Chapter 29: Meeting (Part:1)

​Sullivan exhaled a sharp breath, rolling his shoulders to release the tension that had gripped them the moment the Marquess had ridden past. He turned toward his father, stretching his neck with a slight wince.

​"Well, now that that's done, I want to turn in and rest. My back is killing me."

​Viscount Roland smoothed his tunic, leaning lightly on his brass-headed cane. "We'll be resting down in the lower borough, Sullivan. I’ve secured rooms for our party at a very respectable tavern near the main square."

​Sullivan paused, blinking in surprise. "A tavern? We're not staying in the palace wing?"

​"It was difficult enough renting out a nice tavern in town," Roland explained, shaking his head. "The city is packed to the brim. Nobles, high-ranking officials, and foreign dignitaries have been pouring into Rosehall for days for Lady Elena's debut. Every proper establishment within five miles is practically overflowing."

​"Still," Sullivan grumbled, crossing his arms. "Couldn't we have just stayed in the guest quarters here? I'm sure if you asked, the Duke would’ve insisted on hosting us."

​"And it would be wildly impertinent of us to presume so," Roland replied sharply, though his tone carried a paternal patience. "Lord William is already dealing with too much. Let us not add to his worries."

​Sullivan sighed, muttering something under his breath about uncomfortable tavern mattresses, before his eyes drifted toward Arden.

​The auburn-haired youth hadn't said a word since Edric walked past. He stood completely still near the edge of the terrace, his eyes fixed on the grand entrance where the Artos banners had just disappeared.

​Sullivan stepped closer, nudging Arden lightly with his elbow. "You've been quiet, mate. Still thinking about Edric?"

​Arden didn't look away immediately. "I could barely recognize him."

​"Well, it is quite bizarre." Sullivan admitted, his usual mischievous tone faltering for a brief second before he shrugged it off. 

​"I wonder what happened to him," Arden murmured.

​"If you ask me," Sullivan said, a familiar grin returning to his face, "it's probably still due to the beating you gave him back at the Academy. He probably went home and tried to mask his embarrassment." 

Sullivan paused, eyeing Arden carefully. "You aren't... afraid he's going to retaliate, are you?"

​Arden remained silent, his brows furrowed in deep thought. The silence stretched just long enough to make the air between them feel heavy.

​Sullivan waved a dismissive hand, clapping Arden on the shoulder. "Ah, it doesn't matter anyway. He can act as a lord all he likes, but he'll always be the same craven, fat lard you beat up."

​Arden heard the words, but they failed to bring him any comfort. He remembered the Edric of the Academy, loud, arrogant, quick to anger, and easily read. 

But the man they just met carried a different kind of weight entirely. There was no petty malice in his golden eyes, only a sharp, calculating focus that felt far more dangerous than any spoiled noble's grudge.

​Roland signaled to their guards, who were gathering the Arby baggage detail near the stables. "Come, boys. Let's get some rest."

​"Right behind you, Father," Sullivan said. He turned back to Arden. "Come on, let's head down."

​Arden shook his head slightly. "You go ahead. I think I'll roam around for a while... I just need some fresh air."

​Sullivan looked at him. He didn't ask where Arden was really planning to wander. He knew what his friend was hoping for, even if the man himself wouldn't admit it.

​Deciding not to tease him for once, Sullivan reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out a simple silver pendant suspended from a fine steel chain. 

Stamped clearly on its face was the crest of House Arby, a falcon soaring high over a field of wheat.

​He held it out to Arden casually. "Here. Take this."

​Arden looked down at the crest in surprise. "What's this for?"

​"Just identification," Sullivan said with a shrug. "There are hundreds of guards and attendants running around during the debut. If a servant or guard asks who you're with while you're wandering around, just show them the crest."

​Arden took the cool silver in his palm, nodding in appreciation. "Thanks, Sullivan."

​"Don't mention it," Sullivan chuckled, turning to catch up with his father as the Arby detail began walking toward the palace gates. "See you back at the tavern later!"

​Arden watched them leave, slipping the chain around his neck and tucking the crest beneath the collar of his tunic.

​Arden thought to himself that even with the Duke's open hospitality, walking through the private halls of Rosehall as a commoner still felt strange.

​He turned away from the busy courtyard and stepped through a tall stone archway, seeking the quiet sanctuary of the palace gardens. The crisp morning air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and damp stone, a gentle reprieve from the suffocating tension of the court.

​As he walked down a winding marble path bordered by neatly trimmed hedges, Arden’s mind raced. 

Seeing Edric had rattled him more than he cared to admit, but as the rhythmic splash of distant fountains filled the air, his thoughts shifted back to the beauty of House Sterling's estate.

​He rounded a towering rose trellis near the upper terrace, and stopped dead in his tracks.

