The Legendary Fool

Chapter 113: Oh well

113:

Tom found himself oddly intimidated by the interiors of the Nezaria Manors. Nether Beasts and murderous assassins he could deal with, but the rich and the influential had a battleground that was far tricker to navigate, their nebulous rules and codes kept privy amongst themselves.

Tom, Aleph and Zirel stood near the entrance of the manor, not wanting to step in any further than they had to. Even he wasn’t fully confident of taking on a Noble Family head in his own manor, for who knew just how many powerful artifacts were stashed within its walls.

A grand crystal chandelier lit up the reception room, a short flight of stairs leading up to a long marble table that dominated the center of the room, easily fielding a dozen chairs that were placed around it’s perimeter.

Tom let his eyes dart around the paintings decorating the powder blue walls, taking in a mix of family portraits, depictions of what he recognized as the Syrelore Kingdom, but from elevation and a single portrait that depicted a man wreathed in purple flames battling a three-headed beast.

Then, his attention shifted to the scrolls, tomes and scrolled up charts neatly arranged on the marble table, alongside a basket of colorful fruits. Only after did he take note of Lord Ramav Nezaria, who was seated directly facing Tom and his daughter, Valeria, who seemed far more tense in comparison to the calm facade her father was maintaining.

“Will you not take a seat, honored guests?” Lord Ramav Nezaria asked, his words slow and deliberate, a heaviness to them that even the king’s right hand could not conceal.

“Nope,” Tom replied. “Don’t plan on staying long.”

“I see,” Lord Ramav Nezaria replied.

He granted them a favor worth that was worth much more, after all.

“So, your grand plan,” Lord Ramav Nezaria began, letting his bitterness leak into his tone. “Is to foist this information on me, leaving me with no choice but to plunge the kingdom I am responsible for governing, the kingdom generations of my ancestors have lived and died for, into civil war?” He asked, his gaze boring into Tom.

“Well, that part is up to you,” Tom replied with a shrug. “Would you rather I not have saved your daughter and let the Zenari take the blame for it?” He pointedly asked.

Lord Ramav Nezaria remained silent, letting his index finger tap against the marble table as he evaluated Tom’s words.

“You would be welcomed into the House Nezaria as a friend. Given that you saved my daughter, there is no post besides my own that I would hesitate to offer. My reputation speaks for itself, Synrak Veralis, I have grown my house on principles of true Nobility,” Lord Ramav Nezaria explained. “Yet, you seek to give me this information and simply leave, as if it is a game to you. You tell me that my king has sought to have my daughter assassinated and you offer the death of the Head of the King’s Elite Guard as proof,” Lord Ramav Nezaria declared, lifting a ruby pendant in the air that Tom had gotten from looting the would-be assassin.

A ruby pendant that had the Nottrakon Family’s crest bubbling within.

“And then,” Lord Ramav Nezaria’s eyes flickered with rage as his fist came crashing down on the table. Valeria barely managed to remain calm as the table snapped in half, pushing away the piece that was going to land on her thigh. “You tell me that you intend to leave, as if nothing happened— as if you have no role to play, as if it were a game to you. Are the lives of my men, the lives of the Noble Houses that I will rally to my cause— is it all a game to you?” He asked, his fists clenched at his side.

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Tom hadn’t expected Lord Ramav Nezaria to be thrilled at the news he had brought, but he had to admit that he wasn’t expecting to be seen through this quickly.

It was true, after all. The Nezaria Family was nothing more than a vehicle of revenge for Zirel and Aleph.

To Tom though…

What exactly were they?

“You talk as if this is an uncommon thing amongst Nobles,” Tom replied with a scoff. “Where were you, good sir, when the House Longstradia was burnt to ash? Would they not have yearned for a savior like myself to alter their fate? So, tell me, where were you?” Tom asked, not entirely sure where he had gotten the courage to challenge the leader of a Noble House on his own.

The time he had spent with Aleph, the kindness that he had received from her— part of that was becoming anger for his friend. Perhaps, it was an unjust anger. Perhaps, the Longstradias were little different from the Nottrakon and the Mattleborns.

But there was a difference.

Aleph happened to be his friend.

“The Nezaria had no part to play in that pillage,” Lord Ramav Nezaria snapped, as if he were offended by the mere thought.

“My good sir, have you heard of the saying ‘an act of omission is still an act’”? Would you have forgiven Professor Neliel if, instead of trying to assassinate your daughter, simply let it happen knowing full well that it would?” Tom retorted, for there was simply no way any Noble House did not know the nature of the calamity that was about to befall the Longstradias.

“No,” Lord Ramav Nezaria replied. “I merely wished to show my daughter that your actions do not come from the goodness of your heart,” He explained, the usual calm returning to his tone.

His anger had been an act.

“You’re good,” Tom replied, begrudgingly impressed.

“Play hard to get all you want, Synrak. But every man has a price. Your strength is a mystery to me, but your actions are not. I do not sense hatred in your gaze, for if I had, you would have willingly joined me in my war against the Nottrakon Family and their allies. So, just what is it that you want?” Lord Ramav Nezaria asked, his tone calculating as he gazed in Tom’s eyes.

‘Terrifying old geezer. This is why I hate politicians,’ Tom thought, not knowing how much more he had given away.

“Well, funnily enough, I really don’t want anything. I mean, powerful cards or artifacts would be nice, but you’d probably want that for the war you have ahead of you. If it wasn’t clear already, I do want the Nezaria Family to win. Why? Because better you than those assholes,” Tom replied with a shrug.

Silence reigned in the reception hall, giving Tom more time to admire the artful rug that ran up the staircase and likely stretched across the reception hall’s floor.

“You are a very interesting man, Synrak Veralis,” Lord Ramav Nezaria replied after some thought. “But no, you needn’t worry about my finances. Regardless of what your confounding motivations are, the fact remains that you saved my daughter’s life, slayed the enemies of our Nezaria Family and opened my eyes to an enemy I was blinding myself to. Ask what you want of me, you do not have to stay.”

Just as Tom was going to respond, a loud, booming voice that had to be amplified by a card of some manner interrupted their conversation.

“Lord Ramav Nezaria, you are suspected of collaborating with the fourth and now estranged prince of the Nottrakon Family, Zirel Covan Nottrakon. Surrender him to the Royal Knights now, or be considered an enemy of His Majesty!” The decree came, bold and thunderous.

“Oh right. That… is the biggest reason why you do not want us around,” Tom explained dryly, his lips curling up in amusement.

Lord Ramav Nezaria and his daughter, Valeria, watched with abject confusion as Aleph and Zirel undid their masks before tossing them onto the floor.

“Finally. It was getting stuffy under there,” Zirel declared.

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