Time slams back into motion.
The dead silence shatters instantly as the crackling of the campfires roars back to life and the deafening cheers of the army flood the valley once more. Sitting by the fireside puffing on his cigar, Allister watches as the night draws on. Christoph, who only moments ago had been a somber patriarch marveled by the tragedies of the past, is now crying happily, completely lost in his daughter's warm embrace.
Amidst the celebration, Gabriel successfully pulls the Patriarch's personal luxury liquor wagon right into the center of the camp. Allister's eyes light up. He springs to his feet and blinks toward the wagon in a blur of motion, swiftly pulling out a few plain-looking bottles from the finest crates and tucking them away into his coat before anyone can notice.
The Patriarch catches the movement out of the corner of his eye and pounces forward to catch him.
"Hey! Don't you dare take all of my good stuff!" Christoph shouts at Allister, his deep voice boisterous and alive again.
But Allister effortlessly evades his grip with a swift step, smiling as he playfully mocks the towering monarch. "Well, I deserve at least this much, don't you think?"
With a slick, practiced flick of his wrist, Allister pops the cork out of the bottle with a sharp pop, pouring the rich liquid into his glass. He lifts it to his nose, closing his eyes as he savors the heavy aroma. "Ah… it's been so long."
Alexandr trots over casually, his massive midnight frame casting a shadow over the fire as he gently nudges Allister's shoulder.
"Do you want some, Alexandr?" Allister asks his faithful companion.
Alexandr snorts loudly and nods his massive head up and down, making it perfectly clear that yes, he absolutely wants a drink. Allister obliges with a chuckle, pouring himself a bit more into his own cup before emptying the rest of the rare vintage whiskey into a clean crystal bowl he had prepared just for his friend.
Allister walks over toward the smiling Anastasia and Aurelian, who are sitting by the warmth of the crackling campfire, quietly enjoying the beautiful family reunion. He looks down at her with a gentle expression and asks, "Have you been practicing your magic, little one?"
"Huh? Oh, hello Sir Sinclair," Anastasia answers, her wide amethyst eyes turning slightly sheepish, almost like a puppy pleading for forgiveness. "I haven't had a lot of chances to try it out yet… so no, sir..."
"Hmmm, well, just so you know, Rosalyn over there was the first person to ever pioneer your specific type of magic," Allister replies to her puppy-dog eyes, gesturing over his shoulder toward the first princess, who is currently catching up with Gabriel and the other boisterous knights.
Anastasia takes a deep breath, gathering up every ounce of her courage. Holding Aurelian's hand, she walks over to the lively group. She approaches Rosalyn and, with a resolute, unwavering look in her eyes, asks if the legendary princess would be willing to teach her magic.
"Of course!" Rosalyn answers instantly, her smile bright and without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Christoph wanders back over to the fire and sits down heavily next to Allister. He stares into the flames for a long moment before speaking. "So, Allister... are you going to tell me how you actually managed to drag Rosalyn back from the jaws of death itself?"
"Hahahaha! My friend, when a person curses the world as violently as you did back then, it was only a matter of time."
The Patriarch's eyes narrow slightly at his friend's characteristically enigmatic answer. He lets out a long, defeated sigh, deciding it's better to drop the question entirely. "Do you happen to have another one of those cigars?"
"Sure, here you go." Allister reaches into his jacket, pulls out a fresh cigar, and hands it over.
Picking up another piece of smoldering, red-hot wood from the fire pit, Allister extends it toward his friend. Christoph takes it from his hand, using the embers to light his own cigar, exhaling a thick plume of gray smoke into the night air.
"Where do you even find all of these things?" the Patriarch asks, inspecting the finely crafted tobacco.
"Where else? I stole them from the elves," Allister smirks, a completely sinister, mischievous expression flashing across his face.
The Patriarch instantly chokes on his smoke. "Cough, cough, cough!—You stole from those pointy-eared bastards?!"
"Yup," Allister replies, chuckling to himself as he leans back against his horse. "They hoard all the absolute best stuff, so I just 'liberated' a few boxes for myself."
