Bane Dukedom, Bloodhaven
Main Residence
Grand Hallway
The Bane Estate had always possessed a certain atmosphere.
Not cold.
Not lifeless.
Simply… solemn.
Dark marble stretched beneath their feet, polished to reflect the warm glow of countless crystal lamps suspended high above. Towering black pillars lined both sides of the corridor, each carved with intricate golden patterns. Between them stood statues of those who remained unknown, their faces hidden despite the hallway's illumination.
Even with the light illuminating the halls, the estate retained its signature appearance.
Elegant.
Refined.
Shadowed.
It was less a home built to intimidate than one built to remind every visitor exactly whose residence they had entered.
Ishmael walked beside Alistair at an unhurried pace, his footsteps echoing softly through the corridor.
Servants moved efficiently around them, each stopping to bow respectfully before returning to their duties. Some smiled warmly as they caught sight of him. Others looked surprised before quickly hiding their expressions.
News truly did travel quickly.
Neither of them spoke for several moments.
There was no need.
The quiet between them felt natural.
Eventually, Alistair smiled faintly.
"It doesn't seem all too long ago."
Ishmael glanced sideways.
"Hm?"
"You and Young Master Ezekiel used to run through these very corridors."
A nostalgic look settled in the old butler's yellow eyes.
"My Liege would be occupied with official matters while the two of you insisted the estate was a battlefield, doing everything but following instructions."
A small smile tugged at Ishmael's lips.
"…I remember."
"Lady Aurelia would always try to follow along, trying to rein you two in."
Alistair chuckled softly.
"And Young Master Ezekiel would convince her that she was the commander while the two of you charged into imaginary enemies, somehow pulling her into his little schemes."
Ishmael let out a quiet laugh. "That sounds like him."
"It does."
The old butler folded his hands neatly behind his back as they continued walking.
"I spent more time chasing the three of you through these halls than I did performing my actual duties."
Ishmael smiled a little wider.
"That was a long time ago, Uncle Alistair."
"It was."
Alistair looked toward him again.
"And now you're all grown, all of you."
His voice carried a quiet satisfaction.
"It seems only yesterday I was teaching Young Master Ezekiel proper table manners while stopping you from trying to climb the statues," Alistair added with a laugh.
Ishmael raised an eyebrow.
"I climbed one statue." He replied
"You climbed several." Alistair countered
"I only fell off one."
"You fell off three."
"…You counted?"
"I had to carry you back each time."
That earned a genuine laugh from Ishmael.
"I suppose you did."
The two continued deeper into the estate.
As they rounded another corner, a series of large murals came into view, two stood out to him, each framed in polished black wood trimmed with gold.
The first depicted a battlefield. Strange beasts slain by a white-haired man in full body armour, a colossal spear in hand.
The second showed a family, his family.
Ishmael slowed unconsciously.
At the center stood a tall man with long black hair and deep grey eyes that seemed to swallow you whole. He looked like he could be anywhere else in the world but he just had to be here. Clothed in an all-black suit and red tie.
He was the Duke.
Beside him stood a woman, beautiful beyond words. She had long blonde hair and gentle emerald-green eyes. She wore a dark green gown that flowed freely but didn't do anything to hide her figure.
Clinging to him, her smile was blinding. Warm and kind.
Standing before them were three children.
A mischievous blonde-haired boy wearing an unmistakable grin. Ever ready to run off at any moment.
A young girl with blonde hair clutching her mother's hand with a bright smile. Truly her mother's daughter
And a dark-haired boy with apathetic grey eyes, but if one looked close enough, you'd notice the corners of his lips curving up into a smile.
For several seconds, Ishmael simply stared.
"…Mother."
The word escaped almost unconsciously.
Alistair stopped beside him.
A quiet smile appeared on the old butler's face.
"Lady Aurora always adored that portrait."
Ishmael nodded slowly. "I remember."
"She said it was one of the few occasions where everyone stood still long enough for the painter to finish," Alistair added
A faint chuckle escaped him. "That sounds about right…I miss her uncle." Ishmael muttered calmly
"…. We all do little El" The old butler replied.
His gaze lingered on the painting for another moment before he finally looked away.
Neither of them spoke further.
Some memories didn't need explanation.
They simply continued walking.
The deeper they went into the estate, the grander the architecture became. The ceiling rose higher, supported by enormous obsidian columns veined with gold. Elegant chandeliers cast warm light across the polished floor while banners bearing the black and golden crest of House Bane hung proudly from the walls.
Eventually, two enormous doors came into view.
The entrance to the Grand Dining Hall.
Each door stood several meters tall, carved from dark wood reinforced with black steel and engraved with the crest of the Bane family.
Two servants stationed outside immediately bowed.
"Young Master."
"Sir Alistair."
Alistair acknowledged them with a nod. "Everyone has gathered?"
"They are waiting inside."
Ishmael instinctively drew a slow breath.
This was it.
His first dinner with his family in years.
Alistair noticed the subtle tension but said nothing immediately.
Instead, he adjusted one of Ishmael's sleeves with practiced ease, brushing away an imaginary crease.
"There."
Ishmael looked at him. "You still fuss over me Uncle Al." He said, his voice steeped with mirth
"I've earned that privilege little El." Alistair retorted causing a small smile to appear on Ishmael's face.
"…I guess you have."
The old butler stepped back, his expression returning to its usual composed professionalism.
"Whenever you're ready, Young Master."
Ishmael looked toward the towering doors one last time.
Then he nodded.
"…Let's go."
The servants pulled the massive doors open.
Warm light spilled into the corridor as the sounds of quiet conversation drifted out from within.
Without another word, Ishmael stepped forward and entered the dining hall.