Gawain stood by the window, waiting until he was sure that the "visitor" from earlier had completely left the vicinity. Only then did he exhale in relief and quickly begin to close the window. But just as the window was about to shut, a shadow suddenly zipped up from below. Amber's voice echoed through the room before she appeared, unannounced and off-balance.
"Hey, I think I saw a suspicious figure just now—whoa!" she yelped before crashing unceremoniously.
Gawain sighed, briefly closing his eyes as he absorbed the scene before him. Moments later, Amber—disheveled and now holding an ice pack to her forehead—stood before him, glaring.
"This is no way to welcome someone!" she huffed, offended.
"How could I know you'd try climbing in from the window?" Gawain replied dryly. "Today, it seems, no one thinks of using the front door."
Amber rolled her eyes. "I'm a rogue! You can't expect me to take the door like everyone else. What about the injury I just suffered? Don't tell me nobles like you don't compensate workers for accidents!"
Gawain eyed her, unimpressed. "Aside from that bump on your head, you look perfectly fine. Besides, I'm low on funds for now. When I have the means, I'll settle everything."
"Remember that!" she quipped, her mischievous spirit returning. "I have a good memory, you know."
With a dismissive wave, Gawain gestured for her to stand aside. Then he approached the desk, where a set of crystals lay carefully arranged. There were five in total: one was a complete piece from the mithril vault, an item entrusted there seven centuries ago by the original Gawain Cecil himself. Oddly, though, Gawain's memories contained no specific details about it.
The remaining four crystals were different—broken shards that he'd discovered in the secret mithril strongbox. These fragmented crystals didn't evoke any memories in his mind either, but he knew one thing with certainty. Each one held unique significance, and though he was now Gawain Cecil, he could not recall precisely where or how these crystals had come into his possession.
While examining the crystals, Gawain noted that the mithril crystal was symmetrically shaped like a spindle, glowing faintly blue at the core. The shards, however, seemed to belong to a similar spindle, though fragmented. When he tried to piece them together, they recreated about two-thirds of the spindle shape.
"What are these?" Amber asked, finally breaking the silence. She had crept over to his side and was now staring at the crystals with curiosity.
Gawain looked at her without turning away. "Good thing they don't look valuable; otherwise, I might have to silence you right now."
She placed a dramatic hand on her chest, feigning shock. "You nobles are ruthless!"
Amused, he glanced at her. "Why so critical of nobles? Do you bear a grudge?"
"Nope. But isn't it tradition for the downtrodden to curse the nobles?" she quipped with a shrug. "Rich folks like you are responsible for every bit of bad luck we commoners face."
He chuckled at her audacity. "You don't sound much like the commoners you claim to be."
Amber raised an eyebrow, grinning with pride. "Naturally. Ordinary folks can't shadow-walk like I can!"
Rather than continuing with the banter, Gawain sent her off to fetch Rebecca. "I need to speak with the young lady of the house. Go get her."
Amber tilted her head, eyeing the crystals again. "Wait a second… Are these things actually valuable?"
Gawain was taken aback. "Why would you think that?"
"Isn't this just the kind of scene where a long-lost treasure gets revealed? Given your status, these must be family heirlooms worth a fortune!"
Gawain held back a laugh. "If you don't leave now, I'll mount you to the wall as decoration."
Amber let out a low whistle and then, with a flicker of shadows, disappeared. Finally, Gawain was alone, able to ponder his growing sense of unease.
His own reawakening, or rather "inhabiting" Gawain Cecil's form, wasn't random. He had once assumed that his arrival was mere coincidence, a product of some celestial malfunction, only to find himself falling into a crypt. But now, the truth seemed more complex.
It dawned on him that the real Gawain Cecil had somehow anticipated a return. Why else would he have purchased permanent storage in the mithril vault, an arrangement normally reserved for immortal items?
Unless he'd known he'd need them one day…
The thought gave Gawain pause, and he absently traced the characters—"Who am I?"—on the desk. The question weighed on him: was he merely an inhabitant of this form, or had he inadvertently disrupted the plans of a hero from seven centuries prior?
