In the study of the Ravengard Manor
"So… you and the others are leaving, huh."
Arthur's voice was low, heavy with meaning.
Leaving...? They're leaving?
Kaisel's thoughts jolted at the weight of his grandfather's words, his gaze snapping toward the knight captain who stood before them.
The man's expression was strained, complex, his shoulders tense.
"Yes… Lord."
Arthur's face darkened, though there was no surprise in his eyes. He had long anticipated this. Ever since the ambush that had claimed the lives of most of their knights—including the late knight captain—the remaining few had been unsettled. The ones who had fallen were the true vassals of Ravengard, men bound by loyalty and oath. The remaining ones… were not the same.
These knights were mercenaries, swords bought with coin, not sworn to blood and house. Their service had no roots, no true loyalty. And with Ravengard weakened, it was only natural that they would flee. The only pillar still holding the duchy together was Arthur de Ravengard himself. Though old now, he had once been the Duke, a man of iron will and strength in his prime.
Arthur's lips curled into a cold scoff.
"Hmph. Then you may leave."
"Grandfather—!" Kaisel started, but Arthur's raised hand cut him short.
"Sit down, Kaisel."
The boy bit his tongue, sinking back into silence.
Arthur exhaled deeply, turning back to the knight captain.
"Where do you intend to go? And when?"
"To… the Empire, my lord. We plan to depart tomorrow morning."
Arthur gave a slow nod, his gaze shifting to the butler who stood at his side.
"Give each of them silver and send them off."
The butler bowed. "Yes, my lord."
The knight's expression twisted with conflicted emotions, but he bowed deeply all the same.
"Thank you, my lord."
With that, the knight and butler withdrew, leaving Arthur and Kaisel alone in the heavy silence of the study.
Arthur broke it first.
"Real loyalty… is a thing that cannot be bought with money, nor forced with power."
Kaisel lifted his eyes to his grandfather.
"Do you know why I let them leave without stopping them?" Arthur asked, his gaze sharp. "Because men without courage or loyalty are useless to us. We are a household on the edge, and in such times, those with weak hearts will always flee. They are not bound to us by oath, only by coin. In truth, we still have some knights who remain—and those will be enough."
Kaisel opened his mouth. "But—"
Arthur cut across him.
"Kaisel… are you afraid?"
The boy fell silent.
"It is natural," Arthur said, his voice steady, almost gentle. "Fear is part of being human. But! What matters is not the fear itself, but overcoming it. You know what how our ancestors were, before they earned the title of Duke?"
Kaisel nodded quietly.
Arthur leaned back, his eyes dim yet resolute.
"That is why I brought you here today. To see. To understand what our family faces. You are the future of Ravengard. And you must begin to bear that weight."
"I understand, Grandfather," Kaisel replied softly.
Arthur gave a faint nod. "I know you wish to grow stronger. But avoid going to the forest every night."
Kaisel stiffened, lowering his head.
"You think I wouldn't notice? I've seen this before. Your father was the same—restless, reckless, always chasing something in the shadows. And I told him then what I will tell you now: I don't know what it is you are trying to grasp, or what fire drives you to risk yourself in that cursed forest. But whatever it is, I hope you truly understand the what you're doing.
Remember this, Kaisel: the world will not hesitate to take your life if you falter. So if you must walk that road, then walk it with your eyes open… and don't get yourself killed."
"Yes… Grandfather."
"Good. You may leave now."
....
Next Morning
The courtyard of Ravengard Manor was filled with the sound of hooves and muted voices. The remaining knights—more than twenty of them—were preparing to depart. Their armor was gone; instead, they dressed in plain travel gear, their swords strapped across their backs or tied to saddlebags. Once knights of Ravengard, now they looked little more than mercenaries.
One by one, they bowed to Arthur in silence. There was no fanfare, no grand farewell—only the weight of unspoken words. Arthur, standing tall despite his age, gave no sign of weakness, his expression carved from stone.
From the window above, Kaisel watched. His young face was shadowed, he watched as they mounted their horses.
