Rune of Immortality

Jacob stepped out of the room, the wooden door closing behind him with a soft thud that echoed through the corridor like a punctuation mark on his lingering thoughts. He moved downstairs, hands buried in his pockets, face tight with frustration, and his mind buzzing with restless noise.

'Why did he even show up?' he wondered bitterly. 'He knows how big my family is. If I didn't need him as an excuse to avoid Father, there's no way he'd ever be allowed in.'

The front door loomed ahead, and Jacob paused there for a while, watching the stillness outside through the frosted glass. The air was thick with spring's distant humidity, and the silence of the estate grounds gave his thoughts space to fester. Then, in the distance, he spotted movement, dark hair bouncing, boots slapping against the path, a grin already plastered across the boy's face before he even arrived.

Arthur jogged up, slightly winded, but smiling like nothing could possibly go wrong in the world. "Told you I'd come over later," he said cheerfully, hands on his hips as if he'd just completed a workout instead of visiting the most intimidating noble estate in the entire city.

Jacob stared at him blankly for a moment before arching an eyebrow. "Did you walk here?" he asked, his voice dry, almost disbelieving. "Where's your carriage?"

Arthur shrugged. "Exercise," he replied, as if that one word explained everything, and flashed another boyish smile.

Jacob sighed through his nose and turned around, opening the door wider. "Fine. Come in. We'll stay in my room." He led the way, not in any particular hurry, occasionally glancing back to make sure Arthur was keeping up. His footsteps echoed softly along the marble floors, each step a little louder than the last as his unease crept up again.

Once they reached the room, Jacob entered first, waited for Arthur to follow, then shut the door behind them with a quiet click. He walked over to his desk and sat down, the chair creaking slightly beneath him as he leaned back. The soft flicker of a candle cast lazy shadows on the wall, and the faint scent of parchment and ink lingered in the air.

Arthur stood near the center of the room, glancing around with a curious expression. "How does your room have less stuff than mine?" he asked eventually, as if the silence had become unbearable.

Jacob looked up from his desk and scanned the room with calm detachment. The space was spartan, bare walls, a single bed, an old chair, and his overused desk covered with books and scribbled notes. Most of the objects he used to own had been sold off, sacrificed for the expensive bottles of Knight's Glory he'd needed. Even before that, though, Jacob had never been one for excess.

"I don't really need a lot," he replied simply, then turned his gaze on Arthur and held it there. "Why are you really here?"

Arthur hesitated, rubbed the back of his head, and gave a sheepish grin. "That obvious, huh?" he chuckled awkwardly. "Well… I need some help with my summary. Rune theory, specifically. I'm not great at that kind of thing."

Jacob nodded slowly. That made more sense than him just dropping by to "hang out." But still, it didn't sit quite right. "Couldn't you have asked whoever you're staying with?" he asked, tone mild but pointed.

Arthur's grin faltered slightly, and his voice dropped to something quieter almost hesitant. "There's… another thing."

Jacob felt the air change. He sat up straighter, sensing the shift immediately. "What is it?" he asked, suddenly more alert.

Arthur lowered his eyes and took a breath, as if preparing himself. "Whisper contacted me after I got home."

The words landed like a hammer to Jacob's chest. For a moment, he didn't say anything. His heartbeat quickened, his mouth went dry, and all the warmth seemed to drain from his limbs. Whisper? Just hearing the name sent cold ripples through him. He stared at Arthur, unable to form a coherent thought.

Arthur, seeing the fear in Jacob's eyes, sighed and continued. "It seems the results of our aspect test leaked… and so did the fact that I'm from the Slautre House." He crossed the room and sat down heavily on the bed, shoulders hunched. "They can't contact you or Abel, obviously. You're too protected. But me? I'm just some adopted kid living with a merchant. Maybe they think I've got a grudge against the royal family because of what they did to my bloodline."

He looked down, then added quietly, "They asked me to join."

Jacob blinked. It was like a trap had been sprung right in front of him. Whisper, Eterna's most feared underground cult, a group of religious fanatics devoted to the forbidden gods had approached Arthur. If this got out, the boy wouldn't just be punished. He'd be executed. No questions asked.

"They're insane," Jacob murmured under his breath, voice heavy with dread. "They're desperate."

Whisper had always been secretive, known for raising their followers from childhood, conditioning them with doctrine and devotion until they were unshakable zealots. This… this was something else. A direct recruitment? It meant something had changed.

Arthur looked at him, voice thin. "What should I do?" His hands trembled slightly, and there was real fear in his eyes. "If I tell the government, I'll be executed after the investigation. If I reject them, they'll come for me. And if I say yes… I betray the kingdom."

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Jacob's expression darkened. "This is why power without backing is dangerous," he muttered. He understood it now. Arthur was vulnerable. He and Abel had support from the most powerful houses in Eterna no one would dare approach them. But Arthur was alone.

Jacob's eyes flicked toward the door. Belemir would've heard everything, and worse his father, Lord Jeremiah, could listen to any part of this house whenever he wanted, unless Jacob specifically sealed the space with intent.

He stood up. "We need to speak with my father."

Arthur hesitated, clearly afraid, but he nodded. The fear in his eyes hadn't lessened, and Jacob didn't blame him. Being on the wrong end of Lord Jeremiah's gaze was no small thing.

They left the room. Belemir was already waiting just down the hall, his face carved from stone. "The lord and lady, Sir Alex, and the rest are waiting," he said, voice low and grim.

