MickeyTaco: We want to set aside the levity of the first chapter's author note and be crystal clear: this story is rated M for a reason. It's about to be very dark, and graphic in terms of violence. It was extremely challenging to write portions of this chapter for both Crod42 and I, but we felt that it's necessary for the sake of the story as a whole. Consider this to be your trigger warning.
Chapter Two: A Son's Strife
The sound of Frieda retching brought Urklyn back into the present from the horrific replay his mind was stuck on. He was sure it would take a good deal of time to fully recover from the trauma he and his family had just witnessed. What had started as a holy act of worship had fully evolved into something entirely different. He felt numb to the core as his mind tried to process the gruesome events that just happened.
Rod, ever the calm one, turned to his wife. "Can you look after Frieda and the children?"
"O-of course, dear," she stuttered. At least his mother had a human reaction.
"Urklyn, come with me," his father commanded of him. It was not a request.
The seventeen-year old stiffened initially, but with an obedient, "Yes, Father," he followed the man towards the exit without looking back. It was odd to some people that someone as tall as Urklyn could be subservient to a man much shorter than him—some people were not members of the Reiss family. Wisely, the teen stayed quiet as they climbed out of the secret entrance into the chapel. The familiar scent of blood accosted their senses upon arrival.
Three guards were instructed to keep any intruders out. The guard closest to them had his throat slit, his dead eyes staring at Urklyn. Blood flowed down his body and seemed to seep into his chest. Out of respect, Rod closed the man's eyes. The carpet leading to the altar was scuffed up, indicating a struggle. Unfortunately, the second guard was not lucky enough, as evident by a wooden stake from a broken bench in his chest. The third guard, however, was face down on the ground with a wound on the back of his head. A golden, dented candelabra near the body was the obvious weapon of choice.
"Tell me what happened here," Rod said, looking right at his son.
Trying not look nervous, Urklyn surveyed the worship hall. "Um… the guard with the head wound was attacked-"
"Stop."
Damn it. Not again. Urklyn braced himself for the inevitable.
"How did Grisha Yeager get in? Did he float inside? Is he a master teleporter?" Rod crossed his arms.
"I don't know," the teen admitted.
"Then until you have all the information, stay silent."
Once again, Urklyn looked around for any signs of disturbances. The hidden side entrances weren't used. If they were, the sounds of them creaking open would have alerted the guards to those positions. Obviously, the front door was out of the question unless the guards became brain-dead buffoons. That only left the upper floor. Immediately, it all became clear.
"The hidden staircase." He pointed to the left. "He used it to reach the balcony pews. It allowed him to analyze the worship hall and plan his attack." Urklyn proceeded to the guard with the head wound. "He silently came down the stairs and killed the man with the candelabra. The noise alerted the guards, but one had to stay behind to guard the altar. Grisha killed the guard with his knife before getting attacked by the survivor. He put up a fight, but Grisha still won." He looked at his father expectantly. "That is what happened."
Rod was silent for a moment as he walked towards his son. Once he was close enough, he said, "You missed a crucial piece, Urklyn."
Urklyn was befuddled by that declaration. "What did I miss?"
Rod pointed at the guard with the head wound. "He's still alive."
Adding insult to injury, the guard began to stir with a groan.
"He's mostly dead?" Urklyn offered unhelpfully, clearly embarrassed.
His father was unamused. In fact, he seemed to pity his son. However, the guard took priority. Carefully, Rod turned him over and asked, "What happened?"
The guard let out several harsh coughs as he spoke. "Came outta nowhere, sir. I couldn't stop him."
"Clearly." He gave the man a murderous glare. Withdrawing a dagger from a hidden pocket in his robe, Rod deeply slit the throat of the remaining guard, straightening as the blood gurgled and soaked over the man's prone form.
Urklyn swallowed hard against the bile that rose in his own throat at what he'd just seen.
Rod's cold eyes turned back to his son. "Now he's all dead."
The teen didn't dare move, as if he was afraid the knife would be turned onto him.
Fortunately, his father pocketed the knife after wiping it down on the unstained sleeve of the guard's shirt. "We have work to do. Take off that white robe before you taint it with blood. The bodies have to be removed and this place cleaned before any services can be held in here."
"Why did you kill him?" Urklyn couldn't stop the question from tumbling out of his mouth.
"He failed to protect my family and your sister," Rod replied simply. "There is only one punishment a man like that will face. Now, get to work."
