---
The journey did not end where the road stopped.
It ended where control began.
---
The carts slowed.
Not because the beasts tired.
Not because the path narrowed.
But because something ahead decided—
this is where movement becomes permission.
---
Nocth felt it before he saw it.
That subtle shift in the air.
Not pressure.
Not danger.
Something colder.
More deliberate.
---
The wheels ground to a halt.
---
Ahead stood the Saeverath stationed residence.
Not their grand seat of power.
Not the center of their authority.
But something else entirely—
---
A gate of function.
---
It was built from stone that looked… wrong.
Not smooth.
Not polished.
But layered.
As if pieces had been added over time, each carrying a slightly different shade, a slightly different density.
Rough.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
---
Runic lines crawled across its surface.
Not glowing brightly like noble displays.
But dim.
Subtle.
Like something always active, always watching.
---
And standing before it—
---
The guards.
---
They were not elegant.
Not refined.
---
They looked like they had been carved from the same stone as the gate.
Broad.
Still.
Unmoving.
---
Their armor wasn't decorative.
It was practical.
Layered plates infused with faint sigils that pulsed only when observed directly.
Their eyes were sharp.
Not curious.
Not expressive.
---
Judging.
---
The cart creaked to a stop.
---
One of the guards stepped forward.
Slowly.
---
Another leaned closer to him, whispering something low.
Too low to hear.
But whatever was said—
---
changed something.
---
The first guard turned.
---
And his gaze fell on them.
---
Not scanning.
Not assessing.
---
Deciding.
---
The reaction was immediate.
---
The drunkards shrank back instinctively.
One of them let out a quiet, broken whimper.
---
Karkos stiffened.
---
His bruised body trembled slightly as his eyes darted between the guards.
---
Please…
please don't be those ones…
---
His thoughts ran ahead of reason.
---
Not the weird ones… not the ones that taste people…
---
His shoulders shook.
---
"…I don't taste good…" he muttered under his breath.
"…too old… too bitter…"
---
One of the drunkards beside him nodded seriously.
"…yeah, you'd probably poison them."
---
"…SHUT UP!"
---
On the opposite side—
---
Doro clicked his tongue.
"…damn it."
---
His older brother exhaled sharply.
"…of all the places…"
---
One of their goons tried to laugh.
It came out wrong.
---
"…well… at least…"
He swallowed.
"…at least before I die… I'll get to see the inside of a noble residence…"
---
Doro turned his head slowly.
---
The look he gave him—
---
was not kind.
---
"…you're enjoying this?" he asked flatly.
---
"…n-no, I just meant—"
---
"Then shut up."
---
The goon went silent immediately.
---
Imuis frowned slightly.
His usual composure thinning.
---
"…this isn't good."
---
Nocth said nothing.
---
But inside—
---
What is going on…
---
His thoughts were not calm.
Not steady.
---
They were loud.
---
Why does this feel like it's spiraling out of control…
---
His gaze shifted.
---
To Imuis.
---
…and why do I feel like this idiot is somehow responsible…
---
He stared.
Longer than necessary.
---
Imuis noticed.
---
Blinking once.
---
Then—
---
"…hey."
---
He leaned slightly closer.
---
"…just to clarify—"
He gestured lazily.
"…I don't swing that way."
---
Silence.
---
Nocth stared at him.
---
Heron snorted.
---
"…wrong timing, but impressive confidence."
---
Even one of the drunkards coughed out a laugh.
---
"…you two are weird."
---
The tension cracked.
Just slightly.
---
Then—
---
A rough hand slammed against the side of the cart.
---
"Quiet."
---
The guard's voice was flat.
Final.
---
Another guard leaned closer to him, whispering again.
---
This time, the first one nodded.
---
"…inform the elders," he said.
---
The second guard turned and moved immediately.
No hesitation.
---
The gate opened.
---
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
---
Just enough.
---
The carts moved forward.
---
Inside—
---
The atmosphere changed.
---
Not darker.
Not heavier.
---
More… precise.
---
Structures lined the interior.
Not grand halls.
Not decorative corridors.
---
Workspaces.
---
Chambers.
---
Purpose-built.
---
Figures moved within them.
---
Young ones.
---
Apprentices.
---
Dressed in layered garments marked by the Saeverath sigil at the center of their chest.
Not embroidered.
Embedded.
---
Their hands moved constantly.
Drawing sigils.
