Chapter 21: War's Shadow
Date: A few days before Cid's abduction
Lord Edvahn Ryser sat in his private study, his fingers idly tracing the rim of a half-filled goblet of wine. The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fireplace and the muffled sounds of his retainers moving through the halls. His eyes, sharp and calculating, were fixed on a map of the region spread across the heavy oak table before him. His gaze lingered on the Barony of Kagenou, a small but thriving domain under the stewardship of Baron Gaius Kagenou.
For years, Ryser had watched with growing frustration as Gaius' Barony outperformed his own lands. The fields seemed to yield more harvest, the people were better fed, and even in times of hardship, the Barony seemed to weather storms that would cripple others. "Stewardship," Ryser muttered, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. Gaius was praised for it endlessly—a careful, methodical ruler who brought prosperity to his people. Ryser's envy simmered just below the surface, his pride unable to stomach the comparison.
But this year, something had changed. Reports spoke of even greater harvests than before, of new tools and techniques appearing seemingly overnight. Ryser leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. Then there was the rumor he had heard at court—Gaius had adopted a boy into his family. An outsider, with no noble bloodline, taken in as if he were one of their own. The timing was suspicious. Could it be that this boy, whoever he was, was the source of the Barony's sudden advancements?
Ryser's hand tightened around the goblet as the thought settled in his mind. "The boy," he murmured, his tone laced with disdain. "He must be behind this." The idea that Gaius might have found some kind of prodigy—or worse, a secret weapon—gnawed at him. If the boy truly was the cause of Gaius' recent success, then Ryser had all the more reason to bring the Barony under his heel. He smirked faintly, his mind already plotting. Whatever secrets the Barony held, Ryser would make them his, and the boy's brilliance—if it existed—would serve his ambitions.
The grand hall of Velgarde Keep was dimly lit, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the stone walls. Lord Edvahn Ryser stood at the head of a large oak table; his sharp gaze fixed on the robed figure standing before him. The figure, cloaked in the symbol of the Church of Beatrix, spoke with a calm but unyielding voice. Ryser's suspicion was thinly veiled—he knew the Church envoy was not here solely for divine justice.
The envoy, a middle-aged man with sharp features and an unsettlingly smooth tone, bowed his head slightly. "Lord Ryser, I bring you greetings from Grand Inquisitor Petos. He regrets he cannot attend this meeting personally but has sent me in his stead to reaffirm the Church's unwavering support for your campaign."
Ryser crossed his arms, his lips curling into a faint sneer. "Support is all well and good, but I need more than assurances. Petos promised me tools—powerful tools to crush the Barony of Kagenou. Are you here to deliver on that promise, or are we wasting time?"
The envoy's smile was thin and calculated. "The Grand Inquisitor always honors his word. As we speak, the Church has provided you with two siege engines capable of bringing down even the strongest walls. One is already stationed with your forces, and the other has been secured at Velgarde Fortress, awaiting your command."
The envoy motioned to an attendant, who placed a sealed chest on the table. With a quiet click, the envoy opened it, revealing schematics and glowing mana crystals. "These engines are powered by concentrated mana. Their weapons can obliterate any fortification, no matter how well-built. All we ask in return is your cooperation in rooting out heresy in the Barony. Such corruption cannot be allowed to fester."
Ryser studied the contents of the chest, his eyes narrowing. The schematics were intricate, the mana crystals glowing faintly with an almost hypnotic light. He reached out, running a hand over the edge of one schematic, his voice low. "These are impressive. But heresy?" He snorted. "What heresy? Gaius is a fool, but he's no traitor to the Church."
The envoy's expression remained calm, but his voice took on a conspiratorial edge. "Appearances can be deceiving, Lord Ryser. The Barony has long been a haven for... unorthodox practices. We suspect there are those among Gaius' people who would defy the Church's divine order if given the chance."
Ryser's jaw tightened as he considered the envoy's words. He didn't trust the Church—least of all Petos—but their offer was too valuable to refuse. The siege engines alone gave him a weapon no other lord could match. If they would help him take Gaius' lands, he could deal with their meddling later.
"Fine," Ryser said, his voice firm. "The Church can play its part in this campaign. But understand this: the Barony will be mine. Its lands, its people, and its resources—none of it belongs to you."
The envoy inclined his head, his tone conciliatory. "Of course, Lord Ryser. The Church has no interest in worldly possessions. We seek only to cleanse the land of heresy and restore divine order. What you do with the Barony afterward is your concern."
As the meeting concluded, the envoy and his attendant departed, their footsteps echoing through the hall. Ryser remained at the table, his gaze fixed on the schematics before him. His mind churned with plans and possibilities. The siege engines were a game-changer, but the Church's motives gnawed at him.
"Heresy," he muttered to himself, his tone laced with disdain. "This isn't about religion. Petos and his lackeys are playing their own game." He clenched his fists, his jaw set in determination. "Let them think they're using me. When the Barony falls, I'll have everything I need to secure my position—and to sever my ties with them for good."
He gestured for his spymaster. Almost at once, the intelligence officer appeared before him, kneeling for his orders.
"Go to the fortress and divert attention from the second engine. Do not let anyone with the church know about the project. This must not fail." He ordered.
The Spymaster nodded. The project to reverse engineer the second siege weapon already underway.
Ryser smiled.
The lands were as good as his.
Outside the keep, the envoy climbed into a waiting carriage. One of the attendants turned to him, their voice hushed. "Do you think he suspects anything?"
The envoy's thin smile returned, his tone dripping with confidence. "Suspect? Perhaps. But Ryser is blinded by his own ambitions. He'll play his part perfectly, and when the time comes, the Cult will claim what we're owed."
The carriage rolled into the night, the envoy's words lingering like a shadow. Unbeknownst to Ryser, the true masters of this game were already positioning their pieces, and his role was far smaller than he imagined.
Date: Two weeks after Cid's Abduction
The air around the encampment was thick with tension as Lord Edvahn Ryser strode through the rows of soldiers and supply wagons. His crimson cloak billowed behind him, and his steel boots struck the ground with purpose. Ahead of him, surrounded by a team of engineers and guards, loomed the siege engine the Church had granted him—a weapon that promised to reshape the battlefield.
