Troan seemed thoughtful.
'From what I know of them both, I fail to see Kaydin faring well with her..."
He ran a hand through his hair as a slight furrow formed in his brows.
"Kaydin may... find her difficult to handle." He remarked with an uncertain tone.
Sauraia smirked, gazing up at him with a knowing light in her eyes.
"I suppose you can 'handle' her then."
Sauraia emphasized on the word with a sultry tone.
Troan was startled at the comment and he looked at her to confirm if he heard right.
"You have 'handled' her once before, why not a second time?" She drawled, this time in a sensual manner.
Troan grimaced, and then he paled at a certain memory.
"That...was a misunderstanding. I thought she was Lurin!" He grumbled in his defense.
"Oh?"
Sauraia raised an unconvinced brow, a smile playing on her lips.
Troan frowned.
"Enough! We were children, Mother. I do not appreciate your teasing!"
Sauraia relented with a disappointed sigh.
"Alright. Jokes aside, I remember you seemed quite fond of her. At times, I would catch you watching her like a new book on the art of governance that you just discovered in the study."
Troan huffed in annoyance.
"That was because she was odd, in an interesting way. I merely sought to understand her thought process. That proved—difficult in the end." He stated, muttering the last sentence as he looked to the floor, seemingly annoyed at something, at himself.
Sauraia looked at him with a certain gentleness in her eyes.
"But you did, in the end. You learned to understand her...but why?"
Troan looked up in thought.
'Indeed, why? Why was she so intriguing to me?" He mused.
He let out an imperceptible sigh and said. "I felt we had a special connection..."
Troan looked away, regret visible in his eyes.
"But then I betrayed her and broke my promise." He whispered with words laced with bitterness.
"Oh, son—"
Troan interrupted Sauraia with a raise of his hand, his eyes taking on a solemn gleam.
"I no longer wish to speak of this."
Sauraia tilted her head slightly with a resigned sigh and then, she looked at him with a touch of sympathy in her eyes before looking down with a nod.
"Very well. Is there anything else you wish to say?"
Troan seemed relieved that the conversation had moved on, and his shoulders relaxed as he changed the topic.
"Kaydin, with his mother's support, would like me to serve as a deterrent at the Jubul against anyone who may wish to target him. He proposed that I attend with him."
Sauraia gasped, eyes alight with happiness. She seemed visibly pleased by the arrangement.
"That is good news!" She chimed in delight. "It shows they trust you, despite your grandfather's ambitions.
"This is also a chance for you to take a much-needed break from your responsibilities. For a decade now, you've toiled in the ever-frozen north. I am certain Father must have worked you to the bones."
Troan nodded in consideration of her words as if saying. 'You have a point."
But then he groaned.
"I can't, Mother. Lady Eskela has tasked me with investigating the rumors of occultic activities on the borders of Count Wheathel's lands. Do you know anything about it?"
She seemed to contemplate his words intently.
"Count Wheathel...Occult..." She mused out loudly.
Then she shook her head.
"No, son. My agents are few and far between in that region. However, I have heard rumors of a revolution. It would seem the farmers are discontent with the Count, and someone seemed eager to fan the flames."
Troan frowned in thought.
'A revolution in Regulon? It would be the first in history and an eternal mark of shame to the lord on whose land it occurs. This is certainly the case, given our land's lordly culture of providing citizens their basic needs."
Sauraia watched his expression for a while and said.
"Do not think much of it, son. I am sure the Count can handle that on his own. As for the cult, worry not. I will send Virgo to investigate, and she will relay her findings to you.
"If both rumors are true, then the province of Acorm may truly be in dire straights.
However, keep in mind that the province lies between Fort Nighthowl and Fort Vashen, which are connected by train lines. The Origins forbid, but should the worst occur... ATAN would be ready to intervene.
"Thus, I would advise that you leave this matter to better hands and attend the Jubul with your stepbrother."
Troan caressed his chin as he mulled over her words.
"Grandfather would not be pleased. My appearance there sends a message that I do not agree with his war plans."
Sauraia smiled slyly.
"Are you in agreement?"
Troan took a deep breath before sighing.
"You seem too eager to have me go waste my time, dilly-dallying with some noble's children."
She cleared her throat.
"Peers, son. Your peers. Besides the Jubul has almost reached its conclusion. All you would be spending is 9—8 days, instead of a month."
Troan wasn't convinced.
"Provide for me a good reason to neglect my mission for the Jubul."
