The Dimoski Family

“Mother,” Vladimir bowed, “I’m home.”

“Have you truly forgotten how to curtsy, Vera?” the woman hissed.

“Come on, Vera,” said a man with a rotund belly and sunken face, flanked by two precocious looking young men who I assumed were his children, “Just a twirl for old time’s sake?”

And here I thought Eleanor Greymoor was a piece of work when I first saw her.

“Cynthia!” John Greymoor scurried out of the front carriage along with his wife, “We’re sorry to be here on such short notice. I hope you at least received one of our messenger pigeons.”

“John, Eleanor,” the woman twirled and met them with a smile, “Yes, your pigeons are safe with us in the aviary. You’ll have to excuse my surprise at your arrival, of all the places for you Greymoors to flee to…”

“I suggested it, mother,” Vladimir interrupted.

“You did?” Cynthia raised a perturbed eyebrow, “So you did. Let’s discuss more inside. Samuel, help them with their things.”

“Yes, Lady Dimoski.”

A butler by Cynthia’s side descended the porch stairs and asked John and Eleanor where their luggage was being held. As they worked out the logistics, Vivian joined the others as the head of the Dimoski household, followed by the rest of her family, motioned for the Greymoors to enter the estate.

“She never let it go, did she?” Diane murmured from the back of the carriage. She stepped out and placed a calm hand on Vladimir’s shoulders, “I’m sorry, Vladimir.”

“It’s only gotten worse since father died,” Vladimir sighed, “And now my uncle just poisons her mind at every opportunity.”

“We don’t have to stay here,” Stefan whispered, “We stopped and said hi. Great reunion, but there’s plenty of supplies in the next town over.”

“I wish you were right, Stefan, but you’re wrong,” Vladimir shook his head, “You’ll see.”

“Hold on, before we talk about this any further,” Diane sniffed, “Does something smell like…smoked sausages?”

“Yeah, it’s Viv,” Stefan pointed, “Get this, she stayed in the food carriage all night.”

“What for?” Diane smirked, meaning that she already knew the answer to that question.

“I wanted some alone time.”

“...Were you hungry?”

“Let’s just go inside!”

The interior of the mansion looked no better than the rundown and neglected lawn of the Dimoski estate. The dusty wooden floors creaked. Cobwebs encircled the torchlights on the walls. From ajar doors, we saw abandoned rooms piled high with discarded furniture and portraits draped with pale brown shawls.

“How does anyone live like this?” Vivian said.

“It doesn’t all look as decrepit as this,” Vladimir replied, “My brother left the estate last year. It’s only gotten worse, it seems.”

“Wait, Clive isn’t here anymore?” Stefan sighed, “What a shame. I was hoping for someone normal to be around.”

“So how did the Royal Ball go, Vera?” said the fat man walking beside Lady Dimoski, “I heard it was quite explosive.”

He did not just say that.

The young men walking beside who I presumed to be their father snickered to expose their lack of any sense of humor. They grinned deviously, then returned their adoring stares to the portly man.

“Before the rebel attacks, it actually went swimmingly well,” Vladimir replied. “You should’ve been there, Uncle.”

“Yeah, Vladimir and I were the stars–,” Stefan interjected, and I noticed his hand had never left Vladimir’s.

“Stefan,” Vladimir murmured, “Just let him say what he wants.”

“Charming, Stefan,” said Vladimir’s uncle, “And you would have the magisters do what, exactly? Perform magic tricks for children? Now me, I would’ve had them raining fire on the rebellion, if not for you, Astral Viscountess.”

“Me?” Diane feigned surprise.

“If the Enchanters Guild hadn’t withdrawn their support, the royal capital would still be standing.”

“Are those your two boys, Mathias?” Diane laughed, “Maxwell and…Parzival, if I’m not mistaken. I remember them. They plagiarized my enchantment thesis in the final year of the academy, and then turned themselves into amphibians when they couldn’t decode the embedded countermeasure I prepared.”

Even from this distance, I could see the cheeks of the two young men burned beet red. Mathias’s jaws clenched. For the first time, I understood what was so fun about Diane’s sadistic personality.

“I’m so sorry Mathias that they flunked their final year and failed to qualify for the Enchanters Guild, but there are more appropriate places for senseless rejects and fools,” Diane yawned.

“How dare you–”

“Enough,” Cynthia cut Mathias off, “Astral Viscountess, I’d like to remind you that this is our estate.”

“Of course, Lady Dimoski.” Diane nodded.

The family led us to a living room on the west wing of the mansion and Eleanor and John joined us a few moments later. As Vladimir had described, the room was more furnished and well kept than other parts of the estate. The oak chairs shined from fresher varnish and sat upon fluffy woolen rugs. Large paintings decorated the walls, each of them a portrait of an old regal man that I did not recognize.

