Gael was what you'd call a jack-of-all-trades, he had an acceptable level of expertise in everything and easily adapted to any environment. He never had trouble learning magic, so much so that could use all four elements equally, but being only good wasn't enough to get into the country's most prestigious academy.
Right at the theoretical test, his butt was kicked out, and he had to make a long journey back home to the d'Mary marquisate. Besides being tiring, depressing, and having its dangers with the possibility of bandits on the dirt roads, he was drowning in a sea of indescribable emptiness.
The mansion gates opened without much ceremony, and he stepped down from the carriage, wanting to bury his face deep in the earth. At least there was someone to welcome him at the door.
A woman with long black hair and sparkling red eyes stood at the entrance, wearing a traditional aristocratic dress that would make commoners and even humble baronesses green with envy. She didn't wait for any reaction from the young man, approaching and hugging him.
The two were the same height, so, as a sign of affection, the woman buried Gael's face in her chest and caressed his hair, running the nails along his nape and taking all the time needed to remove the signs of sorrow that were piled on his head.
"Welcome back, son."
"Thank you…"
He barely had the strength to respond properly but accepted the affection in the most appropriate way.
The woman led him inside and ordered the coachman to put the carriage and horses away, also instructing each of the servants to prepare a magnificent dinner for her dear son who had returned from a very dangerous journey.
And so it happened, the entire mansion went into a flurry of activity, while Gael just dealt with it like a tree in the middle of a hurricane, that is, about to have its roots torn out and be thrown into the air. Of course, with the help of the servants, he managed to get ready for dinner that night.
Time passed very quickly. When he realized it, he was already sitting at the table with the same woman who had called him "son". However, she was in the chair opposite him, on the other side of the table with her hands folded over the plates that were being served.
Her gaze showed no trace of judgment, even though Gael would have preferred it that way. Still, it was impossible to deny that her beautiful appearance had a hypnotic effect, the black hair cascading down her back combined with a pair of red eyes could paralyze a person on the spot if stared at directly.
Anyone meeting her for the first time would believe it was a sign of contempt or constant cold analysis, however, it was just a natural expression. Added to her large breasts and a face that had remained young, only now showing the first signs of age with crow's feet touching the eyes.
"What did you think of the capital?" she asked, resting the fork on a piece of sliced wild boar on her plate.
"Too noisy, not my type. Living here in the countryside is much more pleasant…"
"Really? I agree too. I never liked visiting noble balls because of that."
The conversation didn't progress much, stagnant due to Gael's pure lack of will. He was still replaying the wrong questions from the theoretical test in his mind.
Gael swirled the wine glass in his hand, distracted by the reddish reflection that rippled in the liquid. The silence between them didn't bother him, it was a common occurrence, but he knew that, deep down, Kendra was trying to find a thread to pull and keep him talking.
She wasn't his biological mother. Gael didn't even remember the woman who had given birth to him, only the stories the Marquess d'Mary told, almost always with a melancholic air, before he, too, disappeared from his life forever.
He was adopted when very young, so young that his adoptive father's face was clearer than any memory of his bloodline. Kendra arrived not long after through a marriage of convenience that, for her, had probably started with a sense of duty and mere formality between two different noble houses.
Over the years, however, that dynamic slowly changed. He noticed it in how she treated him since the marquess's death, many years ago, when the big house became too big for just the two of them.
The haughty posture and commanding voice, marks of a lady accustomed to being obeyed, never disappeared, but she began to mold them into gestures of care, with touches on his shoulder, hugs, hair-ruffling, and kisses on his forehead, wanting to become a real presence in his life.
"I imagined you'd stay there longer." Her sentence was loaded with subtext, but without any real accusation.
"I imagined so too, but it didn't work out."
A butler cleared the plates with rehearsed care, and the aroma of the wild boar began to fade from the air, mixed with the essence of herbs that must have served as seasoning. Kendra watched him in silence for a few more moments, enough to make anyone feel exposed, even without saying a word.
The sound of light footsteps in the corridor leading to the dining room cut through the atmosphere. They came from outside, but soon the dining room door was kicked open with a metallic thud and the sound of steel plates scraping against each other.
At first, Gael felt a shiver hearing that sound, but when he saw a young woman his age, with short reddish hair above her shoulders, dressed from head to toe in armor and carrying a man-sized sword on her back, he quickly calmed down.
"Sorry, am I late?" she asked with genuine innocence, before throwing herself into one of the chairs and putting both feets on the table, not caring that her boots were covered in dirt. "Welcome back, brother."
This was Scarlet, his sister, a fruit of the love between Kendra and the Marquess d'Mary. Their relationship was never the best since she had entered a Knights' School and came out changed, acting in a way similar to her mother, but which simultaneously screamed "trouble."
Gael sighed. The last thing he wanted right now was to be seen by his family in this defeated and humiliated state. But there wasn't much he could do besides holding back his tears and swallowing his pride, just like the pieces of wild boar going down his throat.