"The curse of Naslan?" Ralph took the piece of paper, frowning as he deciphered its handwriting. "Verlet, what is this curse? A special product of this ghostly Naranya?"
The eyes that resembled amber stones glanced at him with a coquettish irritation, then closed in contemplation. Verlet stroked her chin thoughtfully, "It seems to be a legend passed down among the older generation."
"It's said that the current lord of Naranya, namely Baron Tyron, is actually just a branch of the family that once ruled this land. The territory originally belonged to the Naslan family. However, for some unknown reason, the family ultimately fell to ruin, so the previously departed branches inherited the original domain."
"But Baron Tyron did not follow tradition and ascend to the title and position of Duke of Naslan, and he did not even reclaim the ancient surname."
"The elders believe that these could be considered irreverent decisions, which angered the ancestors dormant within those woods."
