The setting sun dipped below Rivenstone's jagged skyline, painting the burgeoning city in hues of crimson and gold. As twilight settled over one of the Ashfell Kingdom's twelve thriving cities, Novius Von Norris made his way home through streets that gradually transitioned from bustling commerce to quieter residential lanes. His mind was elsewhere, tangled in the vexing threads of an unexpected summons.
Damn that old geezer, he thought, the irritation simmering beneath his usual calm. He never changes. Calling a meeting out of nowhere. A quiet sigh escaped him, misting in the cooling evening air. Who does he think he is? He sighed again, the weight of bureaucratic nonsense settling on his shoulders. What a hassle.
So engrossed was he in his thoughts that he failed to notice the uneven paving stone. His foot caught. Balance lost, he stumbled forward with a grunt, his hands flying out instinctively to break his fall.
They landed on something soft and yielding.
Hm? His mind, still half-occupied with the day's annoyances, registered the sensation with detached curiosity. He pressed slightly, the motion unconscious. This is so soft.
A profound, deadly silence enveloped the street around him.
Slowly, Novius raised his head. His eyes met those of a young woman beneath him, her face a canvas of shock that was rapidly being painted over with pure, unadulterated fury. A dangerous aura began to radiate from her, causing the air to grow thick and heavy.
"You bastard!" she seethed, her voice trembling with outrage. "Where do you think you're touching?!"
Realization, cold and sobering, washed over him. "I'm so sorr—"
The apology died in his throat. Movement—too fast to track. A fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. Before the sting could fully register, a second blow drove into his stomach, driving the air from his lungs in a pained gasp.
Novius doubled over, dropping to one knee. Fuck, fuck, fuck! The thoughts raced, a frantic chorus beneath the wave of pain. She's out for blood!!
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand, his hands raised in placation. "Hey, listen, I'm really—"
"Sorry?" she spat, cutting him off, her aura flaring like a bonfire. "Sorry ain't gonna make up for all the squiggling and squishing you just did, you dumbfuck!"
Novius felt a cold sweat break out. "Please, pardon me, I'm so…"
BONG—BONG—BONG—
The deep, resonant toll of the town's evening bell rolled across Rivenstone, marking the late hour.
Novius's face paled. Fuck! I'm so fucking late! A vision of a very different, very familiar fury flashed in his mind. She's gonna kill me! What do I do? What do I do?
He offered a hasty, deep bow, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "Lady, I offer my most sincere apologies for my grave mistake, but…" He pivoted on his heel, desperation overriding protocol. "…I've got to ghost!"
"Hey! Get your black ass back here!"
He broke into a sprint, covering a short distance before skidding to a halt. Running won't cut it. His expression shifted from panicked to resolved. He dropped into a low crouch. The cobblestones beneath his feet cracked with a sound like snapping bone.
Then he launched himself upward
It was not a jump, but a vault. He cleared the nearest rooftop in a single, powerful arc, his form silhouetted against the crimson sky before disappearing into the maze of the city, leaving the stunned woman staring after him in open-mouthed awe.
---
He landed lightly in a district where the city's orderly streets began to gently concede to nature. Here, comfortable houses stood nestled among neighbors, but with the wild, cultivated woods and the rising foothills of Rivenstone's interior mountains serving as a dramatic backdrop. His home was among them—close enough to the community, yet positioned where the air smelled more of pine than pavement.
The house was quiet when he slipped inside. He closed the door with a soft click, leaning against it for a moment.
Good. No one is in sight.
"Welcome home, Dad!!!"
The cheerful shout shattered the silence. Novius flinched as if struck. Peering around the corner with a triumphant, impish grin was his son, Maximus.
From the direction of the kitchen, a voice floated, deceptively light. "Oi, Novius. You're late.
I'm fucked. He turned, a strained smile on his face. "Hey, dear."
Arielle stood there, her silver hair tied back, her arms crossed. Her gaze was calm, but Novius knew the storm that could hide beneath such a surface. "Where have you been?"
"Well, you see… umm, I was at…" he stammered, his mind scrambling for a plausible, non-lethal explanation.
She stepped closer. And sniffed the air once.
Her neutral expression froze, then solidified into something far more dangerous. The placid aura around her shimmered and began to rise, a visible distortion in the air. "Why," she asked, her voice dropping to a deadly calm, "do you have a woman's scent on you?"
"Well, ummm…" He took an involuntary step back. "I kinda got… tangled with a lady on my way home."
"Tangled?" A smile touched her lips, but it held no warmth. "Ain't that cute?"
