novelraw Chapter 123: The Prodigal Son’s Return [4]
Chapter 123: The Prodigal Son’s Return [4]
Marcus felt a sudden chill run down his spine. The chill had nothing to do with the morning air.
He gulped inwardly.
A wave of pure fear crashed over him. He suddenly remembered the terrifying reason for his journey.
He had been summoned. The letter had been a demand, not a request.
’Require your presence promptly. Do not delay.’
Those words echoed in Marcus’s mind like a death sentence.
And he had delayed. He had delayed for days. He had arrived looking like a bloody vagrant.
Marcus stood frozen on the steps. His mind began to race with terrifying possibilities.
He started to fantasize about the things that might happen to him inside those walls.
His brain presented him with a horrific menu of noble punishments.
At best, he could be banished.
He imagined his father standing in his study. The Viscount would strip him of his title and cast him out of the Aldridge family forever.
He would be thrown out into the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on his back. He would become a nameless wanderer.
It would be a miserable life. But at least he would be alive.
However, noble families rarely let embarrassments simply walk away. They preferred to hide their shame.
Marcus swallowed hard. He thought of the next possibility.
He might get captured and imprisoned.
The Aldridge Estate had deep cellars. They had dungeons designed for holding traitors and spies.
Marcus imagined himself locked in a dark, damp tower cell. He would be forgotten by the world.
He would spend his days staring at stone walls. The servants would slide stale bread under a heavy iron door.
He would rot away in silence to protect the family reputation. It was a fate worse than a quick death.
Then, his mind jumped to the most terrifying option.
Worst of all, he might get executed.
The Viscount possessed the authority of life and death within his territory. A treasonous or hopelessly corrupt son could be eliminated.
Marcus pictured a public execution in the courtyard. The guards would drag him to a wooden block. The entire staff would watch him lose his head.
Or perhaps it would be a silent execution.
He imagined a cup of poisoned wine at dinner. He imagined assassins slipping into his bedroom during the dark of night.
A sudden "illness" would claim the eldest son. Theo would become the sole heir. The family honor would be preserved.
Cold sweat prickled on Marcus’s forehead. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his healed ribs.
He looked back at his companions.
He saw Elara looking around nervously. He felt the dragon girl breathing softly against his neck.
Marcus let out a bitter, silent laugh in his mind.
’And here I am trying to give shelter to others,’ Marcus said to himself.
He felt a deep sense of cosmic irony.
’I am trying to save these people,’ he thought. ’While I am not even sure about my own life.’
He had dragged them out of a slave market to offer them a safe haven.
Now, he was leading them straight into a potential execution ground.
He was a terrible savior.
Marcus shifted his gaze. He looked down at the little girl standing by his leg.
Ventessa stared back at him with her empty black eyes. She did not look intimidated by the grand estate or the rude butler.
Marcus felt a tiny sliver of comfort.
’Well,’ Marcus thought grimly. ’At least I have her if things go south.’
If the Viscount ordered the guards to seize him, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Ventessa could flatten this entire manor if she wanted to. She had destroyed an entire courtyard of armed men with a single breath.
Marcus reflected on his relationship with the ancient spirit.
When they were in the forest, he had been desperate. He had been planning his words carefully.
He had been thinking of somehow manipulating Ventessa. He wanted to trick her or bribe her to make her come with him.
He had prepared a whole speech about safety and convenience.
But luckily, for some odd and entirely unknown reason, she had decided to come with him on her own.
She had accepted the silly deal for chocolate truffles. It was too easy.
Marcus found it highly suspicious.
Why was an ancient, powerful wind spirit following a weak human?
Why did she agree to protect him and hide the dragon girl?
Spirits were known to be fickle and uncaring in moat fictions.
Ventessa herself had admitted she did not care about saving strangers.
Yet, here she was. She was standing on his doorstep holding a stuffed bear.
Marcus wondered if she had a hidden agenda. Was there something in the Aldridge estate she wanted?
Was she planning to use him for some ancient, incomprehensible goal?
He stared at her blank face. He tried to read her intentions, but it was impossible.
Ultimately, Marcus decided to drop the subject.
He kept his questions and doubts strictly to himself.
He had absolutely no room to complain right now. He was a beggar in this situation.
When a man is not sure if he will live to see tomorrow, he does not question his heavily armed bodyguard.
He needed her power to survive the wrath of his father.
Marcus took a slow, deep breath. He gathered whatever courage he had left.
He stood up straighter and adjusted the weight of the sleeping child on his back.
He looked past Alfred into the dark, sweeping foyer of the manor.
"Alright," Marcus told the butler. His voice was steady now.
He took a step forward onto the threshold.
"Take me to father," Marcus commanded.
Alfred gave a stiff, formal nod. The butler turned on his heel to lead the way inside.
Marcus took another step into the grand entrance hall. The marble floor was cold beneath his dirty boots.
But as Marcus was about to go meet his father, a sound shattered the quiet morning.
A loud, booming shout came from the top of the big staircase.
"MARCUS!"
The voice echoed violently off the high ceilings and stone walls. It was a voice accustomed to giving orders and demanding absolute obedience.
Marcus froze in his tracks. His blood ran cold.
It was the Viscount.
Marcus looked up toward the grand landing above.
His father was calling out to him. And there was no mistaking the tone.
Raw, unfiltered anger was completely visible in his voice.