Urklyn grimaced as he looked around at the grisly scene. At least it wasn't as bad as last time.
Urklyn nearly jumped out of his seat as thunder cracked overhead. He always hated storms.
The man sitting across from him chuckled darkly. "Little whelp is gonna wet himself at this rate, Rod."
The fifteen-year old glared back. "I'll be sure to aim it at you when I do."
"That's enough, Urklyn," Rod scolded sternly.
The man, however, threw his head back and laughed. "I like this kid, Rod. You sure he's one of yours?"
"I don't need your snide remarks, Kenny," Rod added.
The carriage came to a halt, signaling the arrival at the Garber Estate.
"Finally," Kenny said, putting on his hat. "It's gonna be good to stretch my legs."
"Son, remember what I told you?" Rod asked.
"Don't speak unless spoken to," Urklyn answered automatically.
"And stay close to me at all times," his father finished for him, the door opening by the footman.
The Garber Estate was the last one of four large homes on the narrow road that was a favorite of Wall Sina nobility. The two-story, brownstone house was clean and welcoming from the exterior, manicured trees trimming the sides of the doorway. Urklyn found himself comparing it to his own home, and snickering silently that it was smaller and less magnificent.
"Wait here," Rod ordered the driver and the footman.
The two nodded, maintaining their posts by the carriage.
Taking the lead, Rod knocked on the door and waited patiently with a neutral expression.
Not even five seconds passed as the door creaked open with a maidservant on the other side. "Good evening, Lord Reiss. Please come in. Master Garber is expecting you." Her eyes drifted to the other two. "I was unaware you'd be bringing guests."
Kenny tipped his hat to her with a smile. "Don't mind me, Miss. I'm just his glorified bodyguard."
Rod put his hands on Urklyn's shoulders. "This is my son, Urklyn. Lord Garber is already acquainted with him."
"Of course, my lord." With a bow, she opened the door wider, allowing them inside.
The foyer they stepped into gave way into an expansive seating area focused around a warm, crackling fireplace, a bay window overlooking the gardens revealed the top of a sculpture out in the rain. A slight turn to the left of the main entrance revealed the long table just past the doorway of the dining hall. To the right of the door where they stood was a large staircase ascending to the second floor. Dressed in a silver gown that accentuated her figure, her blonde hair swept in a loose updo, Mathilda Garber looked every bit the part of the welcoming hostess as she slowly descended the stairs. "Welcome, Rod! And I see you've brought Urklyn with you, what a pleasant surprise."
He smiled back and kissed her hand. "The pleasure is all mine, Mathilda."
Seeing that her mistress had things well in hand, the maid gave a curtsy before departing into the dining hall.
"Aw, Urklyn, you're soaking wet," she said with a frown. "Rod, didn't I give you an umbrella for your birthday?"
"Dirk used it to sword fight with Abel," he answered. "Guess how well that ended."
Mathilda gave a short laugh. "You poor man, though you do have the best stories when it comes to your children. Come on. My husband does not like to wait when it comes to dinnertime."
"Good to know his appetite remains as large as ever," Rod said as the trio followed Mathilda into the ornate dining hall.
The table they came upon was large enough to hold fifteen people, though only set for five. Urklyn nearly drooled at the smell of roasted pheasant. It had been too long since he had it. Sitting at the head of the table with greying, brown hair was the master of the household himself, Dolph Garber. As per usual, he dressed sharply in his dinner jacket. Today, it was red. It would've been his favorite green jacket, but after a nasty incident with some cats, he could no longer wear it.
With a smile that lit up the room, Dolph stood. "Ah, Rod. How many years has it been?"
"Two long years, my friend," Rod responded, embracing him with a pat on the back. "I see your conquest to eat everyone out of house and home continues."
"And I see you're expecting another child," the man shot back jovially before pausing. "Wait, are you?"
Urklyn sounded like he was choking, but he was actually trying to hide his laughter and failing miserably.
Rod shot his son a dark look before answering. "Florian is the baby of our family, and that is how she will stay."
"That's what you said last time with Abel," Dolph pointed out, "but I digress." He turned his gaze to the teen. "Urklyn, my boy, you've gotten taller. I daresay even taller than your old man."
"Thank you, sir," he replied respectfully, giving a nod of his head.
"No need for ceremony, son." Dolph ruffled his hair before clapping his hands together. "Well, let's not stand around. Let's eat, drink, and catch up."
