Interrogation

Frey was petrified, he read the crossed-out name over and over again, it took some time for reality to settle in, this death was likely the first of many, one mistake and he himself could join them.

"That's Lord Sparrowbrook's contender. Heh, I have a feeling he won't be happy about this." Marquis Gomon snickered to himself.

Frey swallowed the saliva that was building up in his mouth, then turned to Marv, "What should we do? If we don't change our tactic, then we will fall even further behind…"

Marv looked at him with pity, "We need some kind of miracle to join the others up at the top of the ranking, but even if we do uncover some huge secret that gives us tons of points, the other competitors will catch up again with enough time."

"I hate to say it, but there is no chance for us to turn this situation around."

Frey lowered his gaze, and Marv put his hand on Frey's shoulder, "Let's stop for today, get some rest. Maybe we can think of something with a refreshed and clear head."

"Then we too will go and get some rest. If you decide to head out again, come and wake us, or just leave on your own if you decide that you do not care about points anymore." Winny shrugged and walked off.

Marquis Gomon glanced at the boys, then left without saying a word.

"Come, our tents are this way." Marv tucked at Frey's clothes.

The two had developed a mutual bond of trust towards another throughout the day, a natural occurrence when risking ones lives together.

Agnes' words of warning still lingered at the back of Frey's mind, but the more he interacted with Marv, the more he felt that he could trust him, to him Marv felt like an older brother, caring and protective.

The tents were basically empty, the material itself was thin, only there to protect against any kind of wind while resting.

A single sleeping bag was placed within, Frey and Marv bid each other a good night, then entered their tents.

As Frey made himself comfortable within his sleeping bag, the exhaustion that had accumulated over the day finally caught up with him.

He felt like a rock was weighing down on him, his eyelids were just as heavy.

Frey shut his eyes, although the prospects for the next day looked bad, he was more than ready to end this current day.

The camp was very quiet, likely owing to Kassan's rules, the only noise left for Frey to hear was the bit of wind that snaked its way through the trees of the swamp.

He turned to lie on his left side, then after some minutes he turned to his right, he was tossing and turning, it quickly became clear to him… he couldn't sleep.

Frey laid down on his back, he opened his eyes again and looked straight up into the air.

His tent was pitch black, the lampposts from outside could not penetrate the thin material.

He sighed, the last time he felt like this was when he first started learning magic, all the mental pressure he experienced from his repeated failures of deciphering his first rune.

Suddenly Frey's eyes glistened... runes!

He had almost forgotten his encounter with that hooded figure, as well as the supposed gift of Prince Dalton.

Since he couldn't sleep, why not do something efficient with his time and attempt to uncover his gift's secrets?

These attempts would come at the cost of precious sleep, but it's not like he had a choice to begin with.

Frey closed his eyes again; he focused on picturing the dormant thing that had been placed inside of his mind while breathing slowly.

Like a beast that had been awoken from its slumber and was lured out of its den, the gift revealed itself.

It revealed itself as not just one, but a conglomerate of several vibrant green runes, an inheritance!

The pace of Frey's breathing picked up again, he was truly not mistaken the last time he had checked.

This was a nature inheritance!

But how did the prince know what Frey was compatible with?

The only one, perhaps two, who knew of this were Agnes, since she helped him discover this affinity in the first place, and maybe Cykrus, if Agnes ever told him.

Did the prince know, or was this just a coincidence, since Frey was headed for a plane abundant in nature particles?

More and more questions flooded Frey's head, especially whether he was the only one to receive such a gift.

He was just a rank one mage, and had only learned magic for roughly three years, by no means was he a prime candidate who people would invest in.

Accepting and embracing the inheritance would put himself in this Prince Dalton's debt, but was that truly such a bad thing?

Connections to influential people wouldn't pose any harm yet, quite the opposite, if Frey showed his value, then this man might even aid Aventia...

Frey reached for the inheritance, he visualised himself walking up to it, extending his hands and firmly gripping it.

Several sensations enveloped his mind, a sweet aroma, accompanied by the prickling feeling of getting stung by a thorn, a sickly feeling of nausea, and worse...

He managed to snap out of it, but this experience was a first for him.

All of the runes prior to this were of the element earth, and though they appeared more lifelike by the time he had finished deciphering one, it was never to the point where he would get swept up into an illusion, even more so before even starting the deciphering process.

With his curiosity at its maximum, he began to invest himself into the inheritance and its contents.

... ...

Cykrus had just returned from the basement of the palace, his thoughts dwelled on the illusory boy's words, and the realm of gods.

Though for him these were no more than pipe dreams, he felt his understanding deepen.

The possibility of trading in artefacts that were useless to him, in exchange for others up to rank three, perhaps even further if he managed to convince the boy... he couldn't help licking his lips at the thought.

"...-eas calm down Sir, let us handle this." Cykrus' ears perked up as he overheard what seemed to be a conversation between several people down the next hall.

