The last of nearly a hundred people had finally finished filtering into the chamber hidden within the heart of the Starspire when the great and imposing set of obsidian doors leading to here shut closed, but it still looked relatively empty inside. Three ringed platforms rose up into the air from the pure gold flooring, each reaching higher than the last, and all, in total, were able to hold at most a thousand people, but only a tenth of that available space was actually filled.

At the centre of the room sat a slab of raw obsidian with an intricate and complex runic array carved into it, the work of powerful long gone archmages and well beyond my measly understanding. The cold, dead body of my father was laid atop this slab of obsidian. He was dressed in only the finest blue and silver clothing, the colours of House Amonvar, but his attire did little to hide the wrinkled and ancient state of his lifeless body.

Arcanists could do quite a bit to prolong their lives if they had the necessary power and resources, but no magic, no matter how great the arcanists wielding them, could stop the entropy of time outright, nor halt the cold, icy hand of death from taking them. When all the illusions of youth and health were stripped away from powerful arcanists, all you were left with was a grey-haired bag of bones, and my father was no different now that he too had passed.

The lowest floating ring of gold, the one closest to the body, was reserved for direct family members and blood-sworn friends, but I stood there alone, just like my father wished. Today, the name of the House of Amonvar would die out and its last heir would carry the name of a, in my father’s opinion, much lesser family. As much as my father hated his own blood, it just went to show how conceited he still was, given that he never thought to check if his family had any previous dealings with the House of Allur. It was ironic that the bloodline whose ground-based dynasty the ancient Amonvars toppled nearly a millennium ago was now the one to be their end.

Behind me, on the second ring, stood thirteen figures. This ring was reserved for the friends and peers of the deceased, but my father had no friends and his only true peers were the other twelve archmages of the Council. Since the archmages mostly hated each other and were too busy to attend the funeral of someone they despised, their second-hands and representatives stood in place for them, including a man by the name of Magister Cromwell, my father’s own second-hand man, and the person that was most likely to succeed him as Warden Arcanum.

The third ring was the largest and most populated, but even then it was still relatively empty. The places here were reserved for those who had even a passing relation to my father, and the lack of attendance demonstrated how much he was despised by those who actually knew him. Technically, My mother would have had to stand there since she was never actually married to my father, but the woman refused to even pretend to mourn for the man whose ancestors took everything from her family and who was still gaining from their loss until the day he died. 

If not for the fact that my attendance was necessary for me to gain my inheritance and our plans to work, I would have skipped my father's funeral without so much as batting an eyelid. I may have been the man’s son, but that was a title held in blood alone. All he cared about when having me, was spitting on the name of his family when he left everything to a "lesser" family.

Now that the doors had closed, it was time for the funeral to start properly, and as the oldest and most renowned living family member, it fell on me to give the eulogy. To that end, I walked to the edge of my ring and jumped off towards the centre of the room, where I floated down to the ground in the room's lightened gravitational field.

Once I found myself standing directly in front of my father’s dead body, I turned and looked around at all those gathered there. From down here, looking up, I had a perfect view of the obsidian domed ceiling upon which was projected an illusion of the midnight sky outside. The depiction of the moon overhead and the countless stars twinkling behind it was so realistic that it was easy to forget we were deep inside a gargantuan tower, from which an entire city was ruled and flown through the sky.

"My father, Archmage Arthur Amonvar, was a lot of things to a lot of different people." I began to speak, my voice echoing out throughout the space thanks to the enchantments that were woven into the floor here in the centre of the funeral chamber. "But he would not have wanted me to lie and give false gratitude. Sure, the public may have viewed him as one of the City of Sky and Star’s thirteen magnanimous and powerful leaders, but few truly knew him. To some of us, he was a stern and uncaring boss, a distant father, or even a ruthless enforcer of the law."

"However, the one thing my father actually cared about being known for was his work as the Warden Arcanum. As a powerful abjuration specialist and unparalleled warder, my father was able to protect this city from the threats and dangers that would have hidden in the shadows as they ate away at the very fabric of our society. As such, the continued safety of our citizens brought about by the new rules and wards my father set up during his reign will be his lasting legacy. For the safety and security of Caellas came before all else to him.”

After finishing up my short and to-the-point speech, I turned around to face the obsidian slab where my father’s body rested. A few steps forward and I had come close enough so that I could place both my hands on the cold, black, enchanted surface. At my command, mana surged forth out of the mana pool in the core of my very being and flowed into the obsidian slab, lighting up the channels of the ancient runic array carved into it.

Unlike the tiny drops of mana needed to cast cantrips, this wasn’t a small amount of mana I was bringing forth. In fact, it was my entire mana pool's worth, and being drained of my magic even momentarily left me feeling woozy and light-headed. Pushing through that feeling, I watched as my magic lit up the obsidian slab, breaking my father’s body down into its fundamental energies and absorbing them.

In a matter of seconds, my father’s body disintegrated, leaving no physical traces of him behind. However, the energy that once made up the man still existed, of which a tiny portion was returned to me along with the majority of the mana I used to start this process. The other portion, though, was sent deeper into the very core of the Starspire and the city, to the massive meteorite engine which gave the city the star part of its moniker, and kept the enchantment that flew the city functioning properly.

As my mana reentered my body and filled my mana pool back up, I felt refreshed and energised once more. Although with my measly understanding of spellcraft, I couldn’t sense any changes within myself, I knew well enough what this process had done. The ritual had marked my mana signature with that of my father’s so that any enchantments or spells keyed to him would now work for me, a rather handy tradition that is of great importance and necessity because, without it the city would lose vast troves of knowledge every time the older generations started passing away.