The machine was a behemoth, mounted on reinforced wheels and constructed of dark metal that gleamed faintly in the sunlight. Its design resembled a massive ballista, but instead of a traditional bolt, its centerpiece was a long, staff-like barrel tipped with an intricately crafted, oversized mana crystal. Smaller crystals were embedded along its frame, pulsing faintly in rhythm with the central core, which glowed with an almost hypnotic light.
Ryser approached, his eyes narrowing as he took in the intricate rune carvings etched into the metal. The faint hum of concentrated mana resonated in the air around the engine, sending a chill down the spines of the soldiers standing nearby.
"Magnificent," Ryser muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips.
One of the engineers, a wiry man with smudges of soot on his face, stepped forward and bowed low. "My lord, the siege engine is prepared for a test. The crystal is fully charged, and the target wall has been marked."
Ryser nodded, his gaze fixed on the weapon. "Proceed."
The soldiers and engineers scrambled into position as Ryser climbed a nearby observation platform. From this vantage point, he could see the old stone wall chosen as the target—a thick, weathered structure that had once served as part of an abandoned fortress. Its resilience would serve as a perfect measure of the siege engine's power.
The engineer barked commands, and the hum of the engine grew louder. The mana crystals embedded along its frame began to pulse more rapidly, their glow intensifying. The staff-like barrel tilted upward, its tip aimed directly at the distant wall.
Ryser leaned forward slightly, his smirk widening as anticipation coursed through him.
With a resounding crack, the siege engine fired.
A beam of concentrated mana erupted from the crystal, its brilliant light temporarily blinding everyone watching. The energy shot forward with unimaginable speed, connecting with the wall in a flash of searing white. The impact was immediate and devastating—the stone structure disintegrated in an explosion of dust and debris. The shockwave rippled through the ground, sending a gust of wind back toward the encampment.
When the light faded and the dust settled, the wall was gone. Not reduced to rubble or partially collapsed—gone, as though it had never existed. In its place was a scorched patch of earth and lingering wisps of smoke.
The soldiers stared in stunned silence, their faces a mix of awe and terror. The engineers exchanged triumphant glances, their expressions betraying a mixture of pride and unease.
Ryser, standing tall on the observation platform, let out a low laugh. "So, this is the power the Church has given me," he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "A weapon worthy of a conqueror."
Turning to the lead engineer, Ryser's smile faded into a sharp, commanding expression. "Ensure the engine is ready for immediate deployment. I want it at the forefront when we march on the Barony. Nothing must slow its advance."
The engineer bowed deeply. "Yes, my lord. We will make the necessary adjustments and maintain its mana reserves."
Ryser descended from the platform, his hands clasped behind his back as he strode toward the camp. His thoughts were a mix of triumph and ambition. With this weapon, the Barony's walls would crumble, and Gaius Kagenou's carefully built legacy would lie in ruins.
"Gaius," Ryser muttered under his breath, a cold smile returning to his face. "Your stewardship ends with me. And your so-called adopted son? Whatever tricks he's brought to your Barony won't save you from this."
He paused, glancing back at the weapon one last time. The siege engine pulsed faintly in the distance, its eerie glow a promise of the destruction to come.
Date: Two weeks after Cid's Abduction
Lord Edvahn Ryser stood in his field tent; the faint glow of the siege engine's mana crystals visible through the tent's flaps. His sharp features were lit with a mix of triumph and determination, the recent test of the weapon still fresh in his mind. The sheer destructive power of the engine had ignited a fire within him—a hunger for more.
Seated before him were his spymaster, a wiry man named Alred, and his chief engineer, Havel, a stout figure with an unkempt beard and grease-stained hands. Both men watched their lord with wary eyes, sensing the gravity of the moment.
Ryser leaned forward, his steely gaze piercing through the dim light. "The Church believes they've given me a gift—a tool to achieve their so-called divine justice. But I will not remain in their debt. These siege engines are the key to something far greater than their petty crusade."
Alred tilted his head, his expression cautious. "You intend to use the second engine, my lord? It's secure at Velgarde, under the watchful eye of their envoys."
Ryser's smirk widened, his tone cold and calculated. "Not for long. Those envoys are a liability. I won't have the Church monitoring my every move."
He turned to Havel, his voice commanding. "Havel, take a team of your most trusted engineers to Velgarde. Begin the process of dismantling the engine. Study it, learn its secrets, and find a way to replicate it. I don't want just one of these weapons—I want a fleet of them."
Havel's eyes widened; his voice tinged with unease. "My lord, the engine is... complex. The mana cores alone require precision beyond what we've ever worked with. Without the Church's resources—"
Ryser's hand slammed onto the table, cutting him off. "You will make it work. Whatever resources you need, you will have them. If this weapon can be built once, it can be built again. I will not be beholden to anyone—not the Church, not the Barony, and certainly not their false piety."
Turning to Alred, Ryser's tone grew colder. "As for the envoys... ensure they are no longer an issue. Quietly. No witnesses, no survivors. The Church will believe they were caught in an unfortunate accident."
Alred's lips curled into a thin smile, his dark eyes glinting with understanding. "Consider it done, my lord. Their eyes will no longer trouble you."
Ryser straightened, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared at the map of the region pinned to the wall. His mind churned with visions of conquest. With the siege engines under his control, no fortress, no army, no rival lord would be able to stand against him. The Barony of Kagenou was only the beginning. From there, his reach would extend far beyond the region.
"The Church thinks they've granted me a tool for their crusade," Ryser murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "But they've handed me the keys to domination."
He turned back to Alred and Havel, his voice laced with ambition. "I want reports from Velgarde within a week. The Barony will fall soon, and when it does, I expect to have full control over the second engine—and the knowledge to build more."
Havel and Alred bowed, their expressions a mix of respect and unease. "As you command, my lord," they said in unison before departing to carry out his orders.
As the tent grew silent, Ryser allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The Church had underestimated him, believing him to be a pawn in their game. But Ryser had no intention of playing by their rules. With the power of the siege engines and the knowledge to create more, he would rise above them all.
His gaze shifted to the glowing siege engine outside, its eerie light casting long shadows across the camp. "Soon," he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips. "The world will kneel to Edvahn Ryser—not to the Church, not to Gaius, but to me."
