Chapter 16
He never expected to see him here.
Damnern walked calmly through the din of the tavern, his boots clicking rhythmically against the sticky floorboards until he stopped beside a secluded corner booth.
"I knew I would find you here, Derrick."
His voice was entirely devoid of emotion, cutting smoothly through the ambient roar.
The orange-haired man seated at the table was none other than Derrick Berwyn, the Sixth Strongest Warrior of the Kingdom—a legendary figure feared on countless blood-soaked battlefields and revered by the highest nobility. Yet at this precise moment, he looked less like an apex combatant and more like a startled drunk who had just seen a ghost.
"What in the world are you doing here, Damnern?" Derrick stammered, before a mischievous, teasing grin slowly stretched across his face. "Ah, forgive me. I keep forgetting you're 'Count' Damnern now."
"I'd rather not be addressed by a pompous title from an old man like you," Damnern retorted without missing a beat, sliding smoothly onto the bench opposite him.
"And you're still drowning yourself in cheap swill at a wretched hive like this," Damnern added, eyeing the half-empty crystal bottle.
"You know perfectly well this is the only place left in this city where I can actually unwind," Derrick muttered with a dramatic shrug.
"Derrick, even if your youthful face tries to convince the world otherwise, you need to remember that you are already forty."
"Hey! I am thirty-seven!" Derrick protested loudly, slamming a hand on the table. "And more importantly—why on earth did you retire before me?!"
A faint, fleeting smile ghosted across Damnern's lips.
Derrick instantly froze. His eyes bulged, and the crystal glass stopped dead midway to his mouth. Seeing Damnern smile voluntarily was a phenomenon so rare it bordered on the supernatural.
"You really have changed, haven't you?" Derrick murmured, clearing his throat before shifting back to business. "So, what actually brings the great Count out to my territory?"
He took a slow sip from his glass, and the momentary warmth vanished from Damnern's face as quickly as it had appeared. The atmosphere around their booth instantly plummeted into frost.
"We were ambushed in the Valdwess Forest."
Derrick blinked. Once. Twice. The sheer weight of the statement took several agonizing seconds to process through the alcohol in his brain.
"...What?"
His brows knitted together into a hard line.
"We were attacked," Damnern repeated with icy calm.
Derrick stared at him, searching his stoic expression for a punchline. Then—
"PFFT!"
The amber liquor Derrick had just swallowed exploded across the polished wooden table in a fine spray. Several patrons at nearby tables hurriedly gathered their drinks and backed away.
"Cough! Cough!"
Derrick wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, his voice pitching up several octaves. "Are you out of your mind?!"
"Who in their right, unblessed mind would dare launch an ambush against you?"
"They clearly picked the wrong target," Damnern replied quietly. Then his gaze hardened. "But one of them mentioned Lord Shadow."
Derrick's playful, mocking demeanor evaporated instantly. He leaned back against the high-backed booth, his eyes narrowing as mental gears began to turn furiously. One minute bled into two. Finally, he gave a slow, troubled shake of his head. "I've never heard of anyone going by that moniker."
Damnern frowned slightly. That single admission was deeply troubling. If the Sixth Strongest Warrior, the guardian lord of this entire region, possessed no intelligence on a figure called Lord Shadow, then whoever was orchestrating these moves operated with terrifying secrecy and absolute shadows.
Derrick tapped a finger rhythmically against the rim of his crystal glass, cycling through criminal networks, underground syndicates, and rebellious noble factions—nothing. No rumors surfaced. No records matched.
Finally, Damnern pushed himself up from the bench.
"Send your intelligence network to investigate," Damnern commanded, his tone leaving zero room for debate. "You are the guardian of this region."
Derrick let out a heavy, resigned sigh, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine, fine. I'll have my best shadow-runners dig into the dirt immediately."
Damnern gave a single, curt nod. "That is all."
"The moment you unearth anything, get word to me."
Without offering a farewell, a word of thanks, or an invitation to share another drink, Damnern turned on his heel and strode toward the exit.