When Amber's footsteps returned, joined by Rebecca's lighter tread, he snapped out of his reverie.
"Listen," Amber's voice chattered as she neared, "he called you up here late at night. Must be the family inheritance talk. He even met with the vault agents earlier. If that doesn't mean we're about to get a big payoff—"
A fireball crackled, silencing her.
The door opened, and Rebecca stepped inside, followed closely by a rather chagrined Amber.
"Ancestor, you wanted to see me?" Rebecca asked, her gaze briefly flickering with concern. Although Amber's words could rarely be trusted, the young noblewoman couldn't help but worry. Perhaps he was ill? She took a moment to study him, ensuring all was well.
Gawain gestured to Amber. "Stay outside and keep guard. If anyone approaches, raise the alarm. And, Amber, don't expect to be paid if they slip by."
Amber muttered under her breath, slipping through the window to take her post.
Sighing at her departure, Gawain turned back to Rebecca. The silence in the room felt like a luxury. He approached the desk, setting aside the mysterious crystals and retrieving a platinum disk from the vault—a key, though not a traditional one.
"Amber's antics weren't entirely off," he began. "I do have something important to pass on to you."
Rebecca's gaze settled on the platinum disk. "What is it, Ancestor?"
"A key," he replied, examining the ornate symbols engraved upon it. "It opens something of value. Something I wish for you to safeguard."
Before he could elaborate, Amber's voice sounded from above, as clear as a bell. "Gotcha! Thought you could escape me, huh?"
Gawain froze at the unexpected sound of footsteps overhead. There was no "thud" of Amber being thrown off—a first. He could only assume that her persistent shadow-walking had finally paid off. He grabbed a weapon, preparing to check the disturbance himself, but he didn't need to act. Shadows gathered in the room, and Amber emerged, dragging an unconscious young man dressed in dark armor.
"Well, well," Gawain muttered, taking in the figure. "It seems tonight's visitors are especially lively."
The man was young, his face hidden beneath a cowl, but his garb marked him as a rogue, likely sent by some powerful figure. Gawain noted how relaxed the young man's hands were, as though untrained. A spy, not an assassin, he realized.
"Looks like this one didn't come through the front door either," he mused.
Amber dropped her "catch" unceremoniously, dusting off her hands. "He wasn't very polite either. I was minding my own business when he practically walked into me. Can you believe it?"
"Who sent you?" Gawain demanded, his voice even. "Speak, if you wish to avoid further discomfort."
The young man, still dazed, glanced around before quickly assessing his surroundings. Though he maintained a facade of calm, his eyes betrayed a flicker of fear. "I… I was just following orders," he said, eyes darting from Rebecca to Amber, then back to Gawain.
Amber crossed her arms, unimpressed. "That's a poor answer, friend. Orders from who?"
The man hesitated, then finally spoke, his voice low. "I was tasked to watch over you and report anything… unusual back to my master."
Gawain raised an eyebrow. "And your master would be?"
The rogue swallowed hard, realizing he'd said too much. "I've already told you more than I should. If you're done questioning me, I'd like to leave."
Gawain turned to Amber. "Escort our friend here to the guards outside. They'll know what to do."
As Amber dragged him out, Rebecca approached, looking thoughtful. "Do you think this means something more serious, Ancestor?"
He gave a faint nod. "It's possible. Whoever sent him has a vested interest in our affairs."
Returning to the desk, he retrieved the platinum disk, turning it over in his hand. "This, however, is the matter at hand." He handed it to her, watching her closely. "It's a key, though it does not open any door in this estate. Instead, it grants access to something beyond our borders—a location known to only a few."
Rebecca studied the key, her brow furrowing. "What lies beyond this door?"
"Knowledge," he replied simply, "and perhaps answers to questions that linger, even in our bloodline. I entrust it to you because, while I could hold onto it myself, my time here is uncertain."
As she considered his words, Gawain continued, "I've found hints that suggest I may not be the first Cecil to face these mysteries. Your diligence, Rebecca, will determine whether you can rise to whatever challenges follow."
Rebecca looked up, her eyes glinting with determination. "You can count on me, Ancestor. I will protect our name and all it stands for."
