Fate's Forgotten Trickster

Chapter 9: The Trial of the Forgotten Heir

The dawn was silent as the noble estate of House Umbrael stirred to life. Servants moved with hurried efficiency, whispering of the day's event—the Rite of Nobility, a sacred trial meant to test the worth of a noble heir.

For most, it was a formality.

For Noctis, it was a spectacle.

His father, Marquis Vaelen Umbrael, had made it clear—he was an afterthought, a son barely acknowledged, unworthy of even his own name.

Yet today, before the gathered nobility, Noctis would be forced to prove himself.

The grand courtyard of House Umbrael was filled with aristocrats, their elaborate attire shimmering under the mid-morning sun. House heads, influential nobles, and even high-ranking imperial officials had gathered.

They weren't here to witness Noctis's success.

They were here to watch him fail.

At the heart of the courtyard stood three elaborate stone platforms, each marked with intricate engravings that pulsed with latent power. The Trial Stones—artifacts that measured the strength, control, and potential of a noble's bloodline abilities.

Each heir stood before their designated stone, prepared to showcase their gifts.

To Noctis's right stood Caelum Umbrael, his older half-brother. Tall, proud, and brimming with confidence, Caelum had long been seen as the rightful heir.

To his left stood Seraphina Umbrael, their cousin, a cold and calculating noble with sharp blue eyes and an even sharper wit. She was a prodigy in shadow magic, someone the family truly valued.

And then there was Noctis—the forgotten son, the unworthy extra.

The trial master, Grand Magister Aldric, a stern man with graying hair and piercing golden eyes, raised his staff.

"The Rite of Nobility shall commence." His voice echoed through the courtyard. "You will be tested in three aspects—power, control, and deception. May the gods bear witness to the worth of House Umbrael's heirs."

The first trial was simple: channel your bloodline power into the stone before you.

Caelum stepped forward first, placing his hands on the Obsidian Trial Stone. A pulse of shadow energy surged from his fingertips, wrapping around the stone like writhing tendrils of darkness.

The runes flared, glowing deep violet, and the stone trembled.

A murmur rippled through the gathered nobles.

"An impressive output," one lord whispered.

"As expected of House Umbrael's heir," another added.

Seraphina was next. Her touch sent a calculated wave of cold shadow energy into the stone. Unlike Caelum's brute force, hers moved like a sharp knife in the dark, precise and refined.

The runes glowed a sharper hue of indigo, the reaction just as strong—if not stronger—than Caelum's.

Then came Noctis.

He took a slow breath, placing his hands on the stone.

The gathered nobles watched, eager to see his humiliation.

He couldn't afford to reveal his true abilities, not yet.

Instead of raw power, he carefully layered his energy—subtle, deceptive, unseen. His shadows coiled within the stone like whispers in the dark, sinking deeper rather than violently surging.

To an untrained eye, it looked like nothing had happened.

A noble scoffed. "Pitiful."

But Aldric's eyes narrowed. He glanced at the stone carefully.

Though the reaction wasn't visible, Noctis had done something far more dangerous—his energy had woven itself inside the Trial Stone, embedding itself so deeply that its glow was muted from within.

The second trial required heirs to manifest their power externally, shaping it into a visible form.

Caelum summoned a swirling sphere of shadow energy, letting it hover over his palm. The shadows rippled and coalesced into the form of a dagger, solid and deadly.

A round of polite applause followed.

Seraphina raised her hands, and her shadows shifted like a living entity, forming the shape of a serpent coiling around her wrist. It flickered between the real and the unreal, showcasing her refined control.

More murmurs of approval.

Then, all eyes turned to Noctis.

He exhaled slowly, lifting his hand.

Instead of summoning something grand, he extended his energy outward—not as a visible construct, but as a subtle manipulation of perception itself.

The nobles blinked.

Some frowned.

For a brief moment, it looked as though he had summoned nothing at all.

Then the whispers began.

"Wait… where did he go?"

"Wasn't he just standing there?"

"I—I can still see him, but something feels wrong."

Noctis smirked.

His Trickster's Blood didn't simply create illusions—it altered what others perceived as real. Rather than forming a construct, he had warped the nobles' perception, making them believe something was off.

To those watching, it felt like Noctis had briefly disappeared, as if he had momentarily ceased to exist.

Even Aldric's eyebrows rose slightly.

This was no ordinary shadow magic.

The final trial was not about power or control, but about cunning.

Each heir was presented with a sealed letter containing information about a noble scandal. Their task? Uncover the truth without direct confrontation.

Caelum took the direct route. He interrogated the servants, pressing them for information. His approach was forceful, but effective.

Seraphina used her network of spies, weaving the truth through layers of careful deduction.

Then there was Noctis.

He didn't ask questions.

He didn't investigate.

Instead, he planted a single false rumor among the nobles standing nearby.

A single sentence.

One that had never been written in the letter at all.

Within minutes, the nobles had begun whispering his fabricated lie, convinced it was the truth.

When Aldric reviewed the results, he found something shocking.

Noctis had solved the mystery, but his answer was something entirely different from the real scandal—and yet, the nobles had already accepted it as truth.

It was as if he had rewritten reality itself.

Silence.

The gathered nobles exchanged wary glances.

Noctis should have been a failure, yet he had passed every trial—not through raw power, but through something far more dangerous.

Vaelen Umbrael's expression was unreadable.

Caelum clenched his fists, his pride wounded.

Seraphina's cold gaze lingered on Noctis longer than necessary, a flicker of interest in her usually emotionless demeanor.

Aldric cleared his throat. "The Rite of Nobility has concluded. Each heir has demonstrated their abilities accordingly."

He glanced at Noctis, his golden eyes calculating.

"Lord Noctis… your methods were unconventional. Yet, I cannot deny the results."

Noctis merely bowed.

As the nobles dispersed, Noctis felt a shadow fall over him.

Caelum.

"You think this changes anything?" his older brother hissed, voice low enough that only Noctis could hear. "You may have passed the trials, but don't forget—you're still nothing."

Noctis met his brother's glare with a small smirk.

"Nothing?" he mused. "Then why do you look so worried?"

Caelum's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, turning on his heel and stalking away.

Noctis exhaled slowly, his heart still steady.

Today, he had proven something important.

Not that he was strong.

But that he was unpredictable.

And in a world ruled by order, that was far more terrifying.