PART V - HOUSE SYLBANE

For the next ten minutes, the conversation among the four drifted around various topics, starting with the nature of Gnomes and their culture. Pelidri obviously had a lot more experience with the race, given both his wife and the exposure to Gnome society that came with that, as well as the fact Gnomes were far more common in Cillisant than in Imoria. In time, though, the topics eventually drifted to new things, moving past Callie's latest shenanigans.

"Um … excuse me? Sir?" a timid voice called out. It was almost in a whisper, barely able to be heard over the music.

"You need to speak louder, Nevikk," Thorn said.

"He's scary!" Nevikk hissed back in a whisper to his father.

"He is quite nice. Now, remember, speak up properly."

Standing to the side and slightly behind Pelidri, the green-haired Elf was trying to get the Arkan's attention. You could tell by the look on his face he was beyond nervous, and could see that Thorn was trying to turn the interaction into a lesson for his son. Always a trainer.

Taking a breath, Nevikk swallowed hard and tried again, a little louder and a little stronger. "Excuse me, sir, do you have a moment? Or do I call you Arkan?" A new look of worry appeared on his face.

Pelidri partially turned and looked down, before fully turning to face the boy. "You are not a soldier, so 'sir' is perfectly appropriate," he said firmly. His tone somewhat mimicked the lesson-teaching tone that Thorn had used. "Is there something you need, young one?"

Glancing first at his dad, and then up to the also-watching faces of the Major, a big Lionkin, and the Prince, the nervous panic in Nevikk's eyes seemed to grow. He stammered, trying to make more words.

"Go ahead," Pelidri said, his tone warming as a smile appeared. He was trying not to be too intimidating, but still a little bit to make sure the life-lessons stuck. "Introduce yourself properly and then ask your question."

"Uh … okay. My name is Nevikk, Nevikk Thorn. I … I heard at the dinner 'House Sylbane'. That it is your house, I mean. Do you know the Kerr?"

"The Kerr? I know many Kerrs. It's a noble title. Whom do you mean?" He looked towards the rest of the table. "Think of it as similar to Imoria's title of 'Lord' or 'Lady'. Someone who is assigned land guardianship or other important responsibilities within the nobility."

"Um …" Nevikk stammered, looking back to his father. "Which Kerr? I don't know."

"Aishan."

"Right. Kerr Aishan Sylbane. Do you know her?" Nevikk swallowed, relieved he had finally managed to ask the imposing Arkan his question.

"Of course I know her. She's my son's daughter. That would make her my granddaughter. Why do you ask?"

Nevikk's eyes lit up and went wide. "Really? She's my grandmother!"

"She is?" Pelidri said. He then looked to Thorn. "He is?"

"He's Aymon's son. By blood that is. Disavowed, however."

"Disavowed," Pelidri scoffed, actually rolling his eyes. "That just means they don't want to make their secrets public. I've only met Aymon a couple of times, when he was much younger. Regrettably, I haven't heard many good things about him since, and not just because he has Ohler's. Maybe he'll shape up as he gets older." He gestured towards Nevikk, asking, "You adopted him?"

"That's right, when his mother and I married several years ago I assumed full guardianship as his father."

"Ahh, I see." Pelidri looked down to readdress Nevikk. "Well, then yes, I do know her. Why do you ask?"

The Elf boy shrugged. "I was just wondering if … if maybe you were my family."

"Disavowed," Peldri snarled again under his breath, angry at the word. "I presume you had to surrender his rights?" he asked Thorn.

"Rights to inheritance, yes, and to inherited station. I told him if you were related it was only by blood."

"Nevikk is it? Well, young Nevikk, we would indeed be related by blood." He held out his hand again, counting off generations. "You would be my great-great-grandson. Aishan may be trying to pretend you don't exist, but I don't believe in any of that nonsense, so it is wonderful to meet you."

"You are my family!" Nevikk's tone became excited.

Pelidri frowned, and then got down on one knee to look the boy in the eyes. "You don't need to be related by blood to be a family." He gestured towards Thorn. "He is your family. He is your father. It is important you remember that. You have the blood of House Sylbane flowing within you, and I welcome you to it, but don't forget that your family is the people that raise you and care for you as you grow, too."

