Surrealistic - Prologue (2)

"Father." a young voice spoke out in a silent room.

The room in front of the young man seemed to radiate an air of regal splendor. Crimson red banners and carpets adorned every inch, creating a rich and opulent atmosphere. Precious jewels and artifacts were carefully placed throughout the room, showcasing the wealth and status befitting the man in it.

"Silvonn, present yourself accordingly," a stern voice commanded from behind a large dark brown wooden desk.

Silvonn straightened his posture and stood tall before his father, trying to match the severity of the older man's gaze. His father had silver gray hair that fell just above his eyebrows, adding to the authority and wisdom he exuded. Silvonn could see the wrinkles etched into his face as he furiously scribbled on a parchment of paper, clearly displeased with whatever he was writing. 

His father finally looked up and addressed him with a disapproving frown. "That's...at least a tolerable appearance. Now, what took you so long to get here?"

"I was...visiting Dante," Silvonn replied slowly, hesitating at the memory of his brother.

"I am aware of having one worthless son, but to have another would be even more disappointing," his father spoke with disgust.

"No! I am a useful son! I promise!" Silvonn couldn't help but shout in frustration.

"That is yet to be determined. Did Grimmald mention the tasks assigned to you?" his father asked coldly.

"Yes! He gave them to me on my way here. I swear I won't do anything to harm our family's reputation."

"Good, because if you do, you may find yourself joining Dante in the prisons."

Silvonn wanted to argue further, but his father's intense stare made him think better of it.

"My lord, apologies but-" a voice interrupted from behind Silvonn.

"One minute, my dear," his father cut off the maid who had entered, his attention solely focused on Silvonn. "You represent our house, and I would hate to see our esteemed name tarnished. Please refrain from any more actions that could be seen as unkempt from now on."

"Y-yes father," Silvonn managed to stutter out before turning and walking past the maid.

As he disappeared into the hallway, Lord Garrison sighed heavily and rubbed his temples in frustration. He glanced back down at the papers on his desk, his frown deepening even further.

The maid spoke up timidly, "Apologies for bothering you, my lord, but I have a message for you."

Lord Garrison's fingers dug deeper into his temples as his day seemed to go from bad to worse.

"What does it say?" he asked brusquely.

"It's a message from your brother, my lord. A lowly maid like myself would never dare read such important information," she answered with a soft voice.

"First these papers, then that arrogant Silvonn going on about visiting my other worthless son, and now a letter from my brother," Lord Garrison muttered exasperatedly.

The maid remained silent, not daring to speak or move.

Sighing heavily, Lord Garrison opened the letter and quickly scanned its contents. His eyes narrowed as he reached the final line: "I hope my interference won't cause any disturbance to your plans for that boy..."

No doubt it was the handwriting of his younger brother Byronn.

Frustrated and enraged by this new development, Lord Garrison crumpled the letter in his hand and held it over a nearby candle. 

As it turned to ashes in the flame, he muttered under his breath, "At least one of my insolent sons will be slightly less useless."

The maid quickly came to pick up the pieces of remaining scrap after it had finished burning. She ran out of the room in a hurry and did not even think of glancing back to gaze at the Lord.

He turned to look out the window beside him, staring out into the distance with an air of cold determination. "Dante," he said softly, "may you meet death with honor worthy of a Garrison."