Chương 134: YELLOW AND BLUE

The sitting room was a compromise between comfort and dignity. Velvet cushions in deep burgundy were arranged across a wide sofa that faced a cold fireplace. The windows overlooked the courtyard, where evening light painted the stone in shades of amber and gold. A half-empty glass of something dark and expensive rested on the side table, condensation beading on its crystal surface. Ortis lay sprawled across the sofa like a man who had long since abandoned the concept of urgency. He had not moved in the last hour.

One leg hung lazily over the armrest, the other bent slightly at the knee. His upper body sank comfortably into the cushions, one arm draped over his face, shielding his eyes from the faint glow filtering through the tall windows. Quiet. Still. Perfect. The door burst open. Wood slammed against stone with enough force to rattle the walls. Ortis did not move.

"You know," he said, voice muffled beneath his arm,"Most people knock." Heavy footsteps crossed the room.

"Where is he?" Ortis slowly shifted his arm just enough to glance at the man who had entered. Alaric Dukker stood rigid, shoulders tense, crimson eyes burning with restrained fury. His presence filled the room like a drawn blade, sharp and immediate. Ortis blinked once.

"Who?"

"Elias." Ortis lowered his arm fully now, staring at him with mild curiosity.

"Ah, Elias. Hmm, and why," he asked lazily, "would you assume your son is with me?" Alaric's jaw tightened.

"The servants saw you yesterday," he said.

"Returning with him." A pause.

"They said he looked pale. Injured. Like he'd been dragged through hell." Ortis hummed thoughtfully.

"Oh, that." He shifted slightly, adjusting his position on the sofa as if the conversation required minimal effort at best.

"I simply wanted to spend some quality time with my nephew." Alaric's expression darkened.

"What kind of'quality time' him in that state?" Ortis smirked faintly.

"The memorable kind." Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Taut.

"You shouldn't worry so much," Ortis added casually. Alaric took a step forward.

"How am I not supposed to worry?" he demanded.

"I'm his father." Ortis' eyes flicked up to meet his.

"Then you should be grateful," he said lightly, "that the boy is alive." The temperature in the room dropped. Alaric's expression hardened, something dangerous settling behind his eyes.

"Say that again." Ortis didn't. Instead, the Paragon yawned. It was a long, theatrical sound, designed to irritate.

"I'm going to ask again, where is my son?" Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Ortis did not move.

"Isn't this your territory? Isn't he your son?" He stretched his arms above his head.

"Shouldn't you know where what is?" Alaric another took a step forward.

"You should watch yourself when addressing a Lord." Ortis yawned again.

"I am equally a Lord so what's your point?"

"What kind of lord lounges about in another lord's territory without a care in the world?" Ortis smiled.

"The kind who is strong enough to do what he wants. When he wants. How he wants." Alaric glared at him. Ortis noticed and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked.

"Are you going to sack your own brother-in-law?" Alaric didn't hesitate.

"If you keep forcing my hand," he said.

"I will." That made Ortis pause. Just for a moment he regarded the Lord of Blackwood. Then slowly—deliberately—he sat up. The shift was subtle, but the room felt it. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between them.

"Oh? And what would you do if I refused to leave?" Ortis asked quietly. It spiraled outward in controlled fury, a radiant yellow current that twisted clockwise around his body, a corona of controlled power that made the air itself tremble. The windows rattled in their frames. The glass on the side table vibrated. with pressure sharp enough to crack weaker wills. Ortis laughed. It was not a cruel laugh. It was not a mocking laugh.

It was the laugh of a man who had seen something genuinely amusing and could not help himself.

"Oh really? Don't get so pig-headed with such meager Flow, Lord Alaric." Blue answered gold. Ortis' own Prescence—not all of it, not even close—but enough, surged outward faster, thicker, denser than Alaric's by an order of magnitude. The room shook. The walls groaned. Somewhere in the keep, a servant screamed. Yellow and blue, grinding against each other, sparking and crackling, creating a distortion in the air that made the light bend and the shadows stretch. The floor beneath them vibrated.

The ceiling above them shed dust. Somewhere deeper in the Keep, something cracked. The tension climbed. Higher. Another scream. Sharper. Another crack. There was crying from somwhere close by. Until— The doors burst open again.

"WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" The pressure shattered instantly. Both men retracted their Flow in the same breath. The space in the room snapped back into place. Standing in the doorway was Beth, hands planted firmly on her hips, eyes blazing with unfiltered fury. Beside her stood Elara, holding Isra close to her chest, the child crying softly. Behind them, Aina stood silently, cradling Ellaine, whose small face was scrunched in distress. The room fell quiet.

"What is wrong with you two?!" She strode into the room, her skirts swishing, her finger pointing.

"Look at what you've done! Do you know how long it took for us to calm the two girls? And when we finally got them to sleep you two started acting like children! Big, powerful, stupid children who can't have a conversation without trying to kill each other! I don't care if you're a Paragon or the bloody King of Aerthos—you do not terrorize infants with your ego!" No one spoke.

"You two are Lords," she continued.

"Act like it." Alaric and Ortis exchanged a glance. Then—almost in unison—both looked toward Elara, one pleading, one hopeful. She scoffed and turned her head away.

"Unbelievable," Beth muttered, rubbing her temple. In Aina's mind, a single thought passed quietly.

'Only Beth would dare yell at two Lords for making her daughter cry.' Beth exhaled sharply, then looked between the two men.

"What," she asked, "is so important that you felt the need to shake the entire Keep?" Alaric spoke first.

"I was asking where Elias is." Elara's gaze shifted immediately to Ortis.

"You didn't tell him?" Ortis raised an eyebrow.

"He's your husband," he said.

"Shouldn't y ou have told him?" Beth's glare snapped toward him. Ortis flinched. The reaction was instant—and surprising, even to him.

"Tch." Beth crossed her arms. Elara sighed.

"Alaric was holed up in his study all day yesterday. All night, too. I didn't want to disturb him."

"Ever the considerate wife," he muttered.

"Why can't my Sugarplum be like that?" Alaric's ears perked up.

"What was that?"

"Mind your business." Ortis leaned back again, reclaiming his spot on the sofa as if nothing had happened.

"The boy is fine." he said lazily.

"The quiet girl is there too. They're in the Node. What did you call it?..." He snapped his fingers once.

"Uh.... Aha! The Iron Forest. That the one." Alaric turned sharply toward Elara.

"You knew?"

"I found out this morning," she said quickly.

"I was looking for you to tell you, but—" She glanced at Ortis.

"You found him first." Alaric exhaled sharply.

"I'm going to get them." He turned toward the door.

"Why bother?" He stopped. Slowly turned back.

"What?" Ortis didn't even open his eyes.

"To my understanding," he said, "the Dukker family has this archaic little tradition." He tilted his head slightly.

"What do you call it again?" A pause.

"Oh right. The so-called Rite of Passage, or whatever." Alaric's expression darkened. For a moment, it looked like he might explode again. But before he could speak, Elara stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. He stilled. Ortis watched them through one half-lidded eye. Then he closed it again.

"The kid doesn't seem like he wanted to leave. Neither does the girl. They did survive a whole night there already so I say let them stay. They'll come back when they feel like it." Alaric's voice was low.

"You're not concerned about your nephew's wellbeing? At all?" Ortis opened his eye again. The emerald iris caught the evening light, glowing faintly in the dim room.

"It's because he's my nephew that I know he'll be okay." He paused. His gaze drifted toward the window.

"The other girl..." He stopped. His expression flickered—something unreadable, there and gone.

"Jamie..." Then he shrugged.

"She seems like she can keep up with him. So it's fine. They can stay as long as they want. It's a free world. Anyone can do anything as long as it's within reason." Elara's grip on Alaric's arm tightened slightly, her voice soft.

"I'm still worried about him."

"Ugh, fine." Ortis said as if it was a bother and lifted a hand lazily.

"I'll send some Soul Beasts to watch them." He waved.

"Happy?" Her gaze drifted toward the window, toward the distant horizon beyond the Keep walls.

"I just want them to come back safe."

"Of course he will. The little runt will survive." He smiled.

"He has Mellou blood flowing through his veins. And a Mellou knows no defeat."