Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 25: Count Ashland

The carriage rolls to a smooth stop at the end of the long driveway, its wheels crunching against the pristine cobblestone path. As soon as we step out, a woman is already waiting for us, standing with practiced poise just beyond the grand entrance. She's dressed in a deep burgundy gown, her black hair pinned neatly into a bun. Her expression is composed, professional, but there's an air of quiet scrutiny in her gaze as she assesses us.

"Welcome to Castle Ravenstone Awakened," she says as we step out of the carriage, dipping her head in a polite nod. "I am Scarlet Mason. I will be escorting you to the waiting chamber until Lord Ashland is ready to receive you."

Without another word, she turns on her heel, leading us through the towering double doors and into the castle's interior. The moment we step inside, the sheer wealth of the place smacks me in the face with extreme prejudice.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

The entrance hall is bathed in warm, golden light, emanating from an enormous chandelier overhead—a monstrosity of crystal and gilded metal that looks heavy enough to crush an ox if it ever came loose. The walls are lined with massive oil paintings, each piece likely worth more than an entire house. Plush red carpets stretch across the polished marble floors, their fibers untouched by a single speck of dirt. Servants move seamlessly through the halls, carrying trays of wine, stacks of papers, all of them moving with quiet efficiency.

Compared to Cain's house which is in hindsight modest in size, with only three dedicated servants to keep things running—this place is a kingdom unto itself. The Count must have hundreds of staff just to maintain a castle of this magnitude, and from the way everything gleams without a single thing out of place, none of them ever dared slack off.

Scarlet leads us down a series of well-lit corridors, each one just as lavish as the last, until we arrive at a sitting room. It's smaller than the entrance hall but no less extravagant. A set of high-backed chairs sit around a polished mahogany table, a sprawling rug covers the stone floor, and a fireplace crackles in the far wall, filling the space with a gentle warmth.

"If you would wait here," Scarlet says, gesturing toward the chairs. "The Count will see you once he is available."

Almost as soon as we sit, a few more servants enter, carrying silver trays laden with refreshments—steaming tea, a selection of fine cheeses, fresh bread, and an assortment of dried fruits. They place everything down with silent efficiency before bowing their heads and exiting the room.

Cain leans back in his chair, offering Scarlet a small nod. "Thank you for your hospitality."

As Scarlet turns to leave, one of the servants dips his head respectfully. "If you need anything else, Sir Cain Nekran, please do not hesitate to ask we are honored to have you."

I freeze, my hand halfway to the teapot.

Sir Cain what?

I glance at him in surprise, but if the name means anything, Cain doesn't show it. He just nods, offering one of those polite, professional smiles that never quite reach his eyes. Scarlet and the servants exit without another word, the heavy door clicking shut behind them.

I take a slow sip of tea, filing that little revelation away for later. I had never heard Cain's last name before—not once, which is weird. We've been living in the same house for months now and yet he somehow managed to avoid ever mentioning it. It's the kind of omission that doesn't happen by accident.

But now isn't the time to press him.

Instead, I smirk, reaching for an apple. "Well, at least they're feeding us while we wait how kind of them." I take a bite, the crisp flesh breaking under my teeth. The fruit is fresh, perfectly ripened—of course it is. I doubt anything less than perfect ever makes it past the front gates of this place.

Cain grunts. "Just remember let me do the talking when we get in there I don't need you offending the first noble you ever meet." His voiced was layered with sarcasm.

"Whatever"

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An hour. A whole damn hour of sitting in this lavish room, sipping tea and nibbling on snacks. An hour of waiting like we were afterthoughts. My fingers drum impatiently against the armrest of my chair, my irritation mounting with every tick of the ornate grandfather clock in the corner. I steal a glance at Cain, who looks entirely unbothered, lounging in his chair like he could sit here all day.

Just as I consider saying something snide, the door creaks open, and Scarlet reenters, her expression as poised as ever. "The Count is ready to see you now."

Finally.

I stand up a little too fast, rolling my shoulders to shake off the stiffness, and follow her as she leads us through more endless corridors, the wealth of the place pissing me off more than impressing me. Every hall is perfectly lit, the sconces casting a warm golden glow perfectly lighting the hallways.