"Oh! I didn't mean …" Nevikk started to respond defensively, looking at his father, as if to apologize.

"Fret not, we understand what you meant," Pelidri said, putting his hand on Nevikk's shoulder to calm the young Elf. "Just don't forget that." Standing, he looked at Thorn again. "You know he still has rights to title and possibly a bestowed station, correct? That can't be legally taken away unless he chooses to surrender them himself, or the Queen revokes them."

Thorn nodded. "That was my understanding, although I'm not sure what that actually means. My one and only interaction with the Kerr didn't afford me the opportunity to clarify, and honestly, I haven't looked into it in all these years."

"I see." The Arkan looked down. "Master Nevikk, you will not inherit your title. However, when you are old enough, you still have the right to petition the Queen's court for a title if you wish. What title you receive, and, if warranted, what station and responsibilities are offered with that, will be determined by your character, and the accomplishments you have made in your life."

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"You mean I could become a Kerr, too?"

"Perhaps. However, many people are only bestowed the title of 'Harl', which is simply a title with no station, and is much more common. Thus, you must be of the most-excellent character and have accomplished much if you wish to impress the Queen. If you petition her, and you have done little with your life, then you will receive a title appropriate for just that. But, if you work hard and grow to be a good person, you could indeed become a Kerr, or an even more-noble title than that."

Nevikk's eyes went wide at hearing this, as did Thorn's. Even the Major and Olin were taken aback. Only Vanis's face seemed understandably unsurprised.

"Do you have a title?" Nevikk asked.

"I do," Pelidri nodded in return. "I carry the title of Harl. I did not impress the King at the time of our petition, and that was the title I was bestowed." Looking to the rest of the audience he added, "It's a largely-meaningless title, doing little more than also granting offspring the right to eventually petition. We were young when we went before the King, my wife and I together. Truthfully, we petitioned too early in life. We should have waited until we were older, wiser, and had accomplished more." He looked back down. "So take that as a lesson, Nevikk Thorn. Make something of yourself before you go before the Court, lest the Queen find you uninspiring."

"Couldn't you just petition again?" Celeste asked. "In all the time since then, you've risen in rank and been awarded multiple medals for valor."

Pelidri shook his head. "You may only ever petition once in your life. It is possible to be brought before the Court to be retitled, but that is only if you are summoned by the Queen for that purpose. That would require something extraordinary to get her attention. You are not able to petition for another chance, however."

Trainer Olin scoffed. "Somehow this doesn't seem fair. You Elves have nice, long lives, so plenty of years to take your time making something for yourself. If Beastkin waited that long, we'd be too old for the title and station to even matter."

"Regretfully," Pelidri said, nodding in agreement. "It's common for most Elves, and the few Dwarves, Gnomes or Fae that may come forward, to wait until they are at least fifty, perhaps even into their second cycle, if they practice that, before they petition. However, the King Consort is a Beastkin, so Queen Nemina may come to take the shorter lifespans into account when making her decisions."

"Does it matter that he's Imorian?" Thorn asked.

"In the very rare cases when an Imorian petitions the Cillisine Court," Vanis began before Pelidri could respond, "we will usually accept the title they receive, if it is above Harl, substituting it with an Imorian one of equal stature. The title is then preceded by the word 'honored'. Someone who receives 'Kerr' will be granted the Imorian title of Honored Lord or Honored Lady, for example. We don't necessarily recognize the granting of station, though. If possible, assuming they don't relocate to Cillisant for the offered new duties, our kingdoms will sometimes work together to find a duty that serves us both. Perhaps as an ambassador or trade representative, for example. Their children also, naturally, retain the right to petition Cillisant when they are old enough if they hope for a higher one, should they wish."

"Tell me, young Nevikk, which class do you hope to receive when the time comes?" Pelidri asked.

"I want to be a Ranger, just like my Uncle Reynard!" Nevikk replied excitedly.

"Ah, a most excellent class. One of my daughters was a Ranger, too."