Date: Three Weeks after Cid's Abduction
The fortress of Velgarde loomed tall against the rocky cliffs, its thick stone walls and high towers a testament to its strategic importance. Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Ryser's engineers, led by Havel, arrived under the cover of night, their wagons laden with tools, blank parchments, and supplies for their mission. Accompanying them was Alred, Ryser's spymaster, his presence a quiet reminder of their lord's expectations.
As the gates closed behind them, Havel surveyed the courtyard, his gaze lingering on the massive siege engine at the center. The weapon was a daunting sight: its long, staff-like barrel tipped with a pulsing mana crystal, surrounded by smaller crystals embedded in its frame. Engineers assigned by the Church moved around it methodically, their movements precise and practiced.
Alred approached Havel, his voice low but sharp. "Ryser's orders are clear. Study the engine, learn its secrets, and make sure the Church's envoys don't interfere."
Havel nodded; his expression grim. "This machine... it's beyond anything I've ever seen. But we'll figure it out. We have to."
Unseen in the shadows, a figure watched the newcomers with a cold, calculating gaze. Perched in the rafters of one of the fortress towers, she remained perfectly still, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. This was one of the First Children—a creation of the Cult of Diabolos, engineered for intelligence, martial prowess, and unwavering loyalty. Her presence was unknown to everyone in the fortress, including the Church envoys she was ostensibly there to observe.
Her orders were simple: watch Ryser's engineers, learn what they uncover about the siege engine, and retrieve the knowledge for the Cult. Once her mission was complete, the fortress and everyone in it would be eliminated to ensure no trace of the information remained.
Her gaze flicked to Havel and his team as they began their work, setting up equipment and poring over the siege engine's exterior. She noted their expressions—equal parts awe and unease—as they carefully examined the pulsing mana crystals.
"Fools," she thought, her mind a sharp blade of disdain. "They think they can comprehend what they've been handed. They're playing with power far beyond their grasp."
Havel's team worked tirelessly through the night, taking measurements, sketching diagrams, and jotting down notes. The mana crystal at the engine's core fascinated and terrified them in equal measure. It pulsed faintly, radiating a hum that seemed to resonate deep within their bones.
"The runes here," one of the engineers muttered, tracing a finger along the intricate carvings on the engine's frame. "They're not just decorative. They're part of the stabilization system. Without them, the crystal would destabilize and... well, you can guess the rest."
Havel nodded; his brow furrowed. "And the smaller crystals? Are they amplifying the core's energy or focusing it?"
Another engineer, a bespectacled woman with a keen eye for detail, shook her head. "It's hard to say. They could be doing both. We'll need more time to study the alignment."
From her vantage point, the First Child listened intently, her sharp ears catching every word. She noted their observations, filing them away in her mind. The engineers were making progress, but they were still far from unlocking the engine's full potential.
Alred, meanwhile, moved among the engineers like a hawk, his sharp gaze sweeping the courtyard. He approached Havel, his voice low. "We can't afford any delays. Ryser expects results, and he won't be patient if we fail."
Havel scowled but nodded. "We're doing everything we can. This isn't a simple ballista—it's like nothing we've ever worked on before."
Alred's expression darkened. "Then work faster. The longer we stay here, the more likely it is the Church or someone else will notice what we're doing."
As the night wore on, the First Child remained motionless, her mind racing with calculations. She had already gathered enough information to complete her mission, but her orders were clear: wait until the engineers uncovered everything they could, then strike.
Her gaze lingered on Havel, the leader of the operation. "He's the key," she thought. "Remove him, and their progress slows. But not yet. Let them dig deeper first."
For now, she remained still, her shadowy presence a silent threat hanging over the fortress. The engineers continued their work, oblivious to the predator watching from the darkness, while Alred's cautious vigilance provided only the illusion of safety.
The siege engine stood at the center of the fortress, its eerie glow a constant reminder of the power it held—and the danger it posed. Ryser's engineers worked feverishly to unlock its secrets, their efforts watched by both their spymaster and an unseen enemy.
The First Child bided her time, knowing that when the moment came, her actions would determine the fate of Velgarde—and the knowledge it guarded.
The days stretched into nights as Havel and his team poured their every effort into understanding the siege engine. The courtyard of Velgarde echoed with the sounds of scribbling quills, murmured discussions, and the occasional hum of mana crystals as they cautiously tested their theories. Havel, hunched over a makeshift desk near the engine, meticulously documented their findings in a thick, leather-bound book.
The book had become his most precious possession—a compendium of sketches, notes, and calculations detailing the inner workings of the machine. Every page was filled with detailed diagrams of the mana crystals, rune patterns, and the intricate mechanisms that powered the weapon.
"The primary crystal stabilizes the beam," Havel muttered to himself as he sketched. "But it's these smaller crystals... They act as focus points, channeling the energy into a cohesive stream."
He dipped his quill into ink, writing quickly but with precision. "Stabilization is critical. Without the runes, the crystal destabilizes within seconds, leading to catastrophic feedback. Possible method for sabotage?" He paused, tapping the quill against his chin before jotting down the thought.
Around him, his team worked tirelessly, measuring components, testing materials, and debating theories. The siege engine's mysteries were slowly unraveling, and Havel's book became the repository for everything they learned.
While the engineers delved deeper into the engine's secrets, Alred was busy with his own task. The Church's envoys, though outwardly cooperative, had remained a constant presence in the fortress. Their watchful eyes and subtle inquiries had begun to irritate Ryser's spymaster. He had his orders, and they were clear.
Under the cover of night, Alred moved silently through the fortress. His dagger, a simple but efficient tool, was sheathed at his side. He found the first envoy in their quarters, hunched over a desk, scribbling notes of their own. Without hesitation, Alred struck. The blade slid between the envoy's ribs, silencing him before he could make a sound.
The second envoy was more alert, but not enough. Alred caught her as she exited the storage area, his blade finding its mark with practiced precision. Within minutes, the envoys were gone, their bodies hidden in an unused storeroom deep within the fortress.
Returning to the engineers, Alred wiped his blade clean and approached Havel. "The envoys are no longer an issue," he said quietly. "You can work without their interference now."
Havel glanced at him, his expression a mix of relief and unease. "Did they... suspect anything?"
Alred smirked faintly. "If they did, it doesn't matter now."