"She is a thief! I won't rest easy until she sits behind bars!" another man loudly yelled; his pronunciation sounded swollen.

Cykrus continued walking up towards the source of the conversation, he turned the corner and suddenly cold sweat ran down his back...

He saw two royal guards, one crooked man with dishevelled hair, his face indeed appeared swollen, as if he had taken a beating recently, and Agnes...

His fingers twitched but he suppressed it as best he could as he walked closer, "Agnes, there you are. Who are these people?" he intently glared at her.

Seeing him she smiled, and immediately began playing along "Master! These people approached me and started accusing me of robbery out of nowhere!"

"Master? You! Take responsibility for this thieving harlot of yours!" the man rudely spoke while pointing his index finger at Cykrus.

Cykrus temper flared up, the twitching of his fingers and his lip became obvious right away, the guards were the first to notice this, that, and Cykrus' identity.

"Lord Aventia! Please forgive us! It seems this mannerless street urchin led us astray using lies. We ask that you forget about this matter, we will see to it that no one brings it up again!" one of the guards profusely apologised, while the second gripped the rude man's arm, preparing to drag him out.

Cykrus gave no answer, worried that when he opened his mouth things would only get worse.

The guards took his silence as a sign of agreement and began to drag the man with dishevelled hair away, "What-! What are you doing?! She is a thief! Arrest her! I will not stand for this! I will make you pay! Mark my words!" he growled, first at the guards, then at Agnes and Cykrus.

Before long the guards had 'escorted' the man outside, and Cykrus loudly exhaled, "What was that about?"

"Do you need to know?" Agnes wanted to evade answering if she could, she appeared somewhat embarrassed.

"I was prepared to defend you without a second thought. I think I at least deserve to know what I just got entangled in."

Agnes sighed, "That man tried to scam Frey, he told me on the evening where I ran off. One of his artefacts was genuine though, so based off the description Frey gave me, I went out to look for this guy and stole it from him, to give it to Frey."

"Then the swelling of his face?" Cykrus raised his eyebrow.

Agnes just shrugged her shoulders, "He tripped and fell while trying to chase me, that's entirely on him."

"And? Where have you been this entire time?" she returned the question.

"No! Don't change the subject now. Agnes, this is the royal capital, you can't just go around and do whatever you feel like! You may be a rank two mage, and the closest vassal of a Lord, but in Astafor this means virtually nothing."

"If those guards didn't relent because they noticed my anger, then this entire situation might have taken a turn south." Cykrus tried to lecture her.

"But it didn't, and there is no evidence that points towards me. Don't worry, I made sure of that. His words alone aren't enough to cause us trouble. See? Your teachings are starting to pay off!" Agnes smiled back at him.

Cykrus hid his face behind his hands, "Why do you always learn all the wrong things?"

"Excuse me? I hope I am not interrupting a lover's quarrel." a female voice spoke as Cykrus felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned around, then looked at the woman in front of him for a long moment, luscious blond hair, tied up into a bun behind her head, she was wearing a black and white suit, where white was the dominant colour, perfectly mixing with her hair.

"Looks like you recognise me." she smiled at him sweetly.

"Vivienne... it's been a while..." Cykrus was a little overwhelmed, "And I am Agnes, hello, nice to meet you." she added herself into their conversation, her smile looked fake, and her tone was hostile.

"Debora Vivienne, nice to meet you too." she answered, the friendliness in her voice was also just pretence.

"You are his...?" Vivienne began her sentence.

Agnes shortly grumbled, "Cykrus' loyal vassal." she squinted her eyes at the woman.

"A vassal, hm, I have business with your Lord, so do me a favour and step aside."

"Agnes is more than just a vassal, but enough about that, you reached rank three? And became a Duchess? Impressive. Congratulations." Cykrus interrupted the two.

"Really? That's the first thing you comment on after being apart this long?" Vivienne asked.

"Asking you how you are doing is pointless. Knowing you, you would do everything in your power to change or remove whatever is annoying you." Cykrus shrugged with a smile.

"Heh, you make it sound like I haven't changed one bit. You seem to be doing quite well yourself. I can hardly say whether you are a rank two or a rank three mage with confidence." she smirked back.

"You are flattering me; I still have ways to go until I reach your heights." Cykrus waved her off.

"Then you better do your best to reach them soon. You still owe me that fight with you, and I wouldn't want to have an unfair advantage over you." Vivienne joked, even though she appeared mostly serious about the fight.

"How are your parents doing?" Cykrus continued.

"Fine. They are, you know, old. Nothing much is going on in their life anymore." she just shrugged her shoulders, "How are your-... Forget that... sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"No, it's alright. They passed peacefully." Cykrus wasn't offended.

"Your student is remarkable." he changed the topic.

"Daren? Yeah, he is terrifyingly fast at learning what I teach him. Your own disciple isn't half bad either from what I have heard. Going from zero experience to a decent rank one mage in just three years is quite a feat. How old is he again?"

