I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 497: History

The carriage rolled forward through forested hills, afternoon sun filtering through the canopy in shafts of golden light that painted the interior with moving patterns.

Seven days had elapsed since their departure from the Kaiser estate, and the rhythm of their journey had evolved into a state that was simultaneously comfortable and arduous.

Jack sat across from Lyra, his eyes closed in a false meditative state as he fought the bracelet’s constant influence.

Just seven more days until the bet is concluded, and he could ask Zephyros how to break Aurora’s curse.

Seven days of watching Lyra shift position to get comfortable, staring at her fitted waistband, emphasizing curves that the bracelet refused to let him ignore.

It was exhausting.

"Jack," Lyra’s soft voice broke through his concentration. "Are you alright? You’ve been meditating for hours."

He opened his eyes to find her watching him with genuine concern. The bracelet pulsed with warmth at her attention, amplifying the caring expression into something it shouldn’t be.

"I’m fine," Jack replied, forcing his tone to remain neutral. "Just conserving energy for the journey ahead."

Rhys sat beside Father Caelen on the opposite bench, Slyph hovering near his shoulder.

He had been quiet most of the morning, his attention focused on the passing landscape.

"We should reach the shrine in seven more days," Father Caelen observed, his demeanor conveying the assurance of an individual who had undertaken this journey previously.

"The path becomes steeper as we approach the mountains, but the road remains well-maintained."

Lyra’s expression brightened at the mention of the shrine. "I’ve never been without Aurelius. He dislikes pilgrimages. He says they’re a waste of time when I could be training or completing assignments."

The wistfulness in her voice was impossible to miss. Jack’s expression became resolute as he considered the ramifications of deeming a Chosen One’s divine connection to their patron deity as inconsequential.

’Another person who needs to be dealt with,’ Jack thought, adding Aurelius to the growing list of individuals who’d made themselves problems through their treatment of those under their control.

"This journey must feel like freedom," Rhys said quietly, his winter-ice eyes showing understanding that came from personal experience. "Being able to travel without someone controlling your every movement."

Lyra looked at him with surprise that someone had articulated exactly what she’d been feeling. "Yes. Exactly that. I didn’t realize how much I’d been... contained until I left."

"Slavery doesn’t always come with chains," Father Caelen observed mildly. "Sometimes it wears the mask of duty, or service, or necessary sacrifice for the greater good."

Slyph’s green aura pulsed with interest. "The priest speaks wisdom. Freedom is as much about choice as it is about physical constraints."

Lyra’s hands fidgeted with the edge of her dress, her expression showing conflict between gratitude for the journey and awareness that it would end.

"When I return, Aurelius will assign twice the normal workload to compensate for time away. That’s how he operates. Every moment of peace gets paid for with increased burden afterward."

"Unless you don’t return," Jack said, the words coming out before conscious thought could filter them.

All eyes turned to him.

"What do you mean?" Lyra asked carefully.

Jack met her gaze directly. "After this pilgrimage, we have a journey to Caeloria and resolve the King’s dispute with Krogar, you’ll have options. Aurelius doesn’t own you. He can’t force you to serve if you choose to refuse."

"He’s the King’s primary Chosen One," Lyra replied, her voice carrying the resignation of someone who’d already accepted an unchangeable fate. "Refusing him would mean defying royal authority. That’s not an option for someone like me."

"It’s an option," Jack corrected. "Just one with consequences you’d need support to navigate. But the option exists."

Lyra’s expression conveyed a struggle between hope and skepticism. It was evident that she had spent considerable time being informed that she had no choices and that factors beyond her control already decided her future.

The silence that followed felt heavy with unspoken possibilities.

Rhys broke it with a question that shifted the conversation in a new direction. "Lyra, you mentioned family earlier. Do you have anyone waiting for you back in the capital? Anyone who knows about this pilgrimage?"

Lyra shook her head. "My parents died when I was young. An accident during a dungeon expedition. I was raised in the church orphanage until my affinities manifested and Aurelius claimed me for training."

"No siblings?" Rhys pressed gently.

"None. I’m alone." She paused, then turned the question back on him. "What about you? You mentioned training at an academy, but you’ve never talked about family."

Rhys’s expression shifted, becoming guarded in a way that Jack recognized. The young tempest mage’s hands clenched slightly, and Slyph’s green aura dimmed as if responding to his emotional state.

"My family situation is... complicated," Rhys said carefully.

Lyra’s curiosity was evident despite her gentle approach.

"Complicated how?"

Rhys looked at Jack, his winter-ice eyes asking permission for something. Jack understood immediately what the young man was requesting.

Whether to reveal truths that could change how Lyra viewed him and to trust her with information that could be used against him.

Jack gave a slight nod.

Rhys took a breath, his posture straightening as if preparing for judgment. "My father is King Maelor of Caeloria. I’m his bastard son."

The silence that followed was profound.

Lyra’s eyes widened, her hand moving to cover her mouth. "You’re... you’re a prince?"

"A bastard prince," Rhys corrected, the word carrying bitterness earned through years of being called exactly that. "Which means I have royal blood but none of the status, privileges, or acknowledgment that comes with it."

"But your father is the Elf King," Lyra said, processing the revelation. "That makes you..."

"Nothing," Rhys interrupted. "It makes me nothing. My mother is human. Lady Claudia. She had an affair with King Maelor while he was married to Queen Morvanna. I’m the living reminder of his infidelity, tolerated but never welcomed."

His voice carried pain that had been compressed into clinical detachment through necessity. Jack watched the young man speak, seeing the careful control that kept emotions from breaking through.

"The Queen hates me," Rhys continued. "My half-sisters, Miravelle, Elysanthe, and Rosethiel, made my childhood a demonstration of exactly where I stood in the palace hierarchy. They called me ’mistake,’ ’stain,’ ’human filth.’ The court pretended I didn’t exist unless forced to acknowledge my presence, and even then it was with contempt."

Lyra’s expression showed sympathy that transcended mere politeness. "That’s horrible. How could they treat their own family that way?"

"Because I’m not family," Rhys replied. "I’m a political embarrassment. A reminder that the King chose human flesh over elven dignity, as Queen Morvanna loves to phrase it. My existence is tolerated only because killing me outright would be too obvious."

He paused, his gaze distant as if seeing memories he’d rather forget. "When I was eight, the Queen found me in my quarters with my mother. She told me I was an abomination that shamed their lineage. Said I would never be acknowledged, never be loved by the man whose blood I carried. Then she threatened my mother’s business contracts and our safety if I ever became inconvenient rather than merely embarrassing."

"Gods," Lyra whispered, her eyes glistening. "You were just a child."

"Children learn quickly when survival depends on it," Rhys said. "I learned to stay invisible, not to expect affection or acknowledgment, to accept that my father would never look at me the way he looked at my half-sisters."

Slyph’s small voice cut through the heavy atmosphere. "And yet Rhys persevered. He’s at the top of his class at Cordelia Academy despite being ostracized for his mixed-race background. Contracted with me, a mythical spirit, through his own merit. Proved everyone wrong about what a ’half-blood’ could accomplish."

"And still," Rhys said quietly, "it wasn’t enough. My father never acknowledged me, didn’t speak to me directly, and never showed any sign that he knew or cared I existed beyond being a political complication."