Masks Beneath Shadows
"Where is the Lord of Ashdown Clan who has disappeared… Don't you wonder?"
The words were hardly out of my mouth when steel flashed in all directions. Several swords were pushed at me, their cold glow flashing like the fangs in a beast's mouth.
For a clan whose power was rumored to be small, the Ashdown men unsheathed their swords with unnerving quickness. Their intent to kill weighed as a smothering mist.
But the swords never came within inches of me.
Kevin shifted last, but his sword landed first. With calculated accuracy, his blade deflected every blow, sending steel flying like a shepherd keeping wolves at bay. The ring of metal echoed harsh through the room, but not an edge came near me.
"Didn't you apologize for the aggressive outburst sooner?" I asked, my voice etched with humor.
Before me, Casey—the branch manager—said nothing, eyes inscrutable.
I leaned forward slightly, voice steady but purposeful.
"I think that news about the Lord of Ashdown Clan is ample enough to equalize this trade, don't you agree?"
Casey's mouth curled into a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Young Master… you are far from being the boy I had been made to expect. I must set aside all expectations I used to have about you."
I shrugged, unmoved. "I don't know what notions you had of me, but yes… it would be best to put them aside."
"…How did you know?"
That one weighed heavy. The Ashdown Lord's disappearance was a secret hidden deep in the clan. Not even the Fakir Sect was aware of it. To the Martial World, the Ashdown Lord hardly existed at all—yet I had spoken his absence out loud.
Would they listen to me if I told them I knew due to the future? That would only get me a laugh… and additional swords.
"You ask odd questions," I said breezily. "Why take the trouble when you already know I won't respond?"
Casey's gaze hardened.
"So why take the trouble of coming to us for information, when the Fireheart clan has knowledge of that level themselves?"
"Branch manager," I returned suavely, "I didn't come here to exchange riddles and queries."
My words fell into silence. The only sound was the soft tap, tap, tap of my fingers on the table, as regular as a war drum before war.
"I possess something you want," I told him, voice firm but low. "And you, in turn, possess the ability to provide what I require. That should be sufficient."
Casey leaned their head to one side. "And how am I supposed to trust whatever you hold out in front of me is even true?"
"Something for you to determine. Why spend air inquiring what you need to test for yourself?"
The tappity-tapping ceased. The silence rolled back, dense and stretched.
Casey's mask slipped for a moment, eyes compressing, before they composed themselves.
"Don't think you can be picky, branch manager," I pushed on. "If you don't want to make use of what I have to offer, then just say so. I will go my way. perhaps stroll on over to the Fakir Sect."
I left the words suspended, then added, with a sort of nonchalance—
"Oh, and I might just by chance let fall a mention of Ashdown's… situation."
The discussion came to an end. The ball was no longer in my grasp. Whether it fell or was intercepted now depended on Ashdown. But in truth, there was only one way forward.
_____________________________________
"Why did you allow them to leave?"
After I—Davis Fireheart—left with Kevin, the Ashdown chamber was still charged with tension. Only Casey and a few guards remained.
Casey's lips twisted into a sour smile at a guard's inquiry.
"I made a wrong judgment on everything right from the start. My reliability was unreliable. I deviated from Ashdown's iron rules."
The rules were manifestly simple, ingrained in every kid from birth:
– If you know, pretend not to know.
– If you do not know, pretend to know.
Casey had lived according to those principles, even when death was at the door. They had served as anchor and compass. But before that boy from the Fireheart clan, the mask slipped.
The Ashdown clan had trembled, all because of him.
"…We shouldn't have released them," one of the guards grumbled.
"And what would you have done differently?" Casey asked sharply. "Captured them? Ripped secrets from their necks?
"If needed, yes—"
"Fool," Casey barked. "Do you believe the Fireheart clan is some common household?"
The room fell silent. The Firehearts were not merely another family from Emberhold City. They were Sentinels of Emberhold, protectors known throughout the Martial World.
Their aura was no coincidence. Right from the initial battles with the cult of Night Lotus, there had emerged the Fireheart clan, with blood and fire shed until their name became inseparable from protection. And unlike others, their power never waned. Century upon century, they pushed forward, defying fall. That is why they were unstoppable.
To attack them was to invite destruction. If Ashdown committed that error, the Martial Alliance itself would look on. Ancient enemies in hiding would spring out.
It would not be a branch fallen. It would be Ashdown whole.
"…Excuse me, branch manager," the guard replied formally.
Casey's tone softened, though it had a tired edge. "All of that is irrelevant now. What is relevant is that I made the mistake first. Luckily, the Young Master decided against replying to your impulsive sword use with blood."
What Casey did not voice out loud was this: the Fireheart escort.
To the naked eye, Kevin was just a blade-wielding bodyguard. But when he batted aside each and every sword coming at Davis Fireheart, his cultivation was revealed.
If the Ashdown guards had pushed one step further…
'He would have killed them all.'
Kevin hadn't hacked up the men themselves—just their blades. That held back display indicated that he had discerned their intention: intimidation, not murder. He had acted accordingly.
But the really chilling thing? Casey hadn't even seen Kevin move.
Which meant the man was no ordinary fighter. He was First-Rate… maybe even near the top of it.
To send such a man as an escort? That was no mistake. It was a sign that Davis Fireheart had expected the confrontation from the start.
'I can't unravel this web…' Casey growled.
Had the boy really come on business? How much did he know about Ashdown's lost Lord? Was it just him, or the whole Fireheart clan involved? Maybe even Loret Fireheart himself?
The questions knotted like vines, squeezing tighter around Casey's brain.
Casey reached up and pressed fingers to their chin.
Riiip—
The noise ripped through the silence. The skin sloughed off like dry parchment, exposing pale skin underneath.
Just as Davis Fireheart had guessed—it was a mask.
The face that lay behind it was not a grizzled branch leader, but a woman. She was cold and beautiful: eyes sharp as frost, lashes delicate as brushstrokes, skin white as untouched snow.
Gary, her personal guard, came closer. "Is it okay to take it off here?"
Casey—now that she was revealed in truth—blew gently. "I was choking under it. There is no one observing. It's okay."
Even her voice changed, no longer that of a man but of a woman's low measured voice.
".I still cannot comprehend," she conceded. "So few are aware of the Lord's vanishing. How did that boy discover it?"
The Ashdown Lord was never openly respected. To many in the clan, he was a competitor, not a leader. They would stab him in the back in a heartbeat if it served to elevate them higher.
That was the reason why he concealed himself in shadows.
His vanishing did not give others a right to occupy his seat, however. The Lordship was only transferable through the certificate in his possession.
Therefore, every rumor of his vanishing had led Ashdown astray in madness. Every individual who knew him yearned for him desperately, hungry to claim that certificate.
Casey had no idea what Davis Fireheart had learned—but ignorance was not what had driven him to her door.
She recalled his words, echoing like a bell: "You are not in a position to be picky."
Her mind grew leaden.
The lost Lord of Ashdown…
'…Father.'
The word hung acidly. And with it, the thought: the boy was correct. She had no room for choice.