God From The Abyss

"Approved, huh? Congratulations, Mikael," Evander hissed under his breath. He had wished that the Academy would refuse his letter, and yet... fate did not particularly care to suit the whim of the poor lad.

The mood at the table was genuinely getting happier as the reality of the letters continued to sink into the members of the Limmor Household. Everyone was all smiles as breakfast continued, with talk of the academy’s interview and the best aspects of travel, and of fierce competition notable of the institution, looming in the air.

The golden morning outside brightened further, with warmth now spilling in through the windows.

At that instant, the Duke, the Duchess, and Mikael all cast a quick glance toward the direction of the main gate after sensing something or rather a group of people that had just entered the grounds!

The doors of the hall flung open moments later as a servant rushed in, breathless.

"My Lord Duke, Duchess," he said, bowing deeply. "My apologies for the uncomposed appearance. But it would seem the Imperial Merchant Office’s delegation has arrived at the gates, and regrettably, without prior notice!"

The silence was mutual as it spread across the dining area.

Slowly, the Duchess’s gaze sharpened so much into anger that the servant shuddered in fear.

The Duke’s children all trembled slightly at the name of the visitors.

It was a name very much familiar. Who wouldn’t?

One of the most powerful organizations in the Empire, backed directly by the Imperial Family itself and empowered to handle all the businesses and financial transactions that ran in the Empire!

Naturally, their arrival, which only happened once in a while, and in only very important matters, rattled most people — nobles and commoners alike. Even the Six Great Families were not completely left out!

"An unannounced visit?" the Duke muttered softly.

Deep down, he was shocked but he managed to keep a straight face as the Head of the House. It would be improper to let his distress show on his face.

They had expected their arrival, but it was much earlier than they thought.

Too early!

The letter that was atop the tray, and that was addressed to the family was actually from the Office and had not even been opened yet! It was just arriving .

Duke Alan had expected and had taken into consideration, the careful treading of the Empire as a whole around this new ’relic’, but this took it to a whole new level of suspicion. They needed to tread with extreme caution.

For a brief moment, only the ticking of the massive wooden clock filled the room. Then Mikael chuckled — soft and amused.

"Well," he said brushing a stray strand of hair behind. "It would seem playtime just got pushed up by a bit," he said, shrugging it off his face.

Alan met his gaze, both sharing the same unspoken thought: it was time. To either make history, or be unmade.

The Duke glanced at his wife. Her deep blue eyes held calm, sharpness, and yet managed somehow to also have a bit of serenity behind the staunchness. Without outwardly confessing what she was feeling, she nodded to her husband.....in support, an unwavering one. At that moment, Duke Alan muttered a prayer of thanksgiving for the day he met her.

It was a great understatement to say she was firm willed.

" Then let’s not keep the Empire waiting, Clinton," the Duke called out, standing.

"Tell the servants to prepare the reception hall. Then you go and see to our guests, usher them in. Selene, Mikael, and Evander, you shall come with me. Lucius, Isabella, and Sybil, go about your schedules as normal. I do not want to hear any of your slacking off. Am I understood?"

"As you wish, my Lord."

"Yes, Father."

And so the table rose quietly.

Mikael rose too, stretching lazily, his golden eyes catching the morning light and glinting.

"To be honest Duke Alan, I’m very much curious about the merchants that come wearing crowns of gold, and that inspire such preparations amongst even you Saint families."

In his mind, he laughed. The sad yet comical and unbelieving kind.

Never in a billion years of his time as a Celestial had he expected he’d tread among mortals or even become bound by their rules. A concept he still had not come to terms with.

But the fact still remained that there was something, someone out there who could end his journey back, before it ever started. And to avoid that fate, he needed to conform.

As he followed the Duke out, the sunlight flared once more as the cloud that had blocked it moments earlier slowly gave way.

- - - - -

The cobblestone path that wound into the Limnor Estate gleamed faintly under the rising sun, as three carriages, lacquered black, rolled through the massive gates. On their flags, a crest of the rising sun with a sword at its center was emblazoned in bold gold and dim red. The guards at the gate bowed as the lead carriage halted just before the courtyard.

A footman came forward to it with haste, and from the first carriage stepped a man, barely past thirty.

His golden-yellow hair fell neatly over one eye, with other one visible to the public was a bright emerald that cringed up a bit as if to say he was greatly unpleased to be here. It relaxed moments later, just as the rest of his entourage stepped out of the carriages.

He strode forward in a light, slow steps that spoke all there was to know about him that he wanted people to. There was arrogance,but one backed with power.

At his side, a lady walked with quiet precision, clutching a quill case with the same dexterity as one would a weapon.

And behind, a squad of five knights flanked them, precise in their steps as their white armor glistened under the sunlight. The servants of the House were shaken,with some scurrying away instantly to avoid meeting the gaze of the visitors. While the identity of the man was a mystery to most, the white armors behind him spoke a different tale.

Even the most uneducated knew the Guards of the Imperial Order when they saw one; the elite group of knights that protected the scions and heirs of the Imperial blood!

Waiting before the fountain court was Clinton, with posture straight as the estate’s pillars and a gaze that spoke more apathy than his lack of fake smiles did.

"Welcome to Limnor Manor, Sir," he said, voice smooth and unhurried, as the party reached the oak doors of the main house.

"The Duke has prepared the reception hall for your convenience, Sir Llyod."

Lloyd inclined his head just enough to not cheat protocol.

"The House keeps quite the fine grounds." Deep in his heart, he sized up the estate whilst noting other trivialities all around.

Earlier, when the butler had received them, he did not even cast a regard at the entourage behind him. Even his bow was slightly forced and a bit exaggerated.

"All thanks to my Lord," Clinton’s expression did not shift.

A faint smile touched Lloyd’s mouth. "I see."

"Please, this way," Clinton gestured toward the heavy oak doors that led into the house.

As they walked down the hallway, the guests’ eyes drifted everywhere. The ornate decorations, the archway, the manner of lamps — everything seemed to gleam. Above them, crystal chandeliers cast a faint glow, while superb defensive mines sat at the fence and around the house.

The secretary murmured. "Not quite the picture you’d image when you hear of a struggling Family."

Llyod did not respond, and just kept on walking. But the secretary was indeed correct. The financial situation of the Limnor Family was not exactly the best, particularly among the Six Saint Bloodline Families. But an unknowing visitor would never suspect such. Duke Alan Limnor was quite the competent man.

Clinton heard. "House Limnor has quite a taste for excellence for generations. A lack of funds is no reason to look shabby, is it?

Lloyd chuckled softly. "Say no more. Surely their taste is visible to the eye and very much pleasing."

Their footsteps echoed, unhurried and deliberate, along the long gallery. Every portrait they passed seemed to watch — the long line of Limnor House lords staring back...a challenge.

One imperial knight leaned toward the other. "You’d think they ran a court of their own."

He earned Lloyd’s glare. Pride was his privilege, alone. His men had none.

Still, he shared the sentiment.

They reached the reception doors another massive oak polished to a sheen, and creaked as it swung open

Greenwood Forest did serve the region well.

Clinton gestured politely. "If my good sir will wait here, refreshments shall be served immediately. The Graces will attend you shortly."

He clapped once, and servants dressed in crisp black and white appeared with decanters, chilled fruit, and tea steaming faintly.

Lloyd took a glass, just before the servants had entered the room, inspecting it.

"The Limnor Household do infact know how to treat guests. What do you know?"

Clinton inclined his head. "Hospitality is a tradition we hold in high esteem after all. Now, Sir Lloyd. Shall we?"