They travelled along the road that wove through the forest, not really knowing where they were. They spent more of the time in silence, both letting the recent events flow through them slowly, and content to be close to each other, safe. Their link did all the talking they needed right now.

  But, eventually, a thought came to Niala.

  “That formula, the one that turns you into a magivore. It came from somewhere.”

  David nodded.

  She frowned. “That means the... Hungering Eyestalk... the Fel Flower, it's not unknown. It has a name, and they were able to get their hands on at least one.”

  David dipped his head.

  Niala ran a hand through her hair. “I wonder if Dad knows about it. Sounds like the kind of hush-hush knowledge he'd collect.”

  Her boyfriend shrugged.

  “...do you think I should record the formula?” She looked up at him.

  “Sure. Knowledge isn't evil. It's what you do with it.” He looked back at her. “Besides, isn't this some kind of poison? The kind of thing you learn about so you can craft a cure for?” He asked, smiling.

  She smiled back. “You're right! Maybe I can figure out a way to... cure a magivore? Wouldn't that be kind of a poison against Fels?”

  “Huh. Guess it might be. Definitely worth investigating, then.”

  “Totally!” She exclaimed and retrieved a notebook, jotting down the formula as she remembered it, but in Niala-code, so nobody but her could decipher.

  David left his girlfriend to her task and focused on the road ahead, doing his best to avoid dips in the road.

  Within a few bells, they reached a small village, where they inquired about their location, finding they were quite a ways out east.

  They kept driving, David pushing the autocar just a bit past what was comfortable.

  They arrived back in Wardenburg a few bells after sundown. A quarter bell later, they were at his family's estate. The number of guards at the gate had been tripled, and a small camp had been set up out on the lawn, filled with soldiers.

  Barely two days in, and his family was ready to go to war. Classic Wardenfel.

  They were detained at the gate, but Isaac arrived soon after, flanked by a dozen armed men. His expression was a mix of relief and incredulity when he recognized David.

  “Who?” The young noble asked. That single word carried several other meanings, most of them violent.

  “Torsteel. A small mansion to the east, past a small village called Muddel.”

  Isaac raked his memory. “I think I know where that is. I'll go rouse the troops; we're setting out tonight. Nobody makes a fool of the main family, not even other Wardenfels.” He declared, mostly referring to Regis.

  “Ok. Have fun. The place might be a little burnt.”

  Isaac quirked an eyebrow. “What are you going to do while I'm gone?”

  David glanced at Niala, dozing on his shoulder at his side, before meeting his brother's gaze. “Bath, bed, sleep.”

  “What? No! I meant, about father!”

  “Oh. The same as before, I guess. Have Niala brew the cures, save his life. Try to avoid getting ensnared in his schemes.” David said, waving a hand.

  Isaac narrowed his eyes. “What happened to you wasn't his fault.”

  David held his brother's stare. “...he wasn't the rider, but he owns the stables.”

  Neither man said anything else. Isaac eventually sighed and motioned for the gate guards to let the autocar through. He watched it trundle past before calling for his men and marching toward the military camp.

  While David and Niala enjoyed a nice bath, the soldiers armed themselves and mounted heavy warhorses and transport autocars.

  While the two lovers ate a light meal while in their pyjamas, the troops sortied out of the estate.

  When they got to bed and, tangled with each other, fell asleep, the punitive expedition tore through the night.

  As they woke the next morning, the hammer fell on the Torsteel mansion.

  Everyone on site was given a single, brief chance to surrender. Nearly everyone took it.

  Torsteel was found comatose in the cellar. Regis was gone. Griff was one of the few who chose to fight.

  The door of their guest house flew open while they ate breakfast. A furious Agatha marched through, beelining for her son.

  “David Wardenfel! You get kidnapped, return home, and do not warn your mother you've returned, allowing the house staff to surprise me with the fact!?”

  David blinked, setting down his fork and looking at his. “Good morning, mother. Is this part of the new you? You never burst through doors yelling, before.” He tilted his head. “It's novel, but I fear it could get old rather quickly.”

  Niala's ears wiggled as her eyes danced from mother to son, but forced herself to remain silent.

  Agatha stared at her son for a few seconds more, eventually letting go of the breath she'd sucked in and returning an annoyed gaze at David. “I apologize. I should have knocked before stepping in, I suppose.” She levelled her eyes at her son. “Your turn now.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  David nodded, got to his feet and walked up to his mother, whose expression turned to surprise as her son gave her a gentle hug.

  “I'm back, and whole. Sorry I didn't think to have you informed.” He held the hug for a few seconds before stepping back.

  Agatha remained frozen in shock for a moment, mouth working over silent words. She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, please be more mindful of your poor mother in the future.” She huffed with no real weight, her lips turning into a smile. “I'm glad you're back, David. I'm glad you're both back!” She added, looking at Niala, who waved at the woman.

  David pulled up a chair at the table, his mother gracefully accepting it and sitting down as he regained his own seat and resumed his breakfast.

  Agatha settled down to wait and have a discussion, but her eyes soon began darting at the food arrayed before her.

  Niala caught sight of it and grinned. “Do you want to taste?”

