Chapter 28: Abyssal Leviathan, Nerazhul, the Silent Deep
Garen Everards Bloodline
The doors to Sylvara's study swung open on silent hinges.
Inside, the room was a perfect blend of old-world elegance and refined authority. Shelves of books lined the walls, and the large arched window behind Sylvara's desk let in enough light to paint the room in soft, dignified hues. A grand fireplace crackled quietly at the far end, its flames reflected in the polished floor.
Sylvara sat behind the desk with a composed air, her gloved fingers resting on a set of parchment scrolls. She didn't look up immediately, but her presence commanded silence.
The first to step in after Elysia was Korrin Salazar, his silver serpent-clasped cloak trailing slightly behind him. The newly acquired servants entered in quiet, orderly formation. Kitsaro walked just ahead of them, peeking curiously at their expressions, his excitement barely contained.
With a single gesture from Galen, they stepped forward. One by one, they lowered their heads in a deep, respectful bow toward Sylvara, their movements synchronized, a clear sign of their discipline and unwavering loyalty.
"Lady Sylvara," Galen said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of pride. "They are yours to command."
The servants, still in their bowed positions, held the gesture for a long moment. It was a show of humility, but more importantly, it was a testament to the new beginning they were part of—an affirmation of their duty to a future that, though uncertain, promised greatness.
Sylvara inclined her head in acknowledgment, her amber eyes scanning each servant with a sharp yet approving gaze. Her voice, when she spoke, was calm, yet there was an undercurrent of authority that echoed through her words.
"You may rise," she commanded softly.
The servants straightened in perfect unison, their postures impeccable. Galen nodded once more and awaited for further instructions.
"Welcome," Sylvara finally said, her voice crisp and unhurried. Her amber eyes swept across the group, pausing briefly on each individual. "You now stand as retainers of House Veyra. You were chosen not merely for your skill, but for your discipline, discretion, and potential."
Her gaze lingered briefly on Kitsaro, who had settled onto a plush reading couch at the edge of the room, legs swinging.
"You've all met my son," Sylvara continued. "Treat his words as you would mine. This is not a household that tolerates disrespect."
There was no need for threats in her tone—only clarity. The servants bowed their heads in unified silence.
Sylvara reached for the first scroll. "You will be distributed according to the needs of the estate."
She unrolled the parchment.
"Four of the Fledgling servants will be assigned to the kitchen and larder operations. Two will support the head chef once one is hired. The other two will handle supplies, storage, and preservation. Elysia will oversee them until further arrangements are made."
Kitsaro tilted his head. "Does that mean we're gonna get lots of snacks now?"
Sylvara gave a tiny, amused huff but continued without addressing him directly.
"Six of the Fledgling servants will be assigned to cleaning rotations, laundry, and general maintenance of the estate's interior. The remaining four shall rotate between guest management, receiving deliveries, and event preparations."
She paused, tapping the next scroll open.
"The ten Feral Initiates—your duties are more specific. Two of you will be assigned as gate sentries. Three will monitor the interior corridors during both day and night shifts. One will patrol the grounds. The remaining four will be rotated for errands and serve as immediate-response personnel should an emergency arise."
Korrin raised a brow slightly at the meticulous division, but said nothing.
"As for salaries…" Sylvara's tone shifted slightly. "You will be paid according to your rank, with merit-based bonuses given quarterly. You are free to live offsite if desired, though rooms have been prepared. Meals and basic needs are provided for. Injuries incurred in the line of duty will be treated without deduction in pay. Failures, however…"
Her eyes swept the room once more.
"…will be addressed."
Kitsaro gave a small, impressed nod from his corner. He didn't understand everything, but Sylvara sounded super cool.
Sylvara stood, her figure tall and regal. "That is the foundation of your service under House Veyra."
She turned toward Korrin. "You've fulfilled your end of the arrangement with precision, Lord Salazar. House Veyra thanks you."
Korrin gave a respectful bow, though there was a flicker of amusement in his sharp eyes. "It was a pleasure, Lady Sylvara. I'll leave them in your capable hands."
He turned to Kitsaro, giving a polite smile. "Farewell, young master. Do take care of this lively household."
Kitsaro gave a proud little salute. "Bye, Mister Korrin! I'll protect the estate!"
Korrin's smile lingered before he turned and exited, leaving the room just as smoothly as he had entered.
Sylvara then gestured toward Elysia, who had waited silently by the door. "Elysia, step forward."
The head maid approached, her back straight.
"As I mentioned earlier," Sylvara said, "you will remain head maid of House Veyra. From this point on, you are responsible for overseeing the internal coordination of the servant staff. Work closely with Galen Everard, who shall manage the estate's broader operations."
Elysia gave a short bow. "Yes, my lady."
Sylvara gave a curt nod. "Have the servants shown to their quarters. Ensure they are fed and assigned tasks to begin before sundown."
"As you command."
