Chapter 4: The Indivar House
I wore a black silk tunic trimmed with golden threads, cinched at the waist by a belt inlaid with onyx. Soft demon-leather boots hugged my legs, and on my finger gleamed the family ring—a bat with spread wings, its ruby eyes sparkling. I assumed it was also a storage artifact. Nobles always had one in the game.
Quite handsome, aside from my dark circles. 6’3" at 18. Noble genes didn’t lie.
I descended the stairs with a straight, almost rigid posture. The butler led the way, his steps silent on the luxurious marble.
...
The dining room was, of course, luxurious... showcasing the glory of the Indivars. A crystal chandelier radiated golden light over the ebony table, long enough to seat thirty guests.
Archduke Klaus Indivar sat at the head of the table, his graying hair streaked with black, his face stern with a well-trimmed beard. Despite his age (150, if my memory served), his shoulders retained the build of a powerful swordsman.
To his right sat Yulda, my grandmother. Surprisingly young for a woman who had given birth at nearly 80—one of the perks of nobility being longevity. Her silver hair cascaded over a purple dress, and her fingers drummed against the tablecloth.
And Darian, my father. Tall, muscular, with cold steel-like eyes. He didn’t even glance at me when I entered. All of them had a red lotus beneath their necks, a birthmark symbolizing the Indivar lineage.
Which I don’t have, by the way...
I bowed, my throat tight.
"Daemon, greet the archduke and General Darian."