The light surged, then settled.
Two translucent screens shimmered into existence above the circle, hovering politely at chest height as if aware they were being observed.
The woman stiffened at the sudden appearance. The girl's eyes widened, then narrowed in concentration, as though the screens might scold her if she blinked too much.
Klaus leaned back slightly on his heels, hands slipping into his coat pockets. He skimmed the details with a professional eye. Levels were expected. Attributes were… underwhelming. Healthy, average, unremarkable. Exactly what two civilians should look like.
Then his gaze stopped.
Both have the same class, and a rare one.
They are both Druids.
His eyes narrowed—not sharply, but with interest, like a man spotting an unexpected card in a familiar deck.
"Huh," Klaus murmured.
The class description followed, neat and unmistakable. Druid. A hybrid class—nature-bound mana manipulation, adaptability, support with offensive potential. Rare, but not unique. The kind of class that aged well instead of burning bright and fast.
He tilted his head toward Maynard. "Is this normal?"
The priest who was walking towards Klaus followed his gaze and nodded. "Yes, Mr. Klaus. Perfectly so."
"Normal feels like a strong word," Klaus said mildly.
Maynard clasped his hands behind his back. "The de Vedre name carries weight. It is not merely noble name—it is ancient. Far older than Warhog, older even than Cloverstone. Bearing the surname grants…not only recognition, but power."
He paused, then added with a sigh, "Honestly, I believed the name had vanished entirely after the Purge."
Klaus's lips twitched. "Disappointed to be wrong?"
"Relieved," Maynard corrected. "The ancient name did not end with the Traitor of Hallosbel."
Klaus frowned.
Maynard raised a hand immediately. "Do not misunderstand me, Mr. Klaus. I simply cannot speak his name anymore. Not after the brand was given by the king."
Klaus nodded slowly. Of course. Leopold de Vedre—erased not just from records, but from language itself. Reduced to a title, a warning.
The Traitor of Hallosbel.
"Tell me," Klaus said, his tone almost idle, as though they were discussing the weather, "what do you know about the Purge—about what he supposedly did?"
Maynard exhaled slowly through his nose. The sound lingered, uneasy. "I am a local of Hallosbel," he said at last. "I know… fragments."
His gaze drifted toward the altar. Not in reverence—more like caution, as if stone and candle might remember too much.
"The one branded Traitor of Hallosbel," Maynard continued, lowering his voice, "was once a good duke. No—he was exceptional. Too exceptional for the authority he had."
Klaus's eyes narrowed, though his expression remained calm.
"His name," the priest went on, "began to rival the king's. People listened to him. Trusted him. That alone was dangerous." Maynard paused, fingers tightening at his sides. "Then he made a single mistake. One that cost the de Vedre family everything."
"For peace," Maynard said quietly. "He sacrificed it all."
Klaus frowned. "Peace?"
The priest nodded once. "Have you heard of the Amphibians of the Great Lake Mohambe?"
"The lizardmen?" Klaus replied. "They're always at war with Hallosbel."
"Not always," Maynard corrected. "There was a time—brief, fragile—when the southern borders knew peace."
Klaus's voice sharpened. "He made peace with them."
"More than that," the priest said. "Trade. Open routes. The people ate fish once reserved for nobles, and paid for with nothing more than a bottle of wine. The province prospered."
"And that couldn't last," Klaus said flatly.
Maynard's lips pressed thin. "No. I am not a gossip, nor a meddler—but people whispered that it wasn't the king who was most angered by this peace."
"Who, then?"
"The merchants," Maynard replied. "More precisely—the Warhog family."
Understanding flickered in Klaus's eyes.
"They claimed," Maynard continued carefully, "that the duke colluded with the lizardmen. That he planned to dethrone the king." He shook his head. "I do not know the details or if it was true. But I only know what followed—the Purge."
His voice hardened. "Every de Vedre in the country was eliminated in a single night."
Maynard swallowed. "Sebas Warhog hosted a banquet—the engagement of his eldest daughter and the duke's only son. A celebration meant to unite two houses."
His jaw tightened. "It became a slaughter."
Silence settled between them, thick and suffocating.
"Only three survived," Maynard said at last. "The traitor, his wife… and his daughter."
Klaus spoke without hesitation. "Do you know where they are now?"
The priest shook his head. "No one does."
He hesitated, then looked directly at Klaus. "May I ask something in return, Mr. Klaus?"
"Go ahead."
"How did you survive?"
Klaus's lips curved faintly. "I didn't."
Maynard blinked.
"I simply didn't receive an invitation."
For a long moment, the priest stared at him. Then he let out a quiet, hollow laugh. "Then… it seems fate had its own plans."
Klaus didn't answer. His attention had drifted to Daisy and Lily.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, whispering quietly while reading their screens. Lily traced the floating letters with her finger, careful not to actually touch them. Daisy leaned down slightly, murmuring explanations, her posture respectful, never turning her back fully on Klaus.
Klaus flicked his wrist.
A leather pouch materialized in his hand with a solid clink. He tossed it lightly to Maynard.
Gold chimed inside.
"For the trouble, Priest Maynard," Klaus said. "And for your discretion."
Maynard caught it without surprise. "As I said before, Mr. Klaus, I am bound by sacred oath."
"Good," Klaus replied. "We'll be leaving."
The priest bowed his head.
Outside, the sunlight felt warmer. Brighter. As if the world had decided to pretend nothing important had happened.
Daisy bowed slightly. "Thank you… Klaus."
He waved a hand dismissively. "You're free folk now. Do whatever you like."
Daisy looked down at Lily, then back at him. "We have sworn an oath," she said quietly. "We will honor it."
Klaus nodded, satisfied.
He hadn't planned to let them go anyway—but hearing it said freely mattered.