After being guided through what felt like a maze of hallways we ascend a wide staircase, our footsteps muffled by an emerald green runner that stretches the length of it, then after a few more turns we finally stop before a simple wooden door. Odd. After all the grandeur, I expected something ridiculous—double doors gilded in gold, or something equally obnoxious. Scarlet knocks twice, then pushes it open, stepping aside for us to enter.

I take one step in and immediately have to stop myself from gaping.

The room is damn massive. Easily three or four times the size of Cain's study back home. High, arched ceilings. Towering bookshelves filled with neatly arranged tomes. A grand desk of dark oak positioned near the back, flanked by black drapes that frame a set of tall windows, overlooking what I assume must be the castle's inner courtyard. A chandelier—though not as large as the one in the entrance hall casts a steady, flickering light over the space, highlighting the rich blue carpet beneath our feet.

Scarlet steps forward and bows low to the man seated behind the desk. "I've brought your guests, my Lord. Awakened Daath and Awakened Nekran."

The man stands, and I have to bite back a low whistle.

He's a fucking unit.

Easily over six foot four, with broad shoulders that make him look more like a trained soldier than some pampered noble. His short-cropped brown hair is streaked lightly with gray at the temples, but there's nothing soft or aged about him—his sharp features and the hard set of his mouth speak of a man used to command. His regal officer's coat, deep indigo with silver trim, fits him perfectly, the fabric barely shifting as he moves.

This is Count Vincent Ashland.

And judging by the way he's watching us, I have a feeling this meeting is going to be a pain in the ass.

Count Ashland speaks dismissively. "That will be all, Scarlet thank you."

She bows, her movements precise and elegant, before turning and exiting the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

The Count then gestures for us to step forward as he moves around his desk, his towering frame somehow making the already large room feel small. "Welcome," he says, his voice deep and gravelly. "To my humble abode."

I can't help but sneer. Humble? This place is anything but. What a pompous prick.

If he notices my reaction, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he extends a hand, shaking Cain's first with a firm grip before turning to me. I return the handshake, feeling the strength in his grip, though I make sure not to squeeze too hard he still was just a normal human after all. No point in starting something unnecessary by breaking his fingers.

"Please, have a seat," he says, motioning to the two chairs in front of his desk.

Cain settles in smoothly, and I follow his lead, leaning back slightly in my seat. Cain takes the reins of the conversation as expected, offering a polite smile. "Thank you for your hospitality, Count Ashland. Your servants have been nothing but accommodating." He glances around the room before adding, "And your castle is just as breathtaking as I remember when I first arrived in Lont a year ago."

The Count grins. "A fine compliment. I appreciate it."

But just as quickly, the warmth in his tone fades. "That being said, I didn't invite you here for the view."

His gaze shifts to me, sharp and assessing. "You are the Three-Mark Bearer all the Inquisitors have been talking about, correct? Bishop Lark wouldn't shut up about it."

The directness of the question catches me off guard, I blink in surprise feeling the weight of his scrutiny before giving a simple nod. "Yeah. That's me."

The Count's expression shifts, a smile returning to his face as if the brief coldness from before had never existed. His voice is warm again, almost friendly. "Good, good."

Cain, ever the professional, leans forward slightly, his tone composed. "If I may ask, my Lord, what was so urgent that required our immediate summons?"

"Well, originally, Lieutenant Kirper wanted to put young Ayato here on trial for killing some peasant in the market earlier this morning. Apparently, he received an update from one of his soldiers through his amulet about the entire situation." He says.

I stiffen from shock. "What?"

Amulets—those were Imperial-crafted devices, created by master craftsmen and Elites wielding the Earth and Wind Marks. They allowed for instant communication between two devices, a technological marvel. But they were supposed to be rare, only high class nobility and Elites fighting had them.

I ignore Cain's pointed death glare as I blurt out, "Wait. Amulets are rare. How did a random soldier have one?"

Count Ashland lets out a rich, amused laugh. "Ah, they were rare. But that changed around six months ago thanks to a genius craft master named Peirce Ryder. He found a way to mass-produce amulets without the need for an Elite's power. The new ones are powered by some weird crystal he found in the caves of Verion, one of the Empire's western countries." The count adds as he sees my confused expression. He leans back, resting his hands on the desk. "They're still expensive, of course, but nowhere near as rare as they once were which allows the Army to to provide them higher ranking enlisted and officers."

