CH15: Scarred Duke
***
Axel Castle stood like a granite crown at the very heart of the Wastelander Duchy. Raised upon the duchy's geographical midpoint, the vast citadel was, in every sense, its pulsing core. Around this grand palace-fortress stretched a sprawling city, the official capital, and—until recently—the jubilant stage for Duke Siegmund Wastelander's elevation to Legendary rank.
Even weeks after the formal ceremonies, the streets still throbbed with carnival spirit. Banners hung from every arch; taverns overflowed with patrons toasting "Long live the Legend!"; and minstrels wove tales of Siegmund's might late into the night.
The simple presence of a living Legend within their walls soothed common folk and filled them with giddy pride.
Yet, within Axel Castle itself, the mood could not have been more different. Behind iron-reinforced gates and white-marble walls, the ducal household moved in tense silence.
Servants hushed their voices. Courtiers skirted conversations. Any mention of the ascension—once a point of boundless pride—had become a whispered taboo.
-
Whoosh—Thwack!
Down in the castle's dark dungeon, a whip sliced through the damp air and cracked across the back of a young man locked into a pillory.
"Ahh!"
Helmut's scream only spurred on the middle-aged man wielding the whip.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Each fresh cry earned Helmut another stroke.
Unable to endure, he slipped into merciful unconsciousness.
"Trash! You lose consciousness from a little whipping?" snarled the man—Helmut's own father, Duke Siegmund Wastelander. Fury twisting his face.
Thwack!
"Ahh!"
The new strike dragged Helmut back to consciousness.
Siegmund raised the whip again, but a grey-haired butler stepped forward and bowed. "Your Grace, forgive the interruption. Young Master Helmut cannot endure more 'correction' just now. May the healers tend him before the lesson continues?"
The duke's cold gaze dropped to his son's pale face. Even beaten half-dead, Helmut Wastelander—personal disciple of Legendary Mage Merlin Pendragon—was still recognisable to anyone from Dragonhold Enclave.
Grudgingly, Siegmund lowered the whip. Two healer-mages hurried in, knitting flesh and bone with muted incantations; five minutes later Helmut was stable—though still shackled.
The duke waved a hand. Guards freed the pillory and propped Helmut upright by the shoulders.
"Helmut," Siegmund began, voice low with contained wrath, "I asked one thing of you: forge a connection with Merlin Pendragon. For this, I not only expended my influence, I have also spent tens of millions of gold to ensure you studied under him.
"Instead of impressing him, you went and provoked him—provoked him so thoroughly that he stormed my ascension ceremony and shattered a decade of preparation! Five decades of work all ruined because of your petty scheming."
"Not only did you offend Merlin Pendragon, you also turned Drake Fury's eyes in my direction. That lowborn dared come to MY celebration to congratulate me as a senior Legend. That lowborn? My Senior?!
"It didn't stop there. There were those expressing their worry for me now that Fury has turned his gaze towards me. Worry for I, Duke Wastelander? Because of a mere upstart? Worst still were those who suggested that I had dealing with him.
"I have never suffered such humiliation!"
Siegmund's killing intent rolled across the chamber, pressing Helmut's half-healed body against the guards' grip.
"Thanks to your foolishness, Merlin's support drifts further from our reach, my perfect path is broken—and I stand mocked throughout the realm. Remember this pain, boy; it is but a shadow of what your recklessness has cost me."
"Fortunately, you still have some value." Siegmund's voice dropped to a frigid murmur. "Barely, but it's there. You remain Merlin's student, which leaves a single bridge between our house and him.
"I ask little of you. When you crawl back to Dragonhold, I do not expect you to earn Merlin's favour, nor to rise above that pointless Alchemist path you chose. All I require is that you stay within his tutelage. Then, when your brother Alric returns, you can serve as the excuse for him to approach Merlin's daughter. Once Alric wins the girl's heart, Merlin will naturally lean towards Wastelander, and this whole fiasco will be forgotten."
He flicked his hand. "Take him away."
Guards half-carried, half-dragged Helmut from the cell, the healer-mages trailing behind to continue their work.
