A soft voice spoke from behind the door.
"My lord… may I come in?" the girl asked timidly.
"Get in," Edward replied, rough and cold.
She stepped inside with visible fear.
Unlike the other slaves, she looked slightly healthier—her dress was simple but intact, and she wore old handmade sandals.
Her brown hair matched her eyes; not a beauty, but not unpleasant either.
She set the tray on the table, placing two bowls of thin soup, some bread, and two clay cups.
Pouring water into them, she lowered her head.
"I-I'm sorry, my lord. We don't have any ale left to serve."
"It's fine," Jim said gently.
The girl stepped aside, standing silently in the corner.
"Come closer," Edward ordered, his voice cold.
She hesitated, then obeyed.
"I want information," he continued quietly. "Answer me properly… and I might help you. In some way."
She flinched—hope flickered briefly in her eyes, though she tried to hide it.
"Whatever you ask, my lord… I'll answer," she said softly, but with a hint of eagerness.
"Good," Edward muttered. "Now tell me what the hell is going on in this town. And don't lie."
She swallowed.
"Well… the khan of this town—Lord Simton—ordered his personal troops to take ninety percent of all provisions. Anyone who refused was beaten or worse. They claimed it was for the duchess's army, that she demanded the supplies. After that, the gates were shut. No one in, no one out."
Jim asked while eating, "Where did they take the supplies?"
"Outside the town. Since then… we haven't seen a single carriage return."
Edward raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment.
"And those buildings up the mountain? Near the upper side of the city?"
"Those are the mayor's property—his mansion and storage houses. He built them two years ago."
"I see," Edward said. "That's all I needed. You can go now. Once I'm done with this matter, I'll help you however I can. Take my bowl—eat it if you want."
The girl bowed deeply, clutching the bowl, and slipped out of the room.
When she left, Edward drew his sword from its sheath.
Sitting on his bed, he began polishing it with handmade oil.
The sword gleamed faintly in the dim room.
A long, beautifully forged blade—its steel of rare quality, its hilt carved from mump-wood, an ancient type of tree, extinct from the wold, and beneath all that Jim could feel a faint ripple of mana.
A living weapon.
"Edward, I've got a question," Jim said, watching him.
"Ask."
"That sword of yours… is it a living blade? Does it have a soul?"
Edward didn't look up. "I'm surprised you noticed. Yes—it's alive. But its powers are still unknown to me."
He ran the oiled cloth along the blade slowly.
"All I know is that it's old. Ancient, maybe. And I've met the soul inside it—in a dream. It spoke to me briefly. Didn't tell me how to use its strength, or what it truly is. The only thing I understood from that strange tongue… was its name."
"And what name is that?" Jim leaned forward.
"Israphil," Edward said calmly.
Jim blinked. "…Israphil? Like the angel Israphil? Huh. That's… interesting."
"Angel or not—that's its name. I haven't seen the soul since."
Edward slid the sword back into its sheath.
"Well," Jim continued, "when did it talk to you?"
"Two years ago. I was seventeen." Edward stood up. "Now shut up and sleep. We've got things to do tomorrow."
Jim lay back on his bed, staring at Edward.
"Gods know what goes on in your strange head. Good night, mate."
"Jim. Get your ass up. We've got work to do," Edward said.
"I wanna sleep…" Jim muttered into the pillow, barely audible.
Edward grabbed his arm, yanked him off the bed, and emptied a cup of cold water onto his face.
"I said—get the fuck up."
"F—fine, fine!" Jim coughed, suddenly awake.
Once dressed, they left the tavern and walked through the quiet streets.
"Seriously," Jim said, rubbing his face, "why do you even care about this mess? I thought you were an ignorant bastard, not some hero trying to fix the world."
Edward didn't stop walking.
"It caught my attention. That's all."
They approached an open forge—a blacksmith shop.
The keeper looked up, surprised to see strangers.
"What can I help you with—" he paused. "Travelers? Haven't seen that in a while. Speak, sirs."
Edward dropped five silver coins on the counter.
"Information."
"About what's going on in this town," Jim said.
The keeper sighed. "Ah. I see where this is going. All this shit—it's that whore's fault. The duchess. She demanded the food, ordered doctors and healers to leave us and join her damn army. They took my boy too—my only son. Nineteen years old, never held a sword properly. They dragged him off to fight orcs. Haven't seen him since."
Edward and Jim exchanged a quiet look.
"And how do you know the food is going to her army?" Jim asked. "Did you see the soldiers?"
The keeper shook his head.
"No. But it's her doing. She doesn't care if we starve. Not one bit."
"And the closed gate?" Jim continued.
"Because she doesn't want us talking to outsiders. Wants to silence us."
His voice shook with frustration.
"The guards told us it was the khan's order," Jim said.
"The khan is a good man. Helps people. But we haven't seen him since the soldiers left. I say she had him killed."
Edward walked away without a word. Jim thanked the keeper and followed.
"Two completely different stories," Jim muttered. "I say we just leave. I don't want to get dragged into the drama of this place."
"There's one more place we need to check," Edward said calmly.
They headed toward the mansion's gates when a voice called from behind.
"Hey! You two—wait!"
Both men turned. A group of soldiers approached.
"The captain wants a word with you," one soldier said.
Edward noticed the blacksmith slipping away fast.
"Good," Edward said coldly. "We wanted a word with him too."
"No we didn't," Jim muttered under his breath, mortified.
The captain stepped in front of them.
"So. Two hunters in my town. But sneaking around? Didn't expect that. What do you want?"
"Where is the khan?" Edward asked directly. "I want to see him."
"Oh-ho-ho… look at this one," the captain laughed, and the soldiers smirked.
Edward interrupted him.
"The khan spread the sickness in this town. And he stole the food, didn't he? Framed the duchess for it. Told everyone she ordered it. But he never delivered the supplies. They're still here—stored in this town."
The captain's smile vanished.
He stared at Edward for a long moment.
"I'll say this once," he growled. "Be out of this town by tomorrow. If you're still here… your heads will be cut off. Now get lost."
The captain walked away.
Jim stared at Edward, stunned. "So… what now?"
Edward looked toward the mansion on the mountain.
"We go up there," he said calmly.
Jim rubbed his forehead. "…You're insane. insane. But whatever—lead the way."