∼ Day 131 ∼

Re-reading the notifications over and over again, I tried to wrap my mind around exactly what was being presented. The [Heirloom of Sanguinity] evolving was not hard to understand as I've already been expecting it to do so. However, as soon as I moved to the third line, that was where I failed to fully realize what it meant.

[Heirloom Fragments] were neither something I've ever heard of nor has Nosferas told me about. As far as I knew, he had told me pretty much all there was to his knowledge about Sanctioned Lords, their mystical relics, and so on. But this was clearly something unexpected.

While the other parts of the notifications could be surmised to merely being these 'trials' Nosferas had been talking about, there might be more to the information given than what I already know. It was clearly stated that not enough candidates had yet to qualify, and such, these games, or trials as the system put it, remained uncommenced.

It wasn't hard to deduce that these candidates were none other than Promethean Candidates, meaning Sanctioned Lords, so the question remained; how many more were missing until the gates would open?

Looking past the mental screens, I watched as I flexed my fingers, inspecting the various angles of my newly gained armor of some kind. The way the metal moved with its plated links and segments felt almost unnatural as no solid armor should be able to move so freely and unrestrained as that, but with it, came a great newly-found appreciation of what exactly these heirlooms could become in the future.

Just what was its next form?

What about its last and final form?

Those questions had to be put on hold as in my reverie, I hadn't even noticed the approach of a servant that stood outside the door to my room. With a mere thought, the heirloom changed back into its compact and bejeweled form around my ear.

"Come in," I said.

Watching as the servant quickly came in, an envelope in hand, I wondered just how long she had been waiting outside for as I was totally enamored with the heirloom's evolution. Normally, there wouldn't be any need for a servant, maid, or other to knock and announce their presences to monsters like I, Eryanne, and so forth, since we had already reached the point where we could sense the presences of almost all the beings within the palace at any given moment.

"A messenger from one Lord Maldrak has delivered this for you, my Lord." The servant said, handing the envelope to me and scurrying out of the room once I accepted it.

Reading the letter, I let out a chuckle with the shake of my head.

"It would seem that this Maldrak was much more flexible and crafty than I had initially given him credit for," I muttered, folding the piece of parchment. "But I would be going back on my word if I were to so rudely decline, would I not?"

After all, I had already accepted his invitation.

***

The next day went by in a flash, all the many things we had to prepare taking up most of the time. From rounding up and giving notice to the many workers, recruits, and specialists, we've hired, to the organization of the resources we had to transport back, it required a great amount of attention and time.

But now, there was only one other thing on my agenda before I took my final leave. One, that had in fact, just dropped into my lap just this evening.

"Lady Menethil, I must say that I'm eternally grateful for all that you have done for me and my people these last weeks that I've been so fortunate to share with your household and you," I said with a bow.

Although I had never been one for such mannerism and display of courtesy, I was truly that thankful for all that she had done. Not to mention, I would let all those lessons of being taught how to properly hold oneself and behave in the presence of nobility go to waste. But contrary to how I had expected my decorum teacher to react, Lady Menethil herself, she merely walked over and cupped my cheek.

Looking at my face with those kind eyes of hers, she smiled genuinely.

"That's Eryanne to you, silly boy." She chuckled, tapping my cheek.

Finding myself surprisingly flustered, I could only watch as Mia and Bob too said their goodbyes.

‹ Draz'ag ›

The chambers that were no more than a fancy prison were ever gloomy. The only sounds filling the otherwise dead silence were the creaking of the armrest as I was unable to reel in my frustration and anger.

"Why had it all come to this?" Was the one question I bounced around in my mind over and over again like a festering disease.

And I had no answer to resolve it much to the delight of my current despair.

With this offered opportunity ripe for me to help revitalize my life and motivation, taken from me, it had all collapsed. In the end, I grew careless and incautious. And because of me... she... my...

My weary thoughts were all of a sudden dashed by the realization of something distinctly wrong about my surroundings. For some reason, somehow, I hadn't noticed the flickering shadowy tendrils licking at the surroundings before now.

As my chair flew away from my sudden standing up, my muzzle unconsciously retracted back into a snarl, revealing the canines that had helped me extinguish more than a few lives ever since I got them.

