The guest house sitting room felt smaller than it had the day before, the walls seeming to press in with the weight of unanswered questions. Roy sat slumped in a hard wooden chair, staring at a crack in the ceiling and trying not to let the frustration of their fruitless investigation consume him. Warrex, ever restless, was inspecting one of his heavy hand-axes, testing its heft and balance with a series of slow, controlled movements. Val, having joined them for a morning strategy session, watched with an open, almost boyish curiosity.
"That's an impressive weapon, Master Warrex," Val said, his voice carrying genuine admiration. "The craftsmanship… it looks dwarven, but the balance is unlike any I've seen."
Warrex, pleased by the compliment, offered a rare, toothy grin. "A gift. From a friend who knows her way around a forge."
"May I?" Val asked, his hazel eyes bright with interest.
Warrex, puffing out his chest with pride, obliged, handing the axe over handle-first. Val took it, his lean frame surprisingly steady under its considerable weight. He examined the blade, the runes etched into the metal.
He gave the axe a satisfying swing, the heavy blade whistling through the air with a low hum that seemed to make the very room reverberate. The sound, subtle but powerful, sent a faint, involuntary shiver down Roy's spine. Then, with a flick of his wrist that was almost too fast to follow, he did a fancy, almost showy flip of the axe, catching it cleanly by the blade. He held it there for a moment, perfectly balanced, before handing it back to Warrex.
As Warrex took it, his grip slightly misaligned, the razor-sharp edge of the blade sliced a thin, shallow line across Val's palm.
"Ah, careful!" Roy yelped, jumping to his feet.
A few beads of dark blood welled up from the cut. Warrex froze, his face a mask of horrified apology. "My apologies, Val! I was… careless. Are you alright?"
Val simply smiled, a calm, reassuring expression on his face as he examined the minor wound. "It is nothing, Master Warrex. A mere scratch."
Before the awkward moment could linger, a liveried servant appeared at the doorway, bowing deeply. "Young Master Val, your father the Archduke requests your presence in the main hall. He says it is a matter of some urgency."
Val nodded, his expression shifting to one of quiet duty. "Of course. Tell him I will be there momentarily." As the servant departed, Val turned to go, but paused when he reached the grand staircase leading to the upper floors of the estate. Archduke Vol stood at the landing, his posture immaculate, his gaze unreadable as he watched them.
Vol descended the stairs with an almost imperceivable limp, yet he still had an unnerving grace. His hand rested lightly on the carved banister. He met Val at the bottom step, his cold eyes flicking to the small cut on Val's hand. For the first time since Roy had met him, a flicker of something that might have been genuine concern crossed the Archduke's handsome features.
He took Val's hand, his grip surprisingly firm, and with a clean linen handkerchief he pulled from an inner pocket, gently wiped away the beads of blood. "A moment of inattention, son?" Vol's voice was low, but carried a distinct edge of paternal authority.
Val nodded, looking slightly abashed. "It was my own fault, father. I was admiring Master Warrex's axe."
Vol tucked the blood-stained handkerchief back into his pocket, his gaze lingering on the cut for a moment longer. "See that you treat that wound immediately. We cannot afford losing you." He gave Val's hand a final, almost proprietary pat, then turned his cool gaze on Roy and the others. A sweetness, almost like sugared lavender, edged with something cold and metallic, hung in his wake as he passed.
Takara's shoulders rose the width of a breath. She didn't blink, didn't so much as twitch a finger on her runic gauntlet. Instead, as Vol approached, she turned slightly, offering a perfectly executed, polite half-bow. The Archduke answered with an equally urbane nod and walked on before he joined the waiting escort by the main doors. When the heavy outer hinges closed behind him, the strange, cloying fragrance finally dispersed, leaving only the faint, familiar scents of old candle wax and polished wood.
Roy's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Something wrong, Takara?"
Takara kept her polite, public smile fixed in place until she was certain all of Val's prying servants were out of earshot. Then, she guided the crew into the nearby sitting room, a space where a tall, mullioned window drowned their faces in bright, revealing sun-scatter. Only when the heavy velvet curtains were drawn, swallowing the glare and plunging the room into a confidential gloom, did she finally answer, her eyes hard as obsidian.