Derrick watched him go, tracking the towering silver-haired figure until the heavy oak tavern doors swung shut behind him. For several long seconds, he stared at the empty threshold before letting out a soft, helpless snort.
"Damnern... truly, Damnern..."
A wry, affectionate smile touched the edges of his mouth. "I take back what I muttered earlier. You haven't changed at all."
Lifting his glass, he drained the remaining liquor in a single swallow. As the warmth settled in his chest, his expression hardened back into cold, razor-sharp focus.
Lord Shadow, huh...
His emerald eyes locked onto the empty space across the table. This was rapidly evolving into something far more dangerous than a simple highway robbery.
Morning eventually broke over Valdwess City, washing away the midnight chill as golden sunlight streamed through the silk curtains, filling the opulent inn suite with a gentle, inviting warmth.
"...ra... Elyra, time to wake up, sweetheart."
A soft, melodic voice coaxed Elyra out of the heavy fog of sleep. Her eyelids fluttered, parting slowly as she focused on the figure sitting beside her.
"Mama...?"
She was still half-asleep, her mind sluggish and disconnected from reality.
"Hehe."
A cheerful, proud little laugh rang out nearby. "This is a first. Elyra actually overslept!"
Eldern stood by the bedside with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, wearing a smug grin. Only then did Elyra notice how high the sun had climbed outside the window. Normally, her disciplined instincts had her awake hours before dawn.
"Come on, my sleepyhead," Elina said gently, smoothing down Elyra's blonde hair. "Get up and wash up. We're heading into the city center to find something delicious for breakfast."
Elyra gave a quiet, obedient nod. Slipping out from beneath the blankets, she padded softly toward the adjoining bathroom and slipped inside, closing the heavy wooden door behind her.
Standing alone in the tiled room, a strange, foreign thought suddenly drifted across her mind.
It's been a long time since I bathed entirely by myself...
Back at the estate, Sasha was always there—preparing the steaming bathwater, carefully washing her hair, and laying out fresh dresses with meticulous care. The sudden independence felt jarring, sitting oddly in a mind accustomed to quiet, absolute servitude.
Thirty minutes later, Elyra emerged from the bathroom. She wore a pristine, high-collared white dress, her damp hair falling in soft waves as Elina stood ready with a fine-bristled brush to tend to it. The room radiated a profound, tranquil peace, filled only with the domestic warmth of a family starting their day.
"Mama!"
Eldern suddenly burst back through the bedroom door from the hallway. "Hurry up! Eldern's stomach is practically eating itself!"
Elina chuckled, shaking her head. "Yes, yes, patience. We're almost finished here."
A few final strokes of the brush, and Elina tied a neat silk ribbon into Elyra's hair. "There," she smiled, stepping back to admire her work with visible pride. "My little girl looks absolute perfection."
Elyra lowered her gaze, a faint flush dusting her cheeks. "...Tankyu, Mama."
Elina's smile widened instantly, her eyes sparkling with affection. Moments later, the three of them stepped out of the suite and headed down to the grand lobby.
Downstairs, Damnern was already waiting near the entrance. Three elite royal guards stood at rigid attention nearby, their postures sharp and alert. Beside them stood an unfamiliar young man with raven-black hair and striking blue eyes, dressed in the light, functional armor of a regional scout.
"How is your shoulder holding up?" Damnern's voice cut through the morning chatter, carrying its characteristic winter chill.
The injured guard straightened instantly, saluting crisply. "The city physician cleared me, Count Damnern. It's just a surface tear; I'm fully fit to travel."
"If you feel any strain, you are to remain behind in the city," Damnern stated flatly, leaving no room for argument. The guard swallowed hard and nodded.
At that exact moment—
"Papa!"
Eldern bolted down the grand staircase, his face alight with excitement. Damnern turned toward his family, and for a fleeting, beautiful second, the glacial harshness in his blue eyes melted away entirely.
He gestured toward the black-haired young man standing beside the guards.
"This is Leron," Damnern said, his gaze shifting back to his wife and children. "He will act as your guide and escort while you explore Valdwess City."
Leron stepped forward immediately, snapping into a sharp, disciplined salute with a fist over his heart.