"Eleven or twelve." Cykrus answered.

"You don't know?" Vivienne mused.

"In my defence, there are no records of his birth. According to Agnes, they were probably destroyed along with his village, and the surrounding ones." Cykrus lamented.

"Destroyed? Were you always that bad of a Lord?" she playfully hit his chest.

"Do you always take the deaths of innocents so lightly?" Agnes made a snide remark.

"Of course not, but if you care so deeply for all humans, then you will never finish mourning. But I guess that's something that simply goes over your head, you wouldn't know the kind of responsibility and burden Cykrus and me, as well as all the other noble families carry." Vivienne countered; her words shut Agnes up, she wanted to continue refuting her, even just to infuriate her, but seeing how kindly Cykrus treated her, Agnes decided to stop.

Cykrus started to notice the bad blood between the two, "It was nice seeing you again Vivienne, I feel bad for saying this, but we have somewhere to be."

"Already leaving? Fine, I guess you have turned into a busy man. Take care of yourself and come visit me whenever you feel like it." Vivienne patted his shoulder, before quietly leaving, she glanced back at the two several more times, then disappeared down another hallway.

"I don't like her." Agnes openly revealed.

Cykrus drew in a sharp breath "I noticed."

"I get that she is an old acquaintance, but why are you acting all friendly with her?" Agnes lightly pouted.

"You see, I take a slightly different approach to you... I don't go out of my way to turn everyone around me into an enemy, instead I see an act of goodwill as a chance to form a mutually beneficial bond. We have no reason to be on bad terms with a rank three mage, no two rank three mages, one of which is a Duchess on top." Cykrus answered her.

"And that's why you are the Lord, and I am the follower, because you actually tend to use that brain of yours." Agnes nodded her head.

"...'Tend'...?" Cykrus questioned.

"Yes. You are smart in all possible ways, but sometimes you are just so... dense." Agnes said after turning around.

"Now wait a moment, what do you mean by 'dense'?"

Agnes shrugged and started walking away, "But I also like this side of you." she whispered to herself.

... ...

King Lysander Van Tale, Duke Monotay, and several masked people stood in front of a bloody and kneeling man.

His hands and feet were chained to the nearby walls, his back was slouched forwards, a rank three aura meekly radiated from his injury riddled body.

He was shaking all over, deep cuts littered his arms and legs, the nails on most of his fingers and toes had seemingly been removed through force.

"N-No more... p-please!" the man instinctively flinched, he attempted to back away as these people approached him, not just fear, but terror revealed itself in his croaking voice.

He dared not to look up at their faces, just their presence was enough to severely unsettle him.

"The preparations are complete, Your Highness." one of the masked people spoke and bowed to their king.

"Proceed." a single word escaped his lips in response, but that alone was enough to rile the chained man's emotions "NO! NO! I BEG YOU!" his desperate shouts filled and echoed throughout the dungeon.

The man wanted to back away, but the tight chains forced him to stay in place, he pulled his arms with all the strength he could muster, the iron cuffs dug into his flesh in the process, but such a small amount of pain was no longer registered by him.

One of the masked individuals pulled a small and sharp syringe from out of their coat pocket, inside of it was a mostly clear, but heavily pink solution.

The masked person walked up to the chained man, firmly gripped their arm with one hand, held it still, then stabbed the syringe into their arm with the other.

The pink solution quickly disappeared beneath the chained man's skin and flesh, the syringe was pulled out again, and tossed into the corner of the room, shattering upon impact.

After some moments, the rebellious actions of the chained man, and all attempts to save himself, ceased.

He became obedient like a lamb, his eyes turned glassy, he lost all signs of autonomy.

The masked man stepped out of the way and gestured towards the chained man using his entire arm in an overly courteous fashion while bowing, "We can begin." the smile beneath their mask became evident by those words alone.

His Highness took a step forward, his eyes wandered all over the poor man that should have been no more than an observer, his current state was truly a pity, "It's a shame that we need to proceed like this, but you must understand that there is no other way to assure the authenticity of your words... Answer me now... how did Lord Sparrowbrook's contestant die? Did you play any part in his demise?" the words were spoken slowly and intently; his deep and aged voice immediately caused a reaction in the man before him.

His skin began to twitch uncontrollably, his facial expressions twisted and contorted, but his eyes remained hollow, "The boy fought admirably... his spells were cast efficiently, and resulted in many of the locals' deaths... He delved deeper and deeper into the swamp, even I began to worry over safely returning to camp... But the boy did not stop... He began to overestimate himself... We came upon a change in scenery... A strange cave..." the chained man spoke slowly and monotonously; the corners of his mouth began to froth.

"...We entered and descended... He killed many Treemen... Then we encountered... a different..." the twitching became worse, the frothing of his mouth dropped to the ground.

His Majesty frowned, "Different what?" he demanded to know while raising his voice.

The man struggled to utter coherent words, "...A different creature..."