354: I belong to House de Lanark - part 2 (Noctavian's POV)

I belong to House de Lanark - part 2 (Noctavian's POV)

As the Crown Prince grew, he became acutely aware of the events that had transpired seven years ago. His mother had been kidnapped by the incarnation of evil, King Aldric of Varinthia. It was thanks to the combined efforts of Egon von Conradie, Kaiser de Lanark, and her best friend, Sasha of Kolhis, that she was rescued from her captor.2

The Crown Prince still harbored one unanswered question that had lingered since his trip to the mountains, and he refrained from asking the royal family about this particular topic: Why did Egon von Conradie leave Emoria immediately following his mother's return from Varinthia?

The young boy possessed the intellect to discern an answer to that question independently. In his view, Egon von Conradie was as misguided as the subjects his mother had shielded Noctavian from. It appeared that Egon had concocted narratives that contradicted his mother's account of events during her kidnapping.

In Noctavian's judgment, Egon's actions from years ago lacked any semblance of honor.

Aldric of Varinthia, Egon von Conradie, Arkin von Conradie—The Crown Prince held these men in contempt for the pain they had inflicted upon his mother, each in his own despicable way.

While he knew the exact whereabouts of Egon von Conradie and kept an ear out for any news about Arkin, the location of the abhorrent warlock King remained a mystery. Whenever Noctavian dispatched his selected spies to inquire further about the matter, he received the same news: the Varinthian King had been slain. However, no one had ever discovered a body belonging to him.

"Noctavian," his mother's voice pulled him out of his contemplation. It had only been a few moments since he had lowered the sword he had held to Egon von Conradie's throat.

Right. He was Noctavian, the long-awaited heir destined to rule the modern world. But in parallel, he had also resolved not to deny himself the satisfaction of avenging those who had wronged his mother, for she was the most important person in his life, and he would not forgive either of those men for instilling such fear in her that she couldn't even shed a few tears in front of her own son.

He heard the rustling of silk next to him and knew that she was kneeling by his side—a gesture he didn't appreciate while that man stood tall and strong.

"I will take care of you," she whispered.

Adela's white magic, so potent that it was visible to the naked eye, flowed from her fingertips, radiating peace until it settled in her son's bleeding hands. The wounds closed instantly, leaving behind only dried blood as evidence that his palms had ever been cut with that useless artifact.

"Thank you, Mother," he said, his gaze never leaving the flabbergasted face of the man whose name sat at the top of Noctavian's list, right next to the name of that warlock.

What is going on behind Egon's ominous brown eyes?

Was it happiness at Noctavian being his son? Or relief that Noctavian had no connection to the warlocks of Varinthia?

"Did you get your answer?" Noctavian inquired with a steady tone.

"Yes."

Egon's response came in a whispered affirmation, but before he could react further, Noctavian's foot came crashing down on the artifact, sealing the letter beneath the metal cover forever.

"Good. You no longer have any reason to linger around Her Excellency. Be on your way now."

Though troubled by her son's disrespectful tone towards his father, Adela remained silent, Egon's composed reaction kept her from intervening.

"I will depart now, and the next time I enter, I will use the door," Egon promised.

When Noctavian remained silent, Egon's warm brown eyes shifted to Adela's pale face, revealing a mixture of conflicting emotions. There was appreciation, regret, and undoubted resentment.

Noctavian glared up now, deciding to grant this arrogant man one short moment before forcibly removing him.

The temptation to engage in a physical confrontation with Egon von Conradie was so strong that as he turned his back and exited through the window, Noctavian thought it was a missed opportunity.

"Your Highness," his mother's voice sounded strained as she rose to her feet, "Please, have a seat on the bed. We need to talk."

She glanced at the sword in his hand, prompting him to place it by her bedside with as little noise as possible. Noctavian then took a seat beside her on the bed.

"...You win," she declared.

"...What do you mean?" 

"I won't be treating you like a child anymore. Your childhood ended far sooner than it should have."

He shrugged. "Honestly, Mother, it ended a long time ago. Look at me, I'm not ordinary."

"Of course, you're not ordinary," she replied, taking his hands in hers and gently tracing the bloodstains as if checking for nonexciting wounds she couldn't mend with her magic. "You're extraordinary."

Her sadness was one of the rare things in life that Noctavian could not bear.

"Talk to me, Mother."

Adela's chest rose as she took a deep breath, filling her lungs to their capacity, and then exhaled, her gaze tenderly fixed on her son's concerned face.

"I discovered many truths later in life, ones that were kept hidden from me... I simply don't want history to repeat itself."

"You weren't told you were a Healer until your talent manifested, right? Is that what you mean?"

"Exactly," she replied, though her expression hinted that there was more to it. "Now, please, be honest with me."

"Of course. You can ask me anything."

She hesitated, "...Why didn't you tell me about your encounter with him?" Her tone carried a mixture of inquiry and reproach, but Noctavian appreciated her straightforwardness.

"At first, I didn't recognize him," he answered honestly as he had promised. "And you were giving me the silent treatment." Noctavian raised an eyebrow at her before returning his expression to one of respect. "But I suspected it. When you left me here and went to see Sasha, I talked to Rauul and confirmed that man's identity with the Duke."

A small furrow formed between his mother's delicate brows, and her gaze shifted to her son's wristband.

"... Was there another man with him?"

"Yes."

"...You recognized the other man from the dreams you've had, didn't you?"

Noctavian nodded.

"The outlander was definitely Alkadim. His hair is longer in the dreams, but his face is just the same as centuries ago."

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