Dark Parasyte
Chapter 58: Red Nightgown Protocol

Chapter 58: Red Nightgown Protocol

The ravens were restless again.

Corvin leaned back in his throne as a flurry of mental images arrived from the skyward scouts. The final convoy of the day had reached the gates of Raven’s Nest, and judging by the proud strut of one figure and the glazed dreaminess of the other, he recognized both and was already wishing he did not.

Valyne and Kaelyn.

He sighed out of pure, distilled reluctance. Of all the visitors he had expected today, the Synod’s most beautiful.. scratch that smoking hot instructor and Yvanna’s overeager advisor were not rvrn at the bottom of the list.

Valyne, of course, marched as if the entire mountain owed her tribute and was late delivering it. Every step was a statement. Every flick of her cloak a complaint. Corvin watched her from the mental images with an arched brow and the same vague disinterest he gave to storm clouds.

Kaelyn, on the other hand, floated next to her like a girl walking through a field of dreams and polite delusions. Her pace was lighter, almost as if she were dancing to music only she could hear. Not dangerous, not even annoying, just... excessive. And probably expecting some kind of magical mentorship or spatial revelation.

He sent a simple command to the gate guards, Let them in. Escort them to the throne room. Try not to get pulled into a monologue.

Descending the obsidian stairs into the throne chamber, Corvin took his seat and let the silence build around him. The brazier flames crackled in the still air, casting shifting shadows on the polished floor. He had no great expectations for this meeting. He had already siphoned both women before, especially Valyne, back in the Arcanum and in her lectures.

She was sharp, prideful, and prone to indignation. But she wasn’t reckless. And she certainly wasn’t a threat, not to him. Just a weight of obligation draped in elegance dreamlike beauty and arcane rank.

As for Kaelyn, she was... a curiosity. Loyal to Yvanna, filled with bright hopes and a borderline theatrical fondness for magic. She had no place here. And yet, here she was.

A few minutes later, the great doors opened.

Valyne strode in first, posture as precise and pointed as her tongue. Her boots clacked like ceremonial drums announcing disapproval. Her cloak swirled behind her with enough flourish to imply she had rehearsed this. Her eyes met Corvin’s and she didn’t blink.

Behind her, Kaelyn entered, light on her feet, her gaze bouncing from tapestry to chandelier to throne like she was walking through a fable. Her delight was almost innocent.

Corvin didn’t move. Didn’t smile. He simply observed.

One fueled by righteousness, the other by naivety.

As their footsteps echoed across the chamber, Corvin reached quietly into the threads of their minds.

The spell was silent, subtle and woven through instinct. Mindwalk.

He brushed gently against Valyne first. Her mind had some minor defences, behind them what he found was pride and discipline, layered like lacquered stone. But beneath it, he caught flickers, indignation, suspicion, and a long ledger of imagined slights and slurs prepared and discarded repeatedly. She had rehearsed her outrage. Perhaps even categorized it. Her thoughts were more structured than he anticipated, but no less biased. He couldn’t help himself and smirked, especially with what the Shadows had done. She was blaming him for what the Triarch had tasked her with. Which was fare.. and fun.

Kaelyn was next. Her surface thoughts shimmered with color and warmth, like sunlight dancing on a still lake. She was the spy Yvanna tasked to observe him and report back to her. Adorable he thought. Images floated up unbidden, books, stars, threads of space magic bending between her fingers, and... multiple nightgowns.. and yes him, standing in the light, offering guidance like some half remembered storybook hero. He pulled back from that mental space quickly, not out of discomfort, but to avoid unnecessary distraction. Especially the nightgowns. The Red one was lovely though.. Maybe he should tell her to wear it for him he chuckled silently.

He leaned slightly back in his throne, hands folding at his lap.

He got what he needed to know.

Let’s get this over with.

--

The first thing Valyne noticed upon entering the throne room of Raven’s Nest was unfortunately Corvin Blackmoor himself. Still, seated like an apex predator lounging on his perch, he hadn’t changed one bit. Taller than any elf had a right to be, broader than most doors, and carrying the same flat disinterest in his eyes that he had during her lectures back at Umbraxis Arcanum.

He looked as if the world had mildly inconvenienced him again, as if her presence was a parchment on his to do list he had no intention of reading.

It was difficult to reconcile that this man, this lazy looking wall of elven muscle was the infamous Raven. The name whispered like a curse in the halls of power, the one who razed Verranus, shattered bloodlines, and caused Count Emual to die of "natural causes" alongside his entire estate.

And now she was supposed to inform this walking headache that the Triarch had summoned him? Perfect. A dream job, really.

Kaelyn, on the other hand, noticed something far more important.

"Ooooh, velvet banners," she whispered, eyes wide with glee as she took in the throne room’s decor. Her gaze floated lazily over obsidian columns, enchanted candelabras, and ah yes, Duke Blackmoor himself.

She gave a tiny sigh. Handsome. Dreadfully handsome. And tall. And strong. And terrifying. And strong. She adjusted her satchel full of scrolls, report parchments, and somewhat more importantly, two extra nightgowns. Just in case. One never knew when diplomacy might happen. In most of her daydreams, she didn’t even remember what was being negotiated. But the nightgown? Essential.

Valyne stepped forward with practiced grace, stopping a precise distance before the throne. She bowed, slightly, and only because protocol demanded it.

