In Magician's Embrace [BOOK 1 of Price Family Saga]

6. Chapter (Meeting Sir Dodger)

Hurling the bottles successively against the wall, they shattered, though the opulent carpet beneath muted the cacophony of shattering glass.

"You believe that alcohol bestows upon you a transient lease on life, when in reality, it stealthily ushers you towards the netherworld. Behold!"

Two more bottles were flung across the hall, their impact transforming crystalline vessels into fragmented relics. The agitated servants stood witness, their countenances reflecting trepidation as bottle after bottle succumbed to his wrath.

"And why do you stand there akin to damned salt pillars?! Take her up to her bedchamber!" he exclaimed at the servant after he emptied the shelf and the floor became strewn with glassy fragments. The servants swiftly obeyed their master's command, casting nought but averted gazes at his fearsome countenance. His eyes traversed the chamber, and every nerve within his head cried out:

You should have done this long ago! You should have done this long ago!

He summoned the butler, who emerged from the hallway as pallid as chalk. The majordomo narrowly evaded being struck twice, and a shard deflected from a broken bottle grazed his hand.

"So, this was not meant for mine eyes? You did endorse her with thy silence, did you?!" Travis inquired, yet the butler could find no reasoned argument that would not sound as a plain excuse. And since he wished not to provoke the ire of the young lord, he held his tongue.

"The keys to the wine vault," Travis uttered with a menacing voice when met with nought but silence, extending his hand forth.

The butler retrieved the keys from the pocket of his waistcoat and, with a trembling hand, presented them to his master. Despite his wound, he followed the Marquess, who strode toward the cellar. Travis expeditiously opened the door and initially surveyed its contents with his eagle eyes. He then approached each cask containing finely aged wine and verified the integrity of their seals—which remained unbroken.

"Her Ladyship hath not laid a finger upon them," spoke the butler, trembling slightly.

"But she could have. Does anyone else possess keys to this cellar?"

"Aye, the cook."

"Convey unto her that I wish to have them in mine possession forthwith."

Travis held faith in the cook, deeming it unlikely she would relinquish the keys to his mother so readily. Yet, surely, his cunning mother would contrive some stratagem to gain access to any substance bearing even the faintest trace of alcohol. They departed together with the butler, securing the doors behind them, and Travis placed the keys in his pocket.

"That shall be all. Seek attendance for your injured hand," Travis instructed the butler before stepping outside. He halted upon the terrace, delicately wiping away the tears that had welled within his eyes. The core of his soul trembled as the surge of adrenaline waned, seating himself upon a bench and endeavouring to restore his breath whilst ruminating upon the sights and experiences he had just encountered.

He felt akin to an orphan, bereft of parents, affections, and the promise of transformation. Slowly, he comprehended that he must alter his own life—just as he had departed from his mother's presence to evade witnessing her trials and indifference, he must return and aid her in extricating herself, whether she does find it agreeable or not. It would require toil and self-sacrifice, yet, despite his previous tribulations, he held the belief that this time it would prove successful.

He was aware of his mother's imbibing, yet he had never fathomed its dire extent. After a time, a clear plan crystallised within his mind—he must first assist her as a fellow human, and then ascertain her sentiments toward him as a son when she is bereft of any intoxicating substance within her reach. Travis sought to discern the root of her comportment, whether his father's demise had any sway... And wherefore, in truth, had his father taken his own life?