Christoph takes another long drag of his cigar, his expression turning thoughtful. "So then, how is Lady Sylvania? It has been a very long while since she last visited with you."
The name of the powerful High Elven Noblewoman instantly shifts the mood.
"Cough—cough... haaaah." Allister chokes slightly on his own smoke before letting out a long, heavy sigh. He rubs the back of his neck, staring into the dancing flames. "Well, it's a long story. Do you want to hear it?"
"Why not?" the Patriarch shrugs, gesturing around the quiet, star-lit clearing. "It's the perfect atmosphere for a long story."
"Alright then," Allister begins, leaning his head back against Alexandr's flank. "It started right after I finished killing off the rogue demons lurking around the Grand Forest. I was finally making my way back to my house to get some rest."
A few feet away, Rosalyn's ears perk up the moment she hears Allister starting a tale. Intrigued, she quietly slips away from the knights and sits down right next to her father. Following her lead, Gabriel, William, Anastasia, and little Aurelian wander over as well, sitting down one after another until a tight, expectant circle forms around the campfire.
"As I got closer to the house," Allister continues, his voice dropping into a dramatic, hushed tone, "I noticed that Sylvania's mana signature had become incredibly weak. Terrified, even. Naturally, I panicked and dashed over to check on her. That was when I heard her call out from inside: 'Dad! Help meeee!' I tore through the doors, rushing directly to where she was... and then I saw it. A sight that absolutely no father should ever have to see."
The Patriarch abruptly interrupts, his jaw practically dropping. "Hold on... You got married?!"
Allister smirks, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "Nope. You know how normal people usually adopt a child? Well, not in my case. It seems Sylvania just unilaterally decided to take my surname and started using it for herself, claiming me as her father."
"Huh? We can do that?" Rosalyn interrupts, her eyes blinking with genuine curiosity.
In a split second, the Patriarch's neck—along with the necks of Gabriel, William, and every other knight within earshot—snaps violently toward Rosalyn, their eyes growing as wide as saucers in sheer, panicked horror at the thought of the First Princess trying to pull a similar stunt.
Seeing the sheer terror on her father's face, Rosalyn bursts into a melodic laugh, waving her hands defensively. "Hehehe~ I'm just joking with you guys!"
"Ahem, where was I…?"
"You were saying that you saw a sight that no father wanted to see!" Aurelian chimed in, leaning forward with wide, curious eyes.
"Oh—right." Allister's eyes turned pitch-black again, the playful warmth entirely vanishing from his face. "She was being held captive for high treason by those pointy-eared bastards."
"WHAT?!" The Patriarch's voice boomed across the campfire, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his knees.
"I would have just let them off normally, however…" Allister's voice trailed off. He glanced down, meeting young Aurelian's innocent, expectant gaze, and subtly shifted his tone to filter out the most gruesome details for the sake of the child. "They had tortured her quite savagely."
The people around the fire shared uneasy glances, their eyes widening in a mix of horror and rising anger.
"So, in a fit of rage, I killed them," Allister continued flatly, his casual delivery only making the statement more chilling. "I returned the exact pain Sylvania had endured, several fold. After healing her and holding her close, I bandaged her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at the mess I was about to create, and went to track down the ringleader. It turned out to be the Archduke's grand plan. So, I decided to pay him a visit."
The crowd's eyes narrowed in fierce anticipation, every single knight leaning in, waiting breathlessly to hear what happened next.
"As it turned out, they were hosting a grand gala," Allister said, a dark, mocking smile playing on his lips. "Everyone was happily singing and dancing along to the music. They were celebrating their political victory, knowing full well the agonizing death Sylvania would have suffered had I not intervened. So, I walked right into the middle of the ballroom, letting them witness their own savagery returned to them in full view of high society."
Just trying to imagine the scene horrified the seasoned knights sitting around the perimeter. What truly happened to those who incurred the unmitigated fury of the wanderer?