From her perch in the shadows, the First Child watched everything unfold. Her sharp eyes followed Alred as he eliminated the envoys, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "Efficient," she thought, her mind racing with calculations. "But predictable. Ryser's ambition blinds him. He has no idea what he's playing with."
Her gaze shifted to Havel, who was now carefully storing his book in a locked chest. The book was the key. Every insight, every discovery, every vulnerability of the siege engine was contained within those pages. The First Child's orders were clear: retrieve the knowledge and eliminate all witnesses. But not yet.
"Let them uncover more," she thought, her fingers brushing the hilt of her blade. "When the time comes, they'll serve as fuel for the Cult's ambitions."
As the engineers continued their work, Havel grew increasingly protective of his book. He carried it with him everywhere, only placing it in the locked chest when he slept. His paranoia wasn't unwarranted—he knew the weight of the knowledge he was uncovering and the consequences of it falling into the wrong hands.
Alred, meanwhile, doubled the guards around the engine, ensuring no one could approach without his knowledge. The fortress seemed secure, but the unseen predator watching from the shadows knew better.
The night stretched on; Havel's team made a significant breakthrough. One of the junior engineers approached him, holding a fragment of a disassembled component. "Sir, look at this. The smaller crystals aren't amplifiers—they're regulators. Without them, the mana flow becomes unstable."
Havel's eyes lit up as he examined the fragment. "Regulators... of course! That explains the pulsing pattern. The central core's output is too volatile to function alone. The regulators are what allow it to sustain a continuous beam without burning out."
He quickly jotted the discovery into his book, his hand moving with renewed urgency. Every piece of information brought them closer to understanding the engine's secrets—and, potentially, to replicating it.
Date: Unknown, estimated two weeks after Cid's escape.
The air in Velgarde was heavy with tension as Havel and his team worked late into the night. The courtyard was quiet except for the faint hum of the siege engine and the occasional murmured conversation among the engineers. Havel's book sat on the table beside him, its pages now filled with detailed diagrams, observations, and calculations.
"We're close," Havel muttered, his quill scratching across the paper. "If we can stabilize the secondary alignment crystals, we'll have a working prototype."
His team nodded; their exhaustion evident but their determination unwavering. They were on the brink of a breakthrough—one that would place them in Ryser's favor and change the course of the war.
Unseen above them, the First Child watched, her piercing gaze fixed on the book. Her orders from the Cult were clear: retrieve the knowledge, eliminate all witnesses, and leave no trace.
The First Child moved with precision and silence, her dark form slipping through the shadows of the fortress. She approached the engineers' workspace, her sharp eyes scanning the area for any signs of guards. Alred's increased security measures were no match for her skill; the guards stationed nearby were dispatched quickly and quietly, their bodies hidden in the shadows.
Havel didn't hear her approach until it was too late. One by one, his team fell, their deaths swift and efficient. By the time he realized what was happening, the First Child was already standing before him, her blade glinting in the dim light.
"Who—" Havel began, his voice shaking, but she cut him off with a cold, calculated strike. He fell to the ground, his hand reaching weakly toward the book as his vision darkened.
With the engineers eliminated, the First Child turned her attention to the book. She picked it up, flipping through its pages with an approving nod. "Everything," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "The Cult will find this... useful."
From a pouch at her side, she retrieved a small, intricate artifact—a dark, metallic sphere inscribed with glowing runes. This was the Matter Eater, a device designed by the Cult for one purpose: to eliminate all evidence within a preset range. She activated the artifact, setting it on the ground near the siege engine.
The runes on the Matter Eater flared to life, emitting a faint hum. A translucent field expanded outward, encompassing the siege engine, the engineers' tools, and even the traces of blood on the ground. As the field reached its apex, everything within it began to dissolve into nothingness, leaving only empty space where once there had been chaos.
The First Child watched impassively as the artifact consumed its surroundings. When the process was complete, she deactivated the device and returned it to her pouch. "Efficient," she remarked, her tone devoid of emotion.
The fortress was eerily quiet as the First Child made her escape; the book secured under her cloak. The courtyard, once bustling with activity, now bore no sign of the siege engine or the engineers who had worked tirelessly to replicate it. Only a hollow silence remained, punctuated by the faint crackle of distant torches.
The First Child moved silently through the dense forest, her steps light and precise. The stolen book, now secured in a mana-sealed box strapped to her back, was a weight she barely noticed. Her focus was absolute, her senses attuned to every rustle of leaves and crack of twigs.
Ahead, the sound of rushing water grew louder. She emerged from the tree line onto the banks of a wide, fast-moving river. A wooden bridge spanned the water, weathered but sturdy. She paused, her sharp eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger.
Her orders were clear: return the book to the Cult's safehouse. But the subtle feeling of being followed had gnawed at her for miles. She couldn't take risks, not with something this important. Removing the box from her back, she knelt beside the riverbank and began to activate its mana-seal—a precaution to ensure the book remained safe even if separated from her.
As she worked, the faint twang of a bowstring broke the silence. Instinct took over, and she darted to the side just as an arrow buried itself into the ground where she'd been kneeling. The First Child's head snapped toward the tree line, her sharp eyes catching the glint of steel among the shadows.
"So," she muttered, her voice calm despite the situation. "They've come to collect what isn't theirs."
From the trees, Alred stepped forward, his dark cloak blending with the shadows. Behind him, a group of soldiers fanned out, their weapons drawn and their movements precise. Alred's voice carried across the water. "You're fast, I'll give you that. But you've made a mistake coming this far alone."
The First Child rose slowly, her hands resting on the hilt of her blade. "A mistake?" she replied, her tone cold and unflinching. "You should have brought more men."
The fight erupted with sudden ferocity. The First Child moved like a shadow, her blade a blur as she struck down the first soldier who charged her. Alred's team was skilled, but she was faster, her movements precise and deadly. Each swing of her blade seemed effortless, each step calculated to evade strikes and position herself for lethal counterattacks.
Alred hung back, his sharp eyes assessing her movements. "She's not just any assassin," he muttered to himself. "Something's not right."
One of his archers took aim, waiting for an opening. As the First Child dispatched another soldier, the archer loosed an arrow. She twisted just in time to avoid a fatal strike, but the arrow grazed her side, drawing blood. Her reaction was immediate—a sharp glare in the archer's direction, followed by a swift throw of a dagger that struck true.