"That fragrance," she said, her voice low and tight with a certainty that chilled Roy to the bone. "It was identical to the one I caught in the alley the night I was attacked." A single knuckle rapped twice, sharply, against her own chestplate, as if to knock loose the traumatic, half-formed memory. "It was also the same as the one on the gifts his servants delivered to the Nightshatter. I'm certain of it. It was him."
The words hung in the air, heavy and damning. Warrex's brows knitted into a single, furious line. Eryndra's vents hissed, a bare, almost inaudible exhale of contained rage. Lutrian's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his light-blade, more a reflex of shock than any real threat. Roy nodded once, his own expression leveling into a mask of cold, grim resolve.
"Keep it quiet," he murmured, his gaze following the path Vol had taken moments before. "We'll start asking the right questions soon. But no sudden moves. Not until we're absolutely ready."
Takara folded her arms, the motion sharp and decisive, her earlier vulnerability replaced by a simmering, righteous anger. "Understood. I'll be ready when you need me."
"He attacked you," Eryndra stated, her voice dangerously calm. "If that's true, then Vol might be—"
Val's voice, tight with disbelief, interrupted from the threshold, startling them all. He had slipped back into the room unnoticed, his face pale, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. "What's this about my father?" His gaze flicked anxiously to Takara, genuine concern etched in his features.
Roy let out a slow, heavy breath. There was no point in hiding it now. "We think… we think Vol was the one who attacked Takara," he said, forcing the words out, watching Val's reaction carefully. "She recognized the same distinct scent on him just now that she smelled on her attacker the night before last."
Val's eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated disbelief. His mouth opened and closed silently for a moment. "That's… that's impossible! My father doesn't lurk around in dark alleys at night attacking our guests! He… he's the Archduke!" He shut his mouth, his brow furrowed in a deep, conflicted frown. He paced the room once, then stopped, his expression hardening. "But… if you are all so convinced, then… we need proof," he finished, his voice firm as he crossed his arms, mirroring Roy's own stance.
Eryndra relaxed a fraction, clearly taken aback by his calm, logical response. "You're willing to investigate? Even knowing it might implicate him?"
Val let out a long, conflicted sigh. "I do not believe it for a single second. But… I will help you conduct a thorough search. If it clears his name, then we can finally put this ugly rumor to rest. If… if something else entirely is going on…" He trailed off, seemingly unable or unwilling to finish the thought.
Roy studied Val's face, searching for any hint of deception, but found only genuine, painful conflict. "Alright. You're sure about this, Val?"
Val nodded firmly, his jaw set. "Yes. I'm sure. My father may be… aloof, but he is no common assailant. We will search his private quarters, if you wish. I will even unlock the door for you myself."
Takara straightened from her seat, a mixture of profound gratitude and lingering suspicion warring on her face. She shot Roy a look that said, We absolutely cannot pass up this opportunity. Roy inclined his head in silent, grim agreement. Warrex cracked his knuckles, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he braced himself for whatever trouble they might uncover.
They left within minutes, a small, tense procession trailing Val through the winding, silent halls of the Archduke's private estate. Maids and servants bowed hurriedly as they passed, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity, clearly wondering why the strange, powerful visitors were now prowling the residential corridors with such determined, almost predatory, purpose. Finally, Val led them to an imposing, dark-wood door at the very end of a long, tapestry-lined hallway. Two heavily armed estate guards, posted outside, eyed Roy's group warily, but a single, sharp nod from Val was all it took for them to step aside, their expressions a mixture of confusion and reluctance.
Val produced a large, ornate iron key from his pocket and unlocked the heavy door, gesturing for Roy and the others to enter before him. "Go on," he said, his voice quiet but steady. "Search all you like. I have nothing to hide. And neither, I am certain, does my father."