"Sanity," Sauraia stated simply.
Troan was taken aback by the statement, and he frowned as an apprehensive feeling gripped his heart.
"You have lived in the north for almost a decade, son. In the worst parts, no less. You have seen much bloodshed and death. You have also saved many a life from what I have heard... You deserve some respite as this may very well be the last Jubul.
"Your... experience after your father's death proves that you have become more unstable than ever, despite your facade of control.
"From your childhood, you have shown signs of this, like the time you fainted after your sister cried when you accidentally ruined her color book.
"Now you are a Lord of Avalon, bearing upon your unstable soul the madness that comes with divinity, it is a miracle you haven't gone on a murder spree yet. I would attribute this to Marl's training and lesson, but I know you have done your best, as well. However, you are reaching your limit."
As Sauraia spake, Troan's frown deepened steadily, and his eyes reflected his fears.
Seeing this, Sauraia continued in a soft, earnest tone.
"Go, son. It will be good for your general well-being. Enjoy the events and balls, make new friends, and court some ladies, laugh, dance, and banter with your siblings.
"Then you may return, a whole new man. Ready for the trials ahead."
Her gaze became distant as she looked away.
"A new era looms. The calm before a great upheaval. Maybe this is a fateful opportunity. Go and recuperate, so that you may better face the approaching times."
Troan gulped back his fears and gazed at her, jaws locked determinedly.
"I am not a child, Mother. I refuse to be swayed by your deceit! You are hiding things from me and wish to send me away without giving me the answers I need!"
"Son—"
Troan stopped her, with a quick raise of his staff.
"I do not need to hear your excuses. This is my next question for you... How did Vitrus die?"
Sauraia's eyes widened in shock, and then she looked down with grief, caressing her palms on her lap.
There was a moment of silence, where Troan felt that she would refuse him an answer.
But then she opened her mouth and spoke.
"When his body was found... there were claw slashes all over, bruises like he had been hit by a blunt weapon, burns like he had been struck by lightning."
Troan's heart fell, and Sauraia sighed softly.
"I would have been certain that he was ambushed on one of his unaccompanied travels to see the lands, but... When I observed his body, I sensed faint traces of the Navar on him. As a result, I announced that he had been ambushed by Navaric monsters which might have infiltrated our lands somehow."
The air around Troan chilled and condensed, forming a cold fog around him.
"Where was his body found?"
He inquired lightly, in an ominous tone that came like a chilling whisper.
Sauraia hesitated.
Troan's dangerous gaze shifted to her and she relented.
"Count Wheathel's lands... But it was around the eastern border, leading toward Fort Vashen."
Troan looked to the side as if his gaze could pierce through the wall towards the Count's lands.
"This is more reason why I should go there. Were there signs of a battle? What did the Fort report?"
Sauraia shook her head.
"It's strange... but the lands where his body was found were in its natural, unbroken state. Fort Vashen's report stated that their scouts neither heard nor saw a battle unfold."
Troan gritted his teeth with frustration.
"I should go there myself!" He said, briskly turning on his heels.
"Wait!" Sauraia yelled, standing to her feet.
Troan paused and glanced back with a cold sheen in his eyes.
"There is no need. I have messaged Re'obata, they will continue the investigation."
"Re'obata? The Dark Garden?" Troan questioned, surprised.
Re'obata, some would call them an organization of witches, but they were more of a family, given how few and close-knit they were.
"Yes." She affirmed.
Sauraia then smiled and slowly approached him.
"They know the mysteries of the Navar far more than what I have ever taught you. They will do a better job." She said, coming to a stop behind him.
"Dearest son."
She brought up her hands and hugged him from behind, her cheek coming to rest on his back.
"We will get through this together, I promise." She whispered. "Know that no matter what happens, I will always be your ally."
Troan looked back at her with a suspicious gleam in his gaze, and she looked up at him with care and love in hers.
Troan suddenly felt alarmed and his instincts screamed at him to move, but Sauraia's hug was bearish.
Instantly, the red candles around them lit up, casting a red glow.
"What are you doing, Mother!"
Troan demanded with a stern, partly worried glare.
"Helping you on your way." She smiled.
"My what—"
"Lamesh!" She chanted in Kadi'an.
Immediately, Troan felt his muscles tighten as his heartbeat slowed.
His vision blurred, his consciousness rapidly faded, and despite his eyes glowing fiercely in response to his fighting spirit against the encroaching curse—he faltered.
Troan lost his grip on himself and soon darkness followed.