"Finally. An uptight son of a b-gun who understands the important things," Kenny said, catching himself in the nick of time as he sat down.
Fortunately for Urklyn, the man was seated across from him next to Mathilda, placing his hat on the chair post. The teen wished he could sit there, though. Mathilda was always nice to him. He waited patiently as multiple butlers, who were pushing out a cart of fresh greens, and the cook entered the dining hall from an unassuming back doorway. Brandishing a large chef's knife, the cook cut into the pheasant, dividing it into proper serving sizes. He placed them onto the plates along with a generous portion of sliced, baked potatoes the pheasant rested on. However, for Rod, he scooped out a serving of sweet potatoes and delivered it to him.
"Dolph, what's this?" Rod asked with a raised eyebrow.
"That, my friend, is your wife's orders to me," Dolph answered with a smirk. "You're welcome to try and get away with it, but you and I both know Greta will find out."
Urklyn chose to put a bite of the pheasant in his mouth rather than react in amusement, though he was sorely tempted to. He couldn't argue, because he knew that Dolph was correct. Somehow, his mother had a way of finding certain things out, even when it had been carefully kept from her. This made life rather unpleasant for the children on multiple occasions. He and Frieda had joked that she might be clairvoyant, considering how she tended to interfere with things in her home and family.
"So, Dolph," Kenny began once he swallowed a good chunk of meat, "I don't see any guards. You shopping around for new ones? Pay me right, and you can solve all your problems right now."
"You are a blunt man, Kenny," Dolph observed with a chuckle. "Unfortunately, at this time, my bodyguard positions are full. Should something happen, I'll be more than happy to talk terms."
"That can be arranged." A dark laugh escaped the man's lips.
Rod let out an exasperated sigh. "Forgive him, Dolph. What he lacks in tact, he more than makes up for with his skills."
"Don't worry," Dolph assured. "I know better than to buy off your man unless I had someone or something better to trade with."
"That I'm well aware of."
Urklyn froze, slowly lowering the potato that almost made it into his mouth. There was a barely decipherable edge to his father's tone. He only used it when someone was in deep trouble, like when he helped Dirk get out of his studies and tried to deceive their parents about it. That ended… poorly, to say the least.
Apparently, Dolph detected it too. "Something wrong, Rod?"
Calmly, Rod put his fork down, putting his hands together as if he was contemplating something. "Dolph, you and I are one of the few people that know the truth about our 'ruler.' I was honestly hoping the leak would be from Aurille. I could live without him, but you?" His eyes narrowed dangerously at his friend. "The trail led straight to you."
Mathilda laid her napkin down beside her plate, "Dear, what is he talking about? What leak is this?" Her tone held confusion as she glanced from Rod to her husband and back.
The cheerful expression was erased from existence and in its place was fear as Dolph pleaded with his friend. "Please. Leave my wife out of this."
Rod sighed, but when he gazed back at him, there was a cold glint in his eyes. "You should've thought of that sooner."
In the blink of an eye, Kenny whipped out his pistols and shot Mathilda right in the head, the blood and brain matter splattering the table as well as her dress. The woman slumped to the ground lifelessly as Dolph shouted her name before getting a newly-made hole in his leg. Urklyn was beside himself as he tried to run, only for his father to take him by the elbow and force him back to his seat.
"You will stay until we've finished what we came here to do," Rod growled at the teen.
In the heat of adrenaline, Urklyn grabbed the plate and smashed his father's head with it. Rod recoiled, unable to stop his son from running out of the dining hall, screaming himself hoarse from the horrors he'd just witnessed his father and Kenny create. Maids and servants came rushing to his aid, but they were gunned down by Kenny almost instantly. The man didn't even get up as he changed the clip on his gun. Despite being blinded by tears, Urklyn tried to get out the front door, but while he was able to turn the handle, the door would not budge. He was trapped.
"Let me out! LET ME OUT!" Urklyn shouted, but no one was coming to help him. No one cared even to respond.
Frightened screams filled the house then faded as the remaining servants and maids alike were dropped like flies, left and right, the house erupting with the heavy scent of blood.
In the dining hall, Dolph clung to his bleeding leg, tears flowing freely down his face. "Make it stop! Rod, please, make it stop. I've had my punishment… I never should've said anything. Please, no more!" His whimpered cries fell on deaf ears as the gunshots rang out. Rod stood in his place, stoically watching until finally, the only sounds remaining were the sniffling cries from his son on the staircase and the weeping, injured nobleman on his left.
