CHAPTER 229: THE STEWARD'S MANTLE

Standing near the grand obsidian altar of his sanctum, Caius adjusted the long hem of his dark mantle, feeling the steady, rhythmic vibration of the four black studs embedded across his brow. The mobile pocket domains hummed with dense, filtered mana, perfectly synchronized with his crown core lattice. As he finalized the last logistical checks for the expedition into the unknown, the cavernous iron doors swung open. Old Bones, Patriarch Vane, and Sereth stepped into the hall, humbly requesting an immediate audience.

Before Caius could speak, Old Bones dropped heavily to his knees, bowing until his forehead pressed against the cold basalt floor. Despite his name and centuries of age, Old Bones was far from frail. He possessed a prime, formidable dark elf build, standing well over six feet tall with broad, sculpted shoulders, a cut jawline, and thick, silver-white hair falling across his back. Yet, as he knelt, his wide, muscular frame trembled with desperate devotion.

"My Lord, I beg of you!" Old Bones pleaded, his raspy voice echoing through the chamber. "Permit this humble servant to accompany you on your wanderings. Allow me to serve you as you travel into the Mist! If I am left behind inside these quiet walls, staying here to worry endlessly over when you will return... these old bones of mine will simply turn to dust."

Caius looked down at the imposing warrior-scholar, a faint, amused smirk playing upon his lips. "You wish to abandon a quiet life for the hazards of the Abyss?" Caius asked smoothly. "Very well. But if you march into the mist at my side, who will be my new steward? Who will govern Castle Precipice in your absence?"

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Old Bones answered without hesitation, designating Patriarch Vane to assume the duties of Castle Steward and Sereth to ascend as the new Patriarch of the House of Vel'drin. Behind the old scholar, both dark elves dropped to one knee, lowering their heads in deep, solemn acceptance of their new duties.

"Fine," Caius said, his violet-gold eyes glinting. "Prepare yourself, Old Bones. We will be departing next month."

The moment the words left Caius’s mouth, the centuries of stoic gravitas weighing down the old dark elf vanished entirely. Old Bones’s dark eyes lit up with the pure, unadulterated euphoria of a child told he was finally going on a grand adventure. He sprang up off the stone floor with fluid, youthful grace, barely remembering to offer a hasty, half-bow before spinning on his heel.

His tall, broad-shouldered frame, normally an intimidating sight of prime dark elf martial authority, now looked almost absurd as he practically skipped across the grand hall. He moved with a spry, energetic bounce, snapping his fingers and muttering excitedly to himself about what travel gear to pack, rushing toward the exit like a young boy charging out the door for his very first journey.

Watching the ancient, spry dark elf virtually skip down the basalt corridor with starry-eyed glee, Caius leaned back against his throne and softly chuckled.