With this act completed, and the magic fading away again, the great set of obsidian doors started to shift open once more, signalling the end of the funeral. One by one, those gathered there began to filter out in the reverse order of how they had gotten here. As such, it meant that I would be the last person to leave, but luckily it could have been worse since there weren’t that many in attendance to wait on.

When it was my turn to finally leave, I quickly made my way out of the winding halls of the Starspire to one of its many ground-level exits. As I was descending the stairs and heading for the sleek black car that chauffeured me here, I got interrupted by a certain man who was already out there, waiting for me. How he knew which exit I would use, was beyond me since I had left through a different exit than the one I came in to avoid such encounters in the first place.

"I’m sorry for your loss, Alek." Magister Cromwell came up to me, took my hand in his and he bowed his head. "I know you didn’t have the best of relationships with your father, but Arthur did a lot for the city, even if the details of most of his work must remain classified because of its very nature. Many will miss him."

"Thank you, magister. Your words mean a lot to me." I lied without a hint of remorse. Like most archmages and the magisters that aspire to rise to that position, this man was a snake who would manipulate and stab anyone in the back so long as it got him more power.

"I’m aware that your father didn’t wish for you to carry on the family name of Amonvar, but it is really a shame to see one of the founding families sputter out like this." Cromwell continued, but whatever he was going to suggest was clearly a ploy to make himself seem like he was on my side so that he could get something in return. The question was just, what was he trying to get from me?

"If you wish to take the matter of succeeding your father and continuing your proud heritage up with the courts, then I would gladly pull a few strings for you." He offered.

"I’ll have to get back to you on that. I need to take some time and think over what is best for my mother and I going forward." I responded as if I was unsure to keep up the polite facade, but in truth, there was no way I would have ever changed my surname away from my mother's.

"You just have to say the word, and I’ll reach out to my contacts on your behalf." Unable to see through my simple but effective facade, the man just grinned as he withdrew his hands from mine, leaving behind a simple business card with his name on it.

"That is enchanted with a single-use sending spell that will reach me directly if you come to a decision. Also, if you happen to come across any artifacts that your father may have borrowed from the Arcanum Vault during his tenure, please do contact me. It's not safe for those kinds of things to just lie around."

"Of course, magister." Like a dutiful citizen of this great city, I nodded my head and said my goodbyes to the snake of a man, but I could barely stop myself from rolling my eyes the whole time.

Most likely, the entire point of that conversation was just for that last bit of dialogue. It's not unusual for the Warden Arcanum to peruse the vault of dangerous and secretive knowledge that they're meant to be protecting the city from, but if it were to become public knowledge that my father actually removed something from there the others of the Council of Thirteen would have immediately turned on him. 

No, my father would never have removed something from the vault. He hated his family because they had secretly been doing just that for generations before he became Warden Arcanum, at which point he returned everything they had amassed and started to plot the downfall of his family who had endangered not just themselves but everyone within the city with their schemes. If he did that just because of a little theft from the Arcanum Vault, then he would never actually do it himself. I mused in thought as I made my way to the car waiting for me. 

Hmm… Could Magister Cromwell be aware of the secret responsible for my father’s rise in power, the secret that has laid at the heart of House Amonvar since the founding of the city? I doubt he knows exactly what it is, but it is the only thing my father would not have trusted the vault with, preferring to keep it guarded in his estate, where only he could tread.

I’ll have to find it quickly and finally reclaim it in the name of House Allur, to whom it rightfully belongs and was stolen from a millennium ago.

I pulled out of my thoughts and focused my attention back on my surroundings when I finally descended the stairs, reaching the car waiting for me. After sliding into the back seat of said car and shutting its door behind me, I was greeted by my mother, dressed in an elegant black and sparkling dress, who slid her hand onto my leg, much higher up than most mothers would be willing to touch their sons.

"How’d it go, honey." Mum inquired, slowly sliding her hand even higher up my leg as she did so. Since the government was overly insistent on having funerals happen on the night of the deceased's deaths, I wasn’t able to fully give my mother her promised reward for being a good girl earlier today, something she was keen to make up for in the car ride to come, just as she had on the way here.

"As good as it could have gone. Although…" I hesitated as I pulled out the business card that the snake of a man had given me. After spending a second or two quickly casting a simple flame cantrip, the card burned to ashes in my fingers. "Magister Cromwell was acting suspiciously. I think he might know something, and I’m willing to bet the enchantment on the business card he gave me wasn’t as simple as he wanted me to believe. If there was anyone who had a hope of bypassing my father’s wards, it's him, but not without a foot in the door first."

My mother let out a sigh, but she was only really disappointed that this meant she still wouldn’t be getting her reward in full. "I guess this means the search can’t wait for the morning. Driver, take us to the Amonvar estate."

"As you command, Mistress." A stiff artificial voice answered her from the front of the car, but no one was sitting there at the wheel. Moments later the engine started on its own and the magical construct built into the vehicle began to drive us to our destination.

"Hmm, this should give us a dozen or so minutes of alone time before we arrive." Mum gave me a mischievous grin as she took my hand and ushered it up, under her dress, between her legs. Because of this, I was reminded of the fact that she wasn’t wearing any panties and that the freshly worn, cum-stained panties she had been wearing before were still in my pocket, where they had been during the entirety of the funeral.