"As the guests ran and hid, I found each and every person responsible and made them experience that terror firsthand, right until the men of the hour finally arrived," Allister murmured. "The Archduke and his direct family eventually stumbled right into the room I had prepared for them."
Taking a slow, deliberate sip of his whiskey, Allister stared deeply into the crackling fire, the flames reflecting like embers in his dark eyes.
"Their faces turned ghostly white, every drop of blood draining from their expressions as they witnessed my little encore to their party."
A collective gasp echoed through the circle. Several knights instinctively held their hands over their mouths, completely captivated and terrified by the grim tale.
"As my fury reached its absolute peak, that was when I finished my revenge," Allister said, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "I made it rain crimson all over the pristine ballroom. JUST—"
Allister slammed his hands together in a sudden, explosive 'CLAP!'
The piercing sound shattered the quiet night like a whip crack. The jumpscare shocked everyone to their core, scaring one of the edge guards so badly that he lost his balance and tumbled backward onto the grass.
'Aaah!'
Completely flustered, Rosalyn and Anastasia let out a synchronized, frightened scream, their hands flying to their chests as their hearts hammered against their ribs.
"Hahaha!" Allister burst out laughing, completely breaking the dark tension. "Why is everyone looking so incredibly serious? The story has a happy ending of course!"
Regaining their composure, the knights groaned and grumbled at the trick, but their curiosity won out. They smoothed down their tunics and leaned back in once more, eager to hear the true conclusion.
"So, as the Archduke's fear reached its absolute pinnacle," Allister finished, a proud grin returning to his face, "I grabbed him by the nape of his neck and dragged him outside into the courtyard, so Sylvania could deliver the final blow herself."
The Patriarch leaned forward, his cigar glowing red. "And what did she do?"
Allister smiled warmly. "Her sword danced once more under the moonlight, and she sliced the bastard's neck clean off! Finishing her revenge, once and for all."
"HAHAHAHA! Syl-va-nia! Syl-va-nia!"
They laughed heartily and chanted her name at the finale of the story.
"Then what is Sylvania doing now, Sir Sinclair?" Anastasia asked Allister, her eyes fixed intently on him.
"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Allister replied, tapping Alexandr's flank. With a knowing look in his eyes, Alexandr stood up and trotted off, disappearing into a thick cloud of fog.
"Sir! I have a question!" one of the modern knights spoke up.
"Yeah? Go ahead," Allister replied curiously.
"Does that mean you were the one who blew half the Aristocrat Elves to kingdom come?"
"Nah, that was Sylvania. She had a little fun after killing those rat-bastards."
"Then that's why a great lake suddenly appeared in the grand forest, right, sir?" another modern knight chimed in.
"Well, I couldn't just leave a giant crater in the woods now, could I? The Empress hounded me for weeks just to make me fix it." The knights let out gasps of awe, finally solving the mystery of how the grand forest's great lake had formed.
"Is that truly possible, sir? To possess a level of magic that can create so much life?" Rosalyn asked.
"Of course, Rosalyn. Both you and Anastasia have the gift for it." The two girls clasped their hands together, thrilled by the prospect that they might one day wield that level of power.
"But girls…" Allister continued, his tone turning gentle but firm, "you both need to work hard, alright?"
"Then, could you please give us some hints on how we should practice?" Anastasia pleaded, her eyes wide and begging. Rosalyn quickly joined in, giving him the exact same look.
"Hmmm… That would be entirely up to Christoph," Allister replied, casting a fox-like smirk toward the patriarch.
The girls instantly snapped their attention to Christoph, silently imploring him to convince Allister to share his secrets. Seeing this, the patriarch groaned. He stood up, dusted off his pants, and trudged toward his liquor wagon.
"Damn bandit bastard… stealing my precious whiskey…" he muttered under his breath, hauling out a heavy crate.
He set it down with a dull thud. Looking back toward the girls, he realized they weren't even watching him—they were already reading something with absolute seriousness.
