The group advanced toward the castle, flanked by a full entourage. Mt. Gelmir wasn't playing around—this alliance mattered. Melina's gaze darted around, taking it all in, until she caught Throne's subtle hand signal from the corner of her eye.
"Plan B."
Her expression didn't flicker. Years of stoicism meant her face stayed a mask.
The manor loomed ahead, its shadow swallowing them whole. Throne walked like he owned the place, his presence radiating dominance.
"A den of dragons and tigers? I'll burn it to ash."
The Mt. Gelmir entourage watched him closely. Some admired his boldness. Others smirked, thinking him a fool.
Heroic? Sure. But heroes also made the best kind of dead. Inside, the manor was a tomb. The windows might as well have been painted on—no light seeped through. The surrounding mountains choked the sun, and the dim flicker of candles cast long, eerie shadows. At least the decor wasn't tacky. No gaudy gold or silver trinkets cluttered the space. Just weapons and murals lining the walls.
Throne paused before a portrait. The man in the mural stood tall, square-jawed, regal—like a king ripped from a deck of cards.
"This is Lord Rykard," Tanith said, stepping closer with a smile. "You'll meet him soon."
Throne's lips twitched.
"Looking forward to it. Tell me, are you running this place now?"
"Mostly," Tanith replied smoothly. "But major decisions go to His Lordship."
Throne smirked internally. Like what's for lunch? He didn't voice it, though. From what he'd seen, Mt. Gelmir's military was intact, waiting in the wings. But were they really ready to serve the main course so soon? Rya's appearance confirmed it—Rykard had already fed himself to the serpent. No mystery why Throne had been summoned. But this 'Monk' didn't do compassion. He did transcendence through force.
He shook his head, prompting no reaction. Everyone assumed he was disappointed about missing Rykard. Typical—a guest traveling so far only to be snubbed. Tanith watched him carefully.
"The luncheon will take some time," she said casually. "Let Rya show you around. She's quite attentive."
The small, hunched girl stepped forward, her emerald eyes bright. She bowed deeply.
"My lord, please follow me. I'll show you the manor and your quarters."
Polite. Throne remembered she was one of the few innocents here, another pawn in Rykard's game. He studied her carefully.
"Lead the way," he said, then turned to Tanith. "I hope to see Lord Rykard soon. Lady Ranni's letter must be delivered by my hand."
"As you wish," Tanith replied, her tone unreadable.
Throne left the group with Melina. She was scanning their surroundings like a hawk.
"Relax," he whispered. "We're safe."
"But Plan B—"
"Not yet. If they make a move, I'll tear this place apart."
Throne's grin was sharp, almost feral. He was itching to see Rykard's next play.
If he really intended to eat him, not only would he break his teeth, but wouldn't he fear Lady Ranni's wrath?
"My lord?"
Rya turned back, her face puzzled.
"Yes, let's go."
The three of them moved deeper into the manor's shadowy corridors.
The candlelight flickered blood-red, casting long shadows across the room. Fireplaces roared with crimson flames, bathing the interior in an eerie glow that made the skin prickle. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the distant churn of lava and the metallic clank of chains. It felt less like a manor and more like a tomb.
"Aren't you afraid living here?" Throne asked abruptly.
"Afraid?"
Rya turned to him, her expression polite but puzzled.
"This is my home. I've lived here since I was born."
She unlocked a door, revealing a bedroom that was understated yet opulent. A large bed dominated the space, flanked by a wardrobe and a dining table.
"This is the room Lady Tanith arranged for you. If you're not satisfied, we can change it."
"I don't care about these things," Throne said, his tone sharp. "But why do you assume I'll be staying long?"
The question caught Rya off guard. She blinked, hesitated, then finally murmured, "Perhaps Lord Rykard is very ill. It will take some time to see him."
She knew nothing. Throne shook his head slightly but didn't press further. He wasn't here to pick up girls.
"Do the Gelmir Knights and the Recusants all live in the manor?" he asked, shifting the subject.
"Yes," Rya replied. "Joining Volcano Manor makes us family. Except when performing tasks, everyone lives together."
