Trafficked: Reborn Heir's Revenge

Chapter 60: House Elowen And Mark’s Pain.

Meanwhile...Mark Vaelcrest was making certain moves.

As the portal shimmered and collapsed behind him, Mark found himself standing at the edge of a grand courtyard unlike any other.

Before him rose a titanic gate forged of sun-glinting aether-infused steel, each bar of it humming faintly with stored energy.

The gates were adorned with twisting vines of living goldleaf that shimmered with slow, pulsing light—plants nourished not by soil, but by pure, ambient Aether. Blossoms of impossible hues bloomed where no roots touched earth, petals shifting colors in slow, hypnotic cycles.

Between the latticework of the gate, the family crest of House Elowen shimmered like a mirage: a winged serpent coiled around a seven-pointed star, its scales made of light, its eyes two tiny sapphires set into the metal itself.

House Elowen—Grand Duke Elowen’s domain. One of the Seven Inner Noble Families of the Somara Empire. Their bloodlines ran so close to the throne that even whispers of dissent from their estate could send waves through the Senate and the Throne Court.

However, even though they carried one of the three Grandduke titles in the empire, this house had fallen behind on the emperor's favor.

The reason for this was unknown. Some said that their power was slowly declining. Such that after the current Grandduke, another might not rise from this house.

In recent years, the fact that the number of talents from this house had decline was further proof of this.

However, a lion, even with broken claws, could still ruin meat.

Besides, the fact that they still held a grand Duke position, spoke mights of their power.

Mark took a step forward, still cloaked in the ceremonial white of House Vaelcrest. The loose high-collared robe drifted behind him like smoke. A passing wind carried the scent of blooming crystal thorns and wind-fused roses.

The guards flanking the gate stood motionless like statues, each one a mountain of muscle and ornate armor, with silver inlays shaped like arcane channels running along their breastplates.

These were Beasts in human form—yet even they inclined their heads with measured respect when Mark approached. One of them stepped aside without hesitation.

“Lord Mark of House Vaelcrest. You are expected,” the guard rumbled in a low baritone.

“Tell the Grand Duke I request an audience.”

“She is in the southern terrace. You may proceed.”

As the gates opened with a slow, almost reverent groan, Mark stepped into a world where Aether reigned supreme.

Every noble family within the inner wall was like this, all carrying more Aether than usual. The Immovable Sentry—those great walls that guarded the empire in three huge segments, ensured this.

Yes.

The Immovable Sentry favored office bestowed by the throne.

In the Grand Duke’s quarters were Exotic creatures lounged in sunspots across the courtyard—feathered serpents coiled lazily on marble perches, their breaths emitting wisps of frost and flame.

A three-eyed deer pranced between patches of grass that hummed as if singing lullabies to the wind.

In the treetops, translucent-winged monkeys chattered in rhythmic bursts, some of them wearing tiny vests stitched with noble crests—trophies or pets, he wasn’t sure. Then again, this family were as such, Aether Beast bonds were incorporated not just in their way of life, but also in their bloodline.

This further allowed their connection to Aether, bloom in the most usual ways.

Basically, Aether here was not merely present—it was curated, concentrated, and lovingly manipulated into art.

He followed the winding path of white pearlstone toward the southern terrace, past fountains that sang and statues that wept when the wind changed.

At last, he found her.

Grand Duke Aurelia Elowen reclined beneath a veiled canopy woven from the silk of abyssal spiders, the threads glittering like starlight.

Her long crimson hair was braided with bones of a dungeon wyrm, cascading down her shoulder like a bloody waterfall.

A wide, shallow pool shimmered beside her—inside it, a scaled creature the size of a child coiled lazily, its bioluminescent skin changing hues with her every breath.

Elowen's robe was loosely draped, exposing a generous length of alabaster leg, but there was nothing cheap about her allure. She was power itself, distilled into a woman.

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Many would shame at the old age hiding behind such lush skin.

And then, there was her gaze. Her gaze could seduce or skewer with equal ease. And though her posture was casual, lounging in a chair carved from dungeon amber, her aura was a silent command: Speak wisely, or bleed for your ignorance.

Her lips curled around the slender stem of a smoking pipe, and as she exhaled, the smoke curled like a living entity—shaping itself into a sinuous beast that drifted above her shoulder before vanishing into the wind.

Mark offered a bow, refined but not subservient. “Grand Duke Elowen.”

“Slave Master Mark,” she greeted, her voice husky and velvet-smooth, yet lined with sharpness. "When you agreed to be an informant for my house, the agreement was on premium information. Unfortunately, you are not meeting the 'mark'. If you're here to bring tidings about Seraphina and the Holy Church, I must say... you’re quite behind.”

She tilted her head, watching the dancing smoke as it shaped itself into a finger that gently flicked toward him—dismissively.

“The entire Empire knows,” she added, letting out another smoky breath. “News that stale shouldn’t be carried in Vaelcrest white. It cheapens the robe.”

Mark smiled—not sheepishly, but with a playfulness that bordered on dangerous.

“Oh, no. This has nothing to do with the Church or Seraphina’s defiance.” He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a sealed missive. “It’s about the Mordelune triplets.”

