Chapter 15: Chapter 15: A son's tale

In the grand hall of Reversault Castle, Count Laurence Delecroix occupied a polished table, his distinguished features marked by gray and brown hair, his eyes glassy and sharp. The table boasted glasses of rich wine, shared among the count and his three esteemed guests.

The first guest, an elder gentleman, displayed a weathered face that spoke of years gone by, and his eyes held the depth of knowledge acquired over a lifetime. It seemed that despite his tender age, he consumed as much wine as two youngsters at a brothel, one hand on a cup of wine and the other on a woman's teat.As sure as hell that old tongue would deny none of the two

Seated beside the elder was a man with a sharp tongue, evident in the quickness of his wit. His well-kept mustache accentuated his expressions as he engaged in lively conversation, elegant words falling on uncouth ears.

The third was a man scarred but still pleasant to the eyes, though not as pleasant to converse with, as it seemed that war had taken all the fun out of him.

Laurio raised his glass, offering a toast to the generous host. "Count Laurence, I must express my deepest gratitude for your exceptional hospitality. The food and wine you've provided are as delightful as the host giving them out," he said as he took a sip.

The count acknowledged the words with a nod and a warm smile, appreciating Laurio's gesture.

"I hope that all things were offered to you and that you found my mansion hospitable," he said, looking at the others.

"Me-lord has been generous, and nothing is to my dislike," Ser Caer spoke before returning to his cup, watching the red liquid as if he worried that it was blood in disguise, which was strange for a military man not to like alcohol.

"Your lordship has been the utmost hospitable to this old bone..." Elder man Eldrion spoke with a low laugh.

"Oh, Sir Eldrion, you honor me with your words," the count said as he kindly smiled at the man.

Count Laurence then shifted the conversation towards a more personal matter. "My good men, I trust you find the feast to your liking. Now, tell me, how has my son been faring in his studies and training? Is he behaving himself?" He asked the last part with a bit of fear.

Eldrion burst into hearty laughter. "Count Laurence, you've truly been blessed with a mind for a son! I must say, young Favian is one of the sharpest minds I've had the pleasure of teaching. He's like a finely crafted blade, and even the young princess would seem like a mere nail in comparison!"

As Eldrion paused to take a sip from his cup, he suddenly stopped, as the liquid was forced out with a spit as he caught the face the count was making. Is that a face a father should make when he hears of his doing so well?

Eldrion continued, his laughter subsiding into a chuckle. "Believe me or not, Count, but your son surprised even me. The first thing he did was ask to unravel the books I had brought with me, and he devoured their contents like they were candies. Initially, I suspected he was just putting on a show to impress me. Yet, when I began questioning him about what he had read, I was genuinely taken aback by how effortlessly and swiftly he grasped the intricacies. And that's not even delving into his understanding of politics – the boy is as sharp as a well-honed blade, even in matters of governance. The most amusing part, my lord? He has no idea who I am; to him, I'm just an old man with a collection of history books."

Caer joined the conversation, adding his observations. "Your son is not only talented with the sword, but he's also almost impossible to wind down. Surprisingly from what I can hear, he has a voracious appetite for learning. It seems the boy possesses strength not just in his physical prowess but also in his intellectual pursuits," he noted, casting a glance at Eldrion.

The Count wiped away his tears, thinking, 'Could it be that I've misunderstood my son all this time? A genius?Could Favian really the one being praised for his intellect and sword skills? Is it possible that it was my fault that he behaved like a drunkard till now, and that he instead possesses a mind sharper than I ever imagined? Have I failed to recognize his true potential?'

As he wiped away the tears, he noticed Laurio, looking at his colleagues with wide eyes, silently sharing the astonishment that the count was having.

Laurence sighed, raising an eyebrow, "Are we really teaching the same boy? The one you described bears no resemblance to the youngster I am tutoring. He is as unrefined as a frog, constantly appearing bored during my lessons. Most of the time, his gaze drifts out of the window, seemingly disinterested in the subject matter I'm trying to impart."

The count nodded, a hint of relief washing over his features. Two out of three commendations were already a positive outcome for him,still it seemed that the boy was still himself .

