Why are you still sixty-five?

After having an active rest for the whole day, Kyrian walked through the wide corridors of his master's mansion. It was the first time that it was eerily silent. Even the housemaids and butlers that usually greeted him with a wide smile couldn't be seen. It seemed like the mood of his master affected everyone in the estate.

As he was looking for any sign of human activity, he realized that he didn't have the time to admire the mansion before, but now, he had seen the subtle fusion of technology, magic, and luxury. Sometimes, it would go over his head how his jokester of a master is one of the most powerful beings in the Republic. He held the power to rule an entire state.

It was then that he remembered from his mother's lessons that every state in the Republic was once an ancient kingdom that ruled as kings and queens in the era before the Republic unified the warring states of Aicras.

Technically, his master's lineage came from a royal bloodline.

"Maybe that's why he had named his steel arts as [Emperor of Steel]"

"What made you think of that, Kyrian?" the voice of his master rang out from the corridors.

"Eek! Master, don't surprise me like that." The boy looked around, but he couldn't see his master. Maybe he was feeling better and was now playing pranks on him.

"I was just thinking how you came up with your steel arts, [Emperor of Steel]. You rule over any kind of steel in existence. Your will is their command. If you wanted steel to become a sword, it would be a sword. A spear would turn into a shield if you commanded it." His words echoed the hallway as he was heading towards the library.

There was a lot of information he was missing, and he couldn't bother his master to give everything. If he learned something from living in a rural village, it was that you needed to work hard to get something.

Kyrian's words were left unanswered, as if the voice of his master was a mirage.

He really wondered what was wrong with his master until he saw Horace in one of the pavilions outside.

The pavilion of the estate is a breathtaking fusion of luxury, magic, and technology, creating an atmosphere that is both enchanting and somber. The structure is composed of polished marble, inlaid with intricate gold and silver filigree that glows softly with an otherworldly light.

Surrounding the pavilion are beautifully manicured gardens, where exotic plants and flowers bloom in impossible colors, their petals shimmering with a faint magical aura. The abundance of lilies by the pond took the spotlight, if there ever was a competition among all the flowers.

The air is filled with the gentle hum of unseen machinery, enhancing the natural beauty with subtle, technological wonders. Hidden speakers play a soft, melancholic melody that adds to the overall ambiance.

The walls of the pavilion are adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of mythical swords slaying gargantuan monsters, their images shifting ever so slightly as if alive.

At the center of the pavilion, under the open sky, sits a solitary figure. He is a regal presence, draped in dark, flowing robes that seem to absorb the light. His face is etched with sorrow, his eyes reflecting the weight of untold stories and burdens. He sits at an ornate table, its surface carved with runes that pulse faintly with magical energy.

In his hand, he holds a goblet of wine, its deep red liquid catching the light of the three moons that hang in the sky above. The moons cast a pale, ethereal glow over the scene, their light mingling with the soft illumination of the pavilion.

Shadows play across Horace's face, accentuating the lines of his somber expression as he drinks alone, lost in thought.

"Master, I-"

Kyrian felt like he interrupted something. He had rarely seen his master be this emotional. He even matched the background music with a sad song.

"Come. Have a seat next to me, child."

His master had never called me a child! 'Who is this?' Kyrian had a slight panic at the sudden change of his master's treatment.

"Who are you?" Kyrian asked.

"It's still me, brat." Horace did his signature move, the 'slap-behind-the-head.'

Kyrian instinctively covered the back of his head the moment he asked who his master was. He knew what was going to happen when he asked his master the question.

"It's still me. The Egghead, the one who slaps the back of your head, the one who fished you out of the rivers of Theria."

"But why do you seem so… different? Does it have anything to do with what happened at Zara?"

"If you're thinking that someone close to me died in Zara, then you're wrong. But you're not too far from the truth." Horace held his chalice and took a large gulp from it. His face went a little redder in hue as he felt the magic alcohol in his throat.

"I'm sorry to hear that, master." Kyrian felt like giving condolences, but he didn't know who his master lost. Regardless, he felt some connection with his master because he knew what it was like to lose someone.

"At times like this, I really feel the sorrow of solitude. It's my wife's birthday today, Kyrian." 

The boy didn't answer and let his master continue. Kyrian thought that maybe his master and his wife had a huge fight. His master probably shouldn't drink alone but instead, he should be making up with his wife, especially on her birthday.

But what did he know about marriage?

He didn't let out his thoughts, and let his master continue.

"I met my wife when I reached rank 6. I was just around seventy years young back then. I had this long and beautiful silver hair - every lady wanted to marry me. I really was a big shot back then. Well, I still am, don't you think so, brat?"

"Yes, I think you're absolutely amazing, master!" A hint of sarcasm and playfulness let out in his reply, wanting to match his master's energy. Prepared for what to come, Kyrian guarded the back of his head, but the slap didn't come.

Horace continued while ignoring his disciple's antics, "The elders of our House kept on nagging me to marry some other noble. I resisted of course, I overpowered them, submitted various research to the academia so that my presence and achievements could shut them all up. Of course, I silenced them all, that's why I'm the patriarch now." 

With another gulp from his goblet of seemingly unending wine, the Steel Emperor continued, "I met her when I was around seventy years old, while she was sixty. She was a pretty powerful mage back then, or you could also say, a powerful pretty mage. Haha, she charmed the heck out of me." A wistful laugh came out of his mouth, as if forcing the last of his energy to show joy.

"What do you mean was, master? Didn't Lady Aloisa just have dinner with us last night?"

Kyrian was confused by how Horace kept on addressing his wife as if she lived in the past, and not the lady they had been spending time with.

Horace ignored Kyrian and kept his monologue, "I'm already nearing a thousand years old, but why is she still sixty-five?"