Corrupted blood lord

Teclos didn’t sleep well.

At first, he tossed and turned, new ideas cycling endlessly through his thoughts. Plans formed, unraveled, and reformed again as he stared into the darkness, chasing solutions that slipped through his fingers the moment he reached for them.

When sleep finally claimed him, it was shallow and restless.

He drifted in and out, caught between memories and worries that refused to stay silent. Each time his eyes closed, his mind returned to the same images—

It was a constant nightmare of shame, fear, and regret, one that had plagued him for the entire week already.

Morning eventually crept in through the window, pale and quiet.

Teclos lay there for a long moment, exhausted despite the hours spent in bed, staring at the ceiling again as the house slowly woke around him. Somewhere down the hall, Saldia moved softly toward the kitchen.

He heard a pot being set down, then the soft rustle of bundled herbs as pots and cups were pulled from the cabinets.

Normal sounds, everyday noise one would expect in the morning.

And yet, nothing felt normal.

He sat up and rubbed his face. His aching body had refreshed overnight, leaving him physically rested, but his mind was still dead tired.

But his sleepless night hadn’t been wasted, at least. He had a plan. A complicated one, perhaps, but a plan nonetheless. A three-part apology, each piece demanding time, effort, and no small amount of humility—and a sprinkle of luck.

He dressed, ate quickly, and left the house before Saldia could say anything—not to avoid her, but because he couldn’t afford to waste time.

Talmir was right. He had to own his mistakes, so he would do just that. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

He would make things right with his mother.

Then... the village.

’I’ll figure that part out later,’ he thought.

Behind the guild hall, Ralph and Gillard were already waiting.

They weren’t joking today.

Ralph sat on a crate, absently turning a small stone over in his fingers. Gillard leaned against the wall, arms folded, gaze distant. Whatever conversations they’d weathered at home clearly hadn’t been pleasant—but that wasn’t Teclos’ concern right now.

He joined them in silence.

After a moment, Ralph glanced up.

"You look like hell. Rough night? My old man chewed me out. I’m guessing yours did too?"

Teclos exhaled.

"Yeah... I need to fix something."

"Hah! That goes for me too, man," Ralph said lightly.

Gillard studied Teclos more closely.

"You don’t mean the repair work, do you?"

"No... it’s worse..." Teclos said, his head hanging low. "I mean my mother."

Ralph chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good luck with that. And if you succeed, share some of that luck with me, please... I really need it with the old man."

Then Ralph turned and started working without complaint.

Teclos blinked.

"...And I thought I would be the downer today. What’s with him?"

Gillard hesitated.

"His father actually threw him out last night. Not permanently—yet. But until Ralph ’sets his ways straight,’ he’s not welcome home."

A cold knot twisted in Teclos’ chest.

’Uff... that sucks.’

That could’ve been him.

He now also had to check on Ralph later.

They worked through the morning in near silence, finishing smaller assigned tasks: resetting fence posts, hauling debris, tamping down earth, repairing what could be salvaged. Their movements were mechanical now, bodies remembering the work even as their minds wandered off to other matters.

Near the end of the day, Teclos noticed someone near the merchant stalls.

At one of them stood a woman who seemed almost untouched by the chaos around her.

Her head was wrapped in a finely embroidered cloth of deep indigo, silver thread woven into delicate patterns that caught the light as she moved. A few dark curls escaped the wrap, framing her face and softening the sharp intelligence in her eyes. Thick, naturally curly hair spilled down her back in a glossy cascade—well cared for, despite the road-worn life of a traveling merchant.

She wore a flowing silk dress in warm earth tones, layered and practical yet undeniably elegant. The sleeves were rolled just enough to reveal strong wrists adorned with simple bangles, hands marked by honest labor rather than vanity.

Her posture was relaxed but assured—the confidence of someone who had bargained across cities and knew the worth of every coin. When she spoke, her voice carried warmth, but beneath it lay a keen sharpness.

Lala.

Merchant, traveler, and one of the few people Saldia trusted enough to share tea—and secrets—with.

She appeared to be assessing the damage to her stall, calculating repairs and losses with a keen eye.

When the workday ended, Teclos wiped his hands on his trousers and glanced toward the square.

"I’m heading that way," he said.

Ralph groaned, exhausted. "Yeah... I’ll go..." He couldn’t finish the sentence and just walked away.

"...keep an eye out for him, Gillard," Teclos said, worried.

Gillard nodded once.

"Good luck with your mother."

Teclos smirked.

"Yeah. That won’t be easy."

Lala’s stall stood near the edge of the square, visibly scarred despite ongoing repairs. One support beam had been replaced with lighter wood. The roof fabric had been carefully stitched. Broken jars still littered the ground nearby.

Lala was arranging the jars that had survived when Teclos approached.

She saw him, but didn’t yell or frown.

She simply waited.

"Hey, Lala," Teclos started.

"You’ve got nerve," she replied calmly.

"I know. I’m sorry."

She tilted her head.

"You already said that. All of you did, in fact. But the damage doesn’t disappear with words alone."

"I’m not asking for free forgiveness," Teclos said carefully. "And I want to help you rebuild it."

Her gaze flicked briefly to the damaged beam, then back to him.

"...Alright," she said. "If you’re serious."

She put him to work immediately.

He hauled planks, sanded edges, secured shelves. When customers arrived, he stepped aside, holding boards steady while Lala worked around him. It was slow, meticulous labor—nothing groundbreaking.

Just honest work and effort.

As night fell, Lala’s gaze landed on him.

"You look exhausted."

"Haha, that’s because I am..." Teclos replied.