With a small gesture from Elysia, the servants filed out silently, moving in practiced precision. The doors closed softly behind them.
Only three remained.
Sylvara, Galen Everard, and Kitsaro.
The boy stretched his legs, clearly thinking about cookies, but kept quiet as he watched the imposing man now standing at the center of the room.
Sylvara sat once more, resting her hands together atop the desk.
"Galen Everard," she said. "Approach."
Galen stepped forward. His steps were measured, smooth. He stood with his gloved hands folded behind his back, head slightly bowed.
"You carry yourself like a soldier," Sylvara observed. "Yet Korrin's files say nothing of military service. Only loss, hardship… and awakening."
Galen's voice was deep and composed. "That is correct, my lady. I was not trained by the military. I awakened as a commoner—during a sea beast attack off the eastern cliffs."
Kitsaro blinked, suddenly attentive.
"My village was a small one," Galen continued. "We lived near the shores, dependent on fishing. One night, creatures from the deep came ashore. I watched them devour everything. My family included. I was… the only one left."
Sylvara's expression remained unreadable, but her eyes were sharp.
"The awakening happened mid-attack?" she asked.
Galen nodded once. "Yes. As I saw them torn apart, something inside me… *shifted*. My blood ignited. I fought back. Not with strength—but instinct. I survived long enough to draw attention. A patrol of Bloodline Holders arrived and rescued me from the wreckage. I was sent to an orphanage, and eventually Lord Korrin took me in."
Kitsaro sat up, eyes wide. "You survived sea monsters all alone?! That's really cool!"
Galen offered the faintest flicker of a smile. "Barely, young master. But I did."
Sylvara's voice dropped lower, her tone more inquisitive. "And the bloodline you awakened with?"
Galen straightened. "The Abyssal Leviathan. Divine Beast: Nerazhul, the Silent Deep."
That gave Sylvara pause.
She studied him anew—no longer just a man who passed muster, but something rarer. Dangerous. Valuable.
Sylvara rose from her chair, moving toward him.
"Then I will speak plainly." Her voice was soft, but commanding. "I did not seek servants merely to clean and serve. House Veyra is in ruin. Its power stripped. Its name tarnished."
She stopped a few steps from him, meeting his eyes directly.
"I want capable people. Those who can rise with this House. Not just to polish its floors—but to defend its honor. To build its legacy. To make it feared again."
She let the words hang in the air, a weight both ominous and promising.
Galen's voice was unwavering. "I understand. And I accept."
Sylvara's lips curved into something faint—a whisper of approval.
"Then know this," she said, "I will not let you stagnate. I intend to make you stronger than you already are. That blood of yours—its silence is not weakness. It is potential. If you serve me loyally… I will see it realized."
"I vow to serve with everything I have," Galen said. "Until House Veyra stands at the height of nobility—or I fall with it."
From the couch, Kitsaro leaned forward. "Does that mean he's like, our knight-butler now?"
Sylvara glanced back, amused. "Yes, in a sense."
"Cool!"
Galen finally allowed a deeper bow. "Then with your permission, Lady Sylvara, I would like to begin at once."
"You may," Sylvara said. "Your quarters have been prepared on the east wing, adjacent to the study and command halls. Report to me every evening. Elysia will give you initial estate schematics. Begin observation of all servant routines and create a report within three days."
"Yes, my lady."
Sylvara stepped past him, returning to her desk.
"You are dismissed."
Galen turned toward the exit—but paused.
"May I request one thing, my lady?"
She tilted her head.
"If there are defensive drills or strategy sessions—include me."
Sylvara's eyes narrowed slightly in interest. "So you do intend to stand as more than a servant."
Galen gave a small nod. "Always."
She allowed herself a true smile then—sharp and promising.
"Then we understand each other."
As Galen departed to begin his duties, Kitsaro leaned back on the couch, grinning from ear to ear.
"This place is so much cooler than before."
Sylvara didn't respond, but a glint of pride lit her eyes as she looked toward the closed doors.
It was a delicate balance, building his future while shielding him from the bitterness that had shaped her own path. But Sylvara was determined. Kitsaro would grow into the heir he was meant to be, not under the shadow of rejection, but under the light of a mother who refused to let her child become an afterthought.
As she looked at him, so young, so innocent in that moment, she made a silent vow to herself: No matter what it took, Kitsaro would experience a life befitting his bloodline. One day, the world would see him as not just the discarded son of the duke, but as the true heir of House Veyra—strong, dignified, and proud.
Sylvara's gaze lingered on Kitsaro for a moment longer, a quiet resolve settling in her heart. Her voice, soft yet imbued with an unshakable determination, echoed through the stillness of the room as she murmured to herself, almost as if speaking to the future itself.
"I will make sure that, in time, House Vaelthyr and the world would know the strength of our bloodline and the power it holds. By then, no one will ever be able to hurt and dare to look down upon you, my son. They shall see which bloodline reigns supreme above all."