11 the grandmaster

To aid in the description of Grandmaster Felluor Willdyer, one would first have to picture a kind, doting and plump grandfather that never hesitated to give sweets to his grandchildren.

Now, discard 'kind' and 'doting' and replace it with 'vile' and 'malevolent' and you will get a vile, malevolent and plump authoritarian who never hesitated to give punishments as though they were sweets to those below him. Sir Felluor was the epitome of what Careth imagined if his father had finally lost his sense of human decency.

"Grandmaster Willdyer. What a pleasure to be meeting you this early," Miss Circum greeted, her voice so soft and gentle that Careth thought an angel had possessed her.

"It's great to see you again, Adeline. Am I interrupting your session with dear Careth?" Sir Felluor spoke in a husky tone.

"Not at all. We were just about done," she replied, and Careth whipped around to look at the clock above the mantle, which proved they actually had thirty minutes left.

'She's trying to leave me with him,' he thought, and quickly racked his brain for a solution. Out of a sudden, he grabbed his stomach and groaned. "Miss Circum, I'm feeling unwell. Please excuse me."

He dashed to the door, not waiting for her response, when suddenly a large, meaty hand blocked his path.

"Not greeting your grandfather after all this time?" Sir Felluor interrogated.

Careth looked up fearfully. "N-Nice to see you again, Grandfather."

He bowed his head and crossed his right arm over his chest, then hurriedly ran out of the room heading to the nearest toilet. Miss Circum folded her hands behind her back and averted her eyes, thinking irritatingly, 'That brat beat me to it.'

"Well, looks like he has an upset stomach," the grandmaster noted, although he didn't sound fooled. "Where's Terrell, Adeline dear?"

"Master Willdyer must be in his quarters, busy on town work," she said shortly.

Sir Felluor nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you. I'll see you around."

As the door closed with a click, Miss Circum relaxed her hands and sighed in relief. But she knew this relief was only temporary, because the grandmaster's return is only the beginning, a mere prequel, of a grand ordeal.

—

The scratchy sound of a quill pen on parchment abruptly came to a stop when Master Willdyer heard an unfamiliar knocking pattern on his door. For servants, it was three rapid raps; for Careth, it was two. However, this had three knocks, with the second and third slightly delayed.

Nontheless he said, "Come in."

And so they did. When Master Willdyer saw who it was that had visited him, he got up in a flash, almost knocking over the inkwell.

"Father. I did not receive word of your return."

Sir Felluor hung his coat on the nearby rack. "The business ended quicker than expected. You see, this is why I like working with Dalphenstern...they talk money and money only." He noticed there was no place to sit, and Master Willdyer realized his underlying demand, and so he made way for the senior to make himself comfortable at his study table.

"How's business, Terrell?" The Grandmaster asked casually, reaching into a drawer and taking out a cigar.

Master Willdyer answered, "Good, as always."

"And the boy? Blessed or not?"

He didn't reply. At this, a sneer played Sir Felluor's lips as he lit the cigar with his handy lighter, breathing in and exhaling a thick cloud of tobacco. "Looks like he's going to have the same fate as your sister."

"We cannot know for sure yet. We'll just have to wait for the tea party," said the master quickly, an effort to mask an excruciating pain that was throbbing in his heart.

The grandmaster waved at the floating circular white wisps. "Right, right. That's actually one of the reasons why I hurried back home. I had a feeling this year's going to be interesting." He paused for a second, then looked at Terrell urgently as if he had forgotten something. "What about the other one? The one who you locked away?"

"He will be replacing Careth if needed. For now, he's still living underground."

Sir Felluor nodded, playing with his cuff links. "Good, good. But I have to say, I enjoy Careth more than that spoiled brat. At least Careth knows when to listen. But him, the troubles he stirred up when he was just nine—"

Three raps, and a servant swung open the door, only to flinch in surprise when he noticed that the person sitting at the desk was not his master, but someone higher up.

"A-Apologies, Grandmaster Willdyer. I will just visit at another time—"

"Oh, no! Come in, come in. You did not interrupt me at all!"

Though Sir Felluor motioned for the servant to enter, one could only imagine what was going on in the poor subordinate's mind. If he refused, he would be defying his master. But if he went in, who knows what other horrors might happen to him. So, with no other choice, he clutched the paper in his hands tightly and walked into the room like a mouse.

The senior waited impatiently as the other two men just stood in silence, obviously uncomfortable and unable to converse due to a third party in the room.

"Well? Get on with what you're supposed to do. I let you in for a reason."

"That-" the servant started, then cleared his throat, the paper in his hands trembling as he looked into the master's eyes. "This is the health report on, um, the young master. H-He seems to be doing fine."

Master Willdyer grabbed the sheet, folding it swiftly. "Thank you. I'll read it in my spare time. You may leave."

He scampered out as ordered, closing the door gently at his leave. The master had hoped that the exchange just now did not pique his father's interest, but unfortunately, it did.

"Terrell, I don't remember doing health reports on you when you were young," he said, swirling his cigar in the air. "Are you actually worried for him? Let me have a look."

He secured the paper in his inner pocket of his blazer before saying bravely, "Sorry, Father, but I am afraid I cannot do that."

This ticked the grandmaster's bomb. He let out a long breath, eyes flickering with malignance. "You're hiding something. I do hope, pray, you're not helping the boy?"

Master Willdyer said nothing. This only exacerbated the anger boiling inside Sir Felluor as he rose from his chair, pointing the cigar foot dangerously near his son's face.

"I am warning you, Terrell. Do not mess with the Tradition. It's bad enough we're losing an heir, and having that scoundrel as a backup. But if somehow, by some miracle, Careth doesn't die," he pressed the cigar onto Terrell's chest, shoving him backwards. "I'm leaving you to deal with the wrath of them."

Sir Felluor threw the cigar on the ground and stomped it, heading for the door and snatched his coat. "And clean that up. Or get one of those maids to do it."

Watching the grandmaster exit, Master Willdyer bent to retrieve the trash and disposed of it in the nearest bin. He then went to his rightful study table and read the report, scrutinizing each and every sentence which wrote in detail, the amount of the drug administered in Careth's soup for dinner later in the evening.

—

When Merry arrived at the Willdyer's today, she expected Careth to be in a slightly better mood as there was progress with the plan. However, upon reaching his bedroom, she found him huddled at the floor beside his bed, like a frightened puppy, stricken with fear and terror.

"Careth? What's wrong?" she asked, rubbing his shoulders. Careth's head snapped up as he felt her touch, and in a small voice, he whispered, "Grandfather is here."

It can be said that the horror was contagious. Merry's face paled as she said, "Sir Felluor? He returned?"

"Yes," Careth said, ruffling his hair frustratingly. "I completely forgot about him. He was gone for months, for some huge project at Dalphenstern. And I completely disregarded him as a threat." He pounded on the floor with his fist. "How, how can I possibly be this careless?"

Merry tried to calm him down. "Wait, Careth. Let's think this through. He'll most likely be busy and distracted, since he's the head of this household. I'm sure we can still carry out the escape."

He looked at her weakly. "Did you forget his Talent?"

She thought for a moment, recalling the dreadful experiences Careth would tell her secretly when they were still ten. Then, she gasped as it struck her. "Oh, no."

Careth reminded her dispiritedly. "He can read minds. With just one stare at either of us, the plan will be ruined."