The Mage's Heir: A Monster Summoner Litrpg by Wolfe Locke

Author:Wolfe Locke
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Fantasy Unlimited Publishing Group
Published: 2025-04-23T16:00:00+00:00

Better Monsters

The first thing Silas noticed was warmth.

Strange, given the estate's drafty halls and crumbling windows. Even stranger considering the haunted corridors and monstrous guardians he'd encountered just hours before.

He blinked a few times as he woke up with only the fragmented half memory of some bizarre dream lingering at the edge of his mind. Something about dancing with Lana and Bonereghard wearing a schoolmaster's cap? He tried to remember the details, but only had a vague sense of embarrassment and confusion.

Silas sat up with a start, momentarily disoriented.

A blanket, surprisingly thick and soft, had been draped over him while he slept and between the blanket and the enchantment on the chair, he had remained quite comfortable.

His hand instinctively reached for his sword, finding it placed carefully within arm's reach beside the lounge. His Summoning Orb rested on a nearby table. Practical positioning that spoke of someone who understood a warrior's needs.

"Good morning, my young master. I trust you slept adequately."

Bonereghard stood by a small table that hadn't been there the night before, arranging what appeared to be breakfast.

"How long was I out?" Silas rubbed his face, checking his weapons out of habit.

Everything was still in place.

"Approximately nine hours. The chair's enchantment ensures restful sleep."

Bonereghard poured something steaming into a cup. "Tea, my lord? Or perhaps coffee? Your grandfather preferred the latter, though with cream and sugar."

Silas stood, stretching muscles that felt surprisingly good after the day he had previously. "Coffee. Black is fine."

Silas rubbed his face, trying to banish the lingering images of Lana in that flowing gown made of starlight. Had he really dreamed about kissing the Magistrate's granddaughter?

Silas accepted the coffee, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck. That dream had felt so real, Lana's hands in his, her lips.

He shook his head slightly, focusing on the bitter liquid.

"Something troubling you, my lord? You appear rather flushed." Bonereghard asked.

"Just a dream." Silas took another sip.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

"Just past eight bells, young master. You slept quite soundly, though you did mumble something about evaluation forms and dancing hounds around dawn."

Bonereghard's skull tilted slightly. "I trust your rest was adequate?"

Silas felt his face grow warmer. "Fine. It was fine."

He looked away quickly, focusing on the breakfast tray to hide his embarrassment.

The breakfast tray held an assortment that put The Copper Kettle's offerings to shame. Fresh bread still steaming, sliced fruit arranged in a spiral pattern, eggs cooked to perfection, and what appeared to be actual bacon, not the questionable meat substitute served in Karst's taverns.

"Did you prepare all this?" Silas asked, gesturing at the food.

"The kitchen has remained functional, mostly functional, despite the estate's general disrepair, though for your safety, do not go there without me."

Bonereghard adjusted a napkin.

Silas picked up a piece of bacon, inspecting it suspiciously before taking a bite. The flavor was amazing, rich, smoky, and undeniably real.

"This is actual bacon. From an actual pig." He took another bite. "How do you even have meat this good?"

"The estate's pantry is enchanted to preserve certain staples," Bonereghard explained.

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