A faint smirk ghosted across Arlon's lips as he returned to his breakfast. Around him, the soft clatter of dishes and muted conversation painted a calm façade, though the occasional stolen glance betrayed the patrons' curiosity.
Out of the corner of his eye, the familiar flutter of the narrator screen. its pages turning with faint whispers of thoughts from the people around him.
Flutter—
["I saw the Throndsen crest on the carriage parked near the inn," a traveler murmured to his companion.]
["He must be the heir—the future Grand Duke of the Throndsen family," the companion replied cautiously.]
Flutter—
["The Throndsen family heir is here. Stay quiet, or you'll get yourself in trouble," another whispered urgently.]
["I heard he punishes nobles who fail to remain loyal to the family," a nearby traveler added in a hushed tone.]
Arlon's gaze remained fixed on his plate, but a subtle satisfaction flickered across his mind. Good, Let them stay out of my way if they know what's best for them, he thought, taking another calm bite of his food.
The murmurs of speculation around him continued, faint but not intrusive, as Arlon ate peacefully, undisturbed and quietly pleased by the wary reverence that followed his name.
Ace continued eating from the tray Dimitri had brought him, his movements slow but deliberate, all the while glaring silently at the patrons. His tail flicked with annoyance, but he refrained from making further comments.
Arlon let Ace's earlier remark slide, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He set down his fork, his gaze shifting to Dimitri, who stood nearby with his usual composed and alert posture.
"Has Sir Taron woken up yet?" Arlon asked, his tone calm but carrying an undertone of quiet authority.
Dimitri nodded, his sharp eyes briefly flicking toward the staircase leading to the rooms above. "Yes, my lord. The doctor checked on him earlier and confirmed that his condition has stabilized. He's currently awake and eating breakfast in his room."
Ace's ears twitched at the mention, his sharp tone carrying a hint of impatience. "Good. Then maybe we'll finally get some answers," he muttered before taking another deliberate bite of food.
Arlon stayed quiet, his gaze steady on his plate, while Lawrence broke the silence. "He doesn't seem like he can tell us much more about his situation," Lawrence said thoughtfully.
Arlon looked up, his expression calm but firm. "We can stop asking if he feels uncomfortable. It's enough that he's told us why the Pry cult hurt him. Rushing things won't make us any progress," he replied evenly. "The important thing is that he's alive and able to give us more information about the Pry cult's movements."
Dimitri, who had been standing silently nearby, stepped forward. "And we have to arrive at the Empire boundary by afternoon," he added, his tone measured and efficient.
Right, we have to leave soon to make it to the Empire on time, Arlon thought, his mind shifting to the next phase of their journey.
The trio finished their breakfast in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As the soft hum of conversation in the inn carried on around them, they rose from the table and made their way upstairs to Taron's room.
Click–
Upon entering, they found Taron awake, sitting up in bed. His pale face was slightly brighter than the night before, though his movements were still slow and cautious. The empty tray sat on the table beside him, and his wary eyes shifted to the door as Arlon, Lawrence, and Dimitri stepped inside.
Taron's gaze lingered on each of them, his unease apparent as he adjusted himself against the headboard. His fingers brushed the edge of the blanket covering him, fidgeting slightly.
"You're here…" he murmured, his voice still raspy from the night before.
Arlon stepped forward, his tone calm and steady. "We wanted to check on you before we left. How are you feeling?"
Taron hesitated, his wary eyes flicking between the three of them. "Better than last night… I guess," he admitted. "But... I know you didn't just come to ask about my health."
Lawrence, standing to Arlon's side. "We need to know more about what happened to you," he said, his voice even but firm. "Anything you can tell us more about the Pry cult, the mercenaries, or the village of treasure could help."
Taron exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I've already told you most of it," he said weakly. "I don't have all the answers you're looking for. I was just... following orders, trying to find the mercenaries."
