Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 223: Drink with cousins

Jorghan slumped back against the cushions, the alcohol and exhaustion combining to make him more honest than usual.

"I don’t know how to do this. Combat? Strategy? Bloodline manipulation? All of that makes sense. But navigating what people expect emotionally while also making decisions that serve clan interests? I’m lost."

Jorghan felt it was all pointless, and having to develop relationships with people would only lead to disappointment; it was different when it came to blood.

Even though he had a lot of experience, dealing with the emotions of other people was always a tough job. You can’t always please everyone.

"You have us," Swana pointed out.

"Mother is supposed to help with exactly this kind of thing. Let her manage the partner selection and relationship coordination. You focus on being the powerful clan head who makes the big decisions. Division of labor."

"That’s basically what we planned," Jorghan admitted.

"But Sarhita’s right that it feels clinical. Like I’m optimizing a breeding program rather than forming actual relationships."

"So form actual relationships with the partners you choose," Sik’ra suggested.

"Strategic selection doesn’t preclude genuine connection. You can acknowledge that someone was chosen for bloodline and political reasons while also treating them as a person you’re building something with.

It’s not either/or."

Swana refilled everyone’s cups again, the bottle getting noticeably lighter.

"Here’s my advice, for whatever it’s worth. Accept that you’ve hurt Sarhita and Katisana and that apologies won’t fix it immediately. Give them space. Focus on building the actual partnerships you need for clan purposes.

And when you do approach potential partners, maybe lead with honesty about why you’re interested rather than grand speeches about dynasty building."

"Brutal honesty about ’I think our bloodlines would combine well, and I find you attractive enough that the physical aspects won’t be unpleasant’ is better than romantic speeches everyone knows are lies," Sik’ra agreed.

"Women respect directness. They hate being manipulated with false sentiment."

They drank in companionable silence for a while, the terrible alcohol doing its job of making the world feel slightly less complicated even though nothing had actually been solved.

"I miss when my biggest problem was just killing enemies," Jorghan finally said.

"That was straightforward. They attacked, I killed them, problem solved. This whole ’build a functioning clan with happy people who don’t resent their leadership’ thing is much harder."

"Welcome to actually being a clan head instead of just a powerful warrior," Swana replied.

"It’s mostly administrative headaches, interpersonal drama, and trying to keep hundreds of people from killing each other over petty grievances.

The combat is the easy part."

They finished the bottle together, and by the end Jorghan felt marginally better about the Sarhita situation, not because anything had been resolved, but because he’d been reminded that not every problem required an immediate solution.

Some things just needed time and distance to become less painful.

*

Night had fallen by the time Jorghan left Swana and Sik’ra’s quarters, his head buzzing from the alcohol but not quite drunk. He’d developed too high a tolerance from years of warrior celebrations for one bottle of terrible grain spirits to actually impair him significantly.

He made his way back to Sigora’s dwelling, intending to discuss the disaster with Sarhita and get her perspective on how to handle the fallout.

And to exactly fulfill his wish, which he had told her earlier.

But when he entered, the main chamber was empty.

"Sigora?" he called out, moving through the rooms.

Her personal quarters were empty.

The administrative office was dark.

The entire dwelling showed no signs of recent occupation.

That was unusual.

Sigora typically worked late into the night, organizing logistics and planning integration efforts. Finding her quarters completely empty suggested she was either attending to something urgent elsewhere or had deliberately made herself scarce.

Jorghan was considering where to look next when he heard footsteps behind him.

"She’s not here."

He turned to find Grace standing in the doorway, wrapped in a simple shawl against the evening cold, her expression thoughtful.

"Do you know where she went?" Jorghan asked.

"Coordinating with the incoming clan groups, I think. Swana mentioned she’d taken Kaleth to meet the Ma’zenti contingent that arrived this afternoon."

Grace had been moving around, learning things in the new home, as she called it now. She seemed completely different from when she had been here before.