“Let’s not waste any time,” Cynthia sat upon one of the chairs and crossed her legs, “Vera, you did not come here for pleasantries or to repair relations. So, do tell me why you are here.”

“There wouldn’t be anything to repair if you weren’t such a–” Stefan stepped forward.

“No, Stefan, calm down. Let me handle it,” Vladimir led a boiling Stefan to one of the chairs on the opposite end of the room, “Mother, you know exactly why I’m here.”

“I don’t know anything that goes on in my daughter’s demented mind.”

“Then I’ll be clear,” Vladimir took a deep breath, “As you know, there are only two reasons that I would return to the estate now that my father and brother are no longer around. The first is my inheritance, and I want the Caxton Manuscript.”

The entire Greymoor family, along with even Diane and Guin, shared a collective gasp between them. Even Stefan stared dumbfounded at his fiance, all of which left me, the only person not in the loop, wondering, what the heck was the Caxton Manuscript?

“You can’t possibly be serious–” Mathias sputtered.

“And the second,” Vladimir snapped, “I’m here for my birth certificate. I need to make the appropriate changes before Stefan and I are married.”

Cynthia Dimoski flung forward from her seat, her eyes bulging with rage. Sparks, patches of lightning, ignited at the tips of her splintered rust red fingernails. The room rumbled and crackled with static energy. Emily quickly stepped in the path between Vivian and Lady Dimoski.

“Caxton? Hah! Is that what this is about? She fancies herself king of the Caerleon Empire!” Cynthia cackled. Her hair plumed with electric currents, “When really you should have simply produced the family heirs.”

Behind me, I noticed Eleanor Greymoor’s pallid face drain of all color.

“The empire is shattered, as father and Sir Greymoor knew would happen,” Vladimir did not react at all to the crazy lady brimming with electricity, “The Caxton is one of the few remaining sacred relics with claim to kingship, and I don’t trust Uncle Mathias with it. And, by the way, I also asked for my birth certificate.”

“The Dimoskis’ charge is to protect the Caxton,” Mathias snarled.

“I am a Dimoski.”

“You gave up that right when you ran off to be a Greymoor!” Cynthia shrieked.

“No,” Vladimir shook his head, “You assumed I gave that up when I refused to provide you a line of heirs, all of them armed with the Caxton as their claim to the imperial throne.”

“If what Vladimir is saying is true,” John Greymoor stood up and faced Lady Dimoski. Seriously, was no one else scared that literal sparks were flying from her hands? “Then the Dimoski family has been plotting to usurp the imperial throne.”

“The imperial lineage is frail and corrupt, you know this better than anyone, John,” Cynthia scoffed, “Here you are, on the run from rebel brigands who have ransacked the capital, destroyed its foundations, and uprooted our way of life, and you are here to tell me that those on the throne deserved their seats?”

“Look, I’ve been wanting to butt in all day,” Stefan sighed, also standing up from his seat, “And now that we’re at a standstill and our despondent guests have revealed themselves as traitors to the empire, I figured now would be a good time for me to say my piece.”

“Stefan–”

“No, Vlad, let me finish for once,” Stefan snapped, then walked briskly to the point of being face to face with Lady Dimoski, “First of all, Cynthia, it’s Vladimir, not Vera, and if you ever misuse his name again or use a moniker that inaccurately addresses his person, I will commission a dungeon master to pluck out each of your traitorous teeth with a ball peen hammer until you reveal the location of the Caxton.”

…Could he really do that?

“Secondly, to you Mr. Whale,” Stefan sauntered to Mathias, “You’ve been an outspoken proponent for an all out war from the start. Now, is it possible to conjure a rumor that you didn’t attend the Royal Ball because you knew about the rebel attack in advance, that you conspired to execute the royal family so you could pave the way for your sons to be on the throne? Oh, don’t be ridiculous, of course I could do that!”

…Could he really do that?

“And third,” Stefan swirled to face Vladimir with tears in his eyes, “Is this really why you’re here? Vlad? You could’ve said something! The location of the Caxton itself is already too much of a secret to bear. And do you think I care whether the courts accept your birth certificate or not?”

“You should,” Vladimir said, “Without it, the courts would nullify our marriage and then–”

For the first time that day, it was Stefan’s turn to interrupt. He approached and dragged Vladimir into a deep and passionate kiss. The room lay suspended like a cinematic moment in a movie, waiting for Stefan and Vladimir’s faces to part, and there were so many romantic sparks in their kiss that I almost forgot about Mrs. I Can Smite You With My Fingers.

Stefan pulled away and pressed his forehead against Vladimir’s.

“Vladdy, forget about all this, let’s just get married now.”