Arkiz had barely made it three steps down the corridor after his lecture before a maid came jogging around the corner, a little breathless and wide-eyed.
"Young Master Arkiz! The Patriarch is calling for you. He said… uh… 'immediately'."
He blinked. "Is this a real 'immediately' or one of those 'I miss my son and want someone to whine to' immediately?"
The maid turned pink and cleared her throat. "He... looked serious."
Arkiz sighed. "Right. Time to be emotionally blackmailed."
________
The walk across the estate was familiar by now — polished aether-laced tiles, whitewood pillars, the occasional floral shimmer of a magical ward humming lazily above door frames. He passed a few guards and house staff who all gave polite bows. The sun was still shining — a miracle in itself — and the scent of citrus aether-blooms drifted faintly through the halls.
Finally, he reached his father's office.
The doors were open, which meant it wasn't anything too formal. He peeked in.
The study was large, with high ceilings and arched windows that spilled golden light across rows of old scrolls, maps, and a few very expensive-looking trinkets probably stolen—I mean, traded—from elven diplomats.
There, slouched dramatically in a cushioned chair at the center, was his father.
Raen Veyr Ryla.
Jet-black hair falling just past his jaw. Eyes dark and piercing, like he could read your report card through your soul. Clean-shaven, dressed in nothing but a black button-down shirt rolled to the elbows and dark shorts — vacation-core Patriarch look.
He looked like he was in his late twenties.
He was actually 98.
The man was a Tier 5 powerhouse — one of the strongest people on the entire planet. His lifespan had already stretched past the nine-hundred mark. In lifespan years, he was basically still in school.
And sitting beside him, elegant as ever and blissfully ignoring the drama, was Aunt Selis. Her light-blue hair cascaded over her shoulder in soft waves, golden eyes scanning documents with practiced ease. Soft pink-blue scales shimmered faintly at her collarbone where her gown didn't cover, and she looked like she'd just stepped out of a fairytale... and into administrative hell.
Raen looked up as Arkiz stepped in — and immediately sighed like he'd just taken a fatal wound.
"Oh good, you came. My only hope... My poor back can't take this anymore."
Arkiz stared.
Raen flopped dramatically against the backrest, one hand over his forehead. "I'm old now, Arky. Withered. Frail. I'm ready to pass on the torch. Only... there's no one to pass it to."
Selis didn't look up. She just quietly chuckled.
Arkiz blinked. "Seriously?"
Raen opened one eye and gave him a deeply pitiful look. "You're the only child who still talks to me."
"That's because the others know how to dodge better."
"Seriously, Arky. None of your siblings want this job. Leiran ran off to train with your grandmother and doesn't even write letters. Your eldest sister—well, I haven't seen her since the war with the Nullborns flared up again. And don't even get me started on Maerin—she practically escaped to Ignisar the moment she graduated. Said something about rock formations and inner peace."
Selis chimed in with a laugh. "She said she preferred rocks to paperwork."
Raen groaned. "I miss when my kids were small and still believed I was cool."
Arkiz snorted. "That was never a phase."
Raen straightened, clasping his hands together. "But you, my dear son, you're different. I can see the spark in your eyes. The leadership. The charisma. The hair."
Arkiz raised a brow. "You insulted the hair last week."
"That was before I saw it in the sunlight. Majestic."
Selis finally looked up from the scrolls. "You said the same thing about your favorite horse."
"That horse was magnificent, Selis."
Arkiz groaned and slumped into a chair across the desk. "Dad. I love you, really. But I am not taking over the family. Ever."
Raen narrowed his eyes. "And why not?"
"Because my dream isn't to babysit nobles and fill out trade paperwork with the Wood Elves."
"Hey—those trade agreements are very exciting. Did you know the Sylvaran negotiators started using edible ink last cycle? Made the whole treaty ceremony taste like cinnamon."
Arkiz blinked. "...That's actually kind of cool."
Selis stifled a laugh behind her hand.
Raen leaned in, his tone suddenly exaggeratedly serious. "So. What's your grand plan, then? Run off into the sunset? Be a wandering bard? A pirate?"
"Nope," Arkiz said with a small smirk. "I'm gonna be a Stardweller."
Raen froze.
Selis raised a brow.
"Like... the official kind?, you do know they are just glorified adventurers, right?" Raen asked slowly.
"Yep. Node-wide clearance. Relic hunts. Dungeon runs. Maybe even discover a lost world or two."
Raen slumped again.
"Great," he muttered. "First the battle maniac daughter that has some personal vendetta against the Nullborns, now the ruin son."
Arkiz shrugged. "You wanted prodigies. You got 'em."
"You do realize what that means, right? Endless danger, near-death situations, long months away from home, and... and…"
Raen paused dramatically.
"…no time to attend family brunch."
Arkiz cracked a grin. "You hate family brunch."
"I do! But that's not the point!"
Selis chimed in at last, her voice smooth and amused. "Let him go, Raen. He's got the same wild itch you did at that age."
Raen gave her a look. "Yes, and I almost died twelve times."
"Character building," she replied sweetly.
_______
Arkiz leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "I'll still visit, you know. And maybe someday, when I'm old and tired, I'll pass the torch. Probably to Lynea."
Raen looked horrified. "She tried to feed a gemstone to a turtle this morning."
"She's got potential."
Selis laughed outright.
Raen sighed once more, defeated but still dramatic. "Fine. Fine. Go chase relics. Just… try not to make me a grandfather before I hit 200."
Arkiz made a face. "Dad, I'm eight."
Raen blinked. "And yet somehow still more responsible than your older siblings."
Arkiz stood with a mock salute. "Well, good talk. I'll leave you to your cinnamon treaties."
As Arkiz stood to leave, brushing imaginary dust from his shirt, Raen called out one last time—this time, with less sarcasm.
"Before you go running off to draw dungeon maps in your head, go see Commander Vaeril. He's expecting you."
Arkiz paused in the doorway. "Uncle Vaeril?"
Raen nodded. "He's free this afternoon. And you've been slacking. Time to start your real training — the kind that hurts."
Arkiz's grin faded. "Oh. That Vaeril."
Selis offered a sweet smile from behind her stack of paperwork. "Try not to cry too loud, dear. It echoes through the halls."