Iron and stone make sieges go old. Tall monolithic walls with no distinction between the bricks that made them, gates of unwieldy mass bringing a halt to even the heaviest guns, a fortress design impregnable.
The guards outside checking the people coming in and out of the city while those indoors were dozing asleep.
There was galloping of hooves and horseshoes, jeering of the snot-nose merchant, impatience of noble servants, laughter of hoodlums followed by screams, and vagrants begging from wanderers, all in the front gate.
In a cyclic vibrance dulled by time, something unexpected happens.
A carriage bore down the road and sowed chaos in the lines: people, horses, and carriages all attempted to get out of the determined driver's way.
"Help!"
"Get out of the way!"
Guards alerted to the scene in full plate, spear and pike raised.
"Stop the carriage at once."
Braced for the impact, they saw the driver waving a particular flag.
"By the authority of the duke, make way!"
The emblem of the duke printed against purple cloth like an invisible force parted the sea of metal.
Dumbfounded crowds watched as the carriage charged on through the streets straight toward the lord's manor, unblinking.
The guards first snapped out of their stupor, regaining order after that violent episode.
Unaware of a figure cloaked in white who passed by like the cloudy day sun.
***
Built on top of each other in a mass of buildings and terrace roads, they created this artificial hill.
The people, recovering from the shock, returned to their lives through the multilayered city.
In a teahouse on the corner where the labyrinth of roads led to the circular clearing, Ifrid leaned over the iron fencing, enjoying the passing breeze in this serene shop above all the noise.
A dwarf was going around the shop with a tea set in hand, looking for someone.
"Server here, please." Ifrid raised his hand, getting his attention.
"Excuse me. Here's your tea, sir."
"Thank you."
Pouring himself a cup, he drank it with a bitter expression.
For all they were worth in masonry and metallurgy, their taste in tea is terrible.
The flavor has no harmony but pure bitterness, to the point where normal water tastes sweet.
'That's the third place today.'
He put down the cup with a sigh.
On his journey to the city, he discovered some abilities related to himself and the book.
Firstly, his presence seems to have disappeared; most people don't notice him at all.
Second was his height and all physical attributes.
'What do you think of my height?'
'Why are you asking weird questions? You're just tall. Is that a problem?'
'I have no beard.'
'You insecure or what? Don't worry; you'll get one like mine soon.'
'Oh, you have red hair? My neighbor's daughter also has red hair. Yours is just more vibrant.'
'Are you trying to brag? I'll let you know the finest tailor in all of Nird-Autgild.'
Their perception of him seems warped to fit their individual narrative.
The book, being the likely cause, also shared similar properties.
In fact, the more he learned about the book, the more intrigued he became of its origin.
The book records not only his but also the lives of all those whom he has met.
In addition, from creating things out of thin air to moving a thousand steps in a single breath, it seems capable of anything aside from altering others' stories and returning him home.
The only downside is the limit of the string connected to the book.
Whatever that was, it appeared to be the book's power source.
Ifrid stood up and prepared to leave.
But by the tail of his eye, he saw that same carriage that drove past him when he first appeared in this world.
Reminded of the bloodfest that littered the streets and those assassinations at Nylegris' behest, Ifrid decides to trails them.
'A commission made by his people that he knew would fail.'
'I can't hurt taking a look.'
As the ink touched the paper, Ifrid disappeared from where he stood as if he had never been there.
Left, but a silver coin dancing atop the table to the wind.
***
Palace Hall was nothing short of opulent, suited to the peerage but also exotic.
Stone or metal, everything made larger than life, opposite to the intricate woodwork and the nitpicking nobility he came from.
Glass and crystals line the great hall's walls, illuminated by the sun.
Through them, the landscape of the front courtyard and the statue of every lord duke stand in marble.
A carriage came to a screeching halt.
Doctors and guards came rushing to the carriage carried the injured lady to the west wing.
High masonry and arch ceilings concealed by their own shadow echoed their footsteps as they grew faint.
People like ants rustling about in the chaos caused by the duke's beloved daughter returning home hurt.
Ifrid opened the book and walked out of the medical ward through the fume of herbs and alcohol that stung his nose.
In fresh ink are the records of Crelynine, Duke Giline's most beloved third daughter.
Charted in a list, various medicinal techniques and herbology used in her recovery.
He even saw a priestess using divine power to heal Crelynine, their body some sort of medium for the string.
Strolling down the halls, Ifrid looked for the man separated from Crelynine.
Door by door, he searched the halls, ignoring the guards and servants oblivious to his presence.
A room with a closed door guarded by knights stationed on both sides of its frame.
With their attention on the door, barging through would definitely get him noticed and caught.
He waited for the opportunity to sneak in when the doors opened.
Seeing a maid carrying a tea set to the room, he followed the maid through the open door.
Finally, the name of Crelynine's hero appeared on the page.
Agapis.
His story wrote itself in the book, but not without that cursed name.
Eventful lives filled with adventure and drama;
Orphaned, hidden grandmaster of technique, 85 times interfered with assassination, hundred and sixty villages saved.
All orchestrated by the greater power.
Impressed with its plan, Ifrid turned the page and glossed over the maid's entry.
But his face instantly turned sour.
The name that popped out like sore thumbs in the maid's rather ordinary life.
Like a puzzle piece, everything fell into place, and his denial of his situation crumbled.
'You never intended to leave things as is.'
A plan from the child's birth till the peak of their fame.
'You thought you'd use me as his stepping stone?'
"Curse you, Nylegris."
Suddenly, Agapis swung his sword.
Inches in front of Ifrid's face, a spark flew from the impact of a sword and a mysterious dagger, the screech of metal drawn like a line.
"Who sent you?" Agapis said, his sword trailing with sparks from the encounter and reeling from the impact.
"None of your concern," the maid move a few steps back, and her foot stroke drew an arc around Agapis.
With momentum carried from the previous clash, she launched toward him with daggers aiming at his vitals.
"You're skilled? Are you from the Eye of Chaos?"
He parried her attack right before him, glaring at each other.
After they clashed several more times, her defeat was imminent, at a natural disadvantage due to the dagger's length.
"Surrender if you want to live," Agapis said, sword pointed at the wounded woman.
Then, bursting into the room, a bunch of guards with swords drawn.
"Put down your weapon!"
Agapis' concentration lapsed at that moment.
Not missing the opportunity, the woman threw a dagger at Agapis and jumped out of the window.
Clank.
"Tsk."
He sheathed his sword and observed the room again.
The room was now filled with people and debris, but he wasn't concerned with that.
'Was I mistaken?'
During his clash with the maid, he remembers seeing a tall figure robed in silver.
His instinct was flaring when he first saw it; he knew whatever it was was dangerous.
But like a wisp, it was gone.
"What are you doing? Put your weapon down!" The guards pointed their swords toward Agapis.
"Is this how the Duke treats his guess? With poison and swords?" Agapis said with a mocking smile.
"Do not slander the Duke's name!"
"If you will not back down, then I have no reason to either."
***
'So he can but also can't see me?'
Ifrid looked at Agapis, who was trying to search for something.
'Or he's very sensitive.'
Whatever it was, his business was done.
Ifrid left the room with a smile.
In his hands, a mask with an inverted triangle and eye.
This one had an additional two dots placed above the eye.
Place away under his robe, he pulled out the marble book.
With the book opened, he walked out of the palace toward where Engelyn made her escape.