Chương 42: Chapter 41: The Collisions of Class

++Inheritance rights were not something I had much cause to think about, given how I knew early on that I was ineligible to claim much of anything. Being born female really did impede me. ++ - From the writings of Isabel Vornholt, 'The Great Lich'. 1, 891 A. E Agrian's next outing with father came just a few hours after Isabel asked him for information about it.

He doubted very much that it was only a coincidence, she'd probably timed things like that to make sure his promise to her was as fresh in the memory as it could be when the time came for him to either keep or break it. Isabel had a way of doing that. A way of doing lots of things, tying people up in knots and getting her way either through delicate nudges or, when the situation called for it, a far sterner shove. Father often joked that she was going to put her husband through his paces one day.

Agrian suspected she would not. A year with her, and he couldn't imagine any man maintaining delusions about being the master of their house. And her actual marriage was still years away, she had plenty of time to grow before then. Now there was a scary thought. For this outing, Agrian was less nervous but dressed finer all the same. His father had taken him out to be properly fitted for some higher-end attire, handwaving concerns of pricing and insisting on it.

"I won't have a son of mine parade himself around like some beggar," he'd said. Agrian thought back to the battle damage their estate had suffered, and the hints he'd heard of how the business' productivity was starting to wither, and considered arguing outright. He eventually decided against it, it wasn't like he had the power to actually move the Baron.

"Are we going to be finding out more about the war today?" he asked instead. His father glanced coolly at him, clearly unimpressed by the question.

"No, and I would thank you for keeping mention of that to yourself, young man. It's not common knowledge and I don't want it to be. We can talk about it in the Dummer's Club, nowhere else." Agrian thought about that, but it wasn't hard to guess why.

"Because of the business," he guessed.

"You don't want word to get out that our supply is dwindling, right? People will figure that out if they know why the war's brewing."

"Hm. Too smart for your own good, you are, boy." Agrian took that as a compliment, and enjoyed it. The gentleman's club was less intimidating this time, it was hard to be fearful of somewhere you'd been already and found nothing more significant than a conversation in. Agrian was actually eager to reach it, his new, apparently suitable clothes were cold as Iigary's balls and had him fighting back a shiver with every step. His father didn't feel the frost, of course.

Agrian doubted he'd have had much more than a chill if he bathed beneath a polar ice cap. Heat washed over them both as they entered, and Agrian just let himself bask in it for a few moments as they ventured deeper into the club.

"You didn't really get to see much of it last time, did you, my boy?" his father asked.

"I didn't." Agrian wasn't so sure he minded that, though he had to admit the curiosity was winning him over now.

"Then let's get you started on meeting everyone, after me," his father grinned and led Agrian deeper into it, over to a staircase that led them up into the second flood. Men smiled and nodded at the Baron as he breezed past, and Agrian himself tried not to catch any of their eyes while studying them. Most, as he would have expected, were men well into middle age, probably fellow officers from his father's army days. None seemed to take much interest in Agrian himself, which he tried not to be bothered by.

Upstairs reeked of smoke from pipes and cigars, as well as strong drinks exposed to the air. The Baron led him somewhere near the back of the place, and Agrian was able to really soak up the odd way it was built.

"This looks more like a lounge," he noted. Downstairs had been like that too, but the effect was redoubled on its second floor.

"Well spotted," the Baron nodded.

"It essentially is. The idea is a sort of home away from home, you understand? Somewhere men can just sit and be ourselves, socialise away from all the troubles and stresses of life. And, of course, where we can do it all without having to cater to bloody women." He chuckled at that.

"I love your mother and sisters of course, but you'll surely have noticed what they're like. Not the most relaxing to be around." Agrian found Qaigor less relaxing, personally. He did love his little brother, but the boy was obsessed with him, always showing him toys and asking to play. He imagined it was much the same as Isabel's relationship with Victoria, though she seemed to have a far better handle on her younger sibling than Agrian.

One would almost think that she was the older of them, who'd spent their childhood together learning how to handle small children. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"Port?" his father asked abruptly. Agrian realised he was being offered a drink.

"Oh, uh…no thank you?" The Baron sighed.

"You'll need to drink socially if you're to fit in with other gentlemen, my boy." He gestured to a member of staff over and ordered a drink for both of them. So it wasn't a question then, neat. Agrian realised then that his father was looking around, irritable.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," the Baron snapped.

"Just…Do you think you're being stared at? Don't look too obvious about checking." Agrian had learned one thing almost as well as magic at the Winzorth Institute, and it was how to discreetly check his surroundings. Magicians were a sneaky bunch more than anything else. Now that his father had pointed it out, he realised he was attracting a lot of stares. And not all of them were friendly. Not at all.

"Is it because I'm new?" he asked.

"Can't be," the Baron snapped.

