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Rated: E · Other · Other · #1936104
My Father's Son
For reference – occurs after Prompt 6

Word Count - 671

                   Sul’hupkaar moved down the dark hall to a small waiting room. Even at this late hour the halls of the Necromancer’s Guild were active, sometimes more so than the daylight ours. He had been forced to leave Kroywen after stealing the city’s symbol, a magnificent black stallion he transformed into the glory that was now King Sauric.
                   In the end, it worked in his favor anyway. He hadn’t seen Hupkaar in the nine years since he was forced to give himself and his son over to the guild to avenge the murder of his wife. His brothers at the guild transferred him to their sister guild in Notsob to hide him from the city’s wrath.
                   Sul’hupkaar’s hand froze at the doorknob. Behind the door was a son he no longer knew. The last pleasant memory he had of him was an afternoon spent teaching Hupkaar to shoot his bow. His own father hadn’t been there for him and he swore he always would be for his son. Fate decided otherwise.
                   He steeled himself and entered the room, his son turning to face him. Much taller than the 10 year old child he left behind. He was now corded with muscle, a tense spring barely contained. He had his mothers delicate features  and thick hair, but Sul’hupkaar’s eyes still blazed in his son as they lit with recognition.
                   “Father,” he sang in their melodic tongue.
                   Sul’hupkaar crossed the room and embraced his son briefly, feeling Hupkaar’s arms returning it. He stepped back to clasp his forearm in greeting and saw his own snarling grin looking back at him. Hupkaar hadn’t inherited everything from his mother.
                   “Hupkaar,” he replied then stopped himself. “No. It’s Gar’hupkaar now. I regret I was unable to be at your crossing. You have grown into a man your mother would be proud of.”
                   Gar’hupkaar’s eyes dropped at her memory. “I still miss her at times, but my new brothers and sisters here have taken good care of me.”
                   Pain rolled through Sul’hupkaar. “It wasn’t of my choosing. Our fates were stolen from us, but I’ve taken our payment of them. My only regrets are I did not have the time to exact it to the fullest for Loi’hupkaar and we were forced apart.”
                   “Hate still burns in me for them,” Gar’hupkaar hissed. “There was nothing to be done father. The one’s who hurt mother had to be made to pay at any price.”
                   Sul’hupkaar nodded heavily and was silent for a moment before looking into his son’s flickering orange eyes. “The treachery runs deeper than I knew I make for the leader of the Assassin’s guild here in Notsob, Ool’mondoor. He has sent word the Assassin’s Guild in Kroywen as been acting alone with the Necromancers. It has been slow in building, but a plot is coming to a crest, within our own walls. Our new brothers and sisters may not be what they seem.”
                   His son watched him intently. If he heard his father right, he was acting against the Necromancers. May have found they were responsible in part for his mother’s death. It was a precarious position and his father was trying to keep him insulated from it.
                   “I still remember the time you taught me to shoot,” he said, his look shifting into something no longer in the room. “You told me to see what was there. To use my gifts and feel my way through. That lesson has always served well.”
                   Gar’hupkaar looked down sheepishly at his feet then reached out his arm to clasp his fathers. “Forgive me father, I’ve lessons to attend and the headmasters whip can bite cruelly if one is late.” His father nodded at him and bade him good bye.
                   Gar’hupkaar left the room and made his way down the hall, but not to the spell chamber for a lesson. Father suspects. I must inform Nul’nuadeeb he intends to see the Assassin’s guildmaster. He could only hope his father’s punishment would be swift.
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