A soft smile touched Gawain's face. "Very well. When the time comes, that key will reveal more. But for now, take it and prepare. The path we tread is not one without risk."
She nodded, taking the key and slipping it carefully into her pocket.
"Thank you for entrusting me with this," she said earnestly. "I won't let you down."
As she left, Gawain returned to his thoughts. The night's encounters—both expected and unexpected—had reminded him of the challenges still ahead. Perhaps this was not merely about surviving in this world. There were histories yet unwritten and legacies still to be built.
For the Cecil name to thrive, it would take every bit of resolve—and then some.
Chapter 31: Dark Ninja
Seeing Amber bring back a captive was genuinely surprising to Gawain. An hour ago, he might have expected it, but after witnessing her get knocked away by a bank representative named "My Little Pony," he had pretty much given up on counting her as a combat asset. In truth, assigning her to guard duty was closer to sending out an alarm system than a skilled lookout.
Amber's shadow-stepping skills were exceptional, so he was confident she could spot a spy or an intruder. But capturing one? That seemed beyond even her abilities.
The moment Amber returned with her captive, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Sir Byron burst through the door. "My lord, what's happening here?"
Stationed to guard the main gate, the commotion from the rooftop had clearly drawn Byron's attention. During Merita's visit earlier, Amber had been taken down in one hit, causing little disturbance. But this time…
"It's fine, Byron. Just a little intruder, already dealt with," Gawain waved him off. "Head back and resume your post; tonight isn't as quiet as I'd hoped."
Byron nodded, glancing at Amber's smug expression and the slumped figure on the floor before he left the room, though his face was puzzled.
Once Byron was gone, Gawain turned to Amber. "How did you catch him? Did you actually win a fight?"
"What's with that tone?" Amber huffed, clearly miffed. "I may not be great in straight-up battles, but I'm not a total weakling! I even took down that 'Aberration' you mentioned!"
Gawain remained unconvinced.
Amber grinned. "Okay, maybe I got lucky. This guy thought he'd impress me with his shadow-stepping. He didn't know I could see him plain as day. He snuck right up, trying to look intimidating with his dagger, so I played dumb, pretended not to see him, and then—bam! Kicked him right out of his shadow form. It only took that shock to knock him out."
Gawain looked at her, astounded at the unorthodox method. Amber's technique was… unconventional. The "shadow-step" ability was a rare skill among rogues, allowing them to slip between the material world and the shadow realm. It required incredible precision and was as dangerous as dancing on a blade, for one misstep could plunge a rogue fully into the shadow, where formless horrors awaited.
Amber, however, seemed to dance between worlds with a confidence few could match. And as she boasted about her latest escapade, Rebecca, crouched beside Gawain, inspected the unconscious figure on the floor. "You think he'll wake up?"
Gawain shook his head. "Ordinarily, an impact like that would leave someone in a permanent daze… if not worse."
As if on cue, the man on the floor began to twitch, then slowly regained consciousness.
In a typical scenario, a trained operative would feign unconsciousness to gather intel on the situation before making a move. But the shock to his system had impaired his control. As he stirred, his eyes locked with Gawain's, giving away his awareness before he could control it. Realizing his situation, he instinctively tried to bite down on the poison capsule hidden in his mouth, only to find it gone.
Gawain fired off a few rapid questions. "What's your name? Your mission? Who sent you?"
The young man remained silent, face impassive, as if he hadn't heard a word.
Amber twirled a small knife, smirking. "Want me to try my hand at some old-fashioned persuasion? I might not be a pro, but I picked up a few things sneaking around dungeons."
Rebecca looked horrified. "What exactly were you doing in dungeons?"
Amber grinned, happy to enlighten her. "Guards tend to stash valuables before shifting duty, hiding them in the corners of the dungeon where they think no one will look. All I had to do was help myself."
"Save it," Gawain interrupted. "Interrogation won't work on him. This one's a royal Dark Ninja, trained in covert operations and discipline. I'm honestly amazed you managed to bring him in. That story should make you a star in the taverns for at least half a year."
