Brandon's gaze shifted uncomfortably as he studied the maid standing before him. She was undeniably striking: brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, piercing blue eyes, and a delicate mole gracing the corner of her left eye. Yet something was off. She seemed nervous, glancing back and forth between Brandon and Leon as she stammered in halting Uriah, "I swear, my lord, I never saw your belongings. I wasn't even working in the West District that day. Surely, you must be mistaken."
Brandon turned to Leon and the others, his expression unreadable. Leon, initially filled with a spark of hope, let out a quiet sigh. Their initial excitement about this lead had dissipated into frustration. Brandon shook his head decisively. "No, it's not her. It couldn't be."
The butler, always dutiful and composed, observed Brandon thoughtfully. "But, Lord Casoles, she is the only maid in the West District who matches your description. Are you certain there are no other distinguishing features you recall?"
Brandon hesitated, glancing at the floor. "Perhaps...I made an error," he finally conceded. There was no reason to continue the pursuit, not if it risked drawing the attention of the Fercon family. Brandon knew he was playing a dangerous game; he didn't belong to the noble Kantadar lineage, and his position here was precarious. Stirring up trouble could expose him, jeopardizing everything he'd worked for.
Over the past few days, Brandon, Leon, and the others had meticulously combed through the castle, adopting the roles of master and servants, subtly probing the staff in hopes of uncovering clues about Liam's sister. But every path they pursued had led to a dead end. Frustrated, Brandon resorted to fabricating a story about lost personal belongings, hoping this would compel the butler to present suspects.
Leon's heart had leaped when the butler finally admitted he recognized the description: a young Feru maid, around her twenties, with brown hair, blue eyes, and that unmistakable teardrop mole. Leon had been so certain this time that they were close, and yet, here they were, still empty-handed.
After the maid left, Leon closed the door and visibly dropped the deferential facade he had been maintaining. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he slouched into a nearby chair. "We're running out of time," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Once the wedding banquet begins, we'll have to split up and continue the search. It's our last shot."
The wedding banquet loomed closer, promising to bring together nobles and servants alike for the grand celebration. It would be the perfect opportunity to blend into the crowd, mingling unnoticed as they sought out Liam's sister. There was a faint hope that amid the throngs of guests, they might catch a glimpse of her, perhaps ascending the stairway or lingering in the corridor. If fate was kind, they'd spot her before she disappeared into that hated room upstairs.
Suddenly, a soft knock at the door shattered the tense silence. Brandon's servant, Elena, her expression a mixture of fear and respect, entered cautiously. "Master, the Earl has summoned you to a meeting," she announced, barely above a whisper. Her eyes lowered, she stepped aside, avoiding direct eye contact as though afraid her mere presence would draw unwanted ire.
Moments later, the door swung open, and Pierino strode into the room, his black robes billowing dramatically. His flaming red hair caught the light as he glanced dismissively around, his expression lined with impatience. "Does he ever stop?" he grumbled irritably. With a sharp, agitated wave of his hand, a metallic wand materialized in his grip, striking the ground with a loud, resonant clang.
The sudden noise made Elena jump, pressing herself instinctively against the wall, her face pale. Pierino merely shot her a disdainful look, sneering at her fear. Without another word, he swept past her and out the door, muttering bitterly under his breath.
In the silence that followed, Elena exhaled shakily, struggling to regain her composure. She couldn't explain it, but a dark sense of foreboding seemed to loom over the castle tonight. The nobles, the guests, the servants: everyone was moving like pieces on a chessboard, each hiding something beneath their masks, each more mysterious and dangerous than the last. She could only hope this banquet would pass without incident, but deep down, something told her that things were about to unravel in ways none of them could predict.
Over the last few weeks, Pierino's fascination with the slaves provided by the Fercon family had steadily waned. He didn't care to analyze it too deeply, chalking it up to a weariness with these foreigners and their silent, empty eyes. He rarely looked at them now, barely noticed their presence, as though they were merely shadows flitting through the halls of the castle. Yet, his disinterest came as a quiet blessing to some, like Elena.
Standing pressed against the cold stone wall, Elena waited with bated breath as Pierino's ominous footsteps echoed away down the corridor. Only when she could no longer hear him did she dare to relax, releasing a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She patted her chest, trying to calm her racing heart, and turned to enter the small room behind her.
Inside, a blond boy lay quietly by the bed, his face pale and weary but his eyes warm and kind as he looked at her. Corvis had always been a gentle presence in her life, even within these grim castle walls, offering her small moments of comfort in a world that offered little else.
Elena's voice softened as she looked at him, "I'll go fetch some water so you can take a proper bath."
But Corvis only smiled, shaking his head. "That won't be necessary." Rising from the bed, he closed his eyes, murmuring something under his breath, and in an instant, his entire body was engulfed in a scorching white flame. His golden hair turned into shimmering tendrils of light, the flames so pure they looked almost ethereal, neither burning him nor the blanket beneath his feet. This cleansing fire seemed to hold no heat, a magic so otherworldly that it almost felt sacred. Within moments, the flames vanished, leaving him purified, as if he'd bathed in the very essence of light.
Elena watched, a pang of sorrow in her eyes. She wanted to offer comfort, but Corvis merely waved a hand, his calm smile unwavering. "Don't worry, Elena. I'm used to it by now. But tell me, have you been resting well?" he asked gently.
She looked down, her cheeks tinged with guilt. "Much better than before, thanks to... well, you know." Pierino's waning interest had eased the pressure on her, but she knew full well that the burden had only shifted to Corvis. He bore it without complaint, and that weighed heavily on her heart.
Elsewhere in the castle, Pierino strode briskly across the courtyard, his mood simmering with irritation. Even the salutes and deferential nods from Falcon family servants and Kantadar nobles barely registered in his mind as he stomped past, leather boots clacking against the stone path. His dark robes, embroidered with a single, ominous eye, swept around him like shadows, and his staff glinted in the faint light. Pierino was far too vexed to acknowledge anyone.
But as he passed by the garden fountain, his attention was drawn by an unexpected sight; a striking young nobleman standing with two attendants, casually conversing with the servants. The youth's demeanor was warm, his face lit with a bright smile as he questioned the maids in an unhurried, friendly manner.
Pierino's eyes narrowed with interest. Perhaps this nobleman, a guest no doubt, was the opportunity he had been seeking. Perhaps being relegated to this dull, isolated seaport wasn't entirely a curse. Pierino's anger cooled, a sly smile creeping onto his face as he adjusted his pace, thoughtfully stroking his beard. He would soon inquire about this youth with the Count of Fercon, perhaps this would lead him to something intriguing indeed.
Meanwhile, Brandon remained blissfully unaware of the dark intentions forming just yards away. He continued his casual questioning, his face open and friendly as he engaged the maids in light conversation, hoping to gather any clues that might lead him to Sister Liam. Leon, however, stood a little to the side, observing with a slightly bored expression. His grasp of the Uriah language was weak, and he found himself mostly sidelined as Brandon chatted with the Kantadar maids who tended the garden.
Leon's idle gaze wandered across the courtyard, when something caught his attention; a man in a dark robe, holding a staff, watching them intently. The man's eyes were fixed on Brandon with a look that Leon found unnerving, like a predator sizing up prey. Leon's stomach twisted with an instinctive unease.
Who was this man, and why did he stare at Brandon with such unsettling intensity? Had they done something to arouse suspicion, or was this simply the nature of this cold, dangerous place? Leon couldn't shake the feeling that they had just crossed paths with something or someonethat spelled trouble.