"Little one, I am the 'it' you're searching for," the stone face declared, locking its piercing gaze onto Grayson.
Grayson furrowed his brow, surveying the ancient stone visage, and glanced back at Elyra, "Did it call you 'little one'? Is it talking to you?"
"It's talking to you, you big oaf!" Elyra responded disdainfully.
Grayson shot her a sideways look and faced the stone face, "You called me 'little one.' Do I seem that small to you?"
"Of course, you're so small you couldn't even fill the creases on my face," the stone face quipped with an air of superiority.
"I'll give you that; your face is so wrinkled, not even a mountain could fill it!" Grayson retorted with a shrug.
"Don't make me angry!" the stone face suddenly roared, unleashing a gust of wind that blew Grayson back several steps.
Wiping his face, Grayson looked up and retorted, "Such lack of manners! Do you have something for me to wipe off all this spit?"
"The little bird told me you wish to enter the vault, yes?" the stone face ignored his jest, staring down at him seriously.
Grayson glowered at Elyra and whispered accusingly, "Why'd you go telling it the truth? We're supposed to be sneaking in!"
"I just came to check the place out; how we get in is your business," the owl huffed back.
"Oh, what a team I have!" Grayson lamented before turning to the stone face, "Alright, the little traitor spilled the beans, so I have nothing to hide. Tell me, how do we get in?"
"Answer my three questions correctly, and you shall pass," the stone face grinned enigmatically. "Be warned, you only get one chance per question!"
"Such an old trick, and you think it'll stop me? Bring it on; I'll show you the might of the Riddle King!" Grayson confidently drew a cigar from his belt, struck a match to light it, and took a leisurely puff, awaiting the stone face's challenge.
"The first question is simple, listen closely," the stone face intoned deeply. "To you, what are the Titans?"
"The Titans are..." Grayson almost blurted out, but stopped, sensing the question couldn't be that straightforward.
He rummaged through his knowledge of the Titans, ancient beings once ruling the continent, later exiled to Ice Isle for defying the gods.
The term 'gods' flitted through his mind, but it felt too far-fetched, as they were not true gods nor related to humans.
Puffing on his cigar, Grayson mulled over the question, when Elyra's impatient voice from his shoulder piped up, "Can you hurry up? I want to get back to the banquet hall in time for dessert!"
"The banquet hall?" Grayson's eyes fixed on the massive floor tiles as memories of Tyrrel hosting guests flooded his thoughts.
With a sudden epiphany, Grayson looked up, certain. "I know the answer. To me, the Titans are the lords of this land!"
The stone face eyed him, then flashed a teasing smile, "You didn't fall for the trap. The simpler the question, the more complicated the answer seems to people. But you're correct, 'to you,' the Titans here are 'lords,' because you are Tyrrel's guest."
"Thank you for your generous hospitality. Now, the second question, please," Grayson smiled, blowing out a ring of smoke and nodding to the stone face.
"Listen well, the second question is," the stone face paused for effect then asked, "how many Titans are in this great hall?"
Before Grayson could ponder, Elyra interjected, "Wow, that's tough. Need help counting?"
"Silly girl, stick to counting your feathers and zip it," Grayson poked the little owl's head, then, cigar in mouth, pondered for a moment before stating firmly, "My answer is four."
"Four? Are you joking?" the stone face asked incredulously.
Serious, Grayson explained, "Four, not in number, but in types. I've observed only four kinds of Titans can enter the hall: Prince Tyrrel, his high-ranking officers, his attendants, and his personal guards."
"Prince Tyrrel is self-explanatory, and the rest carry badges denoting their roles: officers with lightning, attendants with water, and guards with crossed spears. Without one of these, no one enters the hall."
"I recall the captain who guided us here left promptly, not even daring to step upon the first stair of the hall," he continued.
Stepping forward, Grayson faced the stone face and declared, "Lastly, you asked 'how many Titans in the great hall,' you didn't specify whether you meant how many individuals or how many types!"
The stone face's grin wavered, its eyes smoldering with playful anger, but Grayson remained cool, utterly nonchalant, as if righteousness was on his side.
After a standoff, the stone face burst into laughter, with Grayson smiling knowingly. "You little fellow, not only are you perceptive, but you also know how to play with words! Even turning arguments to your favor impresses me!"
"You're not exactly praising me; you're not convinced!" Grayson smiled wryly, puffing out another smoke ring. "I suppose you plan to take it out on me with the third question?"
"Hmph, you're good at guessing thoughts," the stone face widened its eyes in amusement. "Correct. Listen to my third question, if you wish to enter the vault behind me!"
"I'm all ears," Grayson replied, his demeanor now serious.
"The third question is, what human weakness do the Titans not possess?" the stone face asked sternly.
Grayson's brow knitted. The question was too broad. If the previous ones had hints, this was like finding a needle in a haystack. Human weaknesses were myriad and varied.
"There must be a clue in the question, some universal human flaw that Titans lack..." Grayson pondered deeply, discarding human weaknesses until the last of his cigar threatened to burn his lips.
"Ouch!" As the hot cigar seared him, he tossed the butt to the ground and rubbed his sore lips.
Elyra approached, her tone unusually tender, "Are you alright?"
Grayson looked at her shining eyes, feeling endless care, then thought of his own dread when Elyra was frozen in frost, and the despair of losing her. Then he remembered Tyrrel's indifferent reaction to Tidus's death and the war a century ago, where Titans played a crucial role in defeating the dark wizards when human forces were stuck.
"What human weakness is absent in Titans?" Grayson stamped out the smoldering cigar butt underfoot, facing the stone face with a confident smile, "I know what it is."