Some family. Throne scoffed inwardly. He realized this might have been Rykard's old rule. If the man truly wanted to feast on his "snacks," it would be best to keep them spread out.
Throne knocked on the wall, producing a solid thud-thud. He turned to Rya, who was tidying the bedding like a dutiful maid.
"Aren't we continuing the tour?"
"That's as far as I can take you inside the manor," she said, her voice tinged with hesitation.
"Please don't wander around. The manor hasn't been cleaned in a while. It's dirty and dangerous."
Throne almost laughed at her naivety. She didn't stop to wonder why a Carian Chief Knight would fear prisoners. But he didn't push her. Instead, he sprawled in the high-backed chair, watching the dim candlelight. The oppressive atmosphere made him uneasy. How could these Recusants endure living in this haunted house for so long?
Rya moved about the room with practiced efficiency—shaking out the bedding, lighting the wall candles, stacking toiletries neatly. She was clearly a professional.
Melina took an unconscious step forward, but Throne's sharp glance stopped her cold. Right, she thought, I'm not a maid. Why would I help?
"Heave-ho, finally done."
Rya wiped her forehead and turned to Throne, bowing respectfully.
"My lord, would you like me to take you to the banquet hall now?"
"No rush," Throne said, his voice soft but commanding. "Sit down. I want to ask you something."
He gestured to the chair opposite the square table. Rya swallowed hard and obeyed, sitting with her head bowed and shoulders hunched, as if awaiting punishment.
Throne tapped the table lightly, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
"How long has it been since you last saw Rykard?"
Rya's gentle nature made her incapable of lying.
"It has been a long time," she admitted. "But I did see His Lordship a few years ago."
So Rykard's transformation was gradual. He hadn't become the monster in the magma overnight. Perhaps some shred of consciousness remained? Throne was adept at piecing together intelligence from fragments of conversation.
He leaned forward, his gaze piercing.
"Think back. What did Rykard look like? Was there any change from his usual self?"
"But I've only seen His Lordship once," Rya protested, her innocence palpable.
"How would I know about any changes?"
Throne didn't relent. It seemed Rykard's consciousness had already been compromised, keeping him isolated and rarely seen.
Throne's lips twisted in a self-mocking smile. Footsteps approached outside the door—an attendant coming to summon them. He rose slowly, joints creaking.
"Stand straight when you walk. That perpetual hunch makes you look half-dead already."
Rya blinked up at the knight and his maid. She mouthed silent thanks, then pressed her lips together. Straight? Impossible. The candle flames shuddered as shadows licked the walls.
Volcano Manor's banquet hall felt cramped compared to Caria's opulent dining chambers. Only four figures occupied the space. Throne faced Tanith across the table, while Melina and a hulking Tarnished in full plate stood guard behind their respective masters. Where's the Crucible Knight? Throne's eyes flickered. Hidden deliberately? And Bernahl's absence gnawed at him—the Recusants' strongest warrior should be here.
His expression never changed as he assessed the room. Weeks of reconnaissance had yielded answers. Two military factions ruled these volcanic slopes: the Recusants and Gelmir's Knights. Both forces were battle-hardened elites. Combined with the mountain's natural defenses, no wonder Leyndell's armies broke against these cliffs. Rykard might be mad, but he wasn't weak.
Yet the dynamics troubled him. The Recusants behaved more like mercenary allies, indifferent to their lord's absence. The Gelmir Knights' loyalty ran deeper, more suspicious. How had Rykard kept his condition secret from them?
He raised his goblet in a mocking salute.
"To our... pleasant cooperation, Lady Tanith."
The iron-masked woman sipped delicately.
"Until Lord Rykard decides, Gelmir and Caria remain unallied."
Throne's knife screeched against the plate as he carved through greasy meat.
"Explain."
Tanith rested her chin on one hand, utterly unfazed by his glare.
"To break free of all masters. To defy the Two Fingers' tyranny. This is the covenant binding my lord, myself, and every Recusant."
Her mask tilted slightly.
"We've bled fighting Leyndell. Caria? You've never raised a blade against the Erdtree."
"Yet you sent the alliance proposal."
"Because Caelid's catastrophe bore Caria's fingerprints. That makes you potential allies—not proven ones."
