The Only Son Amongst The Daughters Of Eros

Chapter 182 Messengers and Disciples

The silence in the courtroom was suffocating as Aeric's eyes darted from one unfamiliar face to another.

He recognized the Messengers, with their flowing robes adorned in perfect embroidery and tall mage-like hats. The way they shifted uneasily under his gaze because they remembered they had once tried to have him killed as a baby.

The Disciples, however, sat unmoved — seven bald men with long, snow-white beards. Their stern expressions made them seem carved from stone, each wearing a glowing amulet around their neck, pulsating faintly with the powerful energy of Divinity

Mother Guinevere rose gracefully from her seat, her elegant movements betraying a subtle tension. "Aeric," she began, her voice calm but guarded, "these are the Messengers and Disciples."

"I know who they are," Aeric replied with a clipped tone. "What I don't know is why they're here."

One of the Disciples leaned forward, his aged frame supported by a wooden staff that glimmered faintly at the tip.

"Son Aeric," he began. "My name is Olamdra. I am the oldest of all Disciples present."

'Present?' Aeric thought. 'So there's more of you?'

The Disciple's amulet glowed brighter as he spoke, his deep, resonant voice filling the chamber.

"We are here, Son Aeric," Olamdra began, "because news of your extraordinary Affinity for Divinity has reached us. The highest ever recorded in the annals of our history. Such a revelation draws not just attention, but reverence."

Aeric's eyes narrowed. Because of his father, he had learnt to be very suspicious of these Disciples folk. "And what does that mean, exactly? What do you want from me?"

Olamdra smiled faintly, stroking his beard. "Patience, child. Let me explain."

Aeric raised a brow.

Once he began, Olamdra's voice took on the cadence of a practiced orator, the kind who could hold an audience spellbound.

"The Disciples, as you must already know, are the stewards of the Divine Realm, the intermediaries between the mortal and the celestial. We are the keepers of the scriptures, the interpreters of Eros's will, and the arbiters of Divine justice. While the Mothers, like your own Mother Guinevere, oversee the welfare of the people, it is we who guard the sacred balance of divinity."

His hand gestured to the Messengers standing nearby. "The Messengers are our emissaries, tasked with carrying divine revelations, decrees, and blessings across the realm. They serve beneath us but play a vital role in ensuring the will of Eros reaches even the farthest corners of the land."

Aeric's gaze flicked to the Messengers, noting their anxious stares and the faint hum of magic that surrounded them.

Olamdra continued, his tone growing heavier with significance. "For centuries, we have safeguarded the balance of power, ensuring that those with Affinities like yours are properly guided. Your Affinity, however…" He leaned forward, his eyes piercing. "...is unprecedented. Such a gift cannot be squandered."

"Squandered?" Aeric almost scoffed, feeling insulted. "How am I going to squander it? Do you really think that low of me already?«

Mother Guinevere's jaw tightened, and Aeric could see the conflict in her eyes. Before she could speak, Olamdra's words cut through the room, answering and also explaining.

"I do not mean it as an insult, Son Aeric. But any other way would be a true waste."

He appeared more serious. "You see. You must join us in the Divine City, Son Aeric. There, under our tutelage, your potential can be realized fully. The trials you face now are mere shadows compared to the glory and responsibility that await you. With our guidance, you can ascend to a level beyond mortal comprehension."

Aeric crossed his arms, his voice sharp. "The Divine City? The one floating close to Eros's Heavens?"

Olamdra nodded. "Indeed. Now you understand the celestial levels your Affinity is taking you to. You do not belong on land."

Aeric glanced at his mother, seeing the pressured and sad look in her eyes. "And what if I said no to this... heavenly offer?"

Olamdra tilted his head slightly, unperturbed. "Refusal would be… unwise. You carry a responsibility not just to yourself but to the entire realm. Your gift is not yours alone — it belongs to the world."

"Oh, don't say that. That's not changing my mind at all." Aeric's lips curled into a faint sneer. "This is a noble sentiment, but I've seen what power does to people who think they're entitled to it. I've seen what I can become when it consumes me so I want to train on my own, be better by myself. You say this is for the world, but it sounds more like it's for you."

The Disciples exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable.

Olamdra raised a hand, silencing the murmurs from the Messengers. "We do not seek to control you, young one. We seek to prepare you. To leave you untaught is to leave the realm vulnerable. Do you truly think your mother's tutelage, as noble as it is, can prepare you for the weight of Divinity?"

Aeric's jaw tightened. "I'd rather train here, on the land I know, with the people I trust."

Mother Guinevere finally spoke, tired of people sent by her husband, coming to land to tell her what to do. "He is my son, Olamdra. And I will not see him dragged to your city under a guise of necessity. He is more than his Affinity."

Olamdra turned his gaze to her, his expression softening slightly. "Mother Guinevere, your love for your son is admirable. But even you must see that his place is among us. The Divine City is where he belongs."

"You know the rules," another one randomly interjected. "You know the way. This is Divine. What is Divine must be followed."

Aeric squirmed his face. 'What the fuck does that even mean? He stepped forward, voice rising as he glanced at Olamdra. "Where I belong? You've never even seen my face until now and you already know where I belong?"

He scoffed. "Look, I belong where I choose to be. And right now, I choose to stay here. My trials are here, my growth is here, and my loyalty is to the people I can see and touch — Not the Divine and not my a-hole of a father."

The Messengers gasps. "Egregious!"

"Lord Eros must hear of this!"

"He is foul mouthed!"

The tension in the room became palpable very fast. The Disciples seemed caught between frustration and resignation. Olamdra sighed, his expression a mix of disappointment and reluctant respect.

"There is no refusal to this request, Son Aeric. Mother Guinevere," he said finally. "But we will leave. And time will be given to you to come to terms with this new reality. You have 5 days."

With that, Olamdra and the other Disciples rose, their robes flowing as they turned to leave. The Messengers followed in their wake, casting curious glances at Aeric as they departed.

Olamdra particularly turned to Aeric and nodded. "The Divine City awaits you, Son of Erothyria."