Chapter:20 When the Patriarch Leaves, the Shadows Move
Fernando and Felícia arrived home. As soon as he got in, Fernando took a quick shower and left with Ceto towards the city of Nova Rodada. He wanted to get everything in order before the trip — he didn't want to have to worry about how the territory worked while he was away.
He spent the rest of the day in meetings in Novo Redondo. When I finally returned, it was already night. The house was filled with a tense atmosphere.
Ever since she returned with Fernando, Felicia seemed like a different person. Angry, bitter, and with a look that could cut stone. Everyone around her avoided getting close to her—even the bravest servants found excuses to leave the room. Meanwhile, Catarina walked around the castle with a sparkle in her eyes, savoring every second of her sister's miserable state.
John, observant as always, didn't quite understand the reason for so much tension. I don't know Felicia that well. To him, she always seems cheerful, mischievous and even a little unpredictable. Seeing his aunt in that almost funereal state was strange. I thought about asking what had happened, but he preferred not to cut the beast. Poking an angry woman, especially a high-level mage, was never a wise idea. Besides... it was n't his problem, right?
When dinner was served, the family gathered as usual. But the mood at the table was different. Felicia's paleness gave the impression that someone had died. Even the respectful ones weighed more heavily on their hands.
John also noticed something else: the quality of the meals had dropped considerably. The food seemed more bland, lifeless. Perhaps it was the general mood that affected even the seasoning. Felicia was clearly still crying inside—not for a loss, but for the money she had been forced to spend. Catarina could barely contain her laughter, enjoying her sister's torment. Fernando, on the other hand, was silent, with a distant look in his eyes, as if mentally preparing himself for something important.
John was the only one who seemed really normal.
After dinner, Fernando wiped his mouth with a linen cloth and spoke calmly:
— As everyone already knows, in two days I will be going to the capital.
John looks away in surprise. He knew his father intended to go to the capital at some point, but he didn't expect him to be so remorseful.
— Dad... did something happen ? Why are you leaving so suddenly?
Fernando replied calmly:
— I already had plans for that. Now that I've been officially summoned, it's a good opportunity to resolve some pending matters as well.
— Ah... I see . And how long will you stay?
Fernando was sincere, but it was a tired smile.
— Not long. No need to worry. Just two years.
— Two... years ? — John almost choked.
For someone who came from Earth, even six months away from family seemed like an eternity. Two years sounded like programmed emotional abandonment.
He swallowed it second.
It was a different reality. Another world, another time, other priorities.
— Hahaha ! You can't stay away from your father, huh? — Fernando said , laughing.
— It's not that... I was just surprised. — John scratched the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.
— Ah, Junior ... you 're surprised by very little. — Fernando shook his head with a slight smile. — For me, even ten years is a short time, let alone two. Don't worry. When you evolve and go to the Institute, your perception of time will change. Look at your aunt — she spent a decade away and no one even noticed her absence.
Felícia and Catarina nodded, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.
In fact, for primitive beings, years were counted in a rigid way. For evolved beings, however, time was something more elastic. With evolution, the body's cells were restructured and strengthened, drastically delaying physical decay. Thus, old age took longer to arrive — and life expectancy multiplied. Among evolved beings, talking about age was talking about decades: those born in the same decade were considered to be of the same generation.
— Father... and how will the territory function while you are away?
Fernando didn't respond with words. He just raised his hand, and three golden medals floated from within his tunic, flying gently towards John, Felicia, and Catarina.
John picked it up carefully. He had never seen anything like it before. The medal was made of a rare metal, shiny gold, and engraved with a symbol that resembled the stylized letter "V" of the common tongue. When he touched it, he felt a soft, comforting warmth run over his skin. It was as if he were being embraced by an invisible force.
— What is it, father?
Before Fernando could respond, Catarina took the lead, with an elegant smile.
— It is a medal of command. Whoever holds it receives the political and administrative powers of the person who granted it. With it, you can represent your father within the territory — make decisions, give orders, govern. Of course , there are limits: more sensitive issues remain restricted.
John's eyes widened in surprise. The system of government in that world was truly different from the one he knew on Earth. In democratic governments, power was not something that could simply be transferred with a medal. It would be unthinkable for someone to walk around representing the President of the United States with a simple artifact . That would be chaotic... and probably cause for revolutions.
But there, in that world... it made sense. Authority came from strength, lineage, and trust.
Fernando then added, with the serious tone of a conductor:
— Your mother is right. These three medals represent my will. Any decision made with one of them requires the approval of at least two people. In other words: to act, you need the approval of your mother or your aunt. And the same goes for them. In short: two medals decide, one does not.
John looked at the object in his hand with a mixture of fascination and responsibility. That small golden piece was not just a symbol... it was pure, legitimate power.
And he had just received one.
John thought, amazed, that his father was smarter than he let on. Dividing power in this way avoided conflicts of command, while at the same time preventing anyone from taking absolute control . There was balance. And control.
Curious , he continued with the questions:
—To what extent do these medals represent your will?
