Ivour Beastlord's Perspective
My mood is always poor coming back from my brother’s house, today worse than normal. Riding back on that blasted boar did nothing to help. Its bristly back scratches at my legs even through my clothes. Nothing to mention how it bounces and bucks making me look like a fool.
I hit the wall feeling the marble crack as I take in my grand foyer. My brothers house had been built to the same specifications as mine originally. But as his wealth and power grew, he added on a third wing and replace the white marble of the floors and stair with exotic ones rich with colour.
His precious artifacts and sculptures make mine look like cheap trinkets. The garden I have painstakingly maintained a bramble bush compared to the plants weaving through his forest of marble statues.
I yell for my servants that are nowhere to be seen. When one finally arrives, I am disgusted. Even my servants can not compare to his. I take the goblet off the platter nocking it to the floor with my elbow. As I take a sip of the wine, I find myself wondering what kind of stuff my brother drinks. I throw the goblet at the wall, the contents spilling out over the floor. It is probably better than this swill as well.
“Bring me my brandy.” I yell my voice echoing off the walls.
I make my way to the study. The fire is lit casting a cozy glow one the bookshelves that line the room, dancing off the single leather chair in the center. I have never enjoyed reading, the only reason I have a study is because my father did. I can’t remember how many nights I had come down to find my father sitting in front of his fireplace with a book in hand, tea in a glass by his side. when I had trouble sleeping, I would sit in his lap and he would read his boring books to me till I fall asleep.
I grab a book off a shelf and throw it into the roaring fire. I sit down in my chair and watch as the flames lick at the cover. How did it all go so wrong. I am the oldest child, the position of family head should have gone to me by birthright, yet it went to my youngest brother.
It all started with that dam egg. I chose the largest most vibrantly coloured egg in the nursery, yet when it hatched it was a black phoenix. The dam beast didn’t even make it to maturity. Because of it I am a laughing stalk, the Beastlord who could not raise a phoenix.
Worst of all is that dam boy Giean. Only 16 and taking my birthright from me again. All the years I spent slowly poisoning his father went to waste when my brother announced him to be the next head. I had to stop the poisoning since it would only accelerate that boy’s rise to power and my removal from the beast wall.
How has that boy gotten so powerful? I was there the day the naïve child chose that deformed black egg to be his pact. It was in the deepest reaches of the nursery abandoned since the founding of the Beastlords. It did hatch into a blue phoenix but even then, it was small and weak. Even my black phoenix had been stronger when it hatched.
There is no way that boy could have raised it to the celestial level. He must have formed a pact with a different phoenix, that must be it. My brother probably helped him, a trick to keep his family in charge, to keep me from my birthright.
Yet that aura today had been no trick, he almost killed those pathetic peasants blocking the exit. I hear a noise and see my son enter the room. He has the same electric blue eyes as my brother and that accursed Giean. The rest of him however takes after his mother. Her wavy blonde hair, thin blonde eyebrows and gentle smile. My eldest son, the first beast mage of his generation my pride and joy.
“Father, how did the meeting go,” he asks with a pleasant smile on his face.
The green magpie squawks in his ear as he stands there smiling at me. Green! I grab a book off the nightstand by my chair and throw it at him.
“what is it father?” he cries out in shock as he dodges the book. I throw another one at his stupid green phoenix.
“What is wrong with you?” I shout, “how did that dam Giean surpass you. You are the oldest of your generation yet that dam boy surpassed you picking the runt of the litter. How pathetic are you. To think that you are my son. That hoer mother of yours must have had a bastard with one of those damned Suntouched servants.”
I didn’t realise my son had moved till he is standing next to me his hand gripping tightly around my wrist. “Don’t insult mother.” He says a familiar anger shining in his eyes.
I rip my wrist away from him rubbing the red mark. I am about to reprimand him but I notice the servant coming with my drink. I push past my son and grab the drink off the tray. I down the glass, grabbing the bottle I pour myself another drink.
“What took you so long!” I ask as I finish the second drink.
“a’m sorry m’lord.” The girl says her face lowered.
I place the bottle back on the tray and raise her chin to get a better look at her face. She is a cute thing and her body isn’t bad either, though that might just be the liquor talking.
“well dear, why don’t you make it up to me, by reading me a book,” I say reaching behind her to pull one off the shelf.
“but a dun’t knuw huw tu read m’lord.”
For some reason I find her country bumpkin accent charming, likely another one of my head maids vanity projects.
“well then I will teach you dear come sit on my lap.” I say guiding with a hand around her waist.
“I will take my leave then father.” My son says, I just wave him away.
As I trace my hand up the girl’s thigh, reading the furthest thing from my mind, I feel the warm buzz of the alcohol. A smile works it way across my lips for the first time today. That boy Giean does not deserve that dragon’s power nor this peasant, Ken. That power is mine by birthright, and I will have it.
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