Now that I could finally see the rest of the chambers as my back had been turned to it, I had to collect my confidence back up as almost half of the entire room was drenched in abyssal shadows that flowed and ebbed like waves.

"Who's there!" I called out, my heart beating at a rapid cadence, betraying my attempt at remaining stoic.

"Dra'zag, was it? It's been a while." A voice said, distinctly male, but carrying an odd sense of charm that had me hanging at every syllable, clearly the result of a high charisma.

From the shadows, stepped the figure of someone who I had never expected to see here. Xavier Tal'chor, the darkhorse who placed third in the tournament and the one that the Sinlore household had developed a mortal grudge against.

If not for the fact of my circumstances, I would've applauded the man for simply becoming so, but then again, reality was a cruel mistress. But there had been something nagging me about this man, something that I had been unable to put my finger on ever since seeing him in the tournament ceremony.

He just... felt so familiar...

"What are you doing here? This is Sinlore territory." I said, my tone not really conveying any sense of reprove at the trespassing.

"Why, do you still not recognize me?" The mysterious man asked, clearly teasing with the smirk twisting his lip. "Here, allow me to help."

Before I could react, a sudden pang of power emanated not from him, but within... me?

It was as if a calling, a mental nudge. And then I realized.

It took me a while to produce any words, but he simply waited for me to gather my thoughts.

"It's you... isn't it?" I hesitated, not really believing my own words. "B-but how is that even possible? You look like nothing of what I remember... besides those damned eyes of yours."

Those red eyes, I could remember anywhere, and now that I had an image to compare them with, it was undoubtedly him...

"You're the one to talk," Xavier chuckled, pointing at me with a pale finger.

Realizing how much I myself had changed, I conceded.

"Why have you come, after so long... after that thing you did?" I asked with hesitation as this had been something that had plagued my mind ever since.

Although I at first felt as if what he did was untoward, I've long admitted to myself that blood of his had helped me greatly.

"Well... when I saw you all those weeks ago, I was rather eager to talk with you as I believe we have some catching up to do," He smiled. "And besides, I believe I have something for you here."

Frowning as I heard his last dubious words, I almost fell to my knees when I heard the cry of a young babe. From the shadow still occupying the space behind Xavier like a cape, a shorter and young figure stepped out, carrying a bundle in her arms, from which the crying originated.

I wanted to move, but I couldn't.

My knees were weak, and I hadn't heard those innocent cries ever since she had been taken from me.

"What are you waiting for, she's yours, is she not?"

Xavier's words broke through my disbelief, allowing my body to once again take control. I walked towards the drow holding the last remaining individual in this world that mattered to me.

I gingerly took her from her arms, clutching gently around the bundle of cloth of which small hands and emerald scales peaked through. Parting the cloth, I finally saw the face of my daughter once again. I didn't remember when I started crying, but I did, not caring in the slightest about the twin pair of eyes looking at me from the side.

"I... T-thank you," I managed to get out.

"It is not me who is be thanked, but rather the magnificently resourceful woman, Lady Menethil." He said with a smile. "She has eyes and ears everywhere in this city, and after it had been discovered that the Sinlore household was manipulating a certain interesting individual who happened to be of a very rare lizardman race for their own ends through keeping your daughter hostage, I simply overheard the situation and decided to take matters into my own hands."

"But h-how... why did you do this?" I asked finally, gathering my wits. "The Sinlore household will not remain aloof when they find out about this..."

"Well, while their actions are no cause for anyone's punishment seeing as slavery is very much allowed within the bound of Ebongrave, forcing you into the tournament under the pretense that you were willing though, is whole other matter entirely," Xavier smirked deviously. "Who are they able to go to? It's not like they can reveal their own transgressions by seeking justice to their own wrongdoing."

Realizing the validity of his words, it made much more sense why those damnable bejeweled lizards had tried so desperately to keep me ignorant of the outgoings of this blasted city by locking me inside this blasted room.

"So, I must ask you. Will you be joining us on a little... excursion? We're leaving the city at first light tomorrow." He paused, looking towards the door from outside the noises of distressed voices sounded out, quickly closing in. "The night is growing short, and so is the time for you to decide."

"So, what will it be?"