandeur and solitude, where the weight of his lineage looms large.
A woman approaches him, offering a respectful bow. She is Vanessa, the head chamberlain, a tall and dignified figure who carries the years of her loyal service with grace. With a warm but formal smile, she greets him.
"Welcome, Lord Alister," she says.
"It's an honor to have you at Neptura Castle. I'll take you to the main guest room."
Alister nods, following her through the halls, each step echoing in the vast, stone corridors. When they reach the guest chamber, Vanessa opens the heavy wooden door. Inside is a spacious room, warmly lit by sunlight streaming through a large window that overlooks the sea. The room is comfortable, with plush chairs, rich carpets, and a breathtaking view of the waves crashing against the cliffs.
"The castle is at your service, lord Alister," Vanessa says, bowing again before leaving him in the quiet solitude of his quarters.
Alister moves to the window, gazing out at the endless horizon where the ocean meets the sky. The vastness of the scene stirs something in him, Neptura Castle is a reminder of his family's power, and more painfully, of the responsibilities that now rest on his shoulders.
After a time, Vanessa returns with a tray, offering Alister his favorite black tea, a rich, deep brew with hints of fruit and spice. Alongside the tea are delicate pastries and treats, each carefully prepared to delight his senses.
Alister, feeling a momentary reprieve, calls for his guard knight, Sir Cristopher, who is stationed outside his room.
"Cristopher," Alister says, his voice soft but carrying across the room.
"Would you join me for tea?" he asks, his words an invitation to break the silence of the day.
Cristopher smiles, his expression both gentle and respectful.
"Of course, my lord," he replies, taking a seat in front of Alister's chair.
Though he accepts the invitation to accompany his master, Cristopher does not drink the tea himself, knowing that any moment might call for his attention, and his duty must remain steadfast.
They sit in comfortable silence, Alister savoring the tea and treats, while Cristopher stays alert, his watchful eyes never leaving the room's door. But soon, Alister's peaceful moment is shattered.
A sudden, haunting memory floods his mind, breaking through the calm facade of the room. The luxurious surroundings blur as his subconscious drifts back to a darker time. He sees the towering walls of Neptura Castle, once proud and strong, now reduced to smoldering ruins. During the civil war, the castle was burned to the ground by rebellious forces.
In this painful vision, Alister recalls the atrocities committed by those rebel bastards—servants who had once tended to Aveline duchy, now mutilated or forced into unspeakable horrors. The echoes of their suffering fill his mind, making the luxury of his current life feel like a distant illusion. The grandeur of his surroundings feels tainted, as if the castle itself carries the weight of its tragic past in its very stones.
The memory washes over him, and as Alister dreams of enjoying the comforts he once took for granted, a wave of regret crashes into him. The carefree days when he indulged in luxury without a second thought now seem hollow, empty. The realization of his past indifference fills him with a deep sorrow, but now that he is given a chance this time he will make different choices.
His resolve to change, to rebuild, and to make amends, strengthens with every passing second.
Although Alister maintained his calm and collected demeanor, there was a subtle change in his appearance—a slight pallor to his face. Sir Cristopher, ever observant, noticed it immediately. He knew Alister too well, and the sudden shift in his expression didn't go unnoticed. Cristopher's mind flashed to the possible cause: Alister's past trauma, particularly the horrifying memory of his own mother trying to take his life. It was a wound that had never fully healed, and it seemed the weight of that past had resurfaced in this moment.
Concerned, Cristopher stepped closer, his brow furrowing.
"My lord," he began, his voice low and filled with worry, "perhaps coming to Neptura Castle without prior permission from your father was not the best decision. The memories here are... not easy, and you may not be ready for what you will face. I fear it may be too much for you."
Alister glanced at Cristopher, his expression softening, though his pale face betrayed a small trace of vulnerability. Cristopher, was only trying to protect him, but Alister knew that the time for hiding from his past had long passed.
He took a deep breath and offered a gentle smile to his knight.
"You worry too much, Cristopher," Alister said, his voice quiet but steady.
"I'm not the boy I once was."
The child who was pampered and sheltered was gone. The man who faced unspeakable horrors in that cellar is the one who stands .
Cristopher looked at him, his expression torn between wanting to protect his lord and knowing Alister's determination. He had seen the transformation—the spoiled boy who once lived in a world of comfort and security as if replaced by someone like a veteran who had witnessed and endured much darker realities. It was that new strength in Alister that made him hesitate, but Cristopher knew better than to argue.
With a resigned nod, he silently followed Alister as the boy made his way towards the Duchess's chamber.
They arrived at the closed door of the chamber, and Alister paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. He had waited so long for this, but even now, facing his mother he was an uncertain. His desire to speak to her, to understand her, to perhaps heal the fractured relationship, was strong. Yet, he knew that confronting her directly could trigger something dangerous in her fragile mind. So, he kept his voice steady and spoke from outside her room, his words a quiet plea for acknowledgment.
So, Alister stood outside the door, gathering his resolve. His voice, though calm, carried a weight of emotion as he called softly, "Mother."
It was the first time he had addressed her as such in a long time—so long that the word almost felt foreign on his tongue.
Cristopher stood behind him, silently offering his support. Though he was worried, he knew this was something Alister had to do. Whatever came next, they would face it together.