When the gates opened and the column of riders began their slow march through the duchy, the vassals gathered to watch. Farmers, servants, minor retainers—all stood at the roadside. Their faces were marked with conflict: sorrow, disappointment, perhaps even resentment. The knights' departure was more than men leaving; it was a symbol of Ravengard's fall from strength.
Kaisel's hands curled into a fist . He said to himself, I need to become stronger.
....
That Night
The duchy of Ravengard lay silent. Doors were barred, windows shuttered, and not a soul dared linger in the streets. Above, the moon hung swollen and crimson, staining the night sky with a blood-red haze. Mist coiled through the air like restless spirits, cloaking the land in an ominous veil.
It was the Blood Moon—a phenomenon that rose only a few times each year.
From his chamber window, Kaisel gazed at the crimson light as it spilled across his face. His heartbeat quickened. Once again, he slipped away from the manor and into the night, his path set toward Ebonvale.
The forest greeted him differently this night. Where he had once been able to see clearly, now everything was drowned in a fog thick as shadow, the trees looming like specters in the haze. He pressed forward cautiously, each step careful and silent.
This time, Ragnar did not follow. The raven remained behind, uneasy, its sharp instincts overcome by fear. Even among beasts, the Blood Moon carried a curse. Many believed it could warp the body, invite possession, or spread strange afflictions. But the Ravengard bloodline was different. For reasons long buried in history, they were untouched by its corruption.
Kaisel walked deeper, his senses straining against the silence. A sound stirred the mist—low, heavy, deliberate. He crouched, moving closer.
Through the shifting fog, a shape emerged: a massive boar. Its body bristled with coarse black fur, tusks like jagged blades jutting from its mouth. Its size rivaled that of a dire wolf, its hide glinting like iron under the moonlight.
An Ironhide Boar.
A beast famed not for its savagery, but for its defense—its hide so unyielding that few weapons could pierce it.
Kaisel steadied his breath and edged closer.
Then—
BOOM.
The sound split the night like thunder. Something streaked through the fog with impossible speed, and in a single motion, the boar was torn in half. Blood splattered the ground in steaming arcs.
Kaisel froze, his eyes widening. The Ironhide Boar… killed in an instant?
He had heard nothing. No footsteps. No approach. Just sudden, merciless violence.
Quickly, he pressed his back against a tree, peering from the shadows.
A vast silhouette emerged into the bloodlit clearing. Scales glistened crimson beneath the moonlight, its monstrous body coiled with unnatural power. Rows of jagged teeth gleamed wet with gore, and eyes like molten blood burned in the dark.
A chill cut down Kaisel's spine.
He remembered—the dire wolves. The massacre of their pack. This was the same creature.
A colossal lizard, its skin the color of living blood, larger even than the dire wolf or the Ironhide boar.
The Bloodfiend Lizard.
The name seared into Kaisel's thoughts as he stared, breath tight in his chest.
There were many ways to classify the creatures of this world.
The Beasts, such as dire wolves and ironhide boars—creatures of nature, formidable by size and strength.
The Magical Beasts, animals imbued with mystical powers—able to breathe flame, command frost, or heal their wounds.
And then, the Demonic Beasts. Abominations. Similar to Magical Beasts, yet born of pure malice. They knew no reason, no balance, no restraint—only slaughter.
And the Bloodfiend Lizard was one such creature. A true Demonic Beast.
The creature swallowed half of the boar in one grisly gulp. Then the other half was crushed between its teeth, bones cracking like dry twigs beneath its jaws.
Then it stopped.
The Bloodfiend Lizard slowly turned, its blood-red eyes burning faintly through the haze. Its head shifted, angling toward the tree where Kaisel pressed himself flat against the bark.
Kaisel's heart sank. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his body refused to move. He forced a shallow breath, willing the air to stay silent in his lungs.
The lizard's enormous frame loomed closer, each step thudding against the ground. Its scaled body glistened under the crimson light, the heat of its breath steaming in the mist.
It lowered its head, tilting slightly, as if searching the darkness—its eyes gliding past the tree, peering down into the shadows.
To be continued.