The three out of five people that had bought time for Jascias' sons to escape had disappeared from the manor, now reduced to ruins. The Elf and the Orcan [Assassin] died trying to buy the others more time. They fought through dozens of [Mercenaries] around before they decided that it isn't worth dying for a hundred gold coins.

Ridi Gadihew was the only one standing out of the people that initially went in. He had counter-leveled against that high-leveled Dullahan; he felt like it was a miracle that he was alive. He tried to raise his left arm, but he did not feel anything. He turned his head to his left shoulder, and he only saw a stump that bled ceaselessly.

That was the last thing that he saw.

[Mercenary Captain] Level 24!

[Rare Feat- Company: Recompensation of Losses] developed!

[Role Played: Forest Rider, Spear Fighter] merged!

[Role Attained, Forest Lancer]!

Level 31 [Forest Lancer]!

[Feat- Couched Lance] developed!

[Feat-

His eyes laid upon the roof of a tent. He turned and he saw a tall Satyr sitting beside him.

"Finally awake, eh? Nice new Feat. Congratulations." Atasaney remarked.

"Who?" Ridi blinked in surprise. Atasaney turned to him, staring at his eyes; deep black scleras with golden rings.

"I got a [Headhunter] Feat. You from the tribes?"

"Er- no, sir."

"Good. Want to join my company? No one's left in your band, as you can see." Atasaney told him. A fellow Satyr with an affiliation to the tribes that roam the frontier would be a problem because of divided loyalties. The Companies of Libertalia are paid to defend against their raids after all.

Fully conscious, he sat up. He stared at his missing left arm, wrapped in bandages, and had stopped bleeding with a pour of a healing potion.

"Yes."

"Good, we'll leave in a few minutes. We got a bastard to hunt."

-

The stone brick room lit itself up with mage lights as Numisley, Cultrost, and Palden appeared within a magic circle. Before that, they were in a dark room directly under the manor, and as Numisley spoke the passphrase, they were suddenly teleported here. There was only a single wooden chest in the middle of the hidden room, reinforced with enchanted metal. A sigil of protection is attuned with the runes etched on each corner of the chest, within etched lattices following the straight grain of the wood. The etchings seemed to contain a magical resin of some sort. In place of a lock, there is a keyhole that has a sharp pin embedded within it.

"A Bloodline Lock?" Culrost gasped in surprise. Numisley knows how well-read his brother is due to the number of books that they have in their household. A tool of royal vaults that can be only by the royal bloodlines.

Numisley inserted his finger in the "keyhole". He felt the pinprick on the tip of his finger; the blood on the pin had been absorbed by the etchings within the wood, the blood seemingly flowing through the resin, making some of the runes glow red. The chest opened up by itself. There is a brown leather book, decorated with faded golden stripes titled the "Treatise of Roles", a black notebook, a pouch of gold coins, maps, and a portfolio of documents. There is a written letter on them, a piece of paper waiting to be read.

To my sons; Knowledge is power.

The brown book holds the knowledge of Roles and Feat that the aristocracy hoards. These documents are my identification papers for my multiple bank accounts from Libertalia to Yhril, all with gold to spend so that you can leave the continent and live with my relatives in Yhril. They are in the county of Polossi Torregorn, find the town of Santaveses, and ask for the farm of Cascinavi.

Keep the black notebook hidden at all costs. It contains a list of my allies that may protect you and secrets that you can use if necessary.

Numisley grabbed the black notebook and unfurled it, giving the letter to Cultrost. It has more pages than expected as if the notebook has a Holding enchantment within, and its letters were too small to be read normally. A magnification spell had let him read these microscopic texts.

At first glance, it is a collection of financial reports, outdated by years, but that was the clue. Their father had taught them the art of cryptography and knew the codes that he had used, even the magical ciphers. But the details were hidden within invisible ink or letters that rearranged themselves via magic. Yet Numisley had deciphered it because he was familiar with the magical ciphers used. They were names with anecdotes and names, attached with dates. The initial list that he is reading seemed to be about the dirt on Libertalian leaders, pillars of communities, or just important people within the various city-states and organizations within Libertalia.