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Favian pov:

Sitting on my bed, I found myself in deep conversation with Baalkaroth, the demon residing within me. Baalkaroth's voice echoed in my mind, a coarse and demonic tone that resonated through the silence.

I shifted on the bed, turning my attention back to Baalkaroth. "Alright, demon, spill the secrets. How do I invoke mana?"

Baalkaroth's laughter echoed in my mind, a sinister sound that made me uneasy. "You don't know? Oh, this is rich. You've really plunged into the deep end, haven't you?Not to know how to use mana how have you lived until now?"

I scowled. "Enough with the theatrics. If you know, spill it. I don't have time for your games."

The demon's tone shifted, and he leaned into the conversation with a curious edge. "Why should I teach you, mortal? What's in it for me?"

Leaning closer, I stared into the dim void within my mind. "Look, devil, in the future, I'll be in more danger than anyone in this world. If you want to survive, you better buckle up and help me out. It's a mutual benefit kind of thing."

Baalkaroth chuckled, a sound that resonated with both amusement and something darker. "Bold words, mortal. Very well, I may decide to show you the basics. But remember, every favor comes with a price."

"What do you want?" I asked, already growing bored of the demon's antics.

"I want a soul," he replied succinctly, and a wry smile crossed my face.

"Why the hell would I pay you for that? You know I could just go outside, ask the first peasant I meet how to invoke mana, and even he would willingly share the basics," I scoffed.

The demon leaned in, a sinister gleam in his eyes. "How about this, my eager summoner? I shall teach you the secrets of working with demonic mana—a force much stronger than the feeble currents of normal mana. With it, you could wield powers beyond your wildest dreams."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Fat chance, Baalkaroth. I know the game. Your demonic mana will surge in, increase your power temporarily, diminish mine, and make me utterly dependent on it. And we both know that dependence is a leash that you can cut off whenever it suits you."

The demon grunted, clearly displeased with my refusal. Yet, as a sly smile played on my lips, I continued, "But let's make a deal. If you teach me, I promise that the next time I invoke you, I will provide double the usual souls promised. Consider it a fair bargain for your valuable knowledge."

Baalkaroth seemed to ponder my proposal, his ethereal presence swirling with contemplation. After a moment, he reluctantly acquiesced. "Very well, mortal. You drive a hard bargain, but if you fulfill your end of the deal, I will fulfill mine.Not that I have a choice"

As he accepted, I immediately rose from the bed and locked the door before giving a nod and telling the demon we could start with the lesson.

"Pay attention, mortal," Baalkaroth began. "Converging mana within yourself is a crucial skill. First, envision the threads of energy weaving around your essence. Feel its potential, malleable and pure."

Following his instructions, I closed my eyes, picturing those mana threads. I didn't know if I was doing it correctly, but the demon did not correct me, so I went on with it.

"Now," Baalkaroth continued, "you must memorize an incantation. Choose words that resonate with the essence of your intent. Let the chant flow naturally, and as you speak, let the mana surge within you."

He provided me with a simple incantation, repeated it aloud, sensing a surge of energy responding to my words.

"Very well," he acknowledged. "Now, focus on the release. Guide the mana through your fingertips, shaping its form according to your will."

I followed his guidance, directing the energy outward. To my surprise, a gentle, shimmering glow enveloped my outstretched hand. Baalkaroth's amusement echoed in my thoughts.

"That's it, mortal. With practice, you'll manipulate mana like an artisan. Now, let it dissipate. Control is key, for harnessed power can be both a gift and a curse."

As I released the mana, a mix of satisfaction and caution lingered within me.

"How do I go about creating other incantations?" I inquired.

"The common method involves visualizing the desired spell and associating it with a specific sentence. With practice, it becomes an automatic response, originating from your mind and flowing through your body," Baalkaroth explained, concluding the lesson. "Now, remember your part of the deal. I expect a virgin sacrifice."

"Absolutely not. You'll get what I lay my hands on. If it happens to be a virgin, so be it. Beggars can't be choosers, and you'll have to make do with whatever I provide."

The demon grunted in reluctant agreement, and as I observed his compliance, I couldn't help but think of him as an unruly dog with a collar. All I needed to do was exert a bit of pressure on that metaphorical collar, and he would settle into reluctant obedience. Like the good dog he was...

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