Chapter 59: Thalia’s Cruel Special Training For Women
Chapter 59: Thalia’s Cruel Special Training For Women
A boot stepped out.
"Hello, nephew."
The voice was smooth and deep like oil sliding over stone. Roderick didn’t need to turn. He knew it. He hated that he knew it. But he did.
Slowly, stiffly, he turned and offered a bow. “Uncle Mark.”
Mark Vaelcrest stepped through the portal fully, dressed in the white traditional robes of House Vaelcrest. His beard was long and greying, well-kept but not vain. His eyes sparkled with a kind of malice that wore the mask of charm.
Though he called Roderick nephew, they both knew the title was nothing more than a polite fiction. They were kin by house, not by heart.
Also, Mark was a kind of an odd Vaelcrest. To describe him in one sentence: He worked for the Mordelune heirs.
And those triplets were a flavor of weird that even made crazy Roderick respect them.
“Still as stiff as ever,” Mark chuckled, walking up to the cliff’s edge and peering down. His breath formed a thoughtful whistle. “These new ones under House Vontell look promising. Especially that little one—ah yes, the boy with the stones and the vines. You’re doing good work, nephew. Real good work.”
Roderick didn’t respond. Compliments from Mark were like meat wrapped around poison.
“You know,” Mark said as he scratched his beard, “when I was your age, I was barely worth a damn. Took me decades to earn the respect of even the lowest Slave masters. But you—you’re already outshining your father.”