Chapter 65: The House of Severans (2)

*Vrrrm---*

The SUV’s engine turned on in the first try. Maeve sat in the driver’s seat with Marcellus’s overcoat still around her shoulders. She was starting to feel cold, since her core was not yet ready to circulate force throughout her body, she felt really weak.

The wet hoodie underneath and shorts hidden under the heavy cloth didn’t really help her feel warm either. She turned the air conditioner on heat.

A man in a duty coat leaned into her open window.

"At least a fleet, Miss Eira. Young Master can’t leave the airfield with one vehicle after wha---"

"If you send a fleet," Maeve said. "He will not respond kindly."

"That is not---" the man hesitated.

"It is exactly how it is." Her hands stayed on the wheel. "Just one car is enough. There’s no need for escort columns. You report that we left under the direct authority of Marcellus Severan."

He looked past her toward the crater, the bodies, the place where world-rank violence had taken place in, and swallowed.

The passenger door beside Maeve opened.

Marcellus got in.

He pulled the door shut.

*KRNNK---Crash!*

"..." The handle came off in his grip.

The window bust outward in a loud and clear shatter of glass. The door itself hung wrong on its hinges, it’s metal had slightly deformed.

"Ah..." Marcellus looked at the handle in his hand, then at the empty space where the window had been.

Maeve stared at him.

He set the broken handle carefully on the dash as if he was returning a borrowed item. Then he glanced towards her.

’Is it because my combat grade’s four now?’ he thought.

’That explains it...’ His gaze drifted down to her body, at the soft line of her under the coat. That was why she felt so soft despite being so strong.

"Goodness, no wonder you were strong enough to pin me to the wall," He murmured.

"What?" Maeve’s eyes widened at the remark as blush creeped up her face.

"...Oh," The security personnel leaning on her window raised his brows, and then nodded.

The rear door opened up. A nerdy man in a white coat over formal clothing climbed into the back seat with a stethoscope still hanging around his neck. His glasses were fogged at the edges, and there was a case clutched close to his chest.

"It’s a fine night, Young Master Severan. Martin said I’m to accompany you," he announced himself, sitting on the backseat. "Medical observation. Continuous. I---I have sedatives if you don’t like pain. And no, I don’t really drive injections in Butt cheeks if that is what keeping you from medical checks---"

Marcellus turned his head slightly.

"I assure you, doctor, the injections aren’t the problem," he said.

"Oh, good. That’s good! Most patients tend to develop an aversion after a traumatic experience, I thought it might be prudent to---"

"It’s the talking," Marcellus interrupted the man.

The doctor stopped.

"Pardon, Young Master?" the man asked.

"The talking," Marcellus repeated. "I was hoping you would keep your mouth shut."

"..." The doctor stopped. He appeared uncertain whether he had been insulted or Marcellus just wanted a quiet space.

Then he adjusted his glasses, opened his case, and began assembling a portable diagnostic device.

"And you won’t perform any checks until I permit you to," Marcellus said, and the doctor stopped in his actions again.

He placed the device back into the case, shut it, and sat straight in the back seat.

"Haah~" Maeve heaved a deep sigh. The broken window was now a problem for the heater she had turned on.

She started driving regardless.

The road to Oroshi Yama was not intended for vehicles.

It opened through the mountain’s lower slopes, past the old stone lanterns, and weathered wooden structures. Its uneven surface had roots and patches of loos gravel.

The traditional route was perfectly adequate for people on foot. But for a car, it was an entirely different matter.

The SUV jolted over a raised section of stone, and Maeve wasn’t driving under a nominal speed limit either.

Despite being on a rough terrain, Marcellus could see that they were moving over hundred and eighty miles an hour of speed.

Marcellus’s head struck the headrest, and the doctor was holding on for his life, gripping the support handle on the doorframe.

Marcellus looked out through the missing window.

"Maeve..." He called out.

"Yes?"

"Are we in a hurry?"

"No."

"Ah...just checking." He did not look assured either.

.-.-.-.-.-.

{The Council of Five}

In the language of House Severan, power is not expressed through gold, or modern glass, but it’s expressed through mass, silence, experience, power, and age.

The House isn’t merely a family that happens to hold power. It is an institution built upon legitimacy of its bloodline, martial force, and strict procedural governance.

As its executive apex stands the Head of House. A Top Ten global awakener. Below him sits the Council of Five.

The Council is a constitutional governing body. Five seats, representing five institutional pillars. The Main House, which chairs the Council, and the four major branch families.

Rain.

Basran.

Veys.

Garde.

Although, operational offices and sectors like the Marshal, and the inspector General Jamess enforce order and preserve the Tatsumisaki’s territorial security. The Council governs the institution itself.

It regulates cross-branch disputes, oversees succession policies, maintains the delicate equilibrium between the branches.

The Council of Five commences within the Chamber of Decrees, located deep in the subterranean basalt bedrock of Tatsumisaki Island, beneath the foundations of the main estate.

The room is octagonal. High-density volcanic stone naturally absorbs light and dampens the sound of it. There are no windows, or any sort of digital displays, or decorative art.

