"Severe injuries were to be expected, I guess." He glanced around the room once more.
"But, where am I?" The room was spacious, fancy, and filled with intricate ornaments and writing tools on a fairly large table. At the far end, opposite the bed he was lying on, a sword was hung up.
"An antique?" Even from the bed, Kael could see it; it was expertly made, and it looked sturdy.
The sheath was hung up on another stand below it. The same crest he had seen on the maid's uniform was engraved on it.
More intricate markings adorned the sheath. He felt the need to get up and examine it. And so, he tried to push himself up and off of the bed.
Sadly, his body felt drained, weak. An icy tendril of uneasiness curled in his gut. He pushed it down and tried to get up still, but he eventually crashed back onto the bed in defeat.
"Ahhhh...! damn, this is difficult."
Tok tok tok
Not long after, he heard footsteps approach the door, firm, measured. The door swung open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man entered.
Handsome features, a sharp jaw. Late thirties, dark black hair pulled back and held in place by a guan, his eyes sharp enough they might cleave steel.
His presence radiated authority… and a hint of masked concern directed at Kyle.
Marquis Ravenshade took two long strides forward into the room. Kael's heart thudded. The man's presence was overbearing.
He did not look very pleased, like he wanted to go off and kill someone. The expression vanished. A warmer expression appeared on the man's sharp features.
"Kyle, my son..."
The marquis paused at the bed's foot, his gaze icy. "You… nearly died." His voice was low, edged with barely concealed fury.
Kyle could tell that it was not directed at him; it sounded more like he was angry about the meaning behind his death.
Kael's stomach clenched. He lowered his eyes, studied the quilt's embroidery: The same crest again, a pair of ravens, wings entwined.
"Died?" Kyle asked. Why was this man calling him his son? The face is familiar, but I can't place it, like I've known who he is, but at the same time, I have never seen him before.
The marquis advanced, loomed over him. Kael tensed, his thoughts churning. He reached out with one trembling hand as though to comfort a father's palm, or trying to remember the man's features
The moment passed like lightning.
His father's glare softened. He kneeled beside the bed. When his large hand came to pat Kael's head, a gentle, possessive touch, it felt surreal.
"Don't stress yourself, son, rest well," he murmured. "I will find whoever dared to hurt my son. And they will pay."
Kael swallowed. Act the part. Until I figure this out, for now. He inclined his head, voice quiet but steady: "Thank you, Father. My memories are still a bit hazy, but I will do my best to remember."
The marquis' eyes widened in surprise, but he did not think too much of it. It was a possibility, after all, that his son might get a bit of amnesia because of trauma.
But he felt like there was more to Kyle's statement than what he could glean from the surface. So thought to ask.
"How bad is it? What do you remember from before the assassination? Do you remember me, this house?" He gestured to the servant behind him. "Or your maid? Do you recall?"
Kyle's expression tensed, 'He thinks I have amnesia, that should be a good way to cover up my lack of information, let's play along.' Kyle decided.
"I do remember, but it feels so vague, like there is a huge wall blocking my memories; if I try to remember or think too much, I get a splitting headache."
The man nodded in response, his frown deepening in worry. 'It's worse than I thought. Should I bring in a mental specialist from the association? They are all so expensive though, even for just an examination. I'll wait a bit more to see if he recovers naturally.'
The marquis rose abruptly. He gave Kyle a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Rest now. Tend to your strength. Nuna did the best she could to heal you and help you recover these past few weeks, but clearly it was not enough.
I will look for the best alchemists and healers. You'll be safe here, but do not under any circumstances get out of this house."
Kyle nodded, shifting his gaze to the maid behind the marquis, where the maid, whom he assumed to be Nuna, stood, her gaze on the floor.
She bit her lip in frustration and clutched the hem of her dress. Anyone could guess that she was disappointed at her own inability to completely help her master in distress.
The marquis nodded to Nuna and then turned on his heel, leaving Kyle and his maid to tend to his needs.
However, he paused for a moment at the door, glancing back. "Do you remember what happened during your assassination at least?"
Kyle closed his eyes, his mind racing. This was just the beginning. "I…wish I knew." The Marquis closed the door.
He heard the heavy tread of booted feet receding. Nuna approached his bed, hesitant. Kael managed to flash her a reassuring smile. "Thank you. For taking care of me."
Nuna's eyes glistened slightly, and she bit her plump, pink lip even harder, drawing a little bit of blood, a flash of relief in her eyes.
"..!!!!"
A flicker of shock danced in Kyle's eyes, but before he could say anything, Nuna turned around.
"Young lord, I'll bring food." She walked out.
As the door clicked shut, Kyle lay back, staring at the ceiling. He sighed heavily. It hurt him to see such a beauty hurting herself like that.
But he had bigger things to worry about.
Where the hell am I? This man believes I'm his son. I have to find out where I am; this is too real to be a dream.
Kyle's gaze flicked to the singular large window in the room. Soft sunlight filtered through the silk curtains as murmurs from outside drifted toward Kael's ear.
He blinked; his head was still heavy, and his eyelids threatened to close, so he decided to sleep again. But then suddenly, the door opened with a loud boom! A small, lively voice broke his daze.
"Brother! You're awake!"
Before he could sit up, a slender figure, a girl around ten, leapt onto the bed and into his arms, her black-silken hair brushing his face. Tears welled as she hugged him tightly.
"Brother, I was so scared!" she sobbed.
Kael instinctively wrapped an arm around her, mustering a comforting smile. "It's okay… I'm fine."
He used his other hand, gently placing it on her head, his palm warm and steady."I'm fine," he whispered again.
His fingers moved slowly, brushing through the strands of her long black hair, untangling it. The weight of his touch was light and soothing, calming the intensity of her sobs.
Her weight and energy eased some of his throat's dryness.
Although her face was familiar and at the same time, unfamiliar to him, there was an inexplicable warmth that bloomed in his chest while looking at her, something akin to real affection.
Then, like shards of breaking ice, a fierce headache pierced through him. His vision flickered, and he groaned, clutching his head as memories, floods of them, rushed in.