Amid the chaos, another archer, perched on a tree branch, aimed not at her, but at the mana-sealed box. The arrow flew true, striking the box with a sharp crack. The impact jarred the box from its resting place on the riverbank. Before the First Child could react, it tumbled into the rushing water, the current quickly pulling it downstream.
Her sharp eyes followed the box for a brief moment before snapping back to Alred. Her calm, calculated demeanor cracked for the first time, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. "You shouldn't have done that," she said coldly, her tone carrying an edge of menace.
Alred smirked faintly, his voice laced with mock defiance. "We'll see if you're still so confident without your prize."
The First Child surged forward, her blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. She moved like a force of nature, cutting down two more soldiers as they tried to block her path. Alred stepped in, his own blade meeting hers with a clash of steel.
The two exchanged blows, their movements a deadly dance. Alred's strikes were calculated, but her speed and agility gave her the upper hand. She drove him back, her strikes growing more relentless.
"You've overstepped," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "And now you'll pay for it."
As the battle raged, the mana-sealed box disappeared into the river's swift current, its glow fading into the distance. Alred, battered and bloodied, managed to break away from the First Child, signaling for his remaining men to retreat. The fight had cost them dearly, but the loss of the book was a blow to her mission—and a potential opening for Ryser's enemies.
The First Child stood on the riverbank, her chest heaving as she watched the last of the soldiers vanish into the woods. Her hand clenched around her blade, her mind racing. The Cult would not be pleased, but the book wasn't truly lost—only delayed. She would retrieve it, one way or another.
Now. To find that book.
~A Few Weeks ago, concurrent with Cid's abduction and escape~
The sound of marching boots and the creak of wagon wheels filled the air as Lord Edvahn Ryser's forces began their march. His army, a disciplined and well-equipped host, stretched across the rolling plains like a river of steel. At the head of the column, Ryser rode atop a powerful black warhorse, his crimson cloak billowing in the wind. Behind him, banners bearing his sigil—a wolf encircled by iron chains—fluttered against the gray sky.
Ryser's expression was one of grim determination. This was the culmination of months of planning, alliances, and ruthless ambition. His forces were bolstered not only by his loyal soldiers but by mercenaries lured by the promise of coin and glory. Supply wagons laden with weapons, provisions, and siege equipment rumbled in the rear, and at the center of it all was his prized weapon: the siege engine gifted by the Church.
The massive contraption, mounted on reinforced wheels and shrouded with heavy canvas, loomed ominously among the ranks. Even concealed, its faint hum could be heard, a subtle reminder of the power it contained. Ryser's smirk deepened as he glanced back at it, his voice a low murmur. "Soon, Gaius. Your walls will fall, and your Barony will be mine."
In the Barony of Kagenou, chaos reigned as word of Ryser's march arrived. An informant, bloodied and breathless, staggered into the courtyard, clutching a hastily scrawled missive. The guards ushered him inside, where Baron Gaius and his advisors waited in the war room.
The informant fell to his knees, his voice hoarse. "Lord Kagenou... Ryser is on the move. His army marches toward us."
Gaius' jaw tightened, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took the missive. His wife, Elaina, stood at his side, her expression calm but tense. "How long do we have?" she asked, her voice steady.
The informant shook his head. "A week, maybe less. They are moving quickly, my lady. Their numbers... they're overwhelming."
Gaius scanned the missive, his brow furrowing. "They're bringing siege equipment," He muttered, his tone grim. "Likely trebuchets or ballistae. But if we can hold the walls, we'll have a chance."
Elaina placed a hand on his arm, her voice quiet but firm. "We need to prepare for every possibility. Our defenses must be ready for anything."
his office buzzed with activity as Gaius issued his orders. "Reinforce the outer walls. Double the patrols and prepare the militia. I want every archer, every spear ready to defend this Barony."
Corlen, the grizzled veteran advisor, nodded sharply. "And the towns? Do we evacuate them, my lord?"
Gaius hesitated before shaking his head. "Not yet. If Ryser's forces breach the outer defenses, we'll pull them back into the fortress. Until then, we hold our ground."
Elaina stepped forward, her keen eyes scanning the map of the region. "We should send word to neighboring lords. Even if they do not send troops, they need to know what's coming. If Ryser succeeds here, they'll be next."
Gaius nodded, his expression hard. "Do it. And make sure our spies are watching his movements. I want to know exactly where that siege equipment is deployed."
In the back of Gaius' mind, a question lingered: what kind of siege equipment was Ryser bringing? Trebuchets were powerful but slow to move and fire. Ballistae, while quicker, lacked the sheer destructive force needed to breach a fortress like the one under his command.
"It doesn't matter," Gaius muttered under his breath, his hands tightening into fists. "Whatever it is, we'll stop it."
But as preparations continued, neither he nor his advisors could imagine the true nature of the weapon marching toward them—a siege engine unlike anything their world had seen, capable of reducing their walls to rubble in an instant.
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the rolling hills as Lord Edvahn Ryser's army crested the ridge overlooking the massive fortress. The stronghold was a testament to the King's favor toward the Kagenou family—a sprawling complex of high walls, thick gates, and multiple watchtowers. Its banners, bearing the Kagenou sigil, fluttered defiantly in the breeze.
Ryser halted his forces on the ridge, his gaze fixed on the fortress. He took in its defenses with a cold, calculating eye. From his vantage point, the walls seemed impenetrable, a challenge worthy of his ambitions.
One of his lieutenants, a stout man named Varlen, rode up beside him. "That's a hell of a fortress, my lord," he said, his tone a mix of awe and apprehension. "Gaius built his defenses around this, we'll have a hard time pushing through."
Ryser smirked, his confidence unshaken. "Let him think his walls will save him. By the time we're finished, he'll wish he'd surrendered outright."
Inside the fortress, Commander Roek leaned over the battlements, his keen eyes fixed on the army gathering in the distance. He was a veteran of countless skirmishes, his face weathered by years of service. Behind him, his officers waited, their expressions tense.
"Ryser's finally made his move," Roek said, his voice steady but grim. "He brought a sizeable force, but our walls have held against worse."
One of the officers nodded. "Shall we send word to Gaius, sir?"