That earned him a faint huff of amusement, and by the time they finished, the stall stood straighter and almost fully repaired.

"There’s something else I have to ask of you," Teclos said during a short break.

Lala raised an eyebrow.

"Of course there is."

"I need a bottle of liquor. It’s not for me, and it needs to be something special."

Her expression sharpened.

"Not for you?"

"No."

She was quiet for a long moment.

"I have something," she said at last. "But it isn’t free. And helping repair my stall won’t cover it."

"How much?"

She told him.

Teclos barely swallowed his saliva, and his heart sank a tiny bit.

"...I don’t have that much."

"You can earn it," Lala said calmly. "Work for me until you have enough."

So he did.

Five long days.

He cleaned jars until his fingers pruned. Carried heavy crates until his shoulders burned. Labeled and sorted spirits by their value, and helped her sell them to customers.

On the fifth and final day, Lala watched him count out the last coin.

"I’m surprised you didn’t complain," she said.

"Well, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to," Teclos admitted.

She handed him the bottle—made of dark glass, wax-sealed and decorated, etched with delicate markings.

"For what it’s worth," Lala added, "I think she’ll understand."

He opened his eyes wide in surprise.

"How did you know?"

She patted his head.

"It wasn’t hard to guess, kiddo."

Teclos bowed deeply in thanks as he headed home.

That evening, he hid the bottle beneath his bed and finally slept like a log, getting his first proper rest after many days.

The following afternoon, once work slowed, Teclos left the village.

He headed inland—toward Lupos.

After a while, the path through the forest rose gently until it opened up into a sunlit clearing on a small hill.

Radiance blossoms grew there in abundance.

They resembled sunflowers at a glance, but up close their petals glimmered with faint veins of light. Their centers glowed warmly, releasing gentle heat into the air.

Saldia loved them.

So he gathered some of them.

At home, he hid them in the ceiling and wrote his apology letter—it was short, honest, and unadorned.

"This should do it... hopefully." He was nervous, to say the least.

Then, finally, he was ready.

When he found Saldia in the herbal room, he asked her to come to the kitchen, where he prepared the bottle, the flowers, and the letter.

Her eyes widened in shock.

"...Where did you get this?" she asked.

"...Well..." At first, he had a hard time speaking, but Saldia was patient and let him continue in his own time.

"I got the liquor from Lala. Of course, it wasn’t free, and I had to work for it. Then I went to the clearing we saw a while back when you showed me your favorite flowers, so I picked a few of them, and the letter... the letter sums up my honest thoughts about what I did and that I am sorry."

She was impressed but didn’t let it show on her face.

Saldia sat down and read the letter. It was neatly written, and the contents spoke about how sorry he was about the liquor and everything—how it tore him up not to see her smile at him anymore, how he wouldn’t repeat the same mistake, and how he loved her.

A tear slipped free.

Then she hugged him.

"Don’t ever do something like this again, Teclos," she said softly. "And I forgive you."

Teclos exhaled.

They stayed like that a little longer, until she finally pulled away. If she was honest with herself, the silence had hurt her more than she wanted to admit.

All the help, the smiles, the bond they had built—it felt like she was the one tearing it apart.

After the hugging, she stored the letter in her drawer for memories and then looked at the bottle.

The name etched into the bottle was Aurelion Sunspirit.

The bottle itself was a work of quiet luxury.

Its glass was thick and dark, blown by hand rather than molded, carrying faint ripples that caught the light like still water. The color was a deep amber-black, almost opaque at a distance, but when held to the sun, it revealed a warm, honeyed glow within—gold layered over gold, as if liquid sunlight had been sealed inside.

The neck was sealed with aged red wax, cracked slightly at the edges where time had worked its slow magic. Pressed into the wax was an old sigil: a stylized sun encircled by grain and vine, the mark of a long-established distillery whose name had been passed down by good reputation and record.

A narrow label of cured parchment was bound around the bottle with twine instead of glue. The ink had faded to a soft bronze-brown, but the lettering was still elegant—flowing script penned by a steady hand. Beneath the name Aurelion Sunspirit were the words "First Press, High Summer Batch," followed by a small handwritten mark denoting its year.

When the bottle was tilted, the liquor moved slowly inside, clinging to the glass in thick, deliberate trails. Even unopened, it carried a scent—subtle but unmistakable—warm grain, sun-dried fruit, and a whisper of spice that spoke of careful aging in decades rather than just seasons.

This was not a drink meant for celebration alone.

It was a liquor saved for grand balls, for moments that marked the endings and beginnings in life. Even royalty and nobles enjoyed this liquor.

Of course, Teclos didn’t have any clue how valuable it was, but Saldia knew instantly. It was also a quiet message from Lala—that Teclos had worked hard for it and that they should reconcile already.

A small smirk escaped Saldia as she thought of how cheeky Lala was, giving this liquor to Teclos.

"Thank you, honey, for the gifts. Now go wash up and eat your dinner."

And just like that, one of the most nervous days of his life finally came to an end.

Lying there in bed, he now had another problem to deal with—Ralph.

’How can I help that dumbass out?’ he asked himself. Getting kicked out of the house was a pretty harsh punishment. Speaking of which... where would he even sleep tonight?

Teclos almost got up to go find him, but stopped midway. They’d see each other tomorrow anyway, and since Gillard had been with him when they split up, Ralph was probably with him.

So after grueling weeks of worries, hard work, and long days, he finally closed his eyes in peace.

Today, he would get the best sleep of his life, and tomorrow he would help out a friend in need. How he would do that, he didn’t know yet, though.