Roric stood on the scorched training ground, looking sternly between the two exhausted fighters. Alaric and Elara had already retreated into the Keep, the glamour on the shattered door shimmering into immediate effect, concealing the carnage. Only the four of them remained, surrounded by the physical evidence of Aina and Lyle's match.
"Now," Roric began, his voice gravelly with disappointment, "we shall have a small word about discipline and sheer recklessness. Aina."
Aina, still favoring her slightly scorched foot, met his gaze without flinching. Her face was smudged with dust, but her defiance was clear.
"Sir?"
"You challenged a senior who is wounded and actively attempting to heal a serious fracture," Roric said, his focus piercing.
"Common decency demands that you do not press an advantage against an injured opponent. That is not how hunters operate."
"With respect, Hunter Roric, he is a Votary," Aina retorted, her tone sharp and purely logical.
"His Stage alone guarantees him access to reserves and a degree of Flow mastery that renders my Acolyte Stage advantage negligible, wounded or not. And as you saw," she gestured toward the damaged stone wall,
"He handled himself just fine. He didn't so much as break a sweat while successfully diverting the causal effect of every attack I launched at him. The injury was irrelevant to his performance, merely a small inconvenience."
Roric rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Arguing with Aina would be futile, and Lyle's didn't seem too bothered by what had happened. He let the matter drop with a frustrated shake of his head.
Elias, who had been watching the exchange intently, seized the opening
"Roric," Elias asked quietly, his voice carrying the weight of his newly acquired, unsettling knowledge.
"Have you really been away from the Keep all this time because foreign assassins—the ones Lyle mentioned, those former Knights—have infiltrated our land?"
The atmosphere, which had been tense with post-fight adrenaline, instantly curdled into heavy silence. Roric's eyes narrowed, and he glanced sharply at Lyle, who immediately averted his gaze, busying himself by examining the pristine condition of his fingernails.
"Its nothing to concern yourself with. Its all been sorted so don't worry about it. Soon I'll come and teach you the remaining skills for your Rite Of Passage so concentrate on your training ok?" Roric said patting Elias on the head.
Elias accepted the answer and let things be. Its not like this matter really concerned him. Plus he still didnt belive that it was S.K who was the one who had been killed.
'I'll sneak out and search for him.' Elias thought.
As Roric turned slightly, preparing to leave, Elias's eyes fell upon something small and distinct hanging from the Hunter's heavy leather belt. It was the Dream Catcher, the strange, faintly shimmering item S.K. had been activated in the forest and was still active as he couldn't use it.
"Um, Roric" Elias said, pointing hesitantly.
"What's that ?"
Roric looked down at his belt, touching the small, intricately woven Artifact. A shadow of weariness crossed his face.
"Ah, yes. This little thing. It seems the old man—the victim—had activated it moments before his death. I took it with me. I hoped it contained some final message or key to his attackers, so I took it to some of the local Artisans in Blackhaven this morning. They were able to confirm that it is indeed holding a powerful Array that enabled it to store dreams but it released them again in the form of a psychic assault and when they managed to isolate one of these 'Dreams' with a Containment Array they couldn't decipher what was in it."
Roric unclipped the Dream Catcher with a decisive click and extended it toward Elias.
"I have no further use for it now. " he noticed Elias' eyes on it and handed it over.
"Here, you have it."
Elias took the device, his fingers immediately tracing the cool, complex patterns of the weave.
"Right then," Roric said, turning his attention back to the present and surveying the scorched earth where the damage was slowly being covered by the glamour. He directed his gaze toward Lyle. "Now Lyle, who exactly is going to pay for the cost of repairing the Keep's wall and, more pressingly, the main door?"
Lyle's nonchalance finally fractured. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously with his good hand, his eyes darting away.
"Oh, er, about that, sir. I'm terribly low on Crown Solars at the moment. Perhaps we could send the bill to that girl? It was her idea after all."
"Don't be ridiculous," Aina scoffed, ignoring his attempt to evade financial responsibility. "The damage was caused by your Trait. If you had just let me hit you, none of this would have happened. Now take responsibility."
'What kind of Logic is that?' both Lyle and Elias thought.
As Lyle stood there, attempting to look pitiable but only managing to look shifty, Roric noticed something peculiar. He was looking at the back of Lyle's neck, the typical place where the unique identification mark of an Itinerant would appear.
Itinerants, the wandering people with pale skin and jet-black hair were instantly recognizable not just by their striking looks, but by the complex, unique rune symbol at the base of their neck, just beneath the hairline. It was a birthmark they were born with and no two runes were ever alike, and while the reason for these indelible marks was a matter of debate among the scholars of Aerthos—some claimed they were ancient curses, others said they were marks of forgotten royalty—they were the universal sign of an Itinerant by birth.
But Lyle's neck was clear. Perfectly pale and unblemished.
Aina, seemingly having the same thought, voiced the question with blunt curiosity.
"I have a question. You Itinerants have birthmarks at the backs of your necks right? When we fought i didn't see yours. Do you not have one?"
Lyle's composure completely collapsed. He looked genuinely embarrassed, even blushing faintly—a rare sight for the normally unflappable young man.
"That's… that's an embarrassing personal matter, Aina," Lyle stammered, rubbing the back of his neck with his uninjured hand and refusing to look anyone in the eye.
"The thing is, mine isn't on my neck. It's… well, it's at an embarrassing spot that I can't exactly show you all .You'll just have to take my word for it."
Elias, who had absorbed every piece of available lore on Itinerants, shook his head, puzzled.
"But I thought the texts were quite clear. The rune always appears at the back of one's neck. It is the identifying mark."
"Oh yeah. But mine's a unique case. Stop staring at my neck, everyone! It's making me nervous!"
Roric said nothing, his gaze unreadable as he watched Lyle's discomfort. His reaction while very convincing was a bit...strained. He filed the detail away.
"Very well, Lyle," Roric said, his voice clipped. "We'll take your word for it. Lets go."
Lyle, relieved, offered a hasty, slightly crooked bow. Aina gave a formal, stiff courtesy, but not before shooting Lyle a final, withering glare, a promise of continued hostility.
Elias raised the Dream Catcher in a small wave of goodbye.
The moment they walked through the gates and out of sight of the Keep's immediate view, Elias turned to Aina.
"I'm calling an early finish for today, Aina," he announced, his voice bubbling with poorly concealed excitement.
"I need to go and do some research on this Dream Catcher immediately. I have a feeling the city's artisans simply lacked the insight to know what they were looking for."
Aina paused, her irritation at Lyle immediately eclipsed by her friend's newfound intensity. She looked at the strange, woven device in his hand. "Very well." she said turning and walking away.
Elias quickly and made his way straight back to the Keep and up to his room. He locked the heavy oak door with a decisive thunk. He placed the Dream Catcher carefully on his desk and then lay down on his bed,the world seeming to disappear as he descended into his own personal reality, into his Spirit Domain.