Fernando replied without even needing to think:
Venhorst territory , all the administrative and civil decisions of my government. But, to use military power, you will need the three medals and Ceto's approval. Other than that... do whatever you want.
John was excited. It was as if he had suddenly been given a third of the authority of a president—but in a world where that title came with real, concrete power. Venhorst 's territory , as far as he knew, was comparable to small countries on Earth. That was no small feat.
— Dad... why are you giving me this? Aren't you afraid I 'll mess it up?
Fernando and Catarina rolled their eyes at the same time, as if the question was too silly to deserve an answer. Felícia, however, paid even more attention — after all, she herself was asking herself the same question. Why would Fernando entrust so much power to a boy of only seven years old? Even if it was only a third of the power of a lord, that was a lot. On the other hand, this fraction was enough for Felícia to see an advantage: it would be easier to manipulate John and, in the future, concentrate control of the territory in herself.
— You can consider this a birthday present — Fernando said, with a calm smile. — For the two years I'll be away. How about that?
John had to admit: it would be hard to receive a better gift in the years to come.
Felicia couldn't hide the gleam in her eyes—the kind of gleam that revealed hidden intentions. She was already formulating strategies to win John over and influence his decisions. If she could gain his trust, she could double the medal's power. Controlling two meant real power.
John, for his part, began to ponder as well. The same ambitious gleam gleamed in his eyes—a gleam that belied his age. If he could control his mother or his aunt… he would have access to the majority. And with that, he would have everything.
Suddenly, a soft, melodious, but venomous voice interrupted the silent machinations:
— Dear... — said Catarina, delicately placing the glass on the table. — Why don't you give the third medal to Ceto? I believe he would be more suitable than a certain sister-in-law of mine... greedy and irresponsible.
Boom.
A metaphorical bolt of lightning struck Felicia's head. Catarina's words were like a bucket of ice water on the fiery plans she was beginning to make. She looked at her sister-in-law with narrowed eyes. The tension between them was palpable, electric. Their gazes met like sharp spears—almost literal sparks flew between their eyes.
John watched everything with his heart racing, almost exploding with contained joy. If he could, he would have gotten up and danced in the middle of the room.
In his childish analysis—but increasingly sharp—that was great. One less direct competitor for power. Something in that relationship between his mother and his aunt always seemed... cracked . He still didn't know if the origin was something old, buried in the past, or if it had to do with the episode in which he almost died a few days ago.
But to John, that didn't matter. In the end, the more the others fought... the more power he had.
What really mattered was that with that open hostility, Felicia was out of the running . John had already decided: he would never join her in sharing power. It would be more useful to take advantage of the friction between the two women to align himself with his mother and use some of the authority she had.
He had no ambition for military power—that required the consensus of the three medals and the authorization of the Ceto. With just two, he could already be considered the acting lord of Venhorst for the next two years. That was enough. That was more than enough.
Felicia, on the other hand, knew that she could never count on her narrow-minded sister-in-law. The only possible way to achieve the economic power she so coveted was through John's medal. He was her only chance .
"Fooling a seven-year-old child can't be that hard…" he thought, as a treacherous smile appeared on his lips. All it would take was a well-placed promise, a loving gesture, and the medal would be in his hands.
She was literally drooling as she watched John with a feverish glint in her eyes.
Across the table, John was salivating too—not at the food, but at the sight of his mother. She was his key to dominance, his bridge to near-absolute control. The two of them watched each other like predators in disguise, natural manipulators in miniature.
The most comical — or tragic — thing was that they both thought they were smarter than each other.
When Fernando observed this silent exchange, a slight smile formed at the corner of his mouth. He could already imagine the plans that were germinating in their heads. However, he had a strategy of his own: to convince Catarina, tonight, in bed, to remain neutral. If he succeeded, he would make John run after her, while Felicia would run after John.
In the end... no one would have a majority. Yes , Fernando thought, I really am a cunning man.
— Well, that's it then — he declared, closing the meeting like someone closing the curtains on a play.
Everyone came back to reality. They put away their medals with reverence, but John and Felicia did so as if they were hiding the secret weapon of a silent war.
Fernando turned to his son, his voice now deeper:
— Junior , you will be the man of the house now. It is your responsibility to keep everything in order. You must look after your mother, your aunt... and our people. Do not embarrass me these two years. I do not want to hear reports of your misconduct.
He paused briefly, then added in a low but meaningful tone:
— As for your aunt... be careful.
She winked discreetly at John, making clear what her words didn't say: she was going to try to take his medal. And he needed to be ready.
— Felicia — Fernando continued —, while I'm away, it will be your job to continue your warrior training with John, Alex and that... wolf girl .
— Isa , Dad. Her name is Isa, not 'wolf girl' — John corrected, with slight impatience.
— Okay, okay. You should train all three of them — Fernando replied, waving his hand as if it weren't relevant.
Felicia, still with her eyes half-closed and a humorless smile on her lips, replied:
— Okay. I'm going to train. You can go ahead and relax.
Fernando then turned to Catarina, with a softer tone:
— Dear, continue with your theoretical magic training.
Catarina simply nodded, elegant and silent as a blizzard—but the look she gave Felicia still carried the same electric spark as before.
