Gunmage
Chapter 130: Blood is thicker than logic

Chapter 130: Chapter 130: Blood is thicker than logic

Not long had passed. While Lugh was busy making a physical list of the things he had to do, his clone was hard at work completing a novel.

The sword lay tucked in a corner, wrapped in old clothes in the absence of a scabbard.

An hour or two passed before Lugh stood up to stretch.

Now that this entire fiasco had blown over, there was a particularly important task he had put off for too long—Lirienne.

Healing her was easy with Emrys’ arts. With his new comprehension of transformation magic, her disfigurement was all but gone. She could even be made more beautiful than she once was.

He walked to the door and opened it—only to find a maid standing there, her hand raised, about to knock.

She nearly flinched. It was the same maid who had first brought him food after his arrival. And more recently, the one he’d recognized as part of Isolde’s shadows.

Hmm.

His mind reeled. Since day one, he hadn’t interacted with a single real member of the manor staff.

The woman spoke, voice low and perfectly courteous.

"You’re being summoned."

Lugh exhaled.

"Give me a moment."

And locked the door.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stood in front of the mirror, watching his clone tilt its head in sync.

For a moment, he considered sending it in his place. But no—he needed to see her. Understand her.

He opened the door again. The maid was still there, waiting in precisely the same poised posture.

They walked—him in silence, her leading with elegant precision—through the winding halls of the colossal mansion.

When they reached their destination, she remained outside, hands motioning him forward.

He entered the room soundlessly.

The chamber exuded grace and gravity. Tall windows draped in silk let in shafts of filtered light.

A fireplace crackled with slow, languid warmth. Everything smelled faintly of lavender, aged parchment, and something expensive.

Two women sat settled on velvet-cushioned couches, a tea set between them.

Isolde wore something simple, modest, and noble.

The elf beside her did not.

She lounged as if the room belonged to her, which it very well might have.

She wore an elaborate indoor robe embroidered in golden thread, fine lace resting on her collarbones, her long flaxen hair swept artfully behind her pointed ears, ears she made no effort to hide.

The authority of women who wielded power hung heavy in the air

The elf looked up, and froze.

She didn’t recognize him at first.

Then she did.

And for a second, it wasn’t Lugh she was seeing. It was Lucas, her son, hollowed and reborn.

"...You’re his?"

She whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

Then louder, with a glint in her eye

"You’re mine?"

Lugh didn’t sit. Neither did he bow.

"You have questions?"

The elf studied him with eyes that had seen empires fall and treaties burned. But what unsettled her wasn’t what she saw—it was what she didn’t see.

No fear. No confusion. No warmth.

"You remind me of him"

She said slowly.

"The same quiet. The same cruelty, too... though he at least had the decency to smile once in a while."

Lugh tilted his head, mildly curious. A mimic of life, not the thing itself.

"If that’s all"

He began

"I’ll return to my room."

"No"

She said, sharply.

"Sit. We’re not done."

Lugh moved with measured indifference, sinking into the plush seat like a ghost returning to its grave.

She began without ceremony.

"That magic you used against that beastkin—what was it? I’ve never seen anything like it."

The words carried weight, especially from an elf.

Lugh considered.

"How old are you?"

Her eyes sparkled, then narrowed.

"Oh, me? It’s rude to ask a lady’s age. Didn’t your mother teach you that?"

"My mother is dead"

A beat of silence. Her lips twitched.

"I mean... didn’t she teach you before she died?"

"She died when I was three. The only thing she taught me was Heiro."

The elf’s mouth drew into a tight, thin line. She tried again.

"Well... you do have more than one mother."

Her hand gestured playfully toward Isolde.

Lugh glanced at Isolde, barely. The look said enough.

The elf groaned in visible pain. She was just trying to lighten the mood. It had backfired spectacular.

Then she perked up again, emboldened by the awkwardness.

"Brat! You’re avoiding the question!"

"And so are you"

Lugh responded. He paused for a while then added.

"I’ll answer three questions. But only if you answer mine first."

It was now he understood why Xhi had always pulled this trick. The only difference was that the priestess never seemed to have any serious questions that needed answers.

The elf blinked, then grinned, intrigued.

She exhaled.

"Fine."

"I’m still pretty young"

She began lightly.

Lugh’s gaze remained unimpressed.

"No, seriously! I’m not older than fo—three hundred."

"Ah. I see."

His voice betrayed nothing, but internally, Lugh marked her as dangerous. Her words were a lie, the mawglass had confirmed. But they were enough to glimpse a portion of the truth.

She was definitely older than three hundred. Not the strongest of her race, but close enough to threaten him.

His vigilance increased.

"Now that I’ve answered"

She said, leaning forward slightly,

"Your turn. Who taught you that magic?"

"Nobody."

He let the word hang. Their minds filled in the rest. The most likely answer: a natural awakening.

Rare in any race. Nearly impossible in humans. And unlike the common lie that humans couldn’t use magic, this one had roots in logic.

Lugh spoke again.

"How are you related to me?"

She looked at him for a long while, weighing what to share.

Then she smiled.

"I’m your grandmother"

She continued, brightly

"I’m also your great-great-grandmother. And your great-great-great—well, I’ve lost count, honestly. But I’m definitely one of your ancient grandmothers."

She let that sit for a second.

Then added, coyly,

"And if the trend continues, I’ll most likely be your future wife."

Lugh didn’t get surprised often.

It had happened twice today.

Apparently, the madness didn’t just run in the Caldreth bloodline.

"That’s not going to happen"

He said flatly.

The elf tilted her head, smiling like a lioness.

"Oh honey"

She began, voice dripping with warmth and threat

"That’s not your decision to make."

A dangerous silence settled between them.