An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege-Chapter 25: Situation at Hand...

"Give me a detailed report on the situation in Maesta." Krael regarded the butler softly, his mind already working on how to salvage the situation before the festivities began—lest it became problematic.

He sipped his tea from a custom-designed tea set, one of the few hobbies he truly enjoyed.

This particular set was crafted from rock that had grown beneath Eiser, the strange willow tree.

Adler had taken an interest in the material and had fashioned not only the tea set but also much of the manor's cutlery and kitchenware from it, showcasing yet another of his many talents.

Why he had chosen this rock over gold or silver, as was customary in noble houses, Krael did not know. But he had to admit—the quality was exceptional. And the strange sensation he experienced whenever he used the set only deepened his curiosity.

Apart from Krael and his butler, no one else was permitted to touch it.

Not that they had received visitors since his father's death.

Perhaps his uncle had tried, but he would never set foot inside Krael's estate before being driven off by Adler.

The lack of visitors, of course, was expected.

Once, his father had been a hero—a commander who spent years at the Gates, battling Darklings and other horrors. Despite the endless war, he had managed to rise as a highly revered and feared general, renowned for his swift and overwhelming might.

Holder of the Pathway of Forceful Dominion, he had been a force to be reckoned with. His strength had drawn the attention of the royal palace, ensuring that the then-declining title Count of Emberfall was preserved.

Now named Maesta, the region was under Krael's rule. But it might as well have belonged to no one at all, for he lacked much of what made governance easy.

His estate had no guards. His state had no administrative system. His people only had the bare minimum when it came to social services. Schools were headed by the temple nuns that were mandatorily stationed within every region; they taught the basics while conditioning his people to become blind devotees to the Worship, the hospitals the same, and the place of worship, being the one temple they built within Maesta. To say that the temple held more weight within his own territory was to undermine the situation.

It was little more than a vast farming village, and he its chief.

Yet, Krael preferred it this way. Any semblance of a proper structure would have given his uncle the means to sink his claws deeper, while he was clearly too weak to go head-to-head with the man.

With no one to serve as his pawn, his uncle's schemes always met dead ends. What helped even more was the loyalty of Maesta's people. They had loved his father and mother dearly, and their respect remained unwavering.

Some might have called his father too perfect, a man who had devoted his life to fighting at the Gates, believing that every battle won was another blow struck against the Surge's devastating aftermath.

It was during those years of war that he had met Krael's mother. The two had fallen in love almost instantly.

Her origins were a mystery, but his father had never sought to unravel them. He had only seen the woman he wanted to have children with.

And so, she became a countess by marriage.

Pregnant for three years straight.

The count had been wise enough to keep quiet about that fact. No matter how loyal he was to the city and its god, he would not jeopardize his family's safety in the name of patriotism.

But despite all his efforts, the love of his life had died while he was away, working for the empire.

He had not been there for her when she needed him most. He had not even been able to hold her in his arms one last time.

And so, he broke. Becoming a hollow shell of what he was, holding himself together only to raise the child he had with the love of his life.

But fate proved that some things were inevitable. Soon he sought out the occult in silent hopes that maybe he would see his wife again. But in all this he was still a good father.

—

"Well—"

The sound of Alder's voice pulled Krael from his thoughts.

"At a glance, it would seem Maesta suffered fewer deaths than any of the neighboring regions, and while that would have been good news to any other, in reality, we may be in an even worse state than the others."

"How so?" Krael asked.

"The farmlands have been scarred too deeply. Restoring them to full function will take time, yet food demands are already rising—especially now that the Surge has ended. There will be a citywide shortage."

"The higher-ups will be pressured to increase supply, and in turn, those below them will suffer more of their ire. That includes us."

Adler's voice was calm—almost indifferent, as though he were reading aloud irrelevant information.

"And now, with the mess my uncle has created with the Academy, the burden on my lands and people will only grow." Krael sighed, recalling the invitation.

"But that's just the surface issue."

Adler carefully measured his words, gauging whether the young lord would react in any way that might help him adjust his report.

He was disappointed.

Krael's face remained impassive. Empty.

He took another sip of tea, clearly enjoying it—he had yet to set the cup down—yet his expression betrayed nothing.

It was as if he wore a mask.

Seeing this, Adler sighed internally. You are too hard to read, young master...

Despite his silent frustration, he continued his report.

"It seems there are hidden hands manipulating events from the shadows."

"Nothing appears amiss, and yet I cannot uncover a single solid lead."

"There has been a shift in the public, subtle but undeniable. However, it is too faint to gauge anything substantial."

The once-soothing quality of Adler's voice had gained an undertone of something darker.

'Even when Master has shown restraint, there are those who believe themselves bold enough to undermine his authority.'

Adler's thoughts turned grim as he pondered how best to dispose of the rats scurrying beneath their feet—so that Krael would not have to dirty his hands.

Yet, outwardly, he remained composed.

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"The only reason I even noticed something was wrong," he continued, "was because everything seemed too normal. And that should never have been the case."

"Mm."

That was all the response Adler received.

Just as he thought the conversation had ended, Krael spoke again.

"Do nothing, Adler. I want to see just how wild 'scurrying rats' can get."

With that, Krael rose from his white oak chair, leisurely strolling out of the garden and back into the manor.

Adler remained still, watching his master's retreating figure, his thoughts unreadable.

And like a winter storm, he vanished just as swiftly.

To complete what he had been told not to do.