“Dad?” Senton asked.
“Yes, I’m your father. Look inside you, you know it’s the truth.” The blacksmith’s voice oozed sarcasm.
“I wasn’t questioning that. What I meant to say is, what are you doing here?”
“Didn’t you hear your mother-in-law? The air stinks today and we should get away from those ruffians.” Zekell said with a scoff.
“I know but-”
“I can’t believe that my own son doesn’t consider me a member of this family and wants to leave me behind.” Zekell started to cry again, earning Senton several glares.
“Uncle, can we bring Grampa along? Pretty please.” Leria begged Lith with her big puppy chestnut eyes that she had inherited from Tista.
“Everything for my little fairy.” Lith and Senton both inwardly griped at Zekell calling the pot black right before shamelessly exploiting his own niece to get what he wanted.
“Mom, do you want to give it a go?” Lith asked before take-off.
“Maybe later. Now I want just to observe.” Elina had been angered by the Lutians’ words, yet they had also made her see past her fears and take pride in her son’s work.
No matter how scary the thought of flight was, the fact that Lith had created for her something as amazing as the DoLorean was enough to make Elina overcome her worries.
She wanted to learn how to use it to make her son proud of her as well.
“By the way, thanks for your vote of confidence, Friya.” Lith said with a sneer. “Your desperate screams for help touched my heart. I’ll use them the next time I have to stage a damsel in distress for the kids.”
“You never told me what to expect!” She tried to defend herself while turning to a bright shade of purple.
“That’s because I hoped that you trusted me enough to appreciate the surprise. Even Aran is braver than you.” Lith turned around to ruffle his little brother’s hair while the DoLorean slowly gained altitude to not scare anyone.
“Don’t worry, auntie. I’ll protect you.” Aran puffed his chest out with pride, holding Friya’s hand to reassure her and making things even more humiliating for her.
“Tista, do you mind calling Lark? We have plenty of time for a visit.” Lith moved towards the Count’s residence before someone could raise an objection.
“We’re not properly dressed!” Raaz said.
“I’m pretty sure I told you to keep at least one set of fancy clothes inside your armor.” Aran and Leria shapeshifted their Scalewalker armor into silk evening clothes, confirming Lith’s words as he set the speed from one to two.
“Dad doesn’t have one!” Senton said.
“I’ll be your valet, then, Your Majesty.” Zekell laughed hard, giving a bow to the kids while Lith moved the speed lever up a notch.
“I’m glad beyond what words can express that for once Lith decided to visit me without a hidden agenda.” Lark’s voice sounded jovial as usual. “How long will it take for you to arrive?”
“Five minutes tops.” Lith replied.
Reaching the Lark Household would require over thirty minutes of horse gallop from Lutia so everyone remained flabbergasted doing the simple math that calculating their speed required.
“Are we really moving that fast?” Raaz didn’t dare to look down and they were flying so high that aside from birds there was nothing he could use as a benchmark.
On top of that, between the Float spell supporting the DoLorean and the wedge-shaped wind blade in front of the car that worked as a windshield, he could barely feel a vibration as they moved.
The wind blade protected them from insects and dust since, at that speed, even a fly would hit them with the energy of a bullet. It also created a slipstream effect, allowing the propulsion spell to achieve great speed while meeting minimum resistance.
“Then I’d better go alert my guards and staff. Otherwise, at your arrival, you’ll receive a quite rude welcome.” Lark hung up the call and yelled orders as he walked briskly toward the main entrance of his mansion.
Despite his age, the Count kept himself in great shape and with his long legs, the butlers had to run to keep up with his pace.
“Tell the guards to stand down. I’m expecting honored guests to knock at my door at any moment.” He said to the poor old Pontus, the head butler, who refused to both pant and sweat to uphold the decorum that his job required.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, thanks for reminding me. Alert Hilya first and the guards second.” Lark pointed at the kitchen where the head chef spent most of her time.
“Do you want something special to be prepared?” Pontus asked.
“No, I just don’t want her to embarrass me for the umpteenth time. If Hilya calls Lith young master again, I swear to the gods that I’ll fire her!” Lark had explained to the chef that Raaz wasn’t his bastard son until her ears bled, yet she had never changed her mind.
Only after delivering the messages as fast as his physique allowed him to did Pontus sit down and politely ask to send the resident healer for him. The butler was quite certain that all that running would soon give him a heart attack and he didn’t want to ruin his master’s reunion with something distasteful like sudden death.
The DoLorean landed as softly as a feather in the space reserved for the stagecoaches of visiting guests while the house staff set a red carpet and the guards formed an honor guard all the way to the entrance.
Too bad that Lark disregarded protocol entirely, surpassing the butlers and dribbling the guards instead of waiting in front of the hallway.
“Dear Lark, it’s good to see you.” No matter if he went out for groceries or to the Royal Court, the deep blue Archmage robe was the only attire Lith needed.
“The pleasure it’s all mine, dear Lith. Did you come here to show off your latest creation or your beautiful family?” The two men shook hands under the curious look of the guards.
Due to them having similar height, build, and even hair color, it was hard to dismiss the rumors about Archmage Verhen being blood-related with their master. Sure, the Count was leaner and less muscular, but having a sedentary lifestyle it would have been odd otherwise.
“Grandpa Lark!” The children came out of the car, wearing such fine clothes that they would look good for a gala.
“Look how much you guys have grown! I’m afraid you are now too heavy for your old-” After failing to lift Aran, the Count choked on his words when he noticed Hilya walking on the red carpet while pushing a cart full of delicacies.
She had a smug grin on her face, clearly assuming that those weren’t just the words that kids would say to any man past a certain age that their parents were in an amicable relationship with.
“Hi, I’m Zekell, the other Grampa and Lith’s right-hand man. You sure jumped through a lot of hoops for the kid.” The blacksmith’s poor choice of words and the confidence with which he moved around like he owned the place only made the Count’s situation worse.
Lark couldn’t lecture Rena’s father-in-law for his rudeness without embarrassing the whole family. The Count was torn between giving face to his guests and not adding oil to the fire of the rumors.