-
In the duke's study high in Axel Castle, rain drummed against lead-lined windows. The butler cleared his throat.
"Our agents have confirmed Young Master Helmut's report, Your Grace. The Mad Earl's son enjoys the Dragonslayer's favour and protection. What are your orders?"
"Do nothing for the moment," Siegmund replied, staring out across his mist-shrouded estate. "Everyone of consequence either knows, or will soon learn, what occurred between that brat and Helmut. Should any incident befall the Fury boy, suspicion would fall on us regardless of how tidy the work. Drake Fury is negligible, Merlin Pendragon however is not."
"As you command." The butler bowed.
Siegmund's fist clenched behind his back. When had he, a duke of the Empire, last been forced to weigh every step so cautiously? And all because his son chose to toy with an upstart's child.
Earl Drake Fury himself posed no real threat. Infamy aside, the Fury household lagged far behind the ancient nobility in wealth, influence and military strength. They boasted a single Legend—Earl Drake Fury.
But in the Wastelander Family, Duke Siegmund was but the newest Legend. Before him, the Wastelander family boosted three Legends. And these were just the ones known to the public, and carried the Wastelander blood.
No one but the family's upper echelons knew just how many Legends where hidden within the shadows of the family.
If the Mad Earl or even the entire Fury Family dared attack the Wasterlanders, they would received a rude awakening and retribution.
Yet Merlin Pendragon was a different matter entirely.
The Wastelander family and a few select highranked families knew something about Merlin Pendragon that was hidden from the public.
The Dragon Merlin slayed was no ordinary dragon.
It wasn't an elemental Dragon who rival Saint Warriors and Grand Mages just by reaching adulthood. Nor was it a coloured dragon that could rival ordinary Legends by reaching adulthood.
Instead, it was a Dragon belonging to a higher class... an Elder Dragon!
And one whose age could only be described as ancient.
Ancient Elder Dragons belonged to a power class that surpassed Legendary strength. Even the weakest ill and frail ancient Elder Dragon would be stronger than a Peak Legend.
Yet, such a being was killed solo by the Legendary Mage Merlin Pendragon.
Within elite circles, the title 'Legendary Mage' now drew cynical smiles: most believed Pendragon had long since stepped beyond that realm—deep into whatever lies next.
Such a person wasn't someone the Wastelander family could nor were willing to offend.
the Wastelander family will abandon Duke Siegmund himself if he dared to offend the Dragonslayer.
Talk less of punishing or abandoning Helmut, the Clan Council would sooner discard Duke Siegmund himself than provoke the Dragonslayer.
The duke's earlier brutality, twisted as it seemed, was in its own way an act of protection.
"Has Alric been informed?" Siegmund asked, breaking from his thoughts.
"Yes, Your Grace," the butler answered. "We have his reply. He says his current plane is… delicate. It will be some time before he can return."
"Did he request support?" Siegmund's brow furrowed.
"No, quite the opposite, Your Grace. He refuses reinforcement. According to his report, the natives are obstinate but hardly dangerous. He claims it is only a matter of time before he 'subdues' them for the family."
"Subdues? That was the exact word?" Siegmund arched an eyebrow.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Ho-ho… so the boy has found a race worth taming." A slow smile tugged at the duke's lips. "Very well. Tell him he may return at his leisure, But he shouldn't forget the plan and keep me waiting for long. I expect results, no excuses."
"As you wish, Your Grace. Shall I deliver the message myself?"
"No need. The message doesn't deserve such import. Sending someone dependable is enough."
"Understood." The butler bowed, turned on his heel and left.
Alone once more, Duke Siegmund Wastelander folded his hands behind his back and gazed through the tall window at the rain-soaked courtyard below. Lantern-light shimmered on the wet stone, blurring into amber ribbons. Thoughts churned behind his steely eyes—of dragonslayers, errant sons, and schemes that now needed to be rewritten.
Outside, thunder rolled across the distant moors, but within the study the duke stood utterly still, plotting his next move in silence.
***