Just one more try, his mind told him.
Unfortunately, Flint's body seemed to disagree as it fell to the floor, utterly exhausted
"Damn it all."
He lay in the middle of his courtyard garden, which once had a dazzling variety of flowers, now being strangled by weeds and rot. And right in front of him stood a striking statue, made to honor the man who began his family's lineage, the Valerius.
While he always found the statue rather creepy, Flint was glad he didn't demolish it in search of any treasures his ancestor might've left behind inside of it.
Well, Flint did try to tear it open. The damn thing just refused to crack.
To his close right was a peculiar looking slab of stone. Behind him was the entrance to his Lineage's estate, It stood four stories tall, with far too many rooms and hallways that led nowhere. If Flint ever encountered the grave of the architect who designed it, he'd dig up his body and kill the damned man once more.
Flint stood up, running his fingers through his braided hair before glancing at his reflection in a nearby pond. You'd hardly believe Flint was part of a prestigious bloodline. His eyes were sunken in and his skin was reminiscent of copper.
With a few hairs poking out of his chin, you'd think he was much older than he really was, with Flint just having his 16th birthday last week.
As he checked his wrist for the time, he realized his unwanted visitor would be arriving any minute now.
He held out a little bit of hope though, maybe his guest would croak and die on the way here, but things rarely went his way. Before long, he felt that distinct buzz in the air, shaking his bones and causing the pressure on his soul to almost bring him to his knees.
To his right, the air and the peculiar stone slab began to shimmer, before a fierce light engulfed the area. Then, as if, appearing out of thin air, a hulking figure stood. It went still for a moment before opening its mouth.
"Flint, to think it's already been a full season. I've missed you, kiddo."
The man looked around the estate. "It's rather empty. Did your servants finally wise up and flee?" He wrinkled his nose. "Probably due to that smell. Boy, when was the last time you've seen a bar of soap?"
The voice came from a middle-aged man who looked like he could arm wrestle a bear and win. Hell, he probably was a bear, with all that body hair.
"Bastard." Flint cleared his throat. "I mean, Thyran Lord Norvall. And about the servants – I fired them all. Useless lot."
"Really? You're not that rash. Tell me the real reason why."
After seeing Flint had no intention to respond, Norvall paused.
He cocked his head as if listening for something, before bursting into a deep chuckle. "Boy, were you trying to access your Bloodline?"
Norvall smirked and leaned in closer than Flint was comfortable with, the fish on his breath almost making him gag. "Ain't you gonna tell me if you succeeded?"
"That.. doesn't matter right now. Besides, I haven't even Hollowed out my soul yet. If I were already able to control my soul essence, I'd be a prodigy only seen once in a hundred years."
Norvall let out a disappointed grunt.
"Now to more important business." Flint took a deep breath. "I don't have the tribute ready. I just seem to have misplaced it. I promise you, within a week I'll have it."
A lie of course.
A tinge of pity flashed in Norvall's face.
"No can do, kiddo. The higher-ups have made their decision." His expression turned grim. "I didn't want to be the one telling you this. But this is your final chance, kid. If you're not able to put that tribute in my hand right now, the Thyrans will renounce all their support for you. Plus, there's also your family debt to consider. We will confiscate all your belongings, including this estate."
"What sort of bullshit is that? You can't confiscate this estate."
"Ay, we couldn't. But now that yer grandpa has gone mindless, there are no Vessels amongst your family. The government decided yer resources would be better off with us."
Those words hit Flint harder than the soul pressure from earlier. "It's not even been a year and you're already throwing him to the curb? He can.. he can still make a recovery."
"Not my decision kiddo."
Flint groaned. He wouldn't have agreed to the Thyran's offer of protection if his father's old vultures weren't constantly circling him. While those brutes couldn't outright kill him, their impediments were a large reason why the Valerius finances were in shambles.
And keeping this estate was important to him for various reasons, but the biggest one was to gain the blessing of his ancestors. Well, mainly one ancestor.
He looked over at the crumbling statue of his ancient predecessor, Valerius.
The faceless statue stood tall in the middle of the garden, holding a sword towards the sky, as if challenging the heavens. Engraved in the hilt was a sparkling amethyst gemstone. The entire statue radiated with a spiritual presence. But it wasn't the same as the soul pressure Norvall leaked when he arrived via the waypoint.
No, this was more comforting, soothing almost – like a hot bath.
Weird. He had never felt any type of soul energy from the statue before, and it didn't seem like Norvall sensed anything.
Norvall broke the silence. "There's a third option, but you'd do best to forget about it."
The gangly teenager eyed Norvall. "What's the third option?"
Norvall's eyes turned downward. "Just give up the estate, Flint. Go live a normal life off what remains in yer treasury."
The boy stood there, his nails digging into his palm as he clenched his hand.
"Norvall. You know I'll never budge on this."
Norvall stared at him with a look that would make any man wet their pants.
Eventually, the man slumped over, defeated. "If you die Falintin, it wasn't my fault."