"Sir Sinclair! Do you have any more of these books?!" the girls cried out, gripping the pages tightly and looking at Allister with desperate eyes.
Allister looked up from the eager girls and locked eyes with the patriarch. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he fanned out several more ancient-looking volumes. The girls' heads snapped back toward Christoph, their eyes practically sparkling as they silently begged him to seal the deal.
The patriarch let out a long, defeated sigh. He looked at Allister and muttered, "Take the whole damn wagon then, you greedy, alcoholic bastard…"
He tossed a glance back at his beloved liquor wagon one last time.
Allister then pulled two beautifully crafted keys from his pocket. "It's a beautiful night tonight," he laughed, handing them over. The girls snatched the keys right out of Allister's hand before the Patriarch could even think about changing his mind.
"But sir… How do we use these?" the girls asked, turning the keys over in their hands.
"Just make a gesture like you're unlocking a door, anywhere, anytime. Why not try it?" he said jokingly, before turning and gesturing respectfully for the Patriarch to join them. "Shall we see your bounty, Christoph?"
The Patriarch trudged over, his eyes fixed on the girls as they prepared to try Allister's strange suggestion.
They both raised their keys into the open air and twisted their wrists. Instantly, they felt the invisible space resist before giving way with a deeply satisfying 'Click'.
Two beautifully carved wooden doors manifested out of thin air right before them. Pushing them open, they were welcomed by the breathtaking sight of a magnificent, endless library. Connected to the back of the towering shelves was a large glass greenhouse, its exotic flora glowing softly under the starlight.
"I think this is worth at least as much as your wagon now, huh?" Allister said, casting a joking grin toward the stunned Patriarch.
The Patriarch scooped up little Aurelian into his arms and walked into the library with them. The two girls already walked in and were absorbed in reading any book they picked up. Aurelian's eyes sparkled with pure wonder; he immediately jumped down from the Patriarch's arms and began zooming across the halls, looking up at the massive collections of ancient books that neatly lined the walls. He suddenly slid to a halt at a heavy oak table filled with strange mechanical trinkets and glowing magical stones.
He looked around the table, his eyes locking onto an intricate puzzle box. He picked it up, completely absorbed within seconds as his tiny fingers began tinkering with the moving mechanisms.
"Huh. The boy seems completely captivated by that box," the Patriarch remarked, watching his young descendant with interest.
"That's his gift," Allister replied with a knowing smile.
Moving further into the center of the library, Allister threw himself down onto a massive recliner upholstered with the absolute finest leathers, ashing his cigar into a beautifully crafted crystal ashtray. The Patriarch followed suit, sinking into an adjacent chair.
"Oh, wow! This is incredibly comfortable!" Christoph remarked excitedly, adjusting his posture against the premium hide.
"Try pulling the lever on your right, Christoph," Allister murmured, already closing his eyes.
Kechuk—click.
The leg rests kicked up perfectly.
"Haaahhh…"
Allister and Christoph let out identical sighs of absolute comfort at the exact same time, the weight of the world temporarily lifting from their shoulders.
As the two men reclined, the gentle rustle of turning pages and the soft murmurs of Anastasia and Rosalyn echoed from the massive bookshelves, along with the clinking and clicking from Aurelian playing with the puzzles.
Pouring two glasses of whiskey for himself and Allister, Christoph looked up toward the towering, vaulted ceiling of the library. "I must admit, Allister," he said, his voice muffled slightly as he puffed lazily on his cigar. "A moving sanctuary hidden behind a simple key... you really outdid yourself."
"Consider it back interest on the sixteen hundred years of hospitality," Allister replied, picking up his glass and sipping, a soft chuckle vibrating through his chest as he rested his arms on the armrests.
Outside the mystical wooden doors, the faint, roaring cheers of the people celebrating Lady Rosalyn's return continued to drift in, a distant reminder of the grand metropolis of Celestia-Belessier awaiting them just eight days down the river. But here, within the quiet, unyielding walls of the hidden library, the two old friends simply rested, ready to face whatever the future—or the past—decided to throw at them next.