"My name is Leron Jeke," he introduced himself with an easy, confident grin. "I proudly serve as a subordinate to the Sixth Strongest Warrior. I might not look like much of a bodyguard at first glance, but I assure you—you're entirely safe under my watch."
Eldern's eyes instantly widened with undisguised awe.
Elina turned her gentle gaze toward her husband. "What about you, dear? Are you joining us for the morning?"
For the first time that morning, Damnern's expression carried a hint of reluctant helplessness. "I still have several pressing matters to conclude across the city."
Elina let out a soft, understanding sigh. She had expected nothing less. "Very well then," she smiled softly. "We'll manage. Let's go."
As the family gathered near the exit, Leron casually stepped past Damnern to open the heavy glass-paneled doors.
In that split second, a voice dropped so low it bypassed the air and vibrated directly inside Leron's skull.
If so much as a single scratch appears on them...
Leron froze mid-motion, every muscle in his body locking in sheer terror.
...you will answer to me with your life.
The threat was delivered in a conversational murmur, completely devoid of outward malice. Yet it carried a primordial, crushing weight that felt heavier than a falling mountain, sending an instantaneous shockwave of cold sweat racing down Leron's spine.
...Y-Yes, Lord Damnern! Leron choked out internally, his knees trembling slightly.
He didn't dare look back. In that single, terrifying sentence, he finally understood why his superior, Derrick, had spent an hour drilling him on protocol before assigning this seemingly simple escort duty.
Do not fail.
Now, he understood the true, terrifying magnitude of those words.
Stepping outside, the group was greeted by the vibrant, chaotic pulse of Valdwess City. Merchants bellowed out the quality of their wares from colorful awnings, horse-drawn carriages rattled steadily over cobblestone streets, and local street vendors worked furiously over smoking grills, filling the morning air with the rich, savory scent of roasted meats and freshly baked pastries.
"It's so wonderfully lively in the morning," Elina murmured happily, taking in the bustling sights.
Eldern hopped from foot to foot, his eyes wide with wonder. "Wahhh... look at all of that!"
Every corner held a new marvel for the young boy. Elyra, however, remained quietly observant beside Elina. Unlike Eldern, the vast, glittering expanse of the city felt less like a novelty and more like a stage she had walked upon before in another lifetime.
"Shall we wander the market street first?" Elina asked, looking down at the children.
"Yes, Mama!" Eldern cheered enthusiastically.
Leron quickly stepped up, sliding back into his cheerful guide persona. "If the Countess is looking for a truly magnificent place to break her fast, allow me to recommend—"
Suddenly, a tall, broad-shouldered man strode past them in the opposite direction. His dark blond hair was tied back neatly into a loose ponytail, his stride unhurried yet carrying an undeniable, imposing presence. Across his broad shoulder rested burlap sack that bulged with an indistinct shape, yet he walked right by without slowing his pace, never sparing the group a single glance.
Yet, the exact microsecond he passed, Elyra's head snapped sideways.
Her blue eyes locked onto his retreating broad back. A sudden, violent jolt rippled through her chest—an inexplicable, phantom resonance that she couldn't comprehend or trace to its source.
Leron continued gesturing toward the avenue. "—the Vald Restaurant. It's universally hailed as the premier culinary establishment in the upper district."
Elyra barely heard a single word. Her gaze remained pinned to the stranger's receding figure, her heart hammering against her ribs as if trying to breach a locked door. Every instinct screamed at her that she should recognize him, that his face was tied to memories buried deep beneath her current skin. Yet, no matter how hard she reached, the answer remained frustratingly out of reach.
As the man vanished completely into the thick morning crowd, Elyra slowly lowered her head, blinking away the strange cognitive dissonance.
...Must be my imagination.
"Very well then," Elina smiled warmly, snapping Elyra out of her daze. "We'll head straight to the Vald Restaurant."
Eldern threw his hands up in triumph. "Food!"
With Leron leading the way and Elina keeping a watchful, loving eye on her children, the small party melted into the vibrant morning currents of the city.
To be Continued...