For a moment, silence lingers between us. Even Cain, ever composed, blinks in mild surprise I guess he didn't hear about it either. I can't help but shake my head. Amulets mass-produced? That was something out of a scholar's wildest dreams. Information being transmitted instantly will change how the world works.

The Count chuckles, clearly amused by our reactions. "The world never ceases to surprise us, does it?"

Cain recovers first, schooling his features back into neutrality, but I'm still trying to process what that means. Instant communication across distances, no longer limited by rarity. How absurd.

"Regardless," Count Ashland continues, his tone shifting back to business, "Lieutenant Kirper is a man very committed to justice." He shakes his head in mock disgust. "He was fully prepared to have you dragged in for a trial, Ayato. But then Bishop Lark heard the reports from the Inquisitors on the scene and it was clear you acted in the interest of the Empire by so we persuaded him to let it go."

My eye twitches at that. Of course the good Bishop had no issue with me executing some random nobody. As long as the killing serves their interests, it's perfectly acceptable. My jaw clenches, and I force myself to stay still, to not let the sneer twisting inside me reach my face. Thinking about it again pisses me off, that man was not a good person but the complete disregard for human life the prick across from me has is enough to make me sick.

"But that's not the reason I summoned you," the Count continues, oblivious to my thoughts. "My son, Howard, awakened at the start of this month." He leans forward slightly, his hands clasped together. "And after hearing about the historic three-mark bearer being personally trained by none other than Cain Nekran, I thought it was time to finally call you both here."

Cain exhales through his nose, his posture still relaxed, but there's a tension in his expression now, a slight narrowing of his bright blue eyes. "Summoned us for what exactly, though?" His voice remains professional, but by the end, a slight note of contempt slips through. "I'm afraid you've yet to get to the point, my Lord."

Count Ashland ignores Cain's tone. He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Why, to duel, of course we never have this many Elites in Lont at one time so a friendly spar between two new awakened's one being my son should prove entertaining don't you think! Oh and for you to give my son some pointers while you're at it."

My brow twitches in disbelief. A duel? That's what this is about? Seriously ?

Cain remains unnervingly still beside me, but I catch the subtle movement of his fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair. I know him well enough to see he's not pleased.

The Count doesn't seem to notice. Or, more likely, he doesn't care. He waves a hand, continuing in that same easygoing tone, like he's offering us a pleasant afternoon activity instead of an order wrapped in false politeness. "You're one of the youngest Spellbreakers in history, are you not? If anyone could help my boy Howard get even slightly prepared for the Academy, it's you."

I glance at Cain in confusion, I've never heard the term Spellbreaker before but I'm assuming it some type of title.

Cain's fingers stop drumming, and when he speaks, his tone is calm. To calm one could say.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, my lord," he says smoothly. "I have duties to attend to, responsibilities that require my presence. Training Ayato is manageable because he lives under my roof and does not complain about my training methods like someone who is used to privilege would." The last few words dripped with just enough derision to be an insult, yet his polite smile remains perfectly in place, never touching his eyes.

Count Ashland, however, merely chuckles, utterly unfazed. "No need to concern yourself with that," he says. "I've already spoken to your superior, Awakened Manohar, and as a personal favor to me, he's excused you from your duties for the month. That should give you plenty of time to help my son control his new power."

Cain goes rigid beside me. I sigh, glancing between the two of them. Did that just happen? Did Ashland really go over his head and have him reassigned without so much as a conversation?

I don't even have to look at Cain to know he's pissed.

Count Ashland stands up with a broad smile, his movements confident and smooth happy as man who's plan has fallen into place can be.

"Come now," he says, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm, "let's see this first duel. I'm excited to see the historic Three Mark Bearer in action. The news of your existence has already spread throughout the Empire, and believe me when I say the Imperial family is as eager as I am to see you perform but alas they have to wait until you arrive in Lusa while I already have you here in Lont."

His words land like a stone sinking deep into my stomach. The dread unfurls inside me, cold and heavy. The Imperial family. They already know of me? They want to meet me?

What a pain in the ass.