In the study deep within the Marquis of Gleman's mansion in Lakeside Town, candlelight burned quietly on a copper lampstand, illuminating the northern topographical map hanging on the wall and several military intelligence briefings marked with coded text.
Paul Gleman sat behind his large oak desk, his knuckles lightly tapping the surface, his expression serene. Outside the window, the night was deep, and the wind swept through the courtyard, tinkling the iron bells on the eaves.
Intelligence chief Cecil Wayne stood ramrod straight in front of his desk, a file in his hand, his tone cautious and clear:
"My lord, we have made further progress regarding the mysterious spellcaster who has been active in the north recently."
Paul looked up. "Speak."
"As you already know, the first exact record occurred after the recapture of Storm's End."
Cecil turned to the first page of the file: "When Derrick Heller led his team toward Storm's End, they were stopped by a stranger. The man did not give his name, but only whispered a warning that there were orc prisoners plotting a riot in Storm's End and that an attack would soon take place!"
He paused, then raised his voice: "Derrick initially didn't believe it, but the man's tone was certain and the details were clear, so he quickened his pace and led his team back to Storm's End. General Harrison and others made emergency deployments, which thwarted the attempted riot."
"Derrick was absolutely certain at the time," Cecil said in a low voice, "that the man had used magic—they tried to catch up with him, but he was just walking normally, yet he moved away from the cavalry at an incredible speed."
Paul nodded slightly.
"Since then, the intelligence department of Lakeside Town has been focusing on this person. We have mobilized twelve agent teams to search along the Windbreak Fortress, the Nerodan Corridor, and the Watcher's Fortress."
"But this man's whereabouts are extremely elusive," he continued. "We came close to his trail three times—once near the ruins of Salt Valley Fortress, where an agent witnessed him talking to a caravan guide; once at Camel Bell Pass, where he left a parchment marking a safe route; and lastly, at the post station outside Shajing City, where he made a brief appearance and helped a sick traveler."
"Every time we arrived, he would quickly disappear without a trace."
"Based on eyewitness accounts," Cecil turned to the last page, his voice slightly grave, "this man was very young, no more than twenty years old, of medium build, dressed in a typical traveler's robe, and often wore a hood to cover his face. But on several occasions, the agent saw him lift his hood—black hair, black eyes, and a small mole behind his left ear."
He looked up and stared directly at Paul: "Sir... I must offer a conjecture."
Paul nodded slightly.
Cecil took a deep breath: "These characteristics closely match those of your brother, Nathan Gleman, who accompanied Lady Marianne back to Laketown and left with her a few days later."
The study fell silent.
Paul's finger froze in mid-air, his gaze slowly darkening.
Nathan... his brother.
Paul felt a little uncomfortable thinking about his brother who showed magical talent from a young age and was chosen by Marianne when she left Laketown. Perhaps it was jealousy of the fact that he had enjoyed his mother's love for more than ten years.
He actually came back?
They also quietly intervened in the battle, helping to avert a disaster that nearly befell Storm's End.
The candlelight flickered gently, illuminating the complex expression on Paul's face—shock, doubt, and a barely perceptible tremor.
But he didn't say anything, he just slowly leaned back in his chair.
To be honest, Nathan barely spoke a few words to his brother when he came back last time.
The sudden change in identity from enemy to blood relative can indeed be disorienting, but Paul could also sense it, including the spellcaster's... hostility towards ordinary people, since the other party had always stayed in the secret society that discriminated against mortals.
The candlelight cast flickering shadows on the wall, and the study was completely silent.
Paul slowly closed his eyes, his fingertips tracing a line across the table as if he were sorting through a distant and complex memory.
The secret arts society had always been a source of caution for him.
The organization hidden deep within Gabella interferes in the politics of various countries, controls intelligence networks, acts mysteriously, and uses unpredictable methods. In their view, the interests of spellcasters are paramount, and everyone else is merely a pawn on their chessboard—undoubtedly, this is the standard villain in Paul's eyes.
But this time... a completely different intuition arose in his heart.
Marianna's return, the rare tenderness between mother and son, the concern in her eyes for herself and Lakeheart, and her deep contemplation of the Aldor situation—all of this convinced him that she was no longer just a high-ranking member of the Arcane Order, but also his mother.
As for Nathan, his own brother, seeing how obedient he was in front of Mariana, how could he possibly be here to cause trouble?
He opened his eyes, his gaze calm yet sharp.
"The prisoners' confessions mentioned," he said slowly, "that Abar had contact with Gabella, or rather the Arcane Society. The news is not confirmed, but there are clues to follow."
He paused, his voice low: "Being inside the Secret Order, Mother and Nathan probably knew about this even before we did."
Cecil stood still, listening quietly.
Paul turned to him: "So, if that spellcaster really is Nathan, he shouldn't be an enemy."
"He stopped Derrick, warned of the riots, and saved our people. He traveled around the north but never showed up to ask for anything in return, nor did he contact any hostile forces. He had plenty of opportunities to cause trouble if he wanted to."
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked up at the northern night sky.
"Have your men keep an eye on things," he said calmly, his back to Cecil. "Continue tracking the spellcaster, but—don't hurt him."
"If his identity is confirmed as Nathan Gleman, all agents are only permitted to monitor him, not approach him, and certainly not to take action against him. Unless he is clearly engaged in sabotage or endangers the safety of Lakeside Town, all his actions will be considered neutral."
Cecil bowed slightly: "Yes, sir."
The intelligence chief had no objection to Paul's decision; after all, it was the bloodline of his former lord, old Grylls, and theoretically, someone he should protect.
Cecil gently closed the study door, his footsteps fading into the distance.
The candlelight flickered on the brass lampstand, illuminating Paul's solitary figure. The study returned to silence, but his heart was far from at peace.
Nathan has returned, but he refuses to show himself.
Not as his younger brother, not by knocking on the door of the Marquis's mansion, but like a shadow, he quietly appeared on the edge of the battlefield, delivered a warning, and then silently retreated into the darkness.
Paul's fingers tightened slightly. He did not doubt Nathan's goodwill—if he were truly hostile, why would he bother saving Storm's End?
Paul couldn't help but feel annoyed.
Since his father, old Grimes, passed away, the family has gradually grown cold. He has shouldered the heavy military and political responsibilities of Lakeheart, fighting against pirates, the Kent family, and orcs. Despite having a loyal Philip and a group of loyal subjects, he still feels lonely at times.
But one day, his mother and brother—two close relatives he thought he had lost long ago—appeared before him, how could he not be overjoyed!
Even though he has awakened his memories of his previous life, the family ties in this life are still very precious to him.
That's why he was a little angry with Nathan for his eccentric behavior.