After a few weeks of relaxed travelling, Helen and her father returned home to the northern region of Aquabourne.
To be more precise, the true residence was in the south east, in Southern Aquabourne. The north was a place of exile governed by Count Argos Aquabourne. The older noble had once tried to fight with his even older brother, however, as one can imagine from his current circumstances, Argos lost to his brother, Berg.
Therefore, Berg remained as the true leader, patriarch and Duke of Aquabourne. Unfortunately for them however, only a very few of their descendants actually inherited their blood arts, a technique tied to a specific bloodline due to a spiritual contract. For strange reasons however, most of the descendants were male.
Therefore, the men were encouraged to have quite a few mistresses and kids with them, with hopes that those children could inherit the power within the blood.
Even if those children from mistresses could not inherit the title of duke or right to patriarchy, they could become powerful and loyal fighters to the patriarch.
Such was their fate. Helen however, was not only an illegitimate child, an inheritor of the blood art and a protege, but she was also a girl. Meaning that as a woman, her children would have higher chances of inheriting her power.
Therefore she was a powerful asset. One that could not be allowed to remain unsupervised at the academy during the summer. Due to the summer period, a lot of staff were on leave as students went on holiday and the formal curriculum was over for that specific year. Therefore, should something happen at an academy, it would typically occur during this period.
Unfortunately for the Tuatri Academy, they were interlinked with the treacherous plot of ascending an imperial vessel and one of the candidates, Markus Windwave, was kept at this academy, bringing in more incidents during the term than imagined.
Although things were settled recently, risks could not be taken. Therefore Markus was taken to the capital. Helen was taken to Northern Aquabourne. And a few other remarkable characters were taken away on 'vacation' as to ensure their safety and welfare.
For the more mundane students, they hung around. It was a clear division.
Helen wondered what Markus would be up to, however knowing him, it was either nothing or something stupidly dangerous- and nothing in-between. Such was his way.
Arriving at Siber Castle, Helen could not help but feel something deeply wrong. Her intuition was spot on— for her uncle, Berg Aquabourne was there, waiting for them to arrive.
Argos and Helen saw the flags of the serpent and instantly became concerned. As they walked in, they were led politely by staff toward the meeting room. Behind two massive navy wood double doors, there was a long rectangular table with high back chairs at each head and several seats on the sides.
Then even further, a heavy black oak desk was being used. Berg Aquabourne sat behind it, filling in paperwork.
The two approached slowly and kneeled before the desk.
Now that they were in a different territory, they spoke in the Aqua-language. It was quite normal for noble children to be multilingual, knowing at least three if not all five of the continent's languages.
"We greet the patriarch." They said in unison and then stood up.
Berg was a 58 year old man with some wrinkles but he looked closer to his late fourties. He had dark blue long hair tied back and wore a lavish white and blue noble costume. He stood at a tall two metres tall but his frame was quite slender. In an unassuming setting, he would appear as a regular, if not feeble old man who was incredibly tall on his prime.
His presence however…
'I feel as if an iceberg bigger than this castle is laying on me—' Helen thought, bearing the weight of the patriarch's gaze and presence.
As a duke, Berg was not only a master but due to his blood, he was the strongest water master within the continent. Maybe even the entire world. There would only be one competitor- a Leviathan-Lord. Alas- none had appeared yet and as such, Berg was the epitome of a water master.
"Take a seat Helen. Argos, leave us for a moment." He commanded with such a cold tone the air around them seemed to freeze even further.
Helen helplessly sat at the long table while Argos left the room. Berg approached and looked at the girl.
"Tell me about Markus Windwave." He said plainly. Not a single emotion was betrayed by his tone.
"He is a thirteen year old male student at the Tuatri Academy. He is a stage three wind user." She said, her voice shaking.
"Is that all?" He asked, his voice piercing her soul.
"He is treated with exceptional care by the Headmistress and her selected staff… and was personally protected by the hand of the Queen. They are all keen to see him grow and progress. Apart from this there have been two private training periods, one of which I shared with him."
"You shared it with him? Why?" He asked with a brow raided
"We are friends…" she said, twindling her thumbs under the long table.
"You must be quite close to him then. For them to let you in. Why did you fail to mention this before I asked?"
"Forgive me patriarch— I thought you only wanted to know about him. Not his relations…"
"You are trying to protect him… interesting. You want to protect him… more than you fear me. I ought to meet this Markus Windwave one day- alas- he was taken to the capital and is now at the royal palace outside of anyone's reach except for the Queen. It will have to wait. What cannot wait however, is your punishment for trying to withhold information from me." He said, an evil smile creeping on his aged face.
"Mercy patriarch- it was not on purpose! Please—" she pleaded, dropping from the chair on her knees.
"Save your breath child. I do not listen to pleas of weak traitors. You are to spend the summer in the northern encampment. A few months in this freezing cold should change your perspective on who to obey and who to protect." He said, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
"Come in Argos." He commanded.
The count walked in.
"Yes, patriarch." He said, bowing.
"My son, Troy Aquabourne will take over Siber Castle as Lord. You will obey him as you would me. And you daughter is to bear her punishment to completition without assistance from you. Am I understood?"
"As… you command…" count Argos said, taking the humiliation, insults and powerlessness with as much patience and grit as he could.
Helen could be punished far easier- because she was illegitimate. And he could not disobey a duke for an illegitimate child- regardless of how much of an asset she was. Such was the sad fate of illegitimate children. Valuable but never priceless. Worthy of protection but never sacrifice.
And for the simplest of mistakes— Helen would go through the North's Hell for months… and there was nothing neither she nor her father could do about it. Such was the will of a duke- that not a subject of their domain would dare disobey without an exceptional reason or other factor.
A few days later… Helen was suffering the cold weather in a soldiers' encampment outside of the castle.
Despite warm clothes and the modest fire, her teeth chattered in the cold and her lips were turning blue. Nearby soldiers, hardened by the blazing cold looked at her with pity. These soldiers in truth were outcasts sent here for the same reasons as her- punishment.
"Word of advice kid- use your essence to push back the cold. Instead of drawing in the water essence in the form of ice, learn to push it back." A soldier said, giving her a pitying look.
"T-t-th-anks—" she said between chatters.
They sat in silence by the fire. The cracks in firewood were the only noise- that and the raging blizzard outside.
At the same time, the prince of the waves had arrived at Siber Castle.
A young man with dark blue hair got out of a transporter with the emblem of the Aquabourne household- the leviathan threading the waves.
He was very tall standing at 190 centimetres, lean, with very sharp facial features that brought attention to his deep blue eyes and he wore a simple noble suit with a white and blue foundation. On his chest however was an embroidered emblem of Aquabourne.
"It's too damn cold here—" he said, getting out of the transport.
Then with a raise of his hand, he exerted his will upon the world around him.
Back at camp a miracle happened.
The blizzard stopped. Or rather, it was pushed back. So far back that the modest fires burned hotter and easier. The faded Siber castle became cleared off the blizzard's mist.
Snowy peaks were on the walls and towers, but the peaks would no longer grow. At least not for now.
Count Argos walked out and headed toward the young man just outside the transport. His eyes widened at the sight outside, not remembering the last time the northern storms were not raging on. But now… it was calm. Quiet even.
"Count Argos… thank you for having me." The young man said with a blank face. A striking face that eerily resembled the face of the duke.