  Agatha jolted. “Ah! I am so sorry, dear! It's just that... the smell is quite enticing. I did not know our cooks had these recipes in their repertoire. I shall need to have them prepare a few samples for me.”

  David and Niala shared a look, exchanging conniving smiles.

  He turned toward his mother. “None of this came out of the mansion's kitchen. It's all my amazing girlfriend's handiwork.”

  “Pardons?” Agatha looked at the food once more. “But these look so...”

  “Tasty?”

  “...yes.”

  David got up, retrieved a small plate and put a sample of the spiced egg fluffs and glazed potatoes on it, depositing it before his mother before sitting back down and filling his mouth with food.

  Agatha tentatively picked up the fork and, glancing at Niala, who nodded her along, took a small portion to her mouth.

  As she chewed, her eyes widened. She couldn't swallow fast enough before turning to Niala. “How much!?”

  The catkin blinked. “...What?”

  “How much for your recipe? I will be more than generous! These are... so fluffy, light, and succulent! It is like... an omelette mousse, spiced to perfection, a touch of the southern sea mixed with a titillating prickle of warmth!” She stared Niala in the eyes. “How. Much?”

  The catkin leaned away from the woman's intensity, looking to David for support, only to be met with a full mouth and a thumbs up.

  A pearl of sweat running down her temple, she returned her sight to the woman, whose eyes were still drilling into her.

  “It's, huh, not for sale? Secret... All Brew... recipeeee?” She asked, awkwardly smiling.

  Agatha kept her stare a few moments more before huffing and turning toward her son, who flinched from the sudden reversal. “David! When is your marriage?”

  “I... huh... what?”

  “Marriage! Once you're married, it becomes a secret Wardenfel family recipe!”

  “That's... not how it wo-”

  “It is! Isn't that right, Niala, dear?”

  Niala tilted her head, mulling over the question, before smiling and nodding. “It sounds logical!”

  David looked between his mother and girlfriend. Grinning, he turned to his mother. “Ah, I didn't know you wanted to learn how to cook so badly, dear mother. I'll have to see with Niala if we can move up our wedding date, then.”

  Agatha stared blankly. “Learn to... cook?”

  David nodded. “Of course. A family's secret recipe can only be taught to other family members. Revealing its secrets to an employed cook wouldn't be proper!”

  The Wardenfel noble spun her head to Niala, who was nodding along to David's words.

  “But... I never cooked once in my life...” Agatha said, crestfallen.

  Niala, tip of her tail swishing, extended a hand and patted the woman's hand. “It's alright, Agatha, I'll teach you! I love cooking almost as much as I love alchemy! It'll be fun!”

  As he delighted in his mother's floundering, David clinked his teeth on his fork, triumphant.

  Niala was escorted back to the alchemy lab, this time under much heavier guard, and with stricter instructions; let anyone in, and lose your head.

  By mid-afternoon, after a very quiet and non-interrupted brewing session, the cures were ready. She was brought to Jacob's chambers, where she was pleased to see her slow-release energizer had been effective. The Patriarch was sitting in his bed, with enough strength and energy to read a few reports and hold a proper discussion with his wife and seneschal.

  The man turned his head toward the door as it opened, with Niala led in by the maid. A corner of his mouth tugged into the idea of a smile, and he thanked Edvin, the trusted servant excusing himself and departing, leaving him alone with his wife and Niala.

  She had the man take both potions once after the other without much fanfare. He was a bit surprised, stating that his house alchemist usually gave instructions on how quickly or slowly to drink his potions.

  Niala scoffed, saying that was a classic ploy by alchemists under noble employ to make themselves seem more important.

  “A properly brewed potion will be effective no matter how you drink it. Anyone who claims otherwise is feeding you pig-barf!”

  Jacob coughed, and Agatha hid her face in her hands.

  But, well... Jacob would never admit it, not even under threat of bodily harm, but the small catkin had somehow endeared herself to him, and he realized that he knew why. She really did remind him of Annabelle.

  He hadn't expected the pang that squeezed his heart at the thought.

  Although he still had a long route to full recovery, by the next morning, the Wardenfel Patriarch no longer felt like he was staring down at death.

  Later that day, Isaac came back with a detachment of the punitive force with Lord Torsteel in custody, although the bloated man remained unconscious and in poor condition.

  The day after, Jacob was cleaned, dressed, and brought out of his bedchambers for the first time in two full seasons, albeit confined to a wheelchair.

  He asked Niala to see if she could bring Torsteel back to a presentable, or at least conscious state, to which she said she should be able to. He then spent the rest of the day being pushed along by his wife through the estate's gardens, enjoying his ability to properly breathe, now that it was returning to him.

  Two days later, Lord Torsteel stirred and woke. His body had deflated somewhat, but remained malformed and painful. Jacob had the man plead his case.

  It was found wanting.

  He was thrown into one of the Wardenfel's special cells, one lined with weakening runes. There he would remain until the Wardenfel council, the ruling body that existed to balance the Patriarch's power, would assemble and pass final judgment.

  With pressing matters addressed and his health returning, one last important task loomed tall over Jacob.

  Meeting his eldest son face to face.