Her words were polished blades, each syllable precisely placed. Throne gritted his teeth. She was right, damn her. In this war of annihilation, no faction would bleed for another's ambition.
"I thought you'd sworn to burn the Golden Order. Instead you play at politics."
He tossed his utensils down with a clatter. The mystery meat had turned his stomach anyway.
"The burning comes," Tanith said, dabbing blood-red grease from her lips with a handkerchief.
"But we'll stand atop the ashes. What value in blasphemy if we merely exchange one master for another?"
"Charming. You wait until now to reveal your terms."
Throne didn't overturn the table. Barely.
"I understand the game."
Even fishwives haggled in the markets. Without hypnotic charms, he couldn't expect blind obedience.
"Name your price for meeting Rykard. My patience wears thin."
Tanith's mask hid her smile, but it crept into her voice.
"Every Recusant proves their loyalty in blood. They bring us the head of a worthy foe."
She leaned forward.
"Do you comprehend the significance?"
"An oath written in corpses. Simple enough."
His fingers twitched toward his sword hilt.
"It shows a break with the Erdtree and becoming a member who blasphemes the golden order."
Throne snorted, then put on a bit of arrogance: "You aren't going to ask me to attack a Leyndell Army camp, are you? I can kill everyone, but I can't guarantee what happens afterward."
So arrogant. Standing behind Tanith, Henricus frowned. They had been locked away in the volcano for so many years; did this person think the enemies were all pigs and dogs?
"There is no need for such trouble. There is a minion near the volcano that hasn't been dealt with because its location is too special. Can you hunt its head?"
Her meaning was simple: Caria had to offer a pledge, or rather, a handle. Otherwise, if Leyndell came to attack the city again and Caria just stood by with a 'that's none of my business' attitude while watching the show, what then? Since they were cooperating, they had to advance and retreat together. Throne thought for a moment. This wasn't as simple as it appeared on the surface. He wasn't worried about the pledge, because the break between Caria and the Erdtree was imminent; it wouldn't change regardless of whether he did it or not. Moreover, he knew Rykard's state; Caria's leverage was far less than his own. 'So you want to test my strength?' Legends were just legends after all; one had to witness it with their own eyes to be at ease. Of course, they also had to test whether Throne would break their teeth.
"Kill it, and I can see Lord Rykard?"
"I guarantee it. You don't want to waste time here either, right?"
Clatter—Throne stood up directly. The terrible things he had done would absolutely never be exposed. Otherwise, the Recusants might be fine, but the Gelmir Knights would immediately purge the court. Besides, Throne was genuinely curious. Where did Rykard get the courage to lure the Carian Chief Knight to the volcano to eat?
"Lead the way."
"You are too impatient. At least finish the luncheon first."
"Because I am busy returning to report. Do you want to bring shame to Lady Ranni?"
"How could I dare? Who does not know the majesty of the Lunar Princess?"
Melina almost couldn't hold back a laugh, thinking that the doll was quite good at putting on airs—'majesty known to all,' indeed. Tanith glanced at her slightly, but the latter still had that dull expression, so she didn't think much of it.
"Henricus, please lead the way for his lordship."
"Yes, please follow me."
The Recusant made a gesture of invitation, but saw that Throne didn't move. The man pressed his hands on the table, leaning forward, and asked word by word: "If I kill it, will I really be able to see Lord Rykard?"
He repeated it again, not hiding his suspicion in the slightest.
"I guarantee it."
"Good."
Throne left decisively, following behind the Recusant, his mind racing. In fact, regardless of what stage Rykard was at, Throne was not confident he could slay him. But as long as he didn't fall into a trap, it would be difficult for Rykard to keep him there. Once the commotion of the battle spread—You can take your time exchanging pleasantries with Morgott; I won't disturb you. Therefore, the first step was to suppress Rykard, whet his appetite, and recover from his injuries along the way. It wouldn't be too late to make a move after figuring out his state or finding that Serpent-Hunter spear. Undercurrents were already surging in Mt. Gelmir, and the loyal knights had begun to suspect. Although Throne had said he didn't want to waste time, he was actually not panicked at all.