"Duke Blackmoor," she said, her voice caught somewhere between fear, irritation, and a desperate need for caffeine.

Corvin gave her a nod that hovered in the uncanny valley between acknowledgment and indifference.

Before the silence could stretch, Kaelyn chimed in from her right, beaming like a child with a painted scroll.

"Duke Blackmoor! Queen Yvanna sends her regards," she said, voice rapid and chipper. "She’s also asked me to remain here in case you... might need an extra mage?"

Corvin tilted his head slightly, giving her a slow, tight lipped smile. "Is that so?" he asked, with a sarcasm so dry it could have powdered steel.

Kaelyn’s eyes darted left, right, down, and vaguely toward the ceiling.

"Yes. Yes it is."

He blinked once. "Work on your lying," he said casually.

She nodded like a scolded apprentice. "Yes, sir. I will."

Valyne cleared her throat with as much authority as she could muster.

"I bring a message from the Obsidian Gate," she said, regaining a sliver of her composure.

Corvin raised an eyebrow. "Really? That’s interesting. An envoy already visited hours ago. Did you miss your assignment, or did they think sending backup was necessary?"

Valyne’s aura flared before her temper did. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

"I did not fail!" she snapped, stomping a foot like a drama instructor on opening night. "This is your fault! All of this! Why didn’t you come visit me when you were in Goldhaven?!"

Her voice pitched higher with every syllable, and by the final word, she was shouting. Somewhere behind her, Kaelyn casually stepped to the side, just out of potential blast range.

The room fell silent. Even Kaelyn blinked.

Corvin’s expression shifted. The amusement drained slowly from his face, replaced by something far colder.

He stood.

Valyne’s breath caught. She realized, somewhere between the first and second step of his approach, that she had made a mistake. A tall, broad, terrifying mistake.

Corvin approached with the kind of slow deliberation that came just before storms or executions. Standing before her, their height difference was... substantial. She barely reached his chest, and his arms looked capable of folding her into origami.

He leaned down, voice low and even.

"Do not forget where you are, Valyne," he said. "I do not tolarete disrepect, I’ve erased bloodlines for less. Either behave, or go back to your lectures. You’ve been warned."

Valyne squeaked. Actually squeaked.

She cleared her throat. "Yes... your Ravenness."

Corvin raised a brow.

"I mean, Duke Raven," she corrected, as if that were somehow less ridiculous.

Corvin sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I’m busy. I don’t have time for messages. You may return and come back in, oh..." He scratched his chin. "Two, no three months. I’ll spare three minutes then."

He watched with mild amusement as her expression whiplashed from outraged to terrified to resigned fury. She settled, eventually, on neutral irritation. A compromise, he supposed.

"I... can’t go back," she said. "I’ve been ordered to stay near you. Until you return."

Her voice trailed into a high pitched squeak again as he stared directly into her eyes.

Corvin blinked slowly. He was beginning to wonder if this was some elaborate punishment from one of the gods of Verrenate.

Wonderful. A babysitter and a fangirl.

Exactly what every rising power needs in his castle.

--

Corvin gave a mental sigh as the throne room finally cleared. With a thought, he summoned two maids, calm, well trained High Elven attendants and instructed them to escort his new... castle mates to opposite wings of Raven’s Nest. One to the far east, the other to the far west.

It wasn’t just a matter of space. It was a matter of survival. Perhaps if Valyne and Kaelyn had to cross a few hundred meters of stone corridors every time they felt like talking or bickering with him, they’d simply give up. Or at the very least, wear each other out before arriving.

As their footsteps faded into the distance, Corvin closed his eyes and whispered another mental command into the ether.

Eighteen female elves shimmered into being one after the other, summoned from his reserves. They bowed in silent unison, awaiting their assignments. He ordered them to be dressed in the Raven’s Nest servant outfit, tailored, practical, and enchanted against lesser magics.

"You’ll handle the upkeep of the main tower and guest halls," Corvin said. "Three shifts. Six hours per rotation. Be seen but not heard unless directly addressed. Hear everything and inform me in case you find anything unusual. Dismissed."

They vanished like clockwork, already blending into the moving routine of Raven’s Nest.

Then came the next wave of reinforcements. He moved to the backyard of the castle for this one.

Two hundred warriors, former paladins and purifiers of Verrenate, now Covenant Bound to Corvin’s will, appeared with ghostly efficiency. Their armor gleamed with dull silver and deep charcoal accents, a warped memory of their former righteousness. Each bore tabards without heraldry, their shields blank save for the faint raven insignia branded into their shoulder plates.

He ordered them into patrol formations.

Fifty on rotating patrol along the outer perimeter of the inner walls, two hour watches, with overlapping shifts.

Thirty dedicated to the gatehouse and main courtyard.

Fifty to rotate along the interior corridors, discreet but ever present.

The rest held in reserve, ready to respond to magical alerts or breach triggers along the upper tower floors or secret tunnels.

Even their steeds were summoned: undead warhorses once used for ceremonial marches, now dead eyed and utterly silent, bearing runed armor that shimmered faintly under the moonlight.

Corvin watched for a moment as the patrols began to move with precision.

He gave a brief nod, then vanished from the courtyard without a sound.

There was work to be done.

And his laboratory waited.