An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

"That's good to hear, Little Romeon. I hope my daughter wasn't in any trouble. Was she?"

The Duke's gentle voice, sounding more and more like warm spring waters, made Romeon shiver inwardly. His insistence on calling him Little Romeon had always left a bad taste in his mouth, and it had never changed even now. Yet his golden eyes glowed with fervor despite himself as he watched his bumbling self somehow mutter words that sounded alien to the man he had known himself to have become in these short few years.

"No, no... Rena has been as sweet as she could be, and I would never dream of complaining about her."

Even as sordid images of her ample curves, the feel of her small tongue against the back of his own, and the sweet scent of her body and sweat flashed within his mind, making him shift uncomfortably beneath the knowing gaze of the Duke.

This seemed to please the Duke. His aged gray skin rippled slightly with a faint chuckle that managed to sound mischievous despite the image he gave off, and lines of age revealed themselves on his handsome, gentle face. It was a sight that would have made any son-in-law being stared down by their father-in-law embarrassed, especially after two long days of blissful carnal pleasure—Romeon might have felt the same if only he shared the sentiment.

His mind and body might as well have been separate entities at the moment, for while his body showed the reactions expected of someone in his situation, his mind was looking at how weird things were turning out and the new perspective of the Duke he was getting to see.

The Duke continued to speak his words, seemingly normal, and his gaze was just as gentle; everything was just too... casual. He had expected something far worse than what was taking place here, and that is why he could not hold down the feeling that things were not as simple as they seemed at the moment.

"I know my daughter can be a little—perhaps a lot—to handle. But I believe, with your love, she will eventually warm up to you. It's all about giving her the time she needs to truly accept you as her husband."

Only a few short moments had passed since the Duke had begun speaking to a version of Romeon that he himself couldn't quite identify. And yet, to Romeon, it felt like ages were slipping by. This—this conversation—was somehow one of the most grueling things he'd ever endured.

There had been horrors on the battlefield, where monsters might end your life in a heartbeat, where simple glances at those abominations would drive many to madness, never to return to the world of the sane. He had seen many more take their own lives simply because they could not handle the pressure that came with fighting against the forces of nature that were the darkness. There was the fight beneath oppressive darkness, as warriors sought out the light that would never shine—until every last bit of filth had been purged, at least during the Surge. There was the horror of nobility and their endless games veiled and layered in so many schemes that troves of tomes would have to be compiled on the treachery that was hidden beneath the soft smiles they gave to each other every waking morning. The cruelty in men's hearts, the greed and sin that lay festering within their hearts, and the tyranny of poverty that came with being born a commoner. He had faced many things in his life that should have made this seem like nothing.

Even his Awakening had been more terrifying than anything he'd ever known—mostly because it stripped all meaning from the things he thought he understood.

And yet, this—this moment right here—touched on a horror of its own, one he couldn't even name.

It was as if his instincts were trying to pull him to safety, guiding and forcing his subconscious actions, leading him to state that his body did one thing while his mind did another, but from what? From a gentle voice? From the warmth in those unnatural eyes that should have been brown and yet gleamed with a frosty blue that managed to still hold the warmth of flames? Every time the Duke looked at him, Romeon forgot what he was thinking.

But the feeling never left. It stuck to the back of his mind as his instincts guided his body to do what was expected of him, leaving gaps that could be taken advantage of.

And that made it far worse than any battlefield. His body did not trust his mind to keep them safe, and this was far worse insult than any of what the foolish butler had done.

Then there was a shift in the direction in which he thought the conversation would go.

"Have you ever wondered what this world truly is, Romeon? Have you ever questioned why the sky does not appear without the presence of the Eternal Pillar? Why does the Surge exist? Why our world is the way it is—surrounded on all sides by a Darkness that lurks, waiting for something we cannot see? Something we do not hold knowledge of?"

The Duke's words rolled slowly, each syllable rippling through the air. They vibrated, imbued with a strength that made Romeon stiffen in place, caught in rapt attention.

The shift was subtle and almost vague, but his instincts picked up upon it like the early signs of winter deep within the days of summer.

Even now, he couldn't help but notice: the Duke had never once offered him a seat.

He had been standing since the very beginning. On the surface, it meant nothing. But beneath—within the subtle currents of their interaction—it meant everything. Vague hints at something that he should have seen from the very beginning.

And yet, the Duke's words were a tide that swept away all his thoughts. There was no room left in Romeon's mind for subtlety or posture, only the weight of that question.

"Have you ever asked yourself any of these questions, Romeon?"

The Duke's voice drew him from his thoughts. When Romeon looked into his eyes, he saw a rare seriousness there—so stark it seemed to warp the room around them. He felt compelled to answer. And so he did. His instincts were working in overdrive so that the body would not fail them all. They knew something he did not, and that grated on his mind.

"Yes, Father-in-law... I have questioned the mysteries of our world. More than once, I thought I had the answers—only for the world to show me that everything I knew, everything I believed, meant next to nothing at all."

The words flowed from him as though someone had excavated them from the depths of his subconscious.

And that—that—made him even more wary of the force that lay behind the Duke's eyes.

But the Duke seemed satisfied, a quiet contentment forming in the lines of his face. Romeon had the unsettling sense that he had answered perfectly.

"Then I know that my hopes in you were not wasted, Romeon. For in truth, all these years, I remained skeptical of my decision to take you into my fold—to give you a name under my roof. But over time, you have proven to me what a wise investment you truly were."

The words were perhaps the most honest that had been said since the beginning, for his mind had picked up upon this fact. And while they were sharp and almost insulting, Romeon breathed a sigh of relief within his mind.

This had shown him that, at least on the surface, there was still room for change and maneuver and that not everything would have to be a battlefield of wits when it came down to it.

If the Duke was willing to allow a rare moment of honesty and truth to show through his words, then there was still hope.

"We have much to talk about, Romeon... so much to talk about."

"The world you thought you knew is even far more strange than what you would ever begin to imagine, and you becoming a walker and shedding the mortal roots was the very first step."

"It is time I showed you the immensity of the earth you walk over and the heavens above you."

Romeon watched as the duke stood, and if before he felt the duke was towering, then his action had taken that meaning to a whole new level.

Roemoen was tall and quite large, and while this was even more magnified after his awakening, he was still nothing compared to the beast of a man who was the duke.

Standing at the height of something that seemed like eight feet tall, with rippling waves of wild, withering gold hair, with skin of dense grey, littered with faint scripts of blue silver that seemed just a shy off those of his daughter, and his warm sapphire eyes to match.

He was Reynold Northflame, The longstanding Duke of the Northern Cardinal and Defender of Astrea.