Chapter 135: Mortimer

Sylas' eyes snapped open, finding a familiar, yet not so familiar ceiling above him.

He had only slept one night in the bed before, so unsurprisingly, he was probably more used to his bed in Casstle Main than this bed in the Brown family compound.

Sylas sat up and a familiar wave of pain hit him. He looked down at himself and found that he was still covered in the same bruises, but was also somehow wearing the same blue striped pajamas he had been wearing before he entered the Trial. At the same time, the Scorned Wraps and the Madness Key had magically appeared on him as well.

He sighed. It seemed that there was no escaping them. He would probably have to wear gloves and a long-sleeved shirt from now on just to hide the Scorned Wraps, but he wondered if that would bring more attention to them than not.

He stood slowly, wanting to go and shower and more importantly, shave. He knew it would probably be impossible to hide from his family that he had gone when they had explicitly hoped that he would not, but since he had come back alive, he assumed it would be easier to smooth that over anyway.

'Hm?'

The door to his room had an outline of light though it should still be the dead of night. According to his understanding, during the Trial, time was frozen. Most of the world, at least on this hemisphere, should be in bed right now. Though, it was hard to say if that'd last for long.

But what caught his attention more than that was the fact there was a shadow through the outline of light.

Someone was standing before his door?

Sylas walked toward it and opened it. The first thing he saw was a little girl in a pink gown, she was half reaching for the doorknob and half bawling her eyes out. Clearly, she was scared to see what might or might not be on the other side.

He could have sworn that he already appeased her. Between her and his parents, she had been the hardest to convince that he definitely wouldn't go. It seemed that he could be a bit naive too, she didn't believe him even a little bit.

Elara looked up with red eyes, and when she saw that it was Sylas, she was startled at first before she jumped at him, her sobs coming in waves. Having been containing herself for so long, she could no longer stand it. She hiccuped and wheezed, barely breathing properly.

A pang of guilt echoed in Sylas' heart, a sigh leaving his lips.

"What are you crying for, little munchkin? Aren't I here?"

Elara didn't answer, crying harder. She had only seen Sylas for a brief moment, but how could she not notice the changes in her brother? He had just magically gone from clean-shaven to a scruffy beard in what was effectively a few seconds?

They said that kids were more intelligent than adults gave them credit for, and it seemed that Sylas was learning that the hard way.

Elara had been holding back her sobs before, but after seeing Sylas she couldn't contain it any longer and the noises quickly caught the attention of his parents and grandfather.

Another sigh came from Sylas as the tired eyes of his parents appeared, blinking under the lights of the hallway and widening when they noticed the changes in Sylas.

'Well, it seems I'll have to face this music earlier than I thought,' Sylas thought to himself.

...

It took quite a while for Sylas to calm everyone down. His grandfather even pretended to be angry with him as well, shirking all responsibility.

But honestly, seeing them act like this, Sylas felt a rare peace. At least in the last more than week, he hadn't experienced such a thing. He had mostly gone to the Trial for selfish reasons, but being with his family now... it felt like he had more purpose than he thought.

When the time came, the foundation he laid in the Trial would be what helped his family stay just as safe and carefree.

Well, most of them, anyway. As for his little munchkin of a sister, she insisted on sleeping with him again as though he might try to disappear again.

She harrumphed, turning her back to him and stealing all the covers for herself.

Sylas smiled and let her throw her tantrum. He'd have to find a way to make it up to her when the sun rose.

**

The location was a simple office, or so it seemed. The more one looked, though, the more extraordinary it became, carrying the **

The location was a simple office, or so it seemed. The more one air of a place entrenched in wealth rather than being new to it.

The desk was made of a solid oak slab that would have cost hundreds of thousands to commission from a woodworker. The white carpet that would sway like grass if there was a crosswind was made from a rare polar bear hide. Even the pens that stuck out from a carefully carved ornament would have been worth thousands of dollars each.

And yet it was easy to ignore these things due to the man that sat behind it.

He wore simple silk robes and held a cigar, puffing out tufts of smoke from time to time. His eyes looked much older than his countenance, carrying a deep wisdom. But his face itself was covered in a mostly black beard with strands of white and grey, his hair carrying a deliberate, slick style to it that gave him a modern touch.

This man was Mortimer Grimblade, and it was a name that would shock most because he was the founder of the Browns' moneymaking empire, a man who should have been the grandfather to Sylas' own grandfather, and yet... here he was... alive and well.

Astrid, Lucius, and Malachi stood in a row before this man, their backs straight and their eyes sharp.