Roek shook his head. "Not yet. Let's see what he wants first. If he's smart, he'll negotiate. If not..." He let the thought hang in the air, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
A white flag was raised on both sides as Ryser rode forward with a small contingent of his officers. From the fortress, Roek descended the walls to meet him, his own men flanking him. The two parties met on the open ground between the fortress and the army, their horses stamping impatiently as the tension crackled in the air.
Ryser inclined his head slightly, his voice carrying an air of false civility. "Commander Roek, I assume? It's a pleasure to finally meet the man defending this impressive fortress."
Roek's expression remained neutral, though his eyes narrowed slightly. "Lord Ryser. I'd say the pleasure is mine, but we both know that isn't true. What brings you to my gates with such a... large entourage?"
Ryser smirked faintly, his tone smooth but laced with menace. "I've come to offer you a choice, Commander. Surrender the fortress, and I guarantee the safety of your men. Refuse, and... well, let's not dwell on unpleasant possibilities."
Roek crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. "This fortress was granted to Baron Gaius by the King himself. It is my duty—and my honor—to defend it. If you think we'll roll over for you, you're sorely mistaken."
Ryser's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. "A noble sentiment, Commander. But sentiment won't protect you from what's coming."
As the parley ended, Ryser returned to his army, his smirk returning as he climbed atop his horse. He turned to his officers. "Prepare the siege engine. Let's show them what happens when they defy me."
The canvas covering the siege engine was pulled away, revealing its towering frame and glowing mana crystals. Soldiers and engineers worked quickly, aligning the weapon and charging the core. The faint hum of the engine grew louder, its pulsing light casting eerie shadows across the gathered forces.
From the battlements, Roek and his men watched the activity with growing unease. "What in the King's name is that?" One of the officers asked, perplexed.
Roek's jaw tightened, his instincts screaming that something was terribly wrong. "Whatever it is," he said, his voice low, "it's not good."
The engine fired.
A beam of concentrated mana erupted from the weapon, its brilliant light searing through the air. The sound was deafening—a crackling roar that shook the ground beneath their feet. The beam struck the fortress wall, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.
Then the wall exploded.
The stone crumbled as if struck by the wrath of the gods, massive chunks raining down on the soldiers below. The shockwave rippled outward, sending men and debris flying. The once-imposing wall was reduced to fine rubble, leaving a gaping hole in the fortress's defenses.
The battlefield fell silent, the stunned defenders and invading attackers alike frozen as they stared at the devastation. Ryser's smirk widened, his voice carrying over the stunned ranks.
"Advance. Show them what happens to those who stand in my way."
Emboldened, his forces surged forward, and Roek scrambled to rally his men, his voice hoarse with urgency. "Hold the line! Regroup at the inner gate!"
He turned to his second, gaze bordering with panic and madness. "Go! Send word to the Lord! We'll buy you as much time as we can!"
But in his heart, he knew the truth: the fortress had fallen in a single blow. Whatever weapon Ryser wielded, it was beyond anything they had prepared for.
Baron Gaius Kagenou sat at his desk in the war room of his estate, the usually tidy space now cluttered with maps, reports, and hastily scrawled missives. The air was thick with tension, the weight of impending conflict pressing down on everyone in the room. Across from him, Elaina Kagenou stood with her arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on the courier who had just delivered the message.
The young soldier was pale, his breathing labored from the frantic ride. He held his helmet tightly in his hands, his voice trembling as he repeated the report. "The fortress... it's gone, my lord. Ryser's weapon—it destroyed the outer wall in a single strike. The garrison had no chance."
Gaius' hand, resting on the edge of his desk, curled into a fist. His dark eyes were locked on the soldier, disbelief and fury flickering across his face. "What kind of weapon could do this?" he demanded, his voice low but seething. "Are you certain it wasn't some exaggeration? A trebuchet couldn't—"
The courier shook his head, his voice firm despite his fear. "It wasn't a trebuchet, my lord. It was... something else. A beam of light—pure mana, they said—fired from a massive machine. The wall didn't crumble; it disintegrated."
Silence filled the room, the implications of the soldier's words settling heavily. Elaina's lips pressed into a thin line, her mind racing. She placed a steadying hand on Gaius' shoulder. "If this weapon is as powerful as they say, it's unlike anything we've faced before."
Gaius exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening on the desk's edge. "An entire fortress wall... gone in a single strike." he stood abruptly, pacing to the map pinned to the wall. His sharp gaze traced the path from the ruined fortress to the Barony. "He'll be here within days. We cannot rely on our walls alone. Not against something like that."
Turning to his veteran advisor, Corlen, Gaius' tone was firm. "We need answers. If Ryser has a weapon of this magnitude, there must be a way to destroy it. Send word to our spies—every agent we have still in the field. Their priority is the weapon. Where it came from, how it works, and most importantly, how to disable it."
Corlen nodded sharply, his grizzled features set in determination. "I'll get the word out immediately, my lord. But if this thing's powered by mana... we may need someone who understands its workings better than we do."
Elaina spoke up, her tone calm but resolute. "Then reach out to the mages in Lys Anorel. They may not fight for us, but their knowledge could be invaluable."
Gaius glanced at her, his expression softening for a moment before nodding. "Do it. Whatever resources we need, call them in. We can't face this weapon blindly."
Gaius turned back to the map, his hands gripping the edges of the table as he studied the region.
"We need to slow Ryser's advance. Delay his forces long enough for our spies to gather intelligence." he traced his finger along the routes leading to the Barony. "Corlen, set up ambushes here and here. Use the terrain to our advantage—force him to spread his forces thin."
Corlen nodded. "Understood, my lord. We'll give them hell every step of the way."
Gaius straightened, his expression hardening. "This isn't just about the Barony anymore. If Ryser isn't stopped, he'll use this weapon to take everything in his path. We'll do whatever it takes to destroy it."
As the room emptied, Gaius remained at the map, his thoughts a whirlwind of strategy and doubt. The fortress's fall had shaken him, but it had also ignited a fierce resolve. Ryser's weapon was powerful, but Gaius would not let it define the outcome of this war.
Elaina approached him, her voice soft. "We'll find a way, Gaius. We always do."
He glanced at her, a faint, grim smile crossing his face. "We have to. For the Barony—and for everyone else Ryser thinks he can crush."