Looking down at the young man's bewildered face, Gawain continued, "Back in my day, the royal Dark Ninja were personal escorts, tasked with reconnaissance in extreme conditions. How times have changed… they've fallen to sneaking and eavesdropping. What's your excuse?"
The guard's stunned expression was priceless. He opened his mouth, presumably to ask how Gawain knew his identity, but Gawain spoke first. "You're wondering how I know who you are?"
The guard gave a slight nod.
"Easy. I gave your unit its name and established your first training regimen," Gawain said with satisfaction. "I trained the very first Dark Ninja!"
Amber stared at Gawain's imposing frame in shock. "You—a knight—trained Dark Ninja? How'd that work?"
Gawain smiled faintly. "I didn't teach them stealth. I taught them endurance training and how to wield a two-handed sword."
Amber looked baffled. "Why would stealth operatives need to learn two-handed swordsmanship?"
"So they could silence any witnesses if things went wrong."
"Isn't the mission over if they're spotted in the first place?!"
"Not for Ansu's Dark Ninja. For them, getting caught is just the beginning of the mission. Although, from the looks of it, this one could use a refresher. Then again, maybe my old course materials are considered obsolete after seven centuries?"
The guard's face darkened—so it was Gawain who had originated those brutal training protocols that had only evolved but never been eliminated. To his dismay, Gawain's grueling routines of body conditioning and sword training remained foundational.
"Francis II sent you, didn't he?" Gawain's voice was gentle yet unyielding. "I can't imagine he'd be foolish enough to dispatch an assassin in a city that knows I'm here, so you're probably here to observe?"
The guard stayed silent.
"He likely told you to keep a safe distance," Gawain mused, "given that this job is perilous enough. Though the Cecil family has fallen, Gawain Cecil hasn't. So, did you ignore orders… or overestimate yourself?"
The guard finally spoke. "I failed my mission and deserve to die. No need to waste your time."
"Deserve to die?" Gawain scoffed, slapping the guard's face lightly. "Royal Dark Ninja are supposed to protect the king, the kingdom, and its lands. Your duty is to stand against those who would topple this kingdom, not spy on a loyalist. You're a disgrace! What kind of oath did you take if you're so quick to abandon it here?"
The young guard was momentarily speechless, thrown off by Gawain's conviction. "I… that wasn't…"
Gawain cut him off. "It doesn't matter what you meant. I'm not petty enough to take my anger out on my successors. You're free to go."
The guard stared in disbelief. Even Amber and Rebecca seemed stunned by Gawain's decision.
Gawain repeated himself. "You're free to leave—unless you need an escort out?"
The guard rose slowly. "You're certain?"
"Of course. I can't kill a servant of the king here, and I have no intention of parading you into the palace tomorrow, though the thought crossed my mind. Unfortunately, I'm past the age of making impulsive decisions."
Rebecca hesitated, as if to object, but Gawain's gaze silenced her.
The guard took a few tentative steps toward the window. As he reached it, Gawain called after him. "I won't bother repeating what happened here to anyone. What you report back to your king… is your choice."
The guard lingered, nodding slowly. "Thank you for your mercy."
With those words, he melted into the shadows and was gone.
Gawain sighed. "Another one taking the window exit."
Once he was gone, Rebecca found her voice. "Ancestor, you really let him go?"
"Of course," Gawain chuckled. "Letting him go was the best decision."
"But shouldn't he face some kind of consequence? And King Francis sending spies…?"
"Rebecca, if you aim for greater benefits, you have to look further down the line," Gawain explained, patting her head. "Releasing a single spy is no loss; the potential gain is inevitable."
"Potential gain?" Rebecca blinked. "Like what?"
"It depends on what that young guard chooses to report back. But there are only two likely outcomes," Gawain replied, spreading his hands. "Either Francis II spends the rest of the night sleeplessly thinking over tonight, or he'll keep an increasingly 'loyal' guard around him who isn't quite as loyal as he thinks."
Turning to the moonless night beyond the window, Gawain added quietly, "Relative loyalty, Rebecca, is simply disloyalty waiting for the right moment."