"I was new once and it wasn't like this. Come, let's get to the bottom of this." Agrian didn't want to, and he didn't have much choice as usual. The Baron whisked him up and planted them right down next to another man in the corner of the room.

"LeGui," his father grinned with all the false pleasure of a true gentleman.

"It's been a while, hasn't it? How are you doing?" The man seemed far from pleased to have the Baron sharing his table all of a sudden, as if he sensed that something was amiss. Within a second, though, there was no sign of it on his features, face smoothed away of all signs of displeasure. Gentlemen were terribly good at keeping their real intentions hidden, naturally.

"Been a year I think," the man apparently named LeGui replied.

"Last we saw each other was…Grynvel, right?"

"For the recruitment parade, yes," Agrian's father smiled. He apparently took note of Agrian's confusion, because an explanation came fast.

"One of the smaller colonies, I doubt you've heard of it, but a while ago it made its first military contribution to the army. I was among the officers who first took it back in the day, so I was invited to attend the ceremony."

"You're speaking like you wanted to be there," LeGui laughed.

"All that pomp and glamour? I could see you practically writhing in your skin waiting to get away." The Baron laughed along with his apparently old friend.

"Yes, well, you know me, eh? A man of action. I don't have time for that sort of thing." Agrian would've taken that for manly boasting from most people, but then he also vividly remembered seeing his father carve an experienced magician to death to prevent his and Isabel's kidnapping years ago. It was actually hard to think of a better phrase to describe him than 'man of action'.

"... And this is my son," he added, drawing the conversation's focus promptly onto Agrian. He had to resist the urge to wither under it, knowing that it would do his standing no favors to be seen shying away from attention so early in his introduction.

"Hello, sir," Agrian nodded respectfully as was expected of him, and was not the slightest bit surprised to see LeGui falter.

"Good to see you," the man said with a smile.

"You're the…uh, you're the magician, yes? The one studying at Winzorth?" he practically spat the word out, though Agrian could tell he hadn't meant to. All at once he understood what was going on here.

"Something about that bother you?" his father asked, voice growing cold and edged now. LeGui was quick in smiling, trying to disarm things.

"Of course not, fine prospects in Winzorth aren't there? I daresay your boy will bring in plenty of coin for the family's estate."

"He'll do more than that," Agrian's father snapped.

"He's to inherit it all, you understand?" LeGui stiffened.

"Calm down, old boy," he replied.

"There's no need to get heated."

"It's fine, father," Agrian added.

"This is all—" —"Agrian is my son and heir," the Baron continued coolly, and now his voice was raised to the room at large.

"And he's going to be a battlemage the likes of which Garamon has never known before. This generation of soldiers are going to beg to fight by his side within the decade, let me tell you all. Beg." It was one of the most humiliating experiences of Agrian's life, without a doubt. Made worse by the fact that it wasn't causing any kind of argument with his father. Now that everyone's attention had been called and publicly challenged, nobody seemed willing to turn things into an outright contest of wills.

They were just looking, staring. Letting their contempt sink in. And it was in that moment that Agrian knew, for a fact, he would never again be welcomed into the gentlemen of Lachfel's circles. His father had him trained as a magician to bring in a magician's wealth, and the rest of their social class hated him for it.

"Father, I think I would like to go now," he said quietly. The Baron's head snapped towards him.

"We'll be staying," he said. And that was final. Agrian had learned to keep his face still and his emotions hidden, at least. The Winzorth Institute had taught him that as it had so many other things, and he had learned the lesson well. He sat and pretended not to see the occasional stares, just as the men giving those stares pretended not to be. Things were cordial, if uncomfortable.

Conversation was inevitably about war and the currently declining magical economy around Garamon, which Agrian could not help but listen to carefully. Even if Isabel hadn't specifically asked him to feed her the information, it was all interesting stuff, and it wasn't hard to see how relevant all of it would be for his time back at Winzorth. Men were selling off companies and lands, that much he knew. And to his surprise, his father was not among them.

It became clear quite fast that Agrian didn't have all the context he needed to understand it. The night was still young by the time he and his father finally stepped out into the street, and he wasted no time in speaking about it.

"Can you teach me about the running of our business, and our lands?" he asked.

"All of it I mean." It was rare, these days, to see the Baron respond so positively to something his son said, and Agrian enjoyed the sight while it lasted.

"I thought you'd never ask," he grinned.

"Yes, I was actually planning on that anyway. You are, as I said, my heir. Not right that you know so little about what you'll be inheriting."

"We'll start when we get back?" Agrian asked, surprising himself with how eager he was.

"We'll start when I've slept," his father laughed.

"There'll be plenty of time, you're here for another month at least, right?"

"Right," Agrian nodded, and could not keep the grin from showing on his face.

"Thank you."

"Thank me?" his father laughed again.

"For what? You're my son Agrian, of course I want to teach you this." Right. His son, of course. Agrian felt his stomach churning as he thought about that.