The servants' quarters of House Vardas were never silent, always filled with gossip, but tonight, it was even more.
With the little light a single oil lamp could provide, the household staff stayed close, their voices barely above a whisper, yet sharp enough to cut.
"He was down there again". Muttered Gerth, the gardener, his gnarled hands wrapped around a chipped mug of ale. "Dawn hadn't even broken when I saw him coming back from the vineyard. His clothes were covered in dirt, like he'd been digging. Or crawling."
A maid, Lise, shivered. "I saw him in the hall yesterday. Talking, no, not talking. Arguing with nothing but the air."
"Who knows maybe he is going to..." Said Marta, the cooker, while slicing a finger across her throat. The gesture needed no explanation.
A pause. Then Gerth's voice dropped lower. "Who knows, maybe he is just crazy, like her... " Not ending the phrase but everyone knowing who he was talking about.
The wife of the late Head of the Family, who succumbed to madness after the loss of his brother.
Lise crossed herself. "Gods save us. The sister's no better, just watches it all happen, like a ghost waiting for its own funeral."
"She's a kid for Gods sake," Marta muttered. "What do you expect from a child?"
The words hung in the air, thick as the damp that rotted the estate's walls.
Then.
"Enough"
The voice was a crack in the dark.
The servants flinched as one, turning to see Aldric, the butler, standing in the doorway. His gloves were pristine, his posture rigid, but his eyes burned with something colder than anger. Disappointment.
"You forget yourselves" he said, each word precise. "Speaking of your betters as if they were characters in some tavern tale."
Lise dropped her gaze. Gerth shifted uncomfortably.
Aldric stepped forward, the floorboards groaning under his weight. "House Vardas has sheltered you for decades. Fed you. Clothed you. And this is how you repay that loyalty? With gossip?"
Marta, braver, or more foolish, than the rest, lifted her chin. "You've seen it too, sir. The way he walks the halls at night. The way he stare at the sky. The way he acts"
For a heartbeat, the butler said nothing. Then, quietly: "That is no excuse for disloyalty. If the house falters, we serve. If the master falters, we steady him. We do not whisper in the dark like frightened children."
Without another word, he turned and strode into the shadows, leaving the servants to their guilt, and their dread.
Aldric found Lior in his chambers, bathed in the sickly light of a dying fire.
"My lord" Aldric began, his voice brittle with forced calm.
Lior didn't look up. "Ah, my faithful and loyal dog. Did you come to scold me like when i was a kid?"
"The servants talk are talking about you, my Lord. They have questions about your actions"
"So?" A smirk. "Let them. Gossip is the only currency they have."
Aldric set the tray down with a sharp clink. "You are the head of House Vardas. Your actions reflect on all of us."
For the first time, Lior lifted his gaze. His eyes were too bright, as if the fire that heated the room had entered them. "And that's why you should not talk to me like that"
Aldric's stomach turned. Not with anger, but with dissapointment.
"My lord" he said slowly "You are not well."
Lior laughed humorless. "Oh, Aldric. You mistake clarity for madness." He leaned forward. Then Lior's voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "You overstep, butler."
The butler said nothing.
Aldric straightened. Thirty years of service, and this was his reward. "Then I will speak plainly. For the good of the house i will call a council with the elders" A pause. "I will not see this house crumble while I am alive" Said Aldric with a fiery determination
The silence that followed was thicker than the crypt's fog. Then Lior smiled.
"Pack your things, Aldric. You're dismissed."
"I serve House Vardas, not just you-"
"And House Vardas" Lior interrupted "has a lesser estate in the northern marshes. Perfect for aging loyalists. You'll leave at dawn."
Aldric paled. Exile. A death sentence in all but name.
But Lior wasn't done. "Oh, and take my sister with you."
"What? You cannot exile your own sister my Lord. What will the nobles think of this act, the populace will doubt you."
"She needs… air. The country will do her good." His tone left no room for argument.
The predawn mist clung to the courtyard like a burial shroud. Two carriages stood waiting, gleaming faintly in the torchlight. The first was already loaded with Aldric's meager belongings, 40 years of service reduced to a single trunk. The butler stood beside it, his face ashen but rigid, as if carved from the same stone as the crypt.
The second carriage was for Elara.
She emerged from the house like a wraith, her pale dress blending into the fog. No guards dragged her, no one had to. She walked slowly, her little feet whispering over the damp cobblestones, her gaze drifting over the servants who had gathered to watch. They avoided her eyes.
"Where am I going?"
Her voice was soft, childlike. No one answered.
The coachman tightened the reins, staring straight ahead. The footman, a boy of fifteen who had once left flowers at her door, looked at his boots.
"Aldric" she tried again, turning to the butler. "Where is my brother sending me?"
Aldric's jaw tightened. He opened his mouth, then closed it. A muscle feathered in his cheek.
"We are heading towards some unforgettable adventures, young miss."
Elana's face lit up when she heard the butler. "Really??? Wow, then we should leave immediately, Aldric. We have paper and ink, right? I have to write to my brother about everything we're going to do."
Silence.
She climbed inside without another word.
Lior watched from the highest tower, his knuckles white against the stone ledge. This is for the better, he told himself. The court's knives, the system's demands, let her be far from all of it.
Yet as the carriage wheels began to turn, a sharp pang twisted in his chest. He raised a hand.
"Ser Jaren" he called.
A knight in armor stepped forward, his helm tucked under one arm. "My lord?"
"Ride with them. Guard my sister as if your life depends on it." A pause. "Because it does."
The knight bowed and strode to the carriage without question.
[Bonus Reward Unlocked]
The system's voice slithered into his mind, amused.
[Master, how… sentimental. Exiling your sister to protect her? Even if is like that people will not know that... So i will keep this our secret. After all you are only starting I can't be too rouhg.]
A notification flickered before him:
[Hidden Objective Completed: "Your Blood, Not Hers."]
["No blade. No duel. Just a word, and a heart carved out with ink."]
Action: Exile a blood relative.
Trait Gained: Ruthless Diplomacy: You gain increased success when resolving noble conflicts through, exile or political sabotage. Allies fear your silence more than your voice.
[Decision Tree: Familial Ties – Now Available.]Future decisions involving kin will have systemic impact. Outcomes may affect bloodline loyalty, inheritance, and succession chains.
Reward: 5 FP
"System" he said aloud. "What the hell is this Decision Tree?"
There was a pause, almost intentional to create tension. "Really?" Thought Lior.
[System Response: Decision Trees are narrative-impact frameworks.They record and react to key branching choices.Some choices define you. Others... define your world.]
"Be less cryptic."
[Tracks all major bloodline decisions. Influences legacy traits, future echoes, and ancestral recognition.]
Lior leaned back, eyes narrowing as text scrolled across his vision.
"So this is... cause and consequence. Tracked and magnified."
[Correct.][Your choice to exile your sister initiated it, you will be able to look at the records whenever you want. The echoes will await you.]
And then another notification arrived, waiting for lior to open it.