​Standing by a marble balustrade overlooking the lower floral beds was Elena.

​She wore a sweeping gown of pale violet silk, her golden hair pinned loosely with pearl clasps. Two palace handmaidens stood nearby, fixing up a tea table. 

Elena looked breathtaking, every bit the highborn lady of Rosehall, yet her expression was quiet, almost distant, as she gazed out over the garden walls.

​Before Arden could step back into the shadow of the hedge, Elena turned her head. Her eyes met his, and in an instant, the weary stiffness in her posture completely vanished.

​A radiant, genuine smile lit up her face. 

"Arden?" She called out.

At the same time, Edric and his retinue had just stepped into Duke William’s receiving hall.

The grand chamber stretched before them like a throne room, its high vaulted ceilings bouncing the faint echoes of their boots across the polished floorboards. 

At the far end, Duke William sat upon a high-backed seat carved from sturdy oakwood, the Rose Throne, as they call it. Two Rosehall Knights clad in beautiful silver armour flanked the Duke.

Kerwin walked ahead, his armor caked in the grime and dried mud of the northern trails, his expression haggard but resolute. 

Stepping up behind him was Edric, moving with quiet, deliberate grace in his dark fur cloak. He was followed closely by Serah, her posture sharp and watchful, as well as four armored Artos guards carefully carrying two wooden crates.

With a dull thud, the Artos guards set the heavy crates down on the stone floor before stepping back into formation.

Kerwin stepped forward and offered a stiff, disciplined bow despite his visible exhaustion. "Your Grace. We have returned from our patrol along the northern border."

Duke William leaned forward in his chair, his gaze shifting from his second-in-command's battered armor to the silver-haired young noble behind him. 

"Captain Kerwin. I received word of your arrival, though I did not expect to see the banners of House Artos alongside your company," he stated, "Lord Edric, welcome to Rosehall."

"Thank you, Duke William," Edric replied, offering a concise, respectful bow, his voice smooth and devoid of unnecessary courtly warmth. "I regret that our arrival comes under such hasty circumstances, but urgency demanded we present our findings together."

Duke William nodded, turning his attention back to Kerwin. "What occurred during your investigation, Captain? Last we heard you were investigating Fallcreek?"

"Indeed so, your Grace," the veteran Knight answered as he placed a hand on his chest, "Fallcreek was one of the very first village to report the drought.. but now, I fear the situation has turned for the worse."

"Turned for the worse, you say?"

Kerwin looked up, "Yes, your Grace."

"Explain."

The veteran Knight approached the Duke and pulled out a map. "You there," he called to one of the servants, "get a table."

As soon as the servant placed a table at the front of Duke, Kerwin laid the map. "The first villages to report the drought were these three villages at the base of the mountains."

He then traced his hands over numerous other settlements, "over the years, these other hamlets all lost water one by one."

"When we checked Fallcreek, the main well collapsed into a massive cavern." He continued.

The Duke stayed silent, quietly observing the map Kerwin produced. 

"If you just investigated the village, then why are you so battered?"

Kerwin glanced over to Edric before facing the Duke again, "while exploring the cavern, we were beset upon by a large horde of goblins."

The Duke looked up in surprise, "goblins, you say? And they attacked you?" 

"Yes, your Grace. Our men fought hard, but there were too many of them, that's when the Marquess arrived and saved us."

As if on queue, Edric stepped forward. Duke William descended from his seat and approached the young lord. 

"It seems my Knight Captain was saved by your timely arrival," he stated as he extended a hand, "we are in your debt, lord Marquess."

Though quite tall himself, Edric had to look up to the Duke. He lowered his head and placed a hand on his chest instead, "there is no debt, your Grace, I merely did what any neighbor would when witnessing a disaster."

Duke William slowly retracted his hand, his sharp eyes lingering on the young Marquess.

"He's... Different." He thought to himself.

For a minute, he merely observed the young lord, before turning back toward Kerwin and the table where the map lay spread out.

"And what of the drought itself, Kerwin?" Duke William asked, leaning over the table as he stared down at the marked frontier hamlets. "Have your men found any trace of what is actually draining our water."

Kerwin stood momentarily dumbfounded, looking down at the parched symbols on the parchment. "I... we couldn't determine the exact source, Your Grace. The cavern was pitch black and the collapse was extensive. But..." Kerwin hesitated, his brow furrowed in deep thought. 

"The goblins... They were terrified. They seemed like they were running from something far deeper in the tunnels."

"That's because they were," Edric interjected cleanly.

Duke William turned back toward the young noble, his expression hardening. "Please clarify, Lord Edric."

Edric took a single, measured step forward, his dark fur cloak shifting as all eyes in the grand chamber fixed upon him.