Rod simply took a napkin and wiped his face to clear the blood from his head wound. While his injury continued to bleed, he could still see. He stretched his hand out to Kenny, who relinquished one of his guns to him. He pointed it at Dolph's head. "The only one you have to blame is yourself." He pulled the trigger, a sound of thunder filling the air.
Urklyn curled himself into a ball, trying to protect himself from the terrifying images that plagued his mind. There was no escape no matter how tightly he closed his eyes.
Rod walked past his son and rapped on the door. "Remove the restraints. It's over."
"Yes, sir." Urklyn recognized the responding voice as the carriage driver's.
"If you think I take pleasure in this, you're wrong," Rod said with a cold neutrality that chilled him to the bone. "Dolph was my friend, but because of him, the future of our family may be at risk. If I have to kill my friends to protect the people I love, then I will do so without hesitation. That's what it means to be in the Reiss family."
Urklyn risked looking up from his hiding spot. His father looked like something out of a horror novel. Blood dripped over his face and his clothing, yet the man made no move to clean it up. The worst part was his silver eyes. There was no sympathy or love in them. Just an empty, cold stare.
"Well, look at this, Rod." Kenny entered the foyer area wearing his hat once more, stained with blood splatter from head to boots, while holding the pheasant. "Free food."
And just like that, Urklyn regurgitated his dinner.
"Urklyn. Urklyn! Don't just stand there. Focus on the holes, damn it!"
Rod's harsh tone calling his name snapped Urklyn back into the present. "Yes, Father," he replied quickly to soothe his parent's ire. He glanced at the shovel in his hands briefly then went back to work digging the makeshift graves for the guards from the chapel. His clothes were covered in dirt and sweat, having been digging for forty-five minutes. He could only imagine how many bodies were buried on the estate at this point. Thirty? Fifty? A even hundred?
To his surprise, his father asked, "You were thinking about it again, weren't you?"
Urklyn stiffened, but he nodded. He knew better than to lie by now. "I was. But it's in the past. We need to focus on the present, right?"
"If the past affects the present, it causes problems," Rod pointed out, putting the shovel down. "While I regret the manner in which I taught that lesson to you, I hope you're able to retain that lesson for the future."
"Can we talk about Frieda, please?" Urklyn requested. Out here, he felt more free to be casual.
"I don't see why not," his father answered. "I can tell you're worried about her."
Heaving an exhausted sigh, Urklyn jammed the shovel into the dirt to keep it steady, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "I should've fought harder for her. If I had gotten the serum that day, she wouldn't be going through that shit."
"We've been over this before, Urklyn," Rod reminded him. "You weren't ready then, and you aren't ready now. It's not just your devotion to your sister that's keeping you back."
"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.
Rod stepped closer to him. "I look at you, and I want to see the man you aspire to be. Instead, I see that scared, little boy from the Garber Estate screaming for help. You don't have what it takes to rule this country with the mindset it takes. Frieda does. She was born with it, but you are trying to learn it. I did not entrust you with the holy inheritance then, and I don't now." He began walking back to his own shovel before adding, "You have ten years to prove me wrong. Start now."
Urklyn was stunned to silence, though he managed to do what his father ordered him to do. He continued to dig the graves, just as his father and Kenny dug the graves last time. Even now, he could not stop seeing the memories that plagued him. Fourteen souls taken at the Garber Estate, and now, five more souls to the call. The three guards, Grisha, and… Frieda. She was so different now. She used to care about the suffering of others, lend a helping hand when she could, but to see her not only turn her head at Grisha and the rising death toll in Wall Maria, but to also devour the man who was trying to save his family; he could barely wrap his mind around it.
Perhaps he was too much of a weakling to say anything before, do anything meaningful. Not anymore. He wasn't about to let Frieda become corrupted by the "holy inheritance" like every single Reiss member who took it was. For the sake of his family, for the sake of their people, he would do whatever it took to save his sister. If his father burned for it, so be it. He had no love for a man he hated.
Crod42: I appreciate every single reader who managed to get through this chapter to the end. As MickeyTaco said, this was, quite possibly, the hardest chapter we've ever written. No child should ever go through what Urklyn went through, and I want to sincerely apologize if we brought up horrible memories to anyone who ever suffered abuse. Right now, the road is dark, but one day, there will be an end to the darkness, even if it's just a flicker of light. I promise.