She was smiling and talkative; she learned the elven language and learned their names.

Grace stepped into the dwelling, moving with an extra shake of her hips.

"She probably won’t be back for several hours."

"I’ll wait then," Jorghan said, moving to settle into one of the chairs.

"Actually," Grace said, her tone suggesting she’d been looking for him specifically, "I was hoping we could talk.

Just you and me. There’s something I need to discuss, and it can’t wait until tomorrow."

Jorghan studied her face, seeing concern mixed with maternal determination.

"About what?"

"About Luke and me. And some things you need to know before you make more decisions about the future."

She gestured toward the door.

"Come with me? The quarters Sigora assigned me has a nice balcony overlooking the river. We can talk privately there."

Jorghan hesitated. He’d been avoiding extended conversations with Grace, not out of dislike but because their relationship was complicated and neither of them quite knew how to navigate it. She was his mother; they had shared history, but he had been away from her for years.

But she was asking directly, and refusing would be churlish.

"Lead the way," he said.

*

Grace had been assigned one of the better residential buildings in the clan section—a two-story structure with multiple rooms, clearly intended for important guests or visiting dignitaries. She led Jorghan through the entrance into a front room that served as a common area.

But it was the other occupant of the room that made Jorghan pause.

Luke sat in a chair near the window, staring out at the settlement beyond with eyes that didn’t seem to register what they were seeing. He wore simple clothing that had been provided by the clan, his hair was uncombed, and his face showed the gaunt quality of someone who wasn’t eating or sleeping properly.

He didn’t acknowledge Jorghan’s presence. Didn’t seem to notice anything beyond whatever internal landscape he was trapped in.

Grace’s expression became pained as she looked at her son.

"He’s been like that since we arrived. I can get him to eat a little if I insist, and he sleeps occasionally, but mostly he just... sits there. Staring at nothing. Replaying everything that happened on Earth, I think."

She moved past Luke without trying to engage him, apparently having learned that attempts at conversation went nowhere.

"Come. The balcony’s this way."

A smile crept up his lips as he watched how his mother had been detached. She didn’t seem bothered that much about Luke and his state.

She led Jorghan through an adjacent door into what appeared to be her personal sleeping quarters—simple but comfortable, with a bed, storage for clothing, and a doorway leading to the balcony she’d mentioned.

They stepped outside into the night air.

The balcony overlooked the river that cut through the desert, its water reflecting starlight in patterns that shifted with gentle currents. Beyond the river, sand dunes stretched to the horizon, their contours visible in the moonlight.

It was beautiful in the stark way deserts could be—harsh but honest, offering no false comfort but providing a clarity that gentler landscapes lacked.

Grace moved to the railing, her hands gripping the stone as she looked out over the view.

"I wanted to talk about what you’re planning. The partnerships, the children, the dynasty you’re building."

Jorghan looked at her.

"That’s what they are calling it, the Sol’vur dynasty."

Jorghan joined her at the railing, maintaining a respectful distance.

"I’m listening."

Grace was quiet for a moment, organizing her thoughts.

"When I was on Earth, married to Jamie, I thought I understood what family meant. Husband, son, the structure society said was normal and right. I thought I made the right decision. I thought it did. But that family was built on lies and control and people treating each other as possessions rather than individuals."

She turned to face him, and in the moonlight he could see tears gathering in her eyes.

"Then I watched you destroy that false family to rescue me from it. Watched you kill Jamie without hesitation because he’d ordered Scarlett’s death. Watched Luke break when he realized his father was gone and his mother was choosing someone else.

I didn’t know I loved people who thought of me as just a possession, an object to be passed around. Seeing all that made me look back on things differently.

And I felt... relief.

Relief that the lie was finally ended, even though it hurt."

"And I was finally able to see what it had for me, the love that I was craving."

"Jamie had gotten what he deserved, and Luke..."

"You think I made a mistake?" Jorghan asked directly, staring into her.