Rune Mage [Fantasy/Adventure | Book 1 +2 | Complete]

CHAOS MAGE Chapter 5: Mad in the Head

"Please pass my regards to the good mage," said the man driving the runed motor.

Madeleine nodded and made a polite response as Seiren hopped out. It took only one attempt to find someone willing to drive them to the Woodbead house and he did so willingly, without even discussion of cost. That, combined with the cluster of fresh flowers and careful letters folded against the high steel fence surrounding the place, made Seiren glad: at least Maura would be satisfied to know the Woodbead name remained revered as before.

'House' was an understatement of the place. The sprawling Woodbead mansion reminded Seiren of how the formerly-illustrious Fernard house in Hartley must have looked in its glory days, where she'd looked after a sickly boy with end-stage heart failure in exchange for war funds. Made of red bricks with matching red-tiled roofs, it stared down at her with a haughty air reminiscent of proud and accomplished Maura Woodbead, whose body Madeleine now inhabited after Maura's death. The grass beneath Seiren's boots was trimmed and a deep green, with not a weed or flower in sight. She made her way up the stone-paved steps, running her hand along the polished, gleaming black banisters, and paused outside the double wooden doors with the shining golden knocker: a roaring tiger with the ring looping through its open jaws.

"We should have sent a messenger pigeon beforehand," said Madeleine in a small voice, equally awed by the grandeur. Piles of fresh flowers and tribute lay before the double doors. It was silent behind the doors. Sucking in a breath, Seiren grasped the knocker and slammed it three times before stepping back. The echo died away. Seiren plucked at the runes tucked into the pockets of her black cloak, shifting on her feet.

A series of clicks sounded from behind the door before it swung open, revealing a middle-aged maid in a grey uniform and white apron, with a surprised expression on her face. She caught sight of Seiren's state mage cloak before her eyes darted to her face, and then to Madeleine's.

"The Harred twins!" she exclaimed. Seiren exchanged a taken aback look with Madeleine.

"You... know of us?" Madeleine said.

"Everyone knows about you, after what happened in Benover! Mage Haigh has been keeping all the military personnel up to date and, of course, House Woodbead has always been part of—" The maid broke off, a sheepish look on her face. "My apologies, mages. I got carried away. Of course, you must be aware of all this. My name is Sairsha and I'm the lead maid at House Woodbead."

Her eyes caught sight of the mound of flowers at Seiren and Madeleine's feet and her face fell. "Oh dear. I've been telling the city folk not to keep giving these. They upset Master Rowan and we really have no need for so many flowers. I'll get my girls to tidy them up later... Won't you come in?"

Seiren stepped in, allowing Sairsha to take her cloak and hang it in the corner. Her boots clacked on the wooden floorboards. Sweeping stairs stretched on either side of the hall before her leading up to the first floor. A polished chandelier, lit by yellow runes, hung in the middle of the ceiling, bathing the place in a sharp white glow. Seiren had forgotten how rich the Woodbeads were, being an esteemed military family producing quality services to the country for generations.

"Allow me to show you to the guest room. Is Master Rowan expecting you?"

Seiren exchanged an uneasy look with Madeleine as Sairsha led them past stone statues of proud heroes — probably previous Woodbead greats — and elaborate plants in huge pots down a corridor. One side of the wall was made of glass, showing one of the smaller gardens with neat topiary and a statue of a general sitting atop a rearing horse in the middle.

"Um, no. We come... uninvited."

"Ah."

Sairsha paused and turned to face them, frowning. The painting immediately beside her was definitely of a Woodbead, bearing proud military medals and the same haughty look Maura Woodbead used to wear as if she could shred anyone offending her with a gaze alone.