Gunmage-Chapter 252: Secrets and Motives

"You’re the spitting image of your father."

Lugh narrowed his eyes slightly as he regarded the speaker, scrutinizing the old man with a hint of wariness.

Noticing the shift in expression, the man quickly corrected himself.

"I’m a member of House D’Aramitz. My name is Vaire D’Aramitz."

Then, without waiting for acknowledgment, Vaire turned to a figure within the gathering.

"Cassius."

"Uncle,"

The boy responded smoothly, their greeting efficient, as if rehearsed a dozen times.

The old man inclined his head before addressing him.

"I’ll need to borrow Lugh for a while, if that’s alright with you."

Cassius gestured at the group around him, answering respectfully,

"You’ll need to ask them, not me, Uncle."

A small smile tugged at Vaire’s lips. He turned to face the others.

"How about it? Would you young ones spare Lugh and me a few silent moments?"

There was a pause. No one answered immediately—several faces turned toward Lugh, awaiting his response.

He spoke before anyone else could.

"Are we discussing any deep and serious secrets?"

The man tilted his head, considering.

"No, not exactly."

Lugh wasn’t sure if that answer was a matter of etiquette or evasion. He didn’t care either way.

"Then there should be no problem with them hearing, should there?"

Another pause, slightly longer. Vaire finally gave a small laugh.

"I suppose not,"

He said, flashing Lugh a smile that was a little too sharp.

"I’ll need somewhere to sit, though. Age hasn’t been too kind to these old bones."

Cassius spoke up.

"Aren’t your bones made of iron?"

The old man gave him a pointed look.

"Cassius. What did I tell you about revealing family secrets?"

"Well, it’s not really a secret..."

"Cassius."

"Sorry."

After the bizarre exchange, Lord Vaire began moving toward a nearby sitting area, his walking stick clinking softly against the polished floor.

The rest followed, forming a slow-moving procession behind him.

A voice whispered near Lugh’s side—it was Drey.

"Bones made of iron? How does that even work?"

"That sounds like a maintenance nightmare,"

Another murmured.

"Doesn’t it rust or something?"

"He probably drinks oil,"

Mirelle quipped.

A round of chuckles spread across the group at her dry remark.

"I doubt it,"

Lugh added, barely looking up.

"Only Wittman’s that slimy."

Giggles evolved into suppressed laughter. No one had forgotten the Prince’s sneak attack—and no one would, not for a long time.

They reached a cozy sitting area at last. Lord Vaire sank into the plush sofa with a noticeable creak, the weight of his frame pressing deep into the cushions.

The others arranged themselves around him. The ladies were given the choice seats, while the rest of the young men had to improvise.

It ranged from leaning against a table like Lugh, and went as far as seating cross legged on the ground.

Once again, he found himself surprised at how easily these nobles discarded their usual conduct.

For the moment, they didn’t look like the heirs of Ophris’s most powerful families. They looked more like students—classmates. Of which, Lugh was naturally the youngest.

A few others, drawn by curiosity, had joined the circle. Now all were silent, listening as Lord Vaire began to speak.

"I knew your father for a long time."

"A friend?"

Lugh asked.

"More than just a friend,"

The man replied, his tone dipping with something deeper.

"He was my student. He trained under my guidance at the Academy."

Lugh blinked, confusion tightening his brow. Around him, others wore similar expressions.

"Training... training for what?"

He asked carefully.

Lord Vaire sighed, rubbing his temples as if organizing his thoughts was a physical burden.

"Your family—the Von Heims—have always set a very high bar for magical aptitude, Lugh."

"I’m aware,"

He replied quietly.

The man nodded in approval.

"Good. But Lucas—your father—the former patriarch of House Von Heim..."

"That’s okay. You can call him Lucas,"

Lugh interjected.

Lord Vaire offered a small smile.

"Very well. Lucas was... not particularly gifted in magic."

A murmur rippled through the circle. Lugh frowned as the man continued.

"Despite being a direct descendant of Lady Selaphiel herself, he didn’t possess the aptitude that was expected of him.

These things happen—genetics can be fickle. But he was the firstborn, and would eventually have to lead.

Your uncle Edrin was more naturally skilled, but his religious inclinations made him unsuitable for the leadership role."

Lugh shifted slightly, a subtle tension rising in his chest. Family business—Von Heim business—was being laid bare for all to hear. This disclosure made him uncomfortable.

However, the man had clearly stated earlier that this discussion wasn’t secret. That meant the others must already know.

Mirelle, meanwhile, looked perfectly calm, listening attentively. Lugh decided to mimic her composure.

"Knowing he would have to don the mantle of leadership without noteworthy talent left him open to... other options,"

The man continued.

"And you were the one who provided those options?"

Mirelle asked, her tone direct.

Lord Vaire didn’t answer. He merely smiled, unfazed.

Lugh didn’t blame her for interrupting. This was her father they were discussing. By virtue of age, her memories of him were fresher and stronger.

"So what’d you do?"

Drey cut in, her voice tinged with mischief.

"Taught him some magic kung-fu? Gave him some forbidden artifacts? Turned his bones to iron?"

The others turned to her slowly, unimpressed.

"What?"

She said, shrugging innocently.

Lord Vaire exhaled and resumed, choosing to ignore the comment.

"What I meant by other options was this: a lack of magical affinity broadened Lucas’s perspective."

Something clicked in Lugh’s mind. A flicker of realization. It didn’t yet form a complete picture, but the outline was there. A shape of understanding forming at the edges of thought.

Mirelle broke the thread with her confusion.

"I’m so lost."

The man turned to her gently.

"What was your father’s position before he died?"

Mirelle answered, though with a hint of hesitation.

"He was the head of the household."

"And?"

Lugh filled in the missing part.

"He was a general."

The final piece slid into place. Like the last stone in a collapsing structure, it fell with shattering clarity.

They had been wondering exactly why hous D’Aramitz would have any motivations to kill him.

He had just found the answer.

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