Passenger
Capital of Alasia, Sanders Tavern
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Capital of Alasia, Sanders Tavern
"Arghhh!" A burly, blond-bearded man shouted, gripping a mug tightly as he slumped over the bar, visibly drunk. This was Barden.
"Did ya hear?" he slurred, raising his mug in a shaky gesture.
"Hear what?" asked a man cloaked in dark robes, seated at the counter. He leaned closer, curiosity flickering in his eyes beneath the hood.
"How have you not heard about the Tournament of Heir?" Barden replied, his words barely holding together.
"No... I'm new here," the cloaked figure responded calmly.
"Haven't heard... hiccup... about it?" Barden frowned, eyeing him suspiciously.
"I'm from the country, passing through on travels," the cloaked man replied. "But go on, tell me more."
Barden sneered, waving a dismissive hand. "Kids these days, thinkin' they can get everything for free... hiccup…"
Whoosh! A heavy sack of gold dropped on the counter beside Barden, the coins clinking loudly.
"Is this enough?" asked the cloaked stranger, his tone unchanging.
Barden's eyes lit up as he stared greedily at the glittering pile of gold. "Just enough... hiccup..."
"There's gonna be a tournament here in the capital in a month's time, a real spectacle. Winner gets the crown after the late king—may he rest in peace—finally fell to illness… hic…" Barden said, barely pausing to catch his breath.
"They say any man between fifteen and thirty can enter... and the prize?" He leaned in conspiratorially, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "The princess's hand in marriage."
The cloaked figure placed a single coin on the counter, paying for his drink. "Keep the change," he said with a faint nod, heading toward the door.
"What's your name, stranger?" Barden called after him, squinting.
The figure paused, glancing back just long enough to answer. "Joel."
The barkeep watched Joel's exit, eyeing the door thoughtfully. A man willing to part with that much gold is bound to be dangerous.
Barden, meanwhile, is just a drunk walking around with a target on his back, he thought, shaking his head as he moved to serve the next customer.
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Capital of Alasia, Castle, Underground Prison
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In the dim, damp corridors of the castle's prison, the once-loyal Royal Knights lay bound behind iron bars, stripped of their armor and their dignity. Nyx stood in front of their cells, his expression one of calculated coldness.
With the effects of his "Control" skill finally dissipated, he had simply locked them away, knowing they could still serve a purpose.
Two knights gripped the bars, their eyes blazing with fury.
"You traitor!" one of them spat, his voice hoarse with rage.
"You'll pay for this, you bastard!" another snarled, echoing the curses of their fellow prisoners.
Nyx turned to a nearby prison guard and gave a simple order. "Bring them to the warden's office. One at a time."
'Chaining Wellian has dealt with any resistance he might've posed,' Nyx thought, his mind already planning the next steps.
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Flash Back to Nyx Using Chained Contract on Viscount Wellian
"What... What is this?!" Wellian stammered, wide-eyed as he looked up at the long scroll floating ominously before him, its parchment shimmering with ethereal power.
Nyx, seated on the throne with a casual hand resting against his jaw, spoke with a calm authority. "This is a contract that binds us. Sign it."
Viscount Wellian gulped, glancing fearfully at Nyx, haunted by the memory of what had happened to the Royal Knight Captain. He dared not challenge the one seated so confidently before him. "H-How do I sign it?" he stuttered, voice cracking with anxiety.
Nyx's tone was smooth, almost amused, but ice-cold. "My apologies," he said, gesturing slightly. "Simply prick your finger and place it upon the parchment."
Freed from his restraints, Wellian hesitated for a heartbeat before pricking his finger, pressing it against the scroll. His life, his very soul, was now bound in a pact.