Testing constructs.
Adjusting fragile, unstable devices that flickered between function and failure.
---
Some held incomplete forged arms.
Weak.
Unstable.
Barely holding form.
---
Others worked with artificial thread tools—
metal frameworks that pulsed faintly, struggling to maintain consistent resonance.
---
None of it looked powerful.
---
But all of it felt…
important.
---
The carts rolled through.
---
The prisoners still bound.
Still watched.
---
And as they passed—
---
The apprentices noticed.
---
One by one.
---
Work slowed.
Stopped.
---
Whispers spread.
---
"…who are they?"
"…outsiders?"
"…why are they bound like that?"
---
Then—
---
"…wait."
---
A voice cut through.
---
"…isn't that Ruby?"
---
Heads turned.
---
"…why is she with them?"
---
Another leaned closer.
---
"…don't tell me…"
---
A smirk.
---
"…she ran away with some commoner."
---
"…stole something and tried to escape?"
---
"…that would explain it."
---
Another voice chimed in.
---
"…I heard there was going to be a secret wedding planned for her."
---
"…maybe this is it."
---
"…they caught her before it happened."
---
Laughter.
---
Then—
---
"…wait."
---
A finger pointed.
---
"…that one…"
---
Toward Doro.
---
"…I've seen him before."
---
"…Nareth'Qel…"
---
"…he was talking to her."
---
"…so he's the one?"
---
"…the ruffian?"
---
Ruby's face turned red instantly.
---
"…SHUT UP!"
---
The whispers only grew.
---
Doro remained silent.
---
But his gaze shifted.
---
Toward Nocth.
---
Slowly.
---
Intentionally.
---
Nocth felt it.
---
Turned.
---
Their eyes met.
---
Doro smiled.
---
Not wide.
Not loud.
---
Just enough.
---
Something about it—
---
felt wrong.
---
Nocth frowned.
---
Why does that feel familiar…
---
A flicker.
---
A moment.
---
A memory.
---
Blurry.
---
Two figures.
---
Movement.
---
Impact.
---
A fight—
---
Then—
---
gone.
---
Collapsed.
---
Before it could form.
---
Nocth's expression tightened.
---
"…what…"
---
"…hey."
---
Imuis' voice cut in.
---
"…what's wrong with you now?"
---
Nocth blinked.
---
"…I don't know."
---
He exhaled slowly.
---
"…it just feels like…"
He paused.
---
"…we're missing something important."
---
Not confusion.
Not panic.
---
Something deeper.
---
Imuis stared at him.
---
Then sighed.
---
"…you're always like this."
---
Nocth didn't respond.
---
Imuis continued anyway.
---
"…dazed… half-asleep…"
He smirked.
"…talking like you're thinking three steps ahead of everyone else and none of them make sense."
---
Heron chuckled softly.
---
"…he's not wrong."
---
Imuis leaned back slightly.
---
"…sometimes I wonder…"
---
He tilted his head.
---
"…are you actually a kid…"
---
A pause.
---
"…or just some old man stuck in a younger body."
---
Silence.
---
Nocth didn't react.
---
Not outwardly.
---
But something in him—
---
shifted.
---
Then—
---
Elsewhere.
---
Two figures stood watching.
---
A young girl.
And her maid.
---
The maid leaned slightly forward.
---
"…Mistress."
---
She pointed.
---
"…isn't that him?"
---
Kaelith followed her gaze.
---
And froze.
---
"…that's…"
---
Her eyes widened.
---
"…him."
---
The maid nodded.
---
"…the one who caused trouble before."
---
Her finger shifted.
---
"…and look…"
---
Toward Nocth.
---
"…your savior."
---
Kaelith's breath caught slightly.
---
"…he's…"
---
Bound.
---
Silent.
---
Confused.
---
"…what did he do…" she whispered.
---
No answer came.
---
Only movement.
---
The carts continued.
---
The guards silent.
---
The whispers fading behind them.
---
Kaelith turned slightly.
---
"…I need to see father."
---
Her voice was steady.
But urgent.
---
The maid nodded immediately.
---
They turned.
---
And left.
---
Behind them—
---
Nocth sat quietly.
---
Eyes forward.
---
Mind unsettled.
---
Something was wrong.
---
Not with the situation.
---
Not with the people.
---
But with—
---
what he could not remember.
---
And somewhere deep within him—
---
something stirred.
---
Waiting.
---