He turned a few pages and laid his fingers on a few pages. This book reveals the secrets of the Trislan region in Yhril, the Human Continent, unlike Libertalia or Fallen Qin which had many races equal to or dominating over the Human population. If anything in this notebook had been leaked to the public, it would cause an uproar; the political equivalent of a scroll that contains a Tier 8 Spell that can destroy an empire. They both knew that he was an [Spymaster] in the past, as well as a broker of information at the side along with being an [Merchant] under Maldent Trading. They surmised that this notebook was the information that he had gathered throughout the years.

"So this is what he had told us about…" Numisley turned towards his brother, giving him the notebook.

"Who exactly is our father? Where in Yhril did he come from?" Cultrost asked. "You have any idea, sir?" Cultrost turned to Palden, one of the oldest employees under Jascias.

"As far as I know, he came to Libertalia with your mother around fifteen, seventeen trials ago? I first became a [Wagon Driver] under them two trials after they had established Gildin Trading. If I remember correctly, I found you on the office's doorstep in my third trial of working for them." Palden replied to Cultrost, remembering how he was picked up in an abandoned basket by Jascias and his wife on their doorstep. Much later, Numisley was born.

"Our father didn't exactly mention our mother's name," Numisley added, recalling how he avoided talking about her directly. "Or anything about her past...their past in Yhril. She died when I was born."

"He is still grieving, I think." Palden guessed. "But, it is not your fault."

"I know."

Numisley flicked to another set of pages.

Raynios Joda: Leader of a Gang in Tucken. Level 50+ [Thief] Safehouse locations: Mugged Mug Tavern, in Warden's Walking…

The Severed Swords. A mercenary group around 20-30 in number. Leader: Graten Haovel [Watcher], [Sword Captain] around Level 60+. A distant friend of mine when I first arrived in Libertalia. They can be paid for guarding towns and assets. Their headquarters are in the town of Lynt.

Thewardn Glors. He works in Aquives in Zitholon. [Infomration Broker], connected to a lot of people in this list. A close friend.

A list of allies that they could call upon. Their father knew them one way or another. Some of them had their secrets attached to them in case they were not cooperative. The nearest bank from here is the Bank of Dotterm, owned by the Temer Corporation, one of the five Corporations that rule Libertalia, although that is quite a ways away if they wanted to get Jascias' coins from his account. Cultrost already packed up the pouch of coins from the chest and the paperwork. Numisley's hands were trembling as he pocketed the black notebook.

"Let's go," Palden told them. They opened the grated door and found themselves in a small room. They opened the door and found themselves in a small stable. A thin balding Orcan was tending to a donkey, staring at them as he cleaned the hooves of a horse.

"Eh? Oh. Are you Jascias' boys?" He asked.

"Yes. Numisley and Cultrost Gildin. And Palden, our company's [Caravan Master]." Numisley spoke. "I didn't know our father had something like this."

"Well, with his connections with the underworlds across two continents, it's a given that he has some advanced escape methods when things got dicey. " The man that owns the stable replied.

"Where are we exactly?" Cultrost asked.

"In the hamlet of Hamms. Half a day's ride from your pop's manor." He answered. "Seeing that you're here, and the commotion, I guess you'll need a mount to ride on. Here's your ass."

He pointed to a donkey within the stables, with a slight smirk worn on his face. "I'll get the saddle."

The three rode on the donkey, and they placed their belongings on the donkey.

"No need to pay me. Jascias already pays me for keeping the teleportation circle hidden and intact." He smiled deviously, as he counted gold coins on his palm. The three left without any fanfare, and they left the small hamlet in the forest. Palden was holding the reins of the donkey, and they rode forwards in the plains.

"How much time until we arrive at the nearest settlement? Or how long until we arrive in Lynt? I plan to hire the Severed Swords to protect us on the trip."

"[Locate Settlement]. [Estimate Travel Time]. Young master, it is a day and a half away, and that is if I use my movement Feat in ideal conditions. I do not wish to use my Feat until we need it, and most of my Feat apply in caravans. We may have to spend the night outside before sundown.

