Year 2050

  Month 2

  Mercier Manor:

  Dante stood in front of the mirror, his hair sleeked back, a pristine dark dress shirt with small rubied lines embroidered into it like veins on an unnatural creature.

  He kept his collar open and buttoned up his dark vest, which held the same lines as his shirt. It was as if there was a dark void mixed with the crimson lines.

  My closet is full of these. Everyone else has normal ones, but mine looks strange. Father, you always have a purpose. What is yours for this?

  Dante shook his head, sighing as he stopped thinking of the unanswered question.

  A knock at his door turned his head.

  “Yes?”

  “Dante, I’m here with the necklace your father wants you to wear.”

  A necklace? Why would he give me a necklace?

  “Come in, Clare.” The door opened with Dante’s permission, and in came a young, petite woman, who appeared no older nor taller than Emmy. She wore a maid’s attire, her hair was a fiery red that fell in soft waves to her shoulders, and her lips matched the vibrant hue perfectly. Dante glanced at her nails, which held the same color, and he gave a grin, noting the meticulous attention to detail in her appearance.

  “Did Emma do this?”

  “Uh, yes. She can be quite persuasive.” Dante laughed at the maid’s response.

  “Ok, let me see it,” Dante said.

  Clare walked behind Dante and added the necklace to his attire. He looked at it in the mirror.

  How strange.

  Were the only thoughts in his mind as he gazed at the eye necklace made of obsidian with a ruby in the middle.

  “How do I look?” Dante turned around and gave Clare a smile.

  “Very handsome, young master.” Clare responded as she smoothed parts of his attire for him.

  “Young master now, huh. Maybe I’ll abuse my young master status then.” Dante gave a mischievous grin, causing Clare to jump up like a frightened rabbit.

  “Dante, don’t!” she waved a finger, but to no avail.

  Dante’s hand swept her off her feet.

  “Ahh!” she yelled as he tossed her to his bed.

  “Now then, my little slave, how shall this young master deal with you.”

  “Dante, stop! You don’t have time to fool around. You… haha!” Clare began, her serious expression soon torn apart as Dante began to tickle her.

  “Stop Dante, haha stop ha please.” The maid laughed, powerless against Dante’s brutal assault.

  A knock at the door brought hope to Clare’s eyes.

  “Sai help!” Clare pleaded.

  “Sai come help your young master punish this foolish servant.”

  Standing next to the door was an expressionless man with light brown hair wearing a butler outfit who appeared even younger than Dante and far shorter. If he stood next to Emma, Dante was unsure who would be taller. On his clothing, he had a name tag, but instead of a name, it said.

  I’m 20, not 14, I

  just look young!

  “Dante, you’ll wrinkle your clothes.” Sai said as he watched.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Sai haha help m-me,” Clare cried.

  “Forgive me Clare but Dante is much stronger then me.” Sai responded emotionlessly.

  …

  “I’m also far to lazy to do so.” came the real reason from Sai’s lips.

  “Good, Sai good my most loyal servant now help your master.” Dante laughed.

  “I would master, however I might get kicked.” Sai responded

  …

  “I also just don’t want to.” came his delayed response.

  Dante stopped his assault on Clare and stood up, fixing his attire.

  “Ok you two lets start strutting the mansion, look lively after all you're my personal maid and butler.” Dante placed an encouraging hand on Sai, then moved to help Clare back up. The former giving back eyes deader than a fishes. The latter, on the other hand, had more than enough emotion in her eyes for the two of them as she glared at Dante with her greatest attempt at a murderous look.

  Heh she reminds me of miss Katari, I just can't take her look seriously. I'm sorry, Clare but it's like a poodle is trying to act tough.

  The trio left the room. Unlike the exterior, the interior of the manor was thoroughly modernized. The hall was illuminated by chandeliers that mimicked candlelight—each flame-shaped bulb casting a warm glow across the polished marble floors.

  Servants moved quietly along the edges of the corridor, muttering as Dante passed, some looking down at him and others not giving him a second glance. Some carried trays with drinks or folded linens; others knelt to polish corners of the walls.

  Heh… these servants, as always, ignoring me just because I don’t fight for the head of the household.

  My siblings are always at each other’s throats, clawing for influence.

  Still… it always amazes me how they have the gall to look down on me.

  Even if my influence is the weakest among my siblings… I’m still a Mercier.

  Whatever. I can’t be bothered with them.

  Portraits lined the upper walls, as full plated armor lined up under each portrait, weapons as outdated as the manor's exterior.

  Hmm our dynasty, all in these long halls.

  In all honesty, I don’t know half of them.

  Father only had me learn ones that pertained to the given lesson.

  Dante’s eyes landed on one of the paintings. A man with cold eyes, one hand resting on the hilt of a saber, the other clutching a wooden horse figurine.

  Barnanbes Mercier. During a Coup he took charge with a small group of men fought to regain control.

  Father had me study his strategies for siege resistance and strategies for when outnumbered.

  Dante continued on his pace, never slowing as his eyes wandered to another portrait, this one of a young beautiful woman in a simple gown.

  Samantha Mercier. My sister was named after her, she was a smart woman, yet her brother’s talents were beyond her as was her sisters. Yet she won head of the household because the other lords and ladies were drawn to her.

  Although my father calls her weak, he still had me learn how to gain the loyalty of those around me.

  A third portrait took his attention. This one held a robed man with a blindfold, holding scales in one hand and a broken crown in the other.

  Judias Teylon. He was one of the few people who held the head of the Mercier house without being a Mercier. The brother-in-law of a Mercier. What he lacked in eyesight, he made up for in vision and ruthlessness. He was always fair and known for peace. He was able to achieve peace because his reputation made it so it wasn’t worth doing anything beyond said peace.

  To read your enemies, to be ruthless enough that no one will think it is worth becoming your enemy. To make sure your word means something. Those are the lessons this one taught.

  Dante stopped at the final portrait. One that he personally had placed here. This one was not a lesson given to him by his father. This was the one Dante chose.

  In front of him was the portrait of a man with a broken sword in his hand, half his face covered in a dark mask, and the other half horribly burned. He was a hooded figure whose remaining eye gazed underneath him, which lay a pile of corpses beneath his feet.

  I remember once father took me to the family’s private library and told me to pick a patron, all my siblings gained one. This is the one I chose.

  Damian Mercier. The fallen.

  He originally should not have been here, for he was not a household head. No, he is the one who nearly destroyed the household. He, like Dante, had no desire for the house.

  Kind to others, yet hidden from gaze he would train harshly. Forgiving to others, yet critical of himself.

  He was betrayed, though history is missing many of the details, yet at some point, he destroyed everyone but the youngest of the Mercier family. His only words were.

  “No one in this world is innocent, my tears no longer flow, and my voice can no longer scream. Yet I persevered, first for those I left behind, then for myself. Yet all I found in the end was destruction.”

  I have wondered what he meant many times. Did the Mercier betray him? Did he persevere to punish them and free himself of his bonds? And did that lead him to failure?

  What exactly happened in the past?

  “Master.” Sai nudged Dante, drawing him from his contemplations.

  “Ah sorry I got lost lets go down.” Dante said as he turned the corner and walked to the lower floor.

  “There you are younger brother, did Damian take your time again?” a voice as sweet as the spring asked.

  Samantha.

  ….