Aurelia froze. Only slightly—but enough for Mark to notice.

“They’ve begun moving... against Seraphina.”

The Grand Duke’s eyes, clever and cunny like a cat about to pounce, turned toward him fully now. The smoke from her pipe paused mid-air as if sensing the weight of her interest.

Her voice lowered, just slightly. “Go on.”

As she said this, she motioned for the smoke to reach for him and get the sealed missive.

"And of course, as promised I did get the identities of a few assets."

Her eyes brightened a bit. Interesting. "So much good news. Tell me, Slave Master Mark. why are you doing this? House Vaelcrest might not carry a Grand Duke, but you still bear the favour of the emperor and all the other houses. There is no reason, you should be helping us. I mean partake of the power struggles between the Grand Duke houses."

Her eyes laid on him with interest.

Mark gave a side smile, "Grand Duke Elowen, I am sure you have heard of the matters between I and my Slave Master brother."

"Cassian?"

"Ahhh... so you've heard!"

"So it's true... matters of the heart—ever so delicate."

"NOT delicate enough." He tightened his fist, as he took a deep breath in and then out.

"I was young... I met her first. She was—"

The words trembled on Mark’s lips, caught between memory and madness.

”—the most beautiful thing my eyes ever laid on.”

He did not mean that in the idle way men often of women. No—when Mark Vaelcrest, an incredibly disciplined Vaelcrest, said it, it was almost worship. Reverence.

Like the way a dying man might cling to a drop of water in the desert.

"She had been elegance in motion. Fire wrapped in silk. When she laughed, the world paused. When she smiled, Aether itself seemed to dance at her feet."

"Hmmm..." The Grandduke observed him closely. She could see it. This was a man—the kind that had submitted himself to one... Love.

“She would have been mine,” Mark said quietly, eyes narrowing with a trembling force just beneath the surface.

“But my brother…”

He didn’t finish at first. The silence said more than words. The tension twisted around his throat like a noose.

“I met her at the Chain Master’s Gauntlet,” he said finally. “She was the daughter of a 'reputable' branched Outer noble family. I am sure you remember them."

The Grandduke nodded.

"Her family… powerful, and tied to the old agreements. The Vaelcrests had sworn that the most promising of our line would wed her. A uniting of bloodlines, one of power and perfection.”

He laughed then—but it wasn’t pleasant. It was hollow, filled with the ringing emptiness of a life that never came to be.

“She chose me. I know she did. Her eyes found mine that day, not his. I felt it—more than that, I knew it. The way she watched my presentation. The way her breath caught when I smiled. It was… fate. The kind of fate that makes men believe in destiny.”

His hand curled into a fist again. This time tighter.

“But fate is a cruel bitch.”

He turned his head, lips pulled into a bitter sneer. “Cassian… my little brother. They called him the prodigy of control. The master of wills. On the final day of the Gauntlet, he controlled a hundred slaves—blood warriors, every one of them—made them move like one. Like a god commanding his legion. The judges, the lords, even our patriarch… their eyes left me. Left me. They only saw him.”

The words were a knife now, slicing open old wounds still red and weeping beneath his skin.

The Grandduke nodded lazily as she listened, taking in another drag of her pipe.

Such matters were not exactly her thing. But which woman was never interested in drama. Besides, Mark had bought this listening ear for quite the price.

Then again, she remembered that day. The Chain Master Gauntlet was always a grand event. The most important of the Vaelcrest Family. The family that bleed obedience into the veins of the Empire’s most valuable resource.

And even though she never said it, she had similarly been impressed. Even her had sort cassian for her house that day.

But Grandduke Vontell had long seen the potential he possessed, and roped him in.

Since then, the stock from the vontell family had topped the dungeon charts. And if other families wanted to get close, they had no choice but to pay a hefty fee to the Vontell family for Cassian’s services.

She looked up again... at the pained man.

“I was the eldest." Mark continued. "I was the chosen. But in a single performance, he became the most promising of my generation.”

His voice cracked with venom. “So they wedded her to him when he came of age. Just like that. They didn’t care what she wanted. She was bound to duty… and she accepted it, for the sake of her House. But I—” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I watched them steal her from me. While she was still looking at me.”

His breath caught. He looked away, swallowing.

He did not mention more, but Grandduke Elowen knew they was more.

—more between Mark and Cassian’s late wife.

However, she did not say it.

“And then she died.” Mark sighed.

A bitter silence followed.

“A few years into their cold, lifeless union, she died. No cause. No reason. Just… gone. And still, everyone said it was fate.”

Mark’s gaze turned dark. “But I know him. I know the way he works. Cold. Controlling. Emotionless.”

He spat the words.

“She was flame. She needed breath. And he suffocated her. Maybe not with hands, but with his silence, with his rules, with the stone-cold duty that defines him. He killed her, whether anyone else sees it or not.”

She did not say anything. Then again, she doubted anything she said would sway him.

This was a man hooked on his own ideals. She would rather leave it that way.

After all, it was to her Elowen House benefit.

"The Vontell Family took Cassian, and now carry his legacy. Just like he let the earth suffer her beauty. I want his legacy buried in the ground."