Beneath The Real

The clinking of the cutlery had long faded, the warmth of the meal still clung to his chest, but his mind wandered. The air carried the remnants of thyme, warm pie, and other fading aromas, though the undercurrent of lavender still lingered clearly.

Lucien sat still.

His chair, though carved with elegance, felt too large for him. Or maybe... he felt too small for it.

On the table before him lay an empty plate, the crumbs of apple pie scattered across porcelain. Across the table, the two women now chatted quietly, their voices mellow. Seraphine laughed at something Angela said, but Lucien couldn't hear the words—his mind was drifting.

Something inside him was drifting.

Across the room, the golden light had dulled into something softer, more forgiving. It poured from the windows before settling in the corners, where shadows now bloomed. He leaned back, his gaze on the ceiling, as the chandelier that hung at the center swayed. It was identical to the one he had in his room, except this time the candles had a shade of deep red with carvings on them.

"That's a lot to take in," he said, glancing between the two sisters. The basic information they had given him was, simply put, overwhelming—and worst of all, he hadn't even scratched the surface of it.

From information about the world, the monetary system, laws, and a few crude jokes from his aunt Angela—like her giving him an in-depth explanation on how to use the toilet in case he had forgotten—it was all too much.

He sighed.

There was simply too much to absorb.

First was the realization that the kingdom he now lived in—Elaria—was not as peaceful as its name suggested. According to his mother, it was once famed for its orchards, silver mines, and scholars, with universities dotting its lands, delving into various fields like language, astronomy, and economics. It was nicknamed the "Fountain of Knowledge." Now, the land had begun to buckle under quiet pressure. And at the heart of it all stood Cael Vaer, his town, nestled where the Arenlow River kissed the southern hills. A town once known for its local university—the Vaerian University—open-air markets, honey festivals, and glassblown art…

Now it stood half-empty by dusk.

Cael Vaer's central position in Elaria had once made it a crossroads of prosperity. Caravans from the north passed through on their way to the southern coasts. Artisans, pilgrims, and merchants used to crowd the central square. But now the same roads that brought wealth brought whispers of rebellion, smuggling, and fear.

Ever since King Albrecht the Third—in opposition to his predecessor, King Reinhardt the Second, who forged critical trade alliances and maintained relative peace—announced the Crown's Burden Mandate, life had become harder. The mandate wasn't a tax in name, but that was all it amounted to: a sweeping increase in tariffs and trade tolls, especially on "non-essential imports" like spices, sugar, iron, cotton—even soap. The nobles claimed it was necessary to fund "The Grand Reclamation," a kingdom-wide effort to fortify border cities and expand southern influence.

But in Cael Vaer, far from the capital's stone walls and political games, the result was simpler:

Prices soared.

Bread that once cost a couple of scint—the lowest denomination in the currency system—now demanded two lira. Soap was sold at high prices behind market stalls. Even the humble onion, once abundant from the lowland farms, became a coin-purse luxury.

And where hunger rises, so too does desperation.

Theft had tripled in a month. Children vanished into alleyways. Thieves grew bolder, not only robbing the rich but looting merchant carts in broad daylight. The Nightguard—once a ceremonial presence in the town—were now patrolling with cudgels and bloodied boots. Some whispered they'd been granted new authority to arrest without trial under something called the Silver Clause.

Angela had said it herself—how old friends now walked with empty baskets, how the churches' soup lines stretched beyond their garden gates.

Seraphine didn't speak at first. She folded her hands neatly, eyes cast toward the soft glowing chandelier.

"Aunt you said bread is now more expensive than an ounce of silver used to be, and that it costs more than what most carpenters earn in a whole day," Lucien said quietly.

He blinked. "Didn't they try to stop it?"

Angela leaned forward, elbows on the table. "They tried. Old man Rellis—you probably don't remember him—he ran the bakery down by the river. He protested, said he wouldn't raise prices. A week later, guards 'found' contraband flour in his cellar." She scoffed.

"The most heart-wrenching thing," Angela continued, "is the rise in death rates. Seraphine was trying to keep it from you, but you need to know."

She went on, "People working in the metals company are suffering from severe lead poisoning. The owners try to cut costs by hiring young girls, which usually leads to early deaths. And because the girls are desperate to study, the little money they earn—if they survive—goes toward their education or feeding their families."

Angela continued, "That's why everything that once thrived has become monopolized. Every profit now goes into the hands of the various counts who control the provinces, and the businessmen with deep connections."

She glanced at him. "Take your mom. She's an actress—you probably guessed. Too beautiful not to be."

Lucien blinked, quietly nodding.

"The Steward of Cael Vaer insisted on creating false propaganda plays and use her likeness for posters to promote the mandate. Your mom refused. Since then, they've blacklisted her from the industry."

Angela was about to continue ranting but saw the subtle change in Seraphine's expression and paused. Then... silence.

Lucien, quick on his feet, shifted the subject.

"Mom?" he called.

Seraphine broke from her momentary reverie, casting her gaze toward him. "What's wrong, son?" she asked, smiling.

Lucien looked at her before smiling and asking, "You said the Indulgence Pathway of Pride last time…"

He looked at her dead-on in the eyes. Silence fell again before the two women looked at each other and sighed.

"The Indulgence Pathways are something that can't be explained in one sitting. They're very, very complicated," Seraphine said. "So complicated that there are various academies for them—separate from academic ones—where they focus solely on how not to lose yourself to sin."

"To cut it short," Angela added, "the Indulgence Pathways consist of seven branches of sin: Anger, Lust, Sloth, Envy, Pride, Wrath, and Greed—with far too many sub-branches which highlight how a person commits sin in various ways and what drives them."

"A person's behavior—though not solely judged by their pathway—can be inferred from it," Seraphine continued.

Lucien nodded in understanding.

"For example, your Aunt Angela bears the sin of Greed—if you can't already tell from how she was eating," Seraphine teased.

Lucien chuckled while Angela pouted in response.

Lucien was about to ask a question that had been weighing on his mind.

"How the hell did I survive for five months sleeping and knocked out?"

But his curiosity won over him.

"What Indulgence Pathway do I have, Mom?"

Seraphine and Angela looked at him, their smiles faltering a little.

Seraphine reached for his hand.

"You have none, son."

Lucien could only look at them in shock.