The spies moved through the shadows; their mission clear but perilous. Disguised as merchants, travelers, and even deserters, they infiltrated camps and villages near Ryser's territory, searching for any fragment of information about the weapon that had obliterated the fortress. The danger was ever-present; Ryser's forces were on high alert, and the cult's hidden presence loomed like a dark specter.
After days of meticulous observation and risky questioning, a breakthrough came from a loose-tongued engineer bragging in a tavern. One of the spies, a wiry man named Lareth, overheard the details while posing as a trader.
"That beam," The engineer had said, his voice slurred from drink, talking to who he believed was a fellow engineer. "it's the real deal. But the damn thing takes a month to charge to full power. A week if you'ree only looking for a quick shot to fry some poor sods." The drunk hiccupped. "But even then, you'd better not push it too ha-rd, or the crystals will go un…uns…stable. Every ti-me it fires within the week; the full charge gets delayed furth…" The engineer slurred off, a drunken haze lulling him to sleep.
Lareth grinned, this was crucial!
While he was entertaining the drunk, one of his team found the engineer's satchel and found some scraps of information on the weapon, along with a hastily drawn diagram of the weapon from the side with notes and scribbles. It seemed to be part of a study of the weapon while it was cooling down.
Determined to get this information to their lord as soon as possible, the spies returned to the Barony under cover of darkness, weary but alive. Lareth himself delivered the report in Gaius' war room, his voice steady despite the weight of his findings.
"My lord," Lareth began, laying out a hastily drawn diagram of the weapon's core.
"The siege engine has a critical limitation. It can only fire at full capacity once a month. After that, it takes at least a week to recharge for stability. However, it can fire during that week at reduced power."
"Some of our engineers think the reduced power is enough to pierce wood, barricades, and lighter armors. But they estimate at heavy plate... it struggles."
Gaius leaned over the map; his expression grim as he studied the notes. Elaina, standing beside him, crossed her arms, her sharp gaze flicking between the spy's words and the diagram.
"A weapon of such power," Gaius murmured, his voice low. "And yet it has limitations. That's something we can use."
Elaina nodded. "If we can outlast its full-power cycle and force it into skirmishes, we may have a chance to blunt its effectiveness."
Despite the newfound information, Gaius knew that his position remained precarious. The Barony's defenses were stretched thin, and Ryser's forces were advancing. To secure the future, he needed allies.
A scout was dispatched to the King's court with an urgent message, pleading for reinforcements. But as days passed with no response, another report arrived—his allies, once pledged to support him, had suddenly declared neutrality in the conflict.
In his study, Gaius read the missives with a cold fury. The betrayal was subtle yet devastating, their excuses couched in diplomatic language that only heightened his anger.
"Neutrality," he said low, his voice a dangerous growl. "They think they can watch from the sidelines while Ryser takes what he wants. They forget that if I fall, they'll be next."
Elaina, standing nearby, placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "We can't afford to dwell on their treachery, Gaius. Focus on the battle ahead. Let their betrayal fester until the time is right to remind them of their folly."
Gaius nodded slowly, his expression hardening. "I won't forget this slight. But first, we deal with Ryser."
The spies' report gave Gaius a sliver of hope. While the siege engine was a fearsome weapon, its limitations presented an opportunity. Orders were issued to prepare for prolonged skirmishes, with the hope of forcing Ryser to exhaust the weapon's reduced-power capabilities before it could charge to full strength again.
At the same time, contingency plans were drawn. Scouts mapped possible ambush sites, engineers strengthened the inner defenses, and every available soldier was drilled relentlessly.
But in his heart, Gaius knew the Barony was fighting an uphill battle. The betrayal of his allies and the looming threat of the siege engine were weights on his shoulders, but he refused to falter.
"If Ryser wants to test our walls," He said to his assembled advisors, his gaze fierce.
"Then we'll make him pay for every inch."
~The Present~
The First Child moved swiftly downstream, her every step deliberate and precise. The flicker of mana she had detected grew stronger with each passing moment, the signal leading her closer to the book. Her senses were on high alert, every rustle of leaves and crackle of branches putting her on edge.
She paused at the riverbank, the device on her wrist pulsing faintly. Her sharp eyes scanned the area, locking onto a cluster of rocks partially submerged in the rushing water. A faint glow emanated from beneath them—a sign that the mana-sealed book was nearby.
Her lips curved into a faint smirk as she stepped toward the water. "Finally," she muttered, reaching for the rocks.
A soft voice cut through the air, stopping her hand mid-motion. "You seem awfully intent on finding something there."
The First Child whirled around, her hand instantly moving to the hilt of her blade. Two cloaked figures stood on the riverbank: their faces obscured by their hoods. One wore a cloak of deep green, their slender frame suggesting an agile build. The other, clad in dark gray, had a broader stance, a longsword resting casually on their shoulder.
The figure in green spoke again, their voice light but edged with curiosity. "Looking for something important? Or maybe something you shouldn't have?"
The First Child's eyes narrowed; her voice icy. "Who are you? Speak quickly, or I'll assume you're my enemy."
The figure in gray chuckled softly, their tone calm but firm. "Enemy? That's awfully presumptuous for someone standing on a riverbank alone. Maybe we're just friendly neighborhood travelers looking for a campsite?"
The First Child straightened, her posture defensive but composed. "I don't have time for games. Whatever your purpose is here, leave. This doesn't concern you."
The green-cloaked figure tilted their head, their posture relaxed but their voice sharp. "See, that's where you're wrong. Whatever it is you're looking for, it might just concern us more than you think."
The First Child's hand tightened on her blade. "Then you've chosen your fate."
The First Child moved first, her blade flashing as she closed the distance between herself and the green-cloaked figure. Her strikes were fast and precise, aimed to disable and kill, but her opponent's agility matched her speed. They twisted and evaded, their short sword flashing with mana as they parried her attacks.
The figure in gray moved to flank her, their longsword sweeping toward her midsection. She spun to block, the clash of steel ringing out across the riverbank. The force of the strike drove her back, but she recovered quickly, her movements fluid as she countered with a flurry of strikes.
The two figures fought in perfect tandem; their movements seamless as they forced her onto the defensive. Every time she gained an opening against one, the other was there to block her path, their teamwork an unrelenting tide that pushed her closer to the edge.