Catarina just nodded, calm as ever. Fernando then turned to his son. The serious look on his face made it clear that this was no ordinary conversation.
— Junior ... you have one year to decide—wizard or warrior. — Fernando's voice was firm, but not harsh. — Ask your mother or Ceto to send a letter with your choice. Next year, your evolution ritual will come. And that path... you only choose once in your life. So, don't let anyone choose for you.
He paused, then continued with a barely perceptible sigh .
— Actually... you're already very lucky. Your starting point is rare. Most people don't even have a choice. Look at the case of the wolf family. They've been hunted since the beginning of time. To survive, their father and mother set out on a path that destroyed them. One died. The other is on the verge of it.
The words hit John like a rock. He didn't interrupt. He just listened, his fists clenched discreetly.
— For you... both being a wizard and a warrior are noble paths. You are well prepared. — Fernando's voice sounded almost proud. — Your body is strong. Your spirit even stronger. If you were already ten years old, we would have performed your ritual by now. But... waiting can also be good.
John looked up and answered with conviction:
— Dad, you don't need to worry. I've already made my decision.
Fernando stared at him for a moment, then nodded. There was something in his eyes that mixed pride, pain, and a strange hope.
— Junior — he began, now with a darker, almost serious tone —, since you were born, you have been surrounded by the comfort of the castle. That worries me. Because this life... has prevented you from seeing the world as it really is.
He stepped forward and lightly touched his son's shoulder.
— The world is dirty, unfair, and cruel . People like that bastard who almost killed you... are like dust on the road. Even if you brush one away, more will appear. And there will be times when neither I nor your mother will be there to protect you.
John pressed his lips together. It still hurt. The memory of that night... it still bled into his memory.
— If you had had strength back then... none of that would have happened. — Fernando said without softening his words. — In this world, strength is everything. And weakness... is a sin that takes the life of those you love. I hope you find the motivation to seek power. The right kind of power.
Fernando stared into space for a second, as if reviewing the past. Then he continued, with a note of melancholy:
— In the future, learn to retreat when you cannot advance. Waiting can be an ally. But sometimes, evil is necessary. What matters... is knowing how to judge when and how to use it.
Silence. Only the distant sound of the wind outside filled the room.
— Well... — he said , breaking the tension with a light sigh — I think I've said enough for today.
John was silent for a moment, absorbing each word as if they were sharp swords stuck in his chest. Then he said with a firm look:
— Father... thank you very much for your words. I will carry them with me. Always. In my heart.
Fernando nodded. The look he gave his son was that of a man who knew he would not return the same—or perhaps, that he would not return at all.
"It's already late," he murmured. "Tomorrow will be another day… another one we'll have to face."
Fernando had one last conversation with Catarina, far from John's attentive ears. They spoke of subjects that would never be discussed in front of his son — issues from the past, political decisions, and dilemmas that he would one day have to face alone. The conversation lasted until dawn, interrupted only by long silences in which the eyes said more than words.
When the topics were exhausted, desire took its place. A desire that mixed urgency and farewell.
That night, they consumed each other as if time was about to run out. Muffled moans escaped through the cracks in the door. The room, once orderly, became a battlefield of sheets, pillows and sighs. Catarina, overcome by the intensity of someone she loved and feared losing, was tireless. Fernando, even with his body tired from responsibility, let himself be enveloped by the storm that she was.
They tasted all the flavors of each other — from sweat to tears, from skin to soul. They no longer knew if they were at their first or fifth climax. The strangest thing is that the bed held. But their world, at that moment, trembled.
The next day, Fernando devoted himself to his family. They spent the day laughing, reminiscing and telling stories that had been told a thousand times before, but that always sounded new. Catarina, in a rare display of lightness, even expressed a gesture of goodwill towards Felicia . Alex and Isa had something that only they knew. John, quieter than usual, simply observed everything. He recorded every face, every voice, every gesture.
At the end of the day, the sky was dyed a deep black, dotted with a sea of stars. The night brought a melancholic silence, as if the world respected the departure that was to come.
The next morning, Fernando was already standing in front of his imposing flying ark. It was time to leave. By his side were everyone: Catarina, firm and serene; Felicia , with her arms crossed and an enigmatic smile; Ceto, as always impassive; Alex and Isa, with curious looks; and John, tightly holding the medal he had inherited.
— Dear... have a good trip — said Catarina, touching his arm for a moment.
— Brother, have a good trip — Felicia murmured , with an indecipherable expression.
— Lord Fernando, have a good trip — said Ceto, with a restrained bow.
— Sir, have a good trip! — Alex said , waving his hand.
— Dad... have a good trip — said John, with a firm look, but his heart pounding.
Fernando gave them all a quick jump and entered the ark. The gears glowed blue, and the vessel began to levitate.
With a muffled roar, the ark cut through the sky and departed over the horizon, leaving behind the castle, the smiles and the teary eyes. The breeze that seemed to bring promises of change.
Now, with Ferdinand on his way to the capital, the battle for the commanding coins would finally begin . The balance of power was teetering, and no one knew who would come out on top.
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