The air within the room is often cold, filtered, and heavy.

At the center of the chamber is the Table of Judgement. A single unpolished slab of black rock, twenty feet long.

Surrounding the table are five high-backed chairs crafted from dark stone and reinforced slate. With comfortable cushion paddings. The chair at the head of the table, reserved for the main house, sits on a raised dais elevated by a single step of black granite stone.

Behind the seat of elders, there’s a flush stone wall.

The massive double doors at the entrance are forged from solid-iron oak, that are more than seven inches thick, and sealed by heavy mechanical bolts.

The Iron-Oak doors opened.

Martin Cannel Severan entered first, followed by James Nesterov Severan. The doors closed behind them, and the heavy mechanical bolts slid into place.

Five figures sat around the Table of Judgement.

The Elder of the Main House occupied the raised seat. Age had thinned his hair, and drawn lines across his loose face skin. But his posture remained straight. He wore a dark, high-colloared coat without any ornaments. His hands rested on the arms of his chair, and his gaze moved from Martin to James.

He had deep eerie black in his eyes. His pupils were indistinguishable from his irises. And despite having a hunched back from age, he still managed to sit straight.

The four other elders sat in silence.

"Begin," The head elder said.

Martin stepped forward.

"The atmospheric veil around Tatsumisaki airfield has been dismantled. Its anchoring nails are intact, and the inspector General’s personnels are documenting their positions. The runway has suffered extensive damage, and will need to be shut down for reconstruction purposes. The other two airfields on the land of Tatsumisaki were unaware of such incident."

"Three attackers are dead. And Rafferty, the head butler of the Main House, remains alive but incapacitated."

"Cause of Incapacitation?"

"An intervention by the man identifying himself as Karl Henson. A Union Agent. He disrupted Rafferty’s core circulation."

"And the attackers?" The Rain Elder leaned forward.

"Two were recognized as high-ranking combatants. One was the Cutter. Ranked within the eighties of World’s awakener’s rankings."

The elder sat back hearing that. Even among the world’s strongest combatants, a rank in the eighties was no trivial distinction. Such a fighter possessed more than exceptional output. He had survived enough confrontations against formidable opponents to establish his place among them.

"How many people were present inside the barrier?" The Garde Elder looked towards Martin.

"Multiple personnel were caught within it. Though the combatants were the three attackers and Young Master Marcellus Severan. Rafferty and Karl Henson lean more in the support type."

"What’s your take?" he asked.

"All available witness accounts place Marcellus at the centre of confrontation. The surviving hostesses identify him as the person who fought the attackers. Maeve Eira, the assistant and Young Master Marcellus Severan have yet to be queried with. Karl Henson stands by the statement of hostesses, Rafferty is yet to wake. The camera feeds of all lamp-posts have only caught the footage until the point where Young Master was stabbed. Beyond that, every camera in the vicinity was damaged to record any feed, and the components of the aircraft were obliterated to recover any evidential data from."

"Then it was Marcellus who killed them?"

"That is what the witnesses report, Elders." James replied.

They Veys Elders’s fingers tapped once against the stone table.

"Grade Five according to his latest IAA Academy assessment---" he was speaking when Martin inturrepted.

"Forgive me for intrusion, Elder. But Young Master Severan seems to have a combat grade of four, not five. I can vouch for that, I saw him upclose," Martin said.

Martin’s interruption drew the attention of all five elders.

"That child’s combat grade has increased by two levels in the past few months?" The Veys Elder was shocked.

"Even so," The rain elder looked towards the chair of Veys. "It changes nothing about the disperance. A grade four combatant does not ordinarily defeat three opponents of this calibre."

"Especially not Cutter. A fighter in the eighties could threaten combatants of grade one."

"The question remains, How did Marcellus do it...if in fact, he really do it." Veys said.

No one had the answer to that statement.

Head of the Council looked at Martin again.

"You were at the scene. Did you sense anything unusual from Marcellus himself?"

"I sensed an extraordinary concentration of Force inside the barrier when we arrived. But," Marting considered the question.

"I cannot conclusively attribute it to him. The witnesses place him at the centre of the fighting, but what the Inspector General and I sensed was beyond what his recorded capabilities would suggest."

"It was exceptional Control, not just the raw power. If Marcellus was responsible, then his command over Force has advanced to a degree I would not have considered possible from his previous assessments."

"Unless his previous assessment was incomplete." The Rain elder leaned back in his chair. "Or the core has changed."

That drew the attention of the others.

"Marcellus is the only child whose core formed during birth. We have no precedent establishing that its development follows the same course as other cores. As we all know, Cores wait for perfect conditions to form inside the body, and they appear beyond and before the age of five and ten."

"You believe it may have remained dormant?"

"I believe that possibility deserves consideration. His now known ability is the example of his awakening. We have assumed that his limitations were intrinsic when we may only have been observing its existing state."

"And you propose that, after eighteen years, his core suddenly developed the ability to contend with a world-ranked combatant?"

"Not necessarily developed," the Basran Elder replied. "It may have been there all along."