As the battle raged, the figure in gray feinted a high strike before shifting their blade downward, catching the edge of her hood. The fabric tore away, revealing her face—a young elf, barely into her late teens, with sharp features, a single piercing eye, and an eyepatch covering her right eye.
The figure in green paused briefly, their tone laced with curiosity. "An elf... and young, too. What's someone like you doing working for them?"
The First Child's expression twisted into a snarl; her voice laced with venom. "You don't know anything about me or my mission."
The figure in gray tilted their head, their voice calm but probing. "Maybe not, but you're not leaving here with what you came for."
Realizing she was outmatched; the First Child weighed her options. The mana-sealed book was still within reach, but the longer she stayed, the greater the risk of failure—or death. Gritting her teeth, she threw a small vial to the ground. A burst of smoke erupted, obscuring her from view.
The green-cloaked figure's voice cut through the haze. "Running already? Didn't take you for the type."
As the smoke cleared, the First Child was gone, her retreat swift and calculated. She had lost the confrontation, but her mission wasn't over. Let them get the book. The book was still out there, and she would find another way to recover it.
She will have her vengeance against those two.
As the smoke dissipated, the two cloaked figures stood side by side, their hoods falling back to reveal their faces. The green-cloaked figure, an elf girl with blond hair tied back in a braid, turned to her companion with a faint smirk.
"That was fun," Alpha said, her tone light despite the tension. "But who do you think she was? She wasn't just some random assassin."
Cid, the gray-cloaked figure, sheathed his longsword, his dark eyes thoughtful. "Whoever she is, she's dangerous. And she was after something important." he glanced toward the river. "We'll need to get to that book before she does."
Alpha nodded, her expression sharpening. "Let's not waste any time, then. If the Cult's involved, we can't let them get their hands on it."
The two figures moved toward the riverbank, their resolve unshaken as they prepared to uncover the truth behind the First Child's mission—and the secrets hidden in the mana-sealed book.
Extra Chapter: A Family's Reflection
The Kagenou estate was steeped in an oppressive quiet, broken only by the occasional distant sound of preparations for war. Though Baron Gaius and Lady Elaina worked tirelessly to ready their Barony against Ryser's forces, their hearts were heavy with an ache far deeper than the threat of invasion. It had been nearly six months since their adopted son, Cid, was taken from them, and the void left by his absence seemed impossible to fill.
In the study, Gaius sat at his desk, a stack of untouched reports before him. His dark hair, streaked with gray, caught the flickering light of the fire as he stared at the corner of the room where Cid's training sword leaned against the wall. It hadn't been touched since the day Cid had disappeared.
Elaina entered quietly, her movements graceful as always. She approached her husband, her eyes softening as she saw him gazing at the sword. "You're thinking of him again, aren't you?"
Gaius sighed, his voice thick with emotion. "How could I not? He was becoming everything we'd hoped for. And then..." He trailed off, his hand tightening into a fist. "We should have protected him better, Elaina. I should have been there with them or have more guards to protect them while they did their inspection."
Elaina placed a hand on his shoulder, her composure faltering as her own grief surfaced. "We gave him a home, a family. He saved Claire, Gaius. He gave her back to us when we thought we might lose her to that terrible affliction. And in return, we failed to keep him safe."
Her eyes watered, missing her boy so much.
Her voice trembled as she continued. "He was so eager to learn. Every lesson, every book—I saw so much potential in him. And he was such a bright light in Claire's life. They challenged each other, pushed each other to be better. Now... she barely speaks of him. It hurts her too much."
Gaius nodded, his jaw tightening. "I see it too. She puts on a brave face, but I know she misses him just as much as we do. Maybe more."
Upstairs, Claire sat by the window of her room, her black hair pulled back in a loose braid. In her lap was a leather-bound journal she hadn't opened in months. It was Cid's—a gift she had given him after his adoption, one he had used to jot down everything he learned from their parents.
She traced her fingers over the cover, her throat tightening. "You were always writing something," she murmured. "Always asking questions, always trying to be better."
Her eyes drifted to the practice sword propped against the wall. She remembered their endless sparring matches, the way Cid had always found a way to surprise her, even when she thought she had the upper hand. Even when she used her new mana abilities, he still found ways to block and subvert it.
A faint smile touched her lips as she recalled one of their more heated matches. "You almost beat me that time," she whispered. "And you wouldn't let me hear the end of it."
The smile faded as the weight of his absence settled over her. She clutched the journal to her chest, her voice breaking. "I miss you, Cid. Every day. You were my brother—no, you are my brother. I just wish..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Later that evening, the family gathered in the sitting room, the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. The weight of their shared grief hung heavy in the air as they sat in silence, each lost in their memories of Cid.
Claire was the first to speak, her voice quiet but steady. "Do you remember when he first arrived? He could barely hold a sword, but he wouldn't stop practicing. He said he wanted to be good enough to spar with me, to be my equal. If only to annoy me every step of the way."
Elaina smiled faintly; her hands folded in her lap. "And he was. By the end, he was challenging you every step of the way. He even surprised me with how quickly he picked up court etiquette. His natural skill at being polite while being throwing people off was a gift that I hadn't seen in years in a person. He was naturally charismatic and could irritate you with a few words… it was magnificent."
Gaius nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "He had a mind for governance, too. He asked questions I never thought a ten-year-old would ask. He wanted to know how to better run the Barony, how to progress with tools and new methods. I thought... I thought we had all the time in the world to teach him."
The fire crackled softly as the family fell silent again, each lost in their thoughts. Finally, Gaius stood, his expression resolute as he placed a hand on Claire's shoulder.
"We'll find him," he said, his voice firm. "No matter how long it takes, no matter what it costs, we'll bring him back."
Claire looked up at her father, her eyes shining with determination. "We have to. He's out there, I know it. And when he comes back..." She trailed off, her voice trembling before she steadied herself. "When he comes back, we'll be ready to welcome him home."
Elaina stood as well, her composure returning as she placed a hand on Gaius' arm. "We'll find him. He's strong—he always was. And he's our son. No matter what happens, he'll always be our son."
Author's Note: This is part 1 of a 2 part bundle while I'm working on the Side story. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to let me know! I hope you enjoy!
Signing off,
Terra ace