B3 – Chapter 1: Reuniting with family

Tristan knocked on the door. A loud, clacking, metal-on-wood noise. Felicity was making paw-claw biscuits on his head, as she did when she was bored or anxious. He assumed the latter.

A few moments passed before he heard movement on the other side, and Tristan made sure to keep his family crest out, on his chest plate, so that Bertram would know him despite his changed appearance.

The door opened and it was not his half-brother who greeted him at the door. Instead, it was a partially-dressed Drakonid. She had deep, blue scales all along her body, a pair of curling horns that arched back from her temples, and a shock of light, blue hair. “What is it?” she asked in a gruff tone.

“I’m…I’m here to see Bertram,” Tristan replied.

She turned aside and Tristan got a glance into the hallway leading deeper into the chamber. It was messy, to say the least. “Bertram! Got some knife-ear here to talk.” She turned back to face Tristan and smirked, “Weird antler-dog on your head.”

Tristan glanced up at Felicity, who waved politely with her paw, “I’m Felicity. Tristan’s companion.”

“Huh. Okay.” The woman shrugged.

“Knife-ear?” an exhausted, masculine voice replied. Tristan saw his half-brother walk down the short hallway before coming to a sudden stop a few feet from the door. “Holy shit…that’s the Anorox crest.” His face turned to one of wrath and anger as he took a step forward and shouted accusatorily, “Who did you steal it from?!”

Tristan held up his hands, “It’s me! Tristan! I can pro-”

Bertram got in front of him and stood right up next to Tristan. His half-brother was large – easily six foot tall, with hulking muscles that were scarred and defined. He, too, was not well covered, and the attendant that had teleported Tristan from the front of the Citadel of Essence and was standing aside averted her gaze. Bertram’s ruddish, orange scruff and light, brown hair shook as his voice trembled in a rage. “You stole it! No Anorox would lose it!”

“Peanuts,” Tristan stated.

Bertram’s face screwed up in confusion, “What?”

“Peanuts. Your favorite snack. Father hated you eating them all over the manor, because you would just leave the shells all over the place. It’s me, Tristan. Just…fully Elf.”

Bertram’s confusion faded and the anger left him, “It…holy shit…no way.” He looked Tristan in the eye, looking slightly down at him due to their minor height difference. “What did we do to Gisele on her ninth birthday?”

Tristan chuckled as he recalled the memory vividly and replayed it in his thoughts as he spoke, “We tied her to her bed and then threw nine pies at her for nine birthdays. Father was furious, and grandfather made us clean up everything.”

Bertram let out a slight laugh and reached forward, hugging Tristan tight. “It is you! I never…how are you here?” he pulled away and looked utterly bewildered, “Why are you here?”

Tristan shook his head, “Not…not out here,” he said as he glanced at the woman who was observing him silently from the side. “Can we talk inside?”

“Sure. Come in! Oh, shit, don’t mind the mess. Rory? Mind fixing up the place?”

The blue Drakonid woman scoffed, “Please. We’ll just make it messy again when he’s gone.” She turned and walked into the dimly lit chamber.

The attendant next to the door cleared her throat, “I will be here to transport you back to the guest quarters once you conclude your visit. No more than an hour.”

“I don’t know if we’ll need that long,” he replied as he followed Bertram inside the room and shut the door.

Felicity pinched her nose, “Pee-eww! It stinks in here!”

The scent assailed Tristan also, and he pinched his nose as the foul smell of unwashed sheets permeated the air. Bertram let out a barking laugh, “Sorry! Wasn’t expecting company.”

The quarters were decent accommodations. A short entry hall with a privy to one side, a small study on the other with a writing desk and bookshelf, and then a large, main room with two trunks and a bed. Rory was laying on the bed, watching Bertram as he turned around to face Tristan. “What was so important we had to talk about it away from the witch?” he asked.

“Witch?” Felicity asked. “That’s not a ranking of essence-weaver by Order.”

Bertram cracked a smile, “Just a name for that lady that Rory and I use. She constantly interrupts us for those stupid field trips. But it pays well. We’re rich.”

“Damn right,” the Drakonid woman replied. “Hurry up so we can get back to our lives.”

Bertram shot her a glare, “He’s my half-brother. He can stay and visit for a little.”

She rolled her eyes and rolled over, her tail flopping onto the side of the bed as if flicked back and forth, as if annoyed.

“Joku ei osaa kohdella vieraita,” (Someone doesn’t know how to treat guests), Felicity whispered.

“What did your fox-thing say?” Bertram asked.

Tristan waved his hand, “Never mind her. Bertram…we…I…” he took a deep breath, pushing aside the discomfort at the smell as emotions roiled through him.

“Just say it,” Felicity softly whispered in his ear. “There is no good way to do this.”

She’s right, Tristan thought as he stood upright. Gripping his family crest, he plucked the black, five-pointed star from the back and held it up. “Grandfather named me heir.”

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Bertram’s jaw went slack, “Wha…did something happen to dad?”

Shit, Tristan thought. He began to spin his essence crucible and had it flow up through his essence channels and just below the skin, ready to surge into his armor to protect him if needed. “He’s dead. I killed him.”

Bertram’s face played through a whole host of emotions; shock, rage, confusion, and then settled on anger as he pushed Tristan against the wall and the latter activated his armor to protect himself. “Why did you kill him!” Bertram screamed.