Arlon's sharp eyes lingered on Taron, silently assessing the man's words. Following orders, Arlon thought, his lips tightening slightly. It's always the same story—no one knows enough to connect the dots.
Ace let out a soft scoff in Arlon's mind, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Great. Another clueless pawn who doesn't know what they're mixed up in. Really helpful."
Arlon ignored the quip, his focus returning to Taron, who seemed to shrink slightly under their collective gazes.
"You mentioned a magic scroll," Arlon said, his sharp gaze locked on Taron. "What was it for? What kind of power did it hold?"
Taron stiffened, his eyes widening slightly before he looked away, avoiding Arlon's piercing gaze. "I... I don't know exactly," he admitted reluctantly.
"My boss didn't tell me everything, just that it was old—ancient magic. Something to do with unlocking a power."
Arlon narrowed his eyes, his mind piecing together the fragmented information. "So the mercenaries stole it, and your boss sent you to retrieve it before it could fall into the wrong hands," he summarized.
Taron nodded hesitantly. "That's right. But... the Pry cult got to them first. At least, that's what I think. They didn't just attack me for no reason—they must have known I was after the same thing."
"They always seem to be one step ahead," Lawrence muttered bitterly, his fists clenching at his sides.
Arlon remained silent, his sharp mind turning over the details. If the Pry cult was actively seeking the magic scrolls, it was more than just a random attack—it was part of a calculated plan.
Dimitri's calm voice broke the tension. "We'll need to leave soon if we want to stay on schedule for the Empire," he reminded them, his tone carrying a note of urgency.
Arlon nodded faintly, already turning toward the door when Taron's voice cracked through the stillness. "You're going to the Empire!?" The words rushed out, laced with panic.
Arlon paused, glancing back at him with a calm but questioning look. "Yes. That's our destination. Why?"
Taron swallowed hard, his expression shifting between hesitation and determination. "Can you take me with you?" he blurted out, his voice unsteady. "I… I still don't know if it's safe for me to travel alone after what happened. Those people—they might still be after me."
Lawrence frowned, crossing his arms as his sharp gaze lingered on Taron. "You really think they're still after you?" His voice carried skepticism, but his brow furrowed slightly, betraying concern.
Taron shook his head, his hands twisting the blanket like a lifeline. "The Pry cult doesn't let loose ends slip away," he said, his voice a low rasp. He swallowed hard, the faint tremor in his words betraying the fear he tried to mask. "I barely survived the first time. If they find me again…"
Dimitri's sharp gaze shifted to Arlon, awaiting his decision. Arlon's expression remained neutral, his thoughts churning behind his unreadable mask as he considered Taron's request.
"You're asking us to take on a lot of risk," Arlon said evenly, his tone steady, neither cold nor warm. "Why should we agree?"
Taron sat up straighter, his movements slow and strained, like a man dragging himself from quicksand. His fingers gripped the blanket tightly, knuckles pale as his voice cracked. "I'll tell you everything—everything I know about the mercenaries, the Pry cult, the scrolls. Whatever you want. Just… don't leave me here."
Lawrence glanced at Arlon, his brow furrowed in thought. "He's already told us quite a bit," Lawrence said cautiously. "But it's true the Pry cult might still be a threat. They won't just forget about him."
Ace huffed from his perch, his tail flicking in measured irritation. "Another stray?" his voice drawled sharply in Arlon's mind. His red eyes locked onto Taron, scrutinizing him like a predator sizing up prey. "He'd better be worth it. We don't need dead weight slowing us down."
Arlon's gaze flicked to Ace briefly, his expression betraying nothing. We don't have much of a choice, Arlon thought in response, though he didn't voice it aloud. Ace's skepticism was warranted, but Taron's desperation was tangible—and perhaps useful.
Arlon's eyes narrowed, his tone dropping to a cold edge. "You'd better mean what you say. If you're hiding anything—or worse, lying—you'll regret it."
Taron nodded quickly, his fingers gripping the blanket like a shield. "I swear. I'll tell you everything. Just… let me come with you."