The Looming Conversation.

A 16-year-old boy named Carl leaned back in his chair, the stack of documents still sitting before him. The absurdity of the situation was almost overwhelming, and he could feel the weight of the upcoming conversation with his mother hanging over him like a dark cloud.

KNOCK KNOCK

"Ah, fuck," Carl muttered, frustration etched across his features. "I was almost done; now I have to start all over again."

KNOCK KNOCK

"Come in," he called out with a resigned sigh, his irritation temporarily put aside.

The door swung open, revealing a maid accompanied by two guards. Carl eyed them warily, wondering what could possibly be on the horizon now.

"Lord Fourth, your presence is requested in the meeting," the maid announced, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

"What do they want now?" Carl grumbled, his patience wearing thin.

The maid hesitated before answering, the weight of the information she held palpable in the air.

"Haaa… okay, take me to their chamber," Carl said, his tone a mix of resignation and annoyance.

"Please follow these guards, Lord Fourth," the maid instructed, gesturing toward the guards who stood ready to escort him.

Carl followed the guards through the vast and grand hallways of the estate, his mind a swirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The grandeur of the surroundings didn't offer him comfort; instead, it felt distant, as if he was an outsider in his own home.

Eventually, they arrived at a set of imposing red doors, a symbol of the gravity of the situation that lay ahead. As the doors swung open, revealing a dimly lit chamber, Carl's heart quickened. Around a large roundtable sat eight members of the vampiric council, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny.

"I see you have finally arrived, young heir," Victor's voice broke the silence, his tone formal and measured.

Carl grinned mischievously, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Yes, Victor, it seems that you are as handsome as ever."

A few soft chuckles echoed in the room, but Victor's demeanor remained unchanged. "You jest, milord, but you can't joke like that when you have a face like that."

Their banter was interrupted as the red doors swung wider, revealing the council members seated around the table. Carl's grin faded as he took in the gravity of the situation. Their gazes fixed on him, he felt a mixture of apprehension and defiance.

"Greetings, Lord Fourth," they intoned in unison once again.

"Greetings," Carl replied, his voice steady despite the unease that churned within him. "Now please tell me why I was summoned here."

A tense silence followed before one of the council members spoke up, their words heavy with implication. "Lord Fourth, it's about your succession."

Carl's stomach clenched, the weight of the topic settling like a stone in his chest. The doubts that had lingered within the council were now brought to the forefront, forcing him to confront the harsh reality of their concerns.

"I get that you guys are not confident in me, but I can impro-"

Before he could respond, a man with a golden crane interjected with a sobering reminder. "Even if we ignore the fact that you can neither use your Vampiric strength nor your Blood magic."

Carl's gaze shifted to the council member with a golden crane emblem, a symbol of authority. The reminder of his limitations, the inability to tap into the immense power that was his birthright, was a blow to his confidence.

Victor's voice cut through the tension again, delivering news that ignited a fresh wave of frustration. "Lord First and Lord Second have joined hands, and now Lord Second is supporting Lord First to be the heir."

Carl's jaw tightened as the implications of Victor's words settled in. Vincent, his own brother, had allied himself with their cousin Sean, supporting Sean's claim to the title of heir.

"How did Sean manage to convince Vincent to support him?" Carl asked, a mixture of curiosity and bitterness coloring his tone.

"Lord First permitted Lord Second to propose to Noelle Francis," Victor explained.

"As Lord Fourth knows that Lord First is the temporary head, he can make such decisions"Victor continued

Carl's eyes widened in surprise. Noelle Francis, the Princess of Thorns, a title that carried immense power and respect in the supernatural world.

She was the daughter of Frank Francis, the head of the strongest werewolf clan, and her name held a weight that could sway the balance of power.

"The Princess of Thorns?" Carl repeated, his mind racing to understand the significance of this development.

"Yes," Victor confirmed, his expression remaining impassive.

As Carl processed the information, his thoughts swirled with a mix of envy and intrigue.

Vincent had been granted the opportunity to officially propose to Noelle, a privilege that could either solidify his position or unravel his plans entirely.

Carl sighed, his shoulders slumping as he considered his options. "Is there anything else?"

"No, Lord Fourth. You may leave the chamber," the council member with the golden crane emblem declared.

With a nod, Carl turned and made his way out of the chamber.

As the heavy red doors closed behind him, he felt a mix of relief and determination.

He had always known that the path to claiming his birthright wouldn't be easy, but now, the challenges before him seemed even more formidable.

Carl thanked his self-control for allowing him to shrug off his frustration, but his mind was already working overtime. He needed a plan, a way to salvage the situation and prove his worth to the council.

As he navigated the hallways once more, his thoughts settled on the looming conversation he had yet to face with his mother.

When he arrived at his mother's chamber, he took a deep breath and knocked on the door, ready to embark on the next phase of his complicated journey.