Jacob walked forward, pulling Arthur along with him, thoughts spiraling in every direction. Honestly, he didn't feel particularly attached to Arthur, they'd only known each other a few days but the situation was larger than one boy. If Whisper was moving openly, targeting new talent, then something in the kingdom had shifted. That was dangerous.

They arrived at the double doors of the meeting room, and with a deep breath, Jacob pushed them open.

The table was long and made of dark oak, polished to a mirror finish. At the head sat Lord Jeremiah, imposing and silent, and next to him Lady Hera, poised and cold-eyed. To Jeremiah's right sat Alex, fully armored, every inch a knight. To Hera's left sat Isaac, his pale skin and shadowed eyes giving him a permanently ill look despite his youth. Beside him sat his twin, Isa, whose long hair draped over her shoulder like silk, her expression calm but alert.

To Alex's right sat Henry, slouched back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, the usual unlit cigar perched between his lips like a signature accessory. His posture was casual, lazy even, but Jacob could see the strain hidden beneath the relaxed mask his jaw was set tightly, and his fingers drummed ever so slightly against the armrest, betraying the tension that hung thick in the air. In truth, the whole room felt like a taut wire stretched to its limit; every face was grim, every movement careful, as if the very air might snap under the pressure.

Jacob felt Arthur tremble beside him. Not visibly, not enough to draw attention, but he could feel it in the subtle shifts of the boy's body, the shallow rise and fall of his chest. The tension was unbearable.

Jeremiah didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Arthur, is it?" he said, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. "How exactly did Whisper contact you?"

Arthur flinched. He opened his mouth once, then again, and finally managed to stammer, "Th-they... they sent a l-letter to my house."

There was a beat of silence before Isaac made a soft, almost dismissive noise, something between a sigh and a scoff. All eyes shifted toward him. "From what I've been hearing," he began, his voice steady but grave, "Whisper's grown more aggressive. They've stopped hiding entirely in some areas started preaching openly in towns that barely have any guards posted. Their numbers are swelling."

Isaac, along with his twin sister Isa, worked within the intelligence network under the Skydrid name. Short of Jeremiah himself, few in the family were better informed.

Alex was the next to speak, arms crossed over the chest of his silver-lined armor. "The prince has been overwhelmed lately. Apparently, the king tasked him with sorting out a string of smaller issues all of which seem to trace back to Whisper. They're tying his hands, slowly."

It was rare for Alex to speak up unless it mattered. As the second knight of Prince Peter himself, his access to court politics and confidential information placed him far above the average noble, and when he chose to speak, people listened.

Jeremiah didn't respond immediately. He leaned back slightly, fingertips steepled beneath his chin, his eyes fixed on the edge of the table as he thought. He looked the part of a lord well-accustomed to balancing the fate of lives against necessity.

Then Henry leaned forward, cigar now held between two fingers, his easygoing mask replaced by something far colder. "And how exactly did you get the letter?" he asked.

Gone was the cheerful, half-lazy older brother Jacob had grown up watching swagger through the halls; this was the version people in court called Actor, a man known for switching personas as easily as changing clothes. Around family he was lighthearted, jovial but when he worked, there was no mistaking the steel underneath.

Arthur gulped, his face pale and sheen of sweat forming at his temples. "They d-dropped it at... at my window. In the middle of the night."

He could barely breathe, and Jacob didn't blame him. Being stared down by some of the most dangerous knights in Eterna, even when they were holding back, would've made anyone feel like they were suffocating.

Isa, sitting beside Isaac, finally broke her silence. "We should just inform the king," she said, her voice clipped and practical. "Then the matter's out of our hands."

Her tone suggested efficiency, not cruelty, she was simply being logical.

But Lady Hera turned to her with a disapproving glance. "And if we do that, the poor boy dies for no reason."

There was a pause. Isa blinked, then tilted her head slightly toward Isaac. It was subtle, but her entire demeanor shifted, her stern poise gave way to something softer, almost childlike. She turned to her twin, her voice quieter, more curious than before. "Why would they kill him?"

Despite being composed and often blunt, Isa's attachment to Isaac was obvious to anyone who spent more than a few minutes observing them. When in doubt, she always looked to him first.

Isaac sighed, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Because he's a distant descendant of the Slautre household."

The temperature in the room dropped noticeably. No one spoke. Arthur's breath caught in his throat, and Jacob could hear the faint click of his teeth as they clattered together from sheer fear. When Jacob turned to look at him, Arthur looked ghostly, drained of color, frozen in place, a boy who'd just been reminded of how disposable he was in the eyes of the world.

Something stirred in Jacob at the sight. A dull, sharp thing buried beneath his skin, something uncomfortable. Guilt, maybe. Or something close to it. He didn't know Arthur well, two days of knowing someone didn't make you friends but watching him tremble like that, watching him shrink under the weight of a crime he hadn't even committed, felt... wrong.

Jacob stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm. "I think it would be best if you all continued the discussion without us. You may have to talk about matters that... shouldn't be heard."

He didn't wait for permission. He simply reached out, took Arthur by the arm, and turned toward the door.

No one stopped them. If the family had wanted to, they could've frozen him in place with a word. The fact that no one did meant they were letting him go.

The two boys stepped out into the hallway and let the heavy door fall shut behind them. The moment it closed, Jacob slumped against the wall, and Arthur followed suit. Neither spoke for a long time; the silence was more comfortable than anything that had been said in the room.

Finally, Arthur turned to him, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

Jacob didn't look at him. He kept his gaze fixed on the far end of the hall and muttered, "Don't mention it."