"I see. We can wait."

They traveled the grasslands and forests in silence, as they avoided the major roads; they saw the patrols of [Mercenaries] that seemed to be looking for them, especially for the ones on horseback. Palden had experience evading [Bandits] as any veteran traveler in Libertalia, or anywhere in the world should. They scaled a rocky hill, covered by a decent amount of trees. As the sun started to set, they had set up a small fire made with a bundle of sticks and dry leaves. Palden used a supply Feat to temporarily conjure bedrolls and hardtack because they had left in a hurry after being suddenly attacked.

"I got a plan. But, do you trust me?" Numisley spoke, breaking the silence.

"What plan?" Cultrost asked.

"This notebook." Numisley held the ominous black notebook. "What if we make a business around it?"

"What? What are you thinking?" Cultrost failed to understand.

"The brown notebook is a copy of the Treatise of Roles. That means the knowledge of Levels, Feats, and Roles that few people had in their possession. We can have the Roles, the Feats, and the Levels that we want from this book."

"That's…" Palden mouthed.

"What's more important is this black notebook. Enchanted to contain more than its size. This contains a list of secrets of the big-shots. Dirt against them. Dirt that we can use to blackmail them, or to sell to interested parties. Money too, since our father has multiple bank accounts in both Liberan and Yhril. This book has a list of our father's allies that we may call upon. We can pay them by gold or secrets, or our father's goodwill-"

"Are you hearing yourself right now, Numisley!" Cultrost tackled him, pulling him by the collar. "This business proposal of yours will put us in danger! It is clear that the letter says to use these to get to our relatives!"

"Hypothetically, we had successfully arrived and lived in Polossin with our relatives in Yhril. By now, people will know that we have the notebook. Can we protect ourselves from Level 100 [Assassins]?"

"Of course, we can't. That is why we burn it right now!" He steered Numisley's hand holding the black notebook towards the dim fire, but Numisley resisted.

"Do you think that they will let us live after we burn it into ash, brother? They would kill us otherwise, notebook or not! Secrets depreciate if it's lost or it becomes useless!" Numisley justified.

Cultrost pulled out his hand forcefully. The rings within the black sclera of his eyes glinted in exasperation.

"Fine. Pops had ordered me to take care of you anyways, you limp-legged bastard." The Satyr grinned as he calmed down.

"Well, my ideas helped the family business, you lazy oaf." Numisley bantered.

They exhaled, slumping on the big rock they set up camp beside. It provided ample protection from the wind from the east, but that's about it.

"I'll take watch." Palden volunteered.

"I can do it," Cultrost interjected.

"No. You rest. Besides, I got a Feat that lets me be awake and vigilant for a night or two." Palden reassured. "Got something better?"

Cultrost stared at him blankly.

"Thought so. Sleep well." Palden turned towards them. Already, Numisley had slept soundly from fatigue.

"Don't you think that Numisley is too ambitious?" The Satyr whispered to Palden.

"Yeah," Palden whispered.

"So-"

"Rise or fall. I think that is the reason that your brother is ambitious. A Giant in his own frail body."

"What do you mean?" Cultrost scratched the skin on his horns.

"Imagine not being able to walk, all-most people can walk. It is as easy as breathing. Imagine being unable to do the simplest thing, no matter how hard you try. Frustrating, isn't it?"

Cultrost thought of it. He remembered when Numisley was a child that he threw tantrums. He couldn't walk well like all the others and had to be carried by either their father or him whenever they would go somewhere because he was born with an atrophied leg. Later he would be able to use a walking stick, but sometimes he had to be carried.

"Yes." Cultrost agreed.

"So, you have to compensate. If you are blind, hone your other senses. In your brother's case, he is blessed with intellect and business sense, despite his frail body. So he compensates." Palden explained. "He has no choice but to rise with his genius and charisma, or remain as a powerless frail man."

"I understand." Cultrost nodded, staring at the burning wood of the campfire. "I just hope that we don't die in the process."

They slept in the cold night as the fire weakened into embers.