"Eh? I didn't mean it that way! I—"
"Save it!"
"Eh?"
"Stay still."
"Hey. Hey! Hey! Hey! Wait! Hold up!"
Her form blurred
BAAAAM!!!
The world dissolved into a symphony of thuds, crashes, and pained grunts before fading mercifully to black.
---
Light and sensation returned gradually, coalescing into the warm, inviting scene of the family dining room. The table was laden with steaming dishes—a rich stew, crusty bread, roasted vegetables. Maximus sat staring at the feast, drooling slightly.
"Dig in, boys," Arielle said pleasantly, as if the preceding violence had been nothing more than a particularly enthusiastic greeting.
"Thank you for the food!" Novius and Maximus chorused, the boy diving in with gusto, the man moving with a slight, careful stiffness.
A few minutes of comfortable silence passed, broken only by the clink of cutlery. Novius leaned back, a cup of deep red wine in his hand. He sighed, the sound carrying the weight of the day into the peaceful room.
Arielle glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly. "What's wrong, hun?"
"Tensions between the Houses are escalating," he said, his voice low and laced with a concern that went beyond the domestic.
Her eyes widened. "I've heard rumors of a possible coup. Do you think it's true?"
"I fear it is." His gaze turned grim, fixed on some point beyond the walls of their home. "House Libur is stirring up trouble, and some Houses are more willing to collaborate with them than others."
"What about us?" Worry threaded through her voice. "Our family is aligned with one of the Houses, but you've always kept us out of the power struggles."
"I have." His jaw set with resolute determination. "And I intend to keep it that way. But that doesn't mean we're not affected by the political landscape. We need to be prepared for any eventuality."
"Do you think the Houses will go to war?" The question hung in the air, heavy with dread.
"I hope not." He swirled the wine in his cup, watching the dark liquid cling to the glass. "But it's a possibility. House Libur is pushing for chaos, and some are all too willing to embrace it." He paused, his eyes growing distant, seeing threats unseen. "But what I'm worried about is them. They are making their move."
Arielle's concern deepened, mirroring his own. "And what about the other Houses? Are they prepared to defend the hamlets if need be?"
"The Houses are always prepared to defend their interests." Novius's expression was grim. "But with the ongoing conflicts, I fear some may be more willing to do nothing than risk their own standing.
Arielle opened her mouth, determination flashing in her eyes. "What's going to be the out—"
"I'll be heading out for a bit." Novius stood, cutting her off, his movements decisive.
She studied him for a moment before nodding slowly. "It should be brief."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be quick."
---
The woods began just beyond his backyard, thickening quickly into a mountainous landscape, complimented by moonlight and the deep shadows of ancient pines
High on a windswept cliff that overlooked the landscape, two figures waited.
One of the figures breaks the silence.
Paragon yawned, his voice lazy. "Man, this is boring
The other, Whisper, didn't move from his post at the cliff's edge. His eyes, enhanced by the perceptual field of his Farsight ability, were locked on the distant speck of a house. "Shut the fuck up."
Paragon's grin was lazy. "My bad. Did I make you mad?"
"Don't flatter yourself, my boy."
Below, the door of Novius's house opened. A figure stepped out.
Whisper's posture shifted almost imperceptibly. "I've got movement outside. Visual on the target."
Novius paused on his doorstep, looking up at the star-strewn sky. He sighed, a whisper of sound lost to the distance. "Man, what a drag."
Whisper's focus intensified, "Now then…"
Five thousand meters of treacherous, forested mountain slope separated them—a distance that would take a skilled climber the better part of an hour to traverse.
Novius turned his head. Not a casual glance toward the mountains, but a direct, pinpoint look at their exact position on the cliff face.
Whisper's breath hitched in his throat. There's no way…
"Found ya," Novius's voice stated, calm and clear, carrying across the impossible divide.
Then he vanished.
Whisper's eyes widened behind his concentration. He swept the entire approach with his Farsight, scouring every trail, every shadow, every possible path up the mountain.
Nothing.
"He's gone!" Whisper hissed, disbelief cracking his normally detached demeanor.
Paragon straightened up. "Huh? What do you mean, gone?"
"I don't have visuals on him!"
"That's because you're looking in the wrong direction."
The voice came from directly behind them.
Both men whirled as one.
Novius stood at the edge of the clearing, having appeared without sound, without a disturbance in the air. He was already walking toward them, each step casual, measured, and carrying with it a wave of dense, intimidating pressure that made the very moonlight seem to bend around his form.
A slow grin spread across his face as he closed the distance, his emerald eyes glinting in the mountain dark.
"Yoo."