"Are you familiar of a monster called Aquolith Wyrm?" He asked as he held out his hand to Serah. 

In response, the female Knight pulled out an old book with a leather cover and placed it on Edric's hand. 

"Aquo.. Lith? I am unfamiliar," The Duke answered, "is it something I should be aware of?"

Edric opened the book and flipped the pages before stopping at a specific image. He then placed it on the table for everyone to see. 

"I wouldn't expect you to know, your Grace," he answered as he pointed at the sketch, "the Aquolith Wyrm is a native beast from the Northern frontiers."

The Duke observed the sketch, it portrayed long slender worm with drill like mandibles in it's mouth and segmented body covered in plates, below it numerous root-like tendrils extended. 

"They usually dwell in the mountains of the North where they consume water," the young lord continued as he crossed his arms, "usually, the cold weather hinders it's growth, but if one were to wander into a warmer habitat with an abundance of it's food source.."

"It will grow unchecked," the Duke continued. 

"Indeed so."

The old Duke looked at Edric with suspicious eyes. "How do you know so much about this beast, my lord?"

Inside his head, Edric offered a silent, wry apology to the Duke. Sorry, Your Grace. I know so much about it because I’m the one who wrote the damn thing into the story in the first place.

Naturally, he had anticipated the question long before stepping into Rosehall.

Edric didn't flinch. He maintained his composed, unbothered posture, adjusting the fold of his fur cloak with effortless calm.

"Northern lords are quite familiar with beasts lurking outside our walls, your Grace," he answered calmly, "though I'm not a hundred percent sure, when I heard Ser Kerwin's explanation back at the village, I couldn't help but think of the similarities."

He then approached the map and pointed at the mountain. "You said that the first villages to report the drought were these ones, yes?"

Kerwin nodded his head, "yes, my lord."

Edric traced his finger to the mountain. "It would seem that the wyrm descended from the northern mountains, and first nestled within this area."

Then he traced it farther, "when the water tables here ran out, the beast moved further inland. At first the drought took years to drain the water, then months, then weeks, that may mean that it's growing exponentially."

Edric's golden eyes seemed to flicker, reflecting the sunlight peeking through the windows, a fact the old Duke did not miss. 

Duke William stroked his beard, his sharp eyes darting between the young Marquess and the map spread before them.

"Does that mean that slaying this beast would solve the drought?" He asked.

"Possibly," Answered Edric, "though only if I am correct."

The Duke fell silent, his stern features locked in quiet contemplation as he weighed the implications. A beast of that scale nesting directly in the subterranean channels meant that simple surface diversion or standard well-clearing was entirely out of the question.

After a long beat, the Duke let out a breath and turned his gaze back to Edric.

"I must thank you for your input, my lord," Duke William said, his tone carrying a genuine, albeit measured, appreciation. "Your insights have given us a direction where we previously had none."

He turned his attention toward his exhausted Knight Captain. "Kerwin."

"Your Grace?"

"I need to consider our options and discuss the logistics with the council before we decide our next course of action. You are dismissed for now. See to your men, wash off the road, and report back to the war room by evening."

"Understood, Your Grace," Kerwin saluted crisply, offering a deep bow before turning and heading out of the hall.

Once the doors clicked shut behind the captain, Duke William stepped down from the dais, his expression softening as he properly welcomed his guest.

"The road from Galehelm to Rosehall is long and unforgiving, Lord Edric," the Duke said smoothly, offering a warm gesture of hostship. "You and your party have traveled far. I insist you drop the heavy matters of state for today and take rest. Rosehall offers you its full hospitality."

Edric maintained his unbothered, flawless posture, placing a hand over his chest as he inclined his head.

"Your Grace is most generous," Edric replied smoothly. "In that case, I shall accept your hospitality. If it pleases the Duke, I request my men outside be provisioned, as well as a private audience with you tomorrow morning. There are further matters that I wish to discuss with you."

Duke William’s eyes flickered with a quiet curiosity, but he simply gave a decisive nod. "Granted. Although I do have to apologize that your fiancée, my daughter Elena is not here to greet you, she's simply pre-occupied at the moment."

"There is no need for forgiveness, your Grace. It cannot be helped."

With a final, concise court bow, Edric turned and glided out of the grand chamber, his dark fur cloak sweeping behind him.

Serah fell into step half a pace behind his right shoulder, while the four Artos guards flanked the rear, carefully carrying the two unopened wooden crates.

"Curious," Duke William muttered under his breath, stroking his beard as he watched the young lord disappear down the hall.

The Edric he remembered was loud, arrogant, and soft around the edges. The young man who had just stood before him was entirely different, he seemed measured, sharp, and tempered like cold steel.

Pushing the thought aside, the Duke rubbed his temples with a tired sigh. "Now... where has that daughter of mine wandered off to?"