"She is?" Nevikk's eyes went excitedly wide.

"She has … passed, unfortunately." Before anyone could express any condolences, the Arkan continued. "Many high-titled Rangers make their mark in the army, or by being Adventurers. Perhaps they excel at defeating dangerous monsters or undead. Even making a name for yourself in a local militia, assisting with bandits or the like, could catch the Queen's attentions. Should you be granted the class you wish, you have many options to prove yourself."

"What about worm hunting?" Nevikk asked. "My father used to read me stories about worm hunters. If I become a Ranger, I'd be really good at it, right?"

Pelidri seemed to ponder the question. "A good vocation for a Ranger, that is true. If you were to find great success, then I'm sure you could make enough of a mark to impress the Queen and earn an appropriate title. You'd have to find that success though. After all, anyone can wander around looking for them, but only a true master will be able to actually find them."

"Oh," Nevikk said, his face showing a little disappointment.

"There is another option," the Arkan continued, actually laughing. "When you are old enough, you could always marry a member of the higher titled nobility, a young Kerr for example. That would get you at least a matching title, if you haven't yet received yours. If you married a commoner, they would be able to petition for title as well. It's actually how I received my right to title, although, as I mentioned, we both ended up as Harls. Still, that was enough to create House Sylbane, just the two of us."

"You founded your house?" Vanis asked.

"We did!" the Arkan said proudly. "First of the line of House Sylbane. My first wife did not get on with her family and was happy to abandon her inheritance so we could start anew. We picked a new name for ourselves, filed for formal recognition, which was quite expensive for a pair of young Harls. It has now been almost two-hundred-fifty years, so we've obviously grown in that time. Our children and their lines went on to do quite well for themselves, and so Sylbane has risen in prominence. We're up to five generations, it seems." He mussed Nevikk's hair. "I am expecting a sixth, young master."

"Just go find one of these Kerr ladies," Celeste suggested, winking at the boy. "Sounds like the easiest way to get an important title."

"I remember Ravina mentioning Nevikk could sell his title," Thorn said. "How?"

"That's your wife? She is right. If you haven't received your title yet, you are able to sell that right to petition to someone else. The process for doing so is onerous, though, and honestly it has little value any more. Since most everyone ends up a Harl, there's not a large market for the right, except as a novelty." He looked down at Nevikk. "Don't ever sell it. It's not worth what you'd get, and your children wouldn't inherit the right if you did."

"Okay," Nevikk replied, slightly confused, but storing the advice away in the back of his mind.

"I'll tell you what," Pelidri said, straightening his posture and looking down. "If I am still alive when you go to petition for your title, I will gladly stand at your side before the Queen, or more likely whomever may succeed her. I wouldn't want my great-great-grandson to be there alone, after all. In the meantime, I'll watch your future with keen interest, and I am expecting you to grow to become an outstanding person." He then added a somewhat ominous, "I'll be really, really old by then, so I warn you not to waste my time by having me join you at the Court, only in the end to have you just become a Harl, like me."

Nevikk's eyes went wide again, both at the Arkan's offer of support, and then by the warning he'd just been handed. He swallowed hard. "I'll try."

"His father has Ohler's," Pelidri said, refocusing to Thorn. "Colonel, you'll want to teach your son how to manage it, now while he's still young, so it becomes a habit. It will help immensely, on the chance he inherits the Fugue."

"His mother has it, as well," Thorn replied. "I'm making sure he understands, and we work on our meditations together."

"Good. Keep it up."

"The Kerr, as part of our agreement, has also promised a Symbiote for him when he comes of age, and I understand it can be quite helpful in managing Ohler's, if it be the case."

"Even better, then. With luck, he won't inherit the Fugue. Still, Aishan has Ohler's, and she's done quite well for herself. Her mother has it, too. If properly managed, there's no reason he can't excel at anything he wishes, especially with your support."

"I do believe I'll watch with equal interest and expectations, young Nevikk, so you'd best not disappoint either of us," Vanis said, carefully addressing the boy. "That said, I'm sure we could be calling you Honored Lord Nevikk, Master Worm Hunter, someday."

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