The chamber beyond was lavish, at least by Eridian's downtrodden standards. Heavy velvet drapes, the color of dried blood, were pulled back from tall, arched windows, allowing pale afternoon light to filter in. Shelves filled with thick, leather-bound tomes lined the walls, and a heavy, ornately carved wooden desk was cluttered with goose-feather quills and stacks of half-finished, official-looking ledgers. At first glance, it looked exactly like a typical noble's private bedroom and study combined, fine, if faded, tapestries, a massive four-poster bed draped in silk, and the faint, cloying scent of old incense hanging heavy in the air. Takara wrinkled her nose; it wasn't the sweet, metallic scent she'd detected on her attacker, but something about the stale tang in the air felt faintly, unsettlingly familiar.
Eryndra, her movements silent and fluid, moved immediately to the shelves, running her fingertips lightly along the spines of the various dusty books. Warrex, with his usual intimidating grace, prowled near the writing desk, carefully, almost delicately, sifting through the loose pages of parchment. Roy stood by Val, his own eyes quietly taking in every detail of the room: no hidden weapon racks, no suspicious, dark cloaks lying about, just the well-appointed, if somewhat neglected, workspace of a busy, reclusive aristocrat.
It was Lutrian, who had been half-heartedly, almost boredly, examining the room's décor, who finally noticed it. An inconspicuous, narrow corner in the far wall, where a small, unassuming bookcase seemed oddly, almost deliberately, out of place. He reached out and tugged on a particularly threadbare, uninteresting-looking volume, and the entire bookcase slid forward an inch with a soft, grinding sound, revealing a dusty, shadowed gap behind it.
"Hey…" Lutrian called softly, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet room. "Anyone else see this? I think I found something." He pressed his shoulder against the bookcase, and with a low groan of protest from its ancient hinges, it shifted aside, fully exposing a dark, recessed compartment hidden in the wall. The sudden movement stirred thick clouds of dust that danced and swirled in the shafts of lamplight.
Roy let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Boring! A secret cavity behind a bookshelf? Really? How ridiculously cliché can you get?"
Warrex, ignoring Roy's commentary, leaned in, his large frame blocking the opening, and retrieved a worn, battered ledger from the dark cavity. The leather cover felt ancient and brittle to the touch, the edges of its pages yellowed and crumbly with age. Roy and Eryndra stepped over at once, crowding around Warrex to get a better look at the strange discovery.
Val's brow knitted in genuine confusion. "I… I never knew my father had a hidden compartment here," he muttered, his voice betrayed by a slight, almost imperceptible tremor. "What's in it? What is that book?"
Warrex carefully passed the ancient ledger to Roy, who handled it with the delicacy of someone dealing with unexploded ordnance. Roy carefully opened the front pages, squinting at the archaic, spidery handwriting that filled the brittle parchment. The first few lines seemed to be dry genealogical notes, references to property acquisitions and land deeds dating back centuries. Then, near the middle of the book, his eyes snagged on a barely legible entry. An entry detailing a significant donation to the war effort for the Third Seranovian Expansion War. And at the bottom of the entry, was a torn chunk and a partially legible signature: Vol Eridian.
Roy froze. He showed the page to Lutrian. The prince's eyes widened, his usual princely composure shattering for a moment. "Impossible," he breathed, his voice a choked whisper. "Captain, that can't be. The Third Seranovian Expansion War… that was fought over two hundred years ago! I studied it extensively in my history lessons!"
Val's face went slack, all the color draining from it. "That… that can't be right," he burst out, his voice snapping with a raw, desperate disbelief. "My father… he's not that old! It's impossible!"
"Could this be a family connection, Val?" Roy asked, his voice gentle but firm. "A great-grandfather, perhaps? Someone who shared the same name?"
"Impossible," Val repeated, his voice now shaking as he clutched his head, looking utterly, hopelessly bewildered. "My grandfather's names were… I… I don't know. I can't remember. What is going on…?"
Eryndra exchanged a grim, meaningful look with Warrex. "So, if this record is accurate," she said, her voice low and steady, "someone named Vol Eridian has been around for a very, very long time. A lot longer than any normal mortal lifespan would allow."
Takara, her own face pale, peered over Roy's shoulder at the crumbling, ancient pages. The archaic script was clear, unambiguous. It detailed transactions for farmland, references to alliances with neighboring territories, all conducted by one Vol Eridian. Some of the later paragraphs even described him using that same, exact formal title: Archduke of Eridian.
A heavy, suffocating hush filled the room, broken only by the sound of Val's ragged, uneven breathing. Finally, Eryndra spoke, her voice quiet but insistent. "Val, does your father… does he ever talk about his lineage? His past?"
Val swallowed hard, his eyes wide and unfocused. "Not… not really. He always just said that our family line was old, that we have traditions we must uphold. But never… never any specifics. Never any real details."
"Tell me, Val," Roy asked, a sharp, sudden edge entering his voice, "what happened to your mother?"
Val's reply was flat, robotic, utterly devoid of inflection. "I never knew her. He… he never spoke of her. Not once. Not even when I begged him to as a child. Are you… are you saying that he kidn…"
Warrex folded his massive arms, his voice a low, subdued rumble. "We're not accusing him of anything, Val. Not yet. But this ledger… this ledger is very, very weird. And very, very suspicious."
Val shook his head emphatically, though his entire body was now trembling. "We still need more context. This could be a mistake. A forgery. A… a reused name, passed down through generations."
Roy shut the ancient book with a soft, final thud, handing it carefully to Lutrian. "Agreed. No jumping to conclusions just yet. But it's suspicious enough that an apparently unaging nobleman with your father's name has been running this town for centuries. We'll keep this quiet for now. Until we know more."
Val nodded stiffly, his expression a mask of torment, torn between an ingrained loyalty to his father and the crushing weight of the impossible evidence they had just uncovered. "Right," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "We handle this… carefully."
Takara, still visibly rattled by the memory of her assault the night before, studied Val's conflicted, anguished face. "Don't worry, Val," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle, almost maternal. "We'll figure out the truth. We just… we just needed to see this for ourselves. To understand."
Val lowered his gaze, unable to meet hers. "I… I appreciate that you came to me first," he murmured. He paused, then looked up, his eyes pleading. "I know you suspect my father could be behind the disappearances, or at the very least, Takara's attacker. All I ask is that we get actual, irrefutable proof before… before we confront him."
Roy's stern, suspicious façade softened slightly at the raw, genuine pain in Val's voice. "Deal," he said, his own voice firm but not unkind. He looked around at his companions, a silent question in his eyes. "We find some solid, undeniable evidence, or we drop it. Agreed?"
They all muttered their assent, though Warrex's brow remained deeply creased in doubt. Lutrian tucked the ancient, damning ledger carefully under his arm, his mind already racing, determined to scan every single line, every faded word, for more clues. Eryndra cast one last, lingering look at the now-exposed hidden compartment, as though expecting to find something else, some other dark secret, lurking within its dusty shadows. There was only more dust, and a few other moldy, uninteresting-looking documents that, upon a cursory glance, seemed to repeat the same impossible, unsettling story: Vol Teyzar Eridian, mentioned time and time again, in era after era, an immortal, unchanging presence in a world of decay and despair.
Pulling themselves together, they filed out of the room, the heavy silence thick with unspoken questions. Val, looking visibly shaken and several years older than he had just minutes before, locked the heavy wooden door behind them. The short, dimly lit corridor felt even more oppressive now, the estate staff still nowhere in sight. Roy placed a steadying, reassuring hand on Val's shoulder as they walked.
Outside in the courtyard, a cool, gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient, gnarled hedges. The sunlight, which had seemed so welcoming just an hour ago, now felt glaringly, accusingly bright after the dim, heavy atmosphere of the library. Roy watched as Val took a deep, trembling breath, visibly struggling to regain his shattered composure.
"Thank you," Val murmured, his voice still shaky. "I know how all of this looks, but I… I simply cannot believe that my father is… is some kind of monster. He just can't be."
Roy offered a small, reassuring nod, though he felt anything but reassured himself. "We'll keep an open mind, Val. For now, let's keep this ledger, and everything we've discovered, strictly between us. Agreed?"
Val exhaled, a ragged sound, relief and a deep, soul-crushing fear mingling in his eyes. "Agreed."
They parted ways at the main gate, Val turning to handle his usual estate affairs with a new, heavy burden on his young shoulders, Roy's crew heading back to the relative safety of the guest house to regroup and reassess. Each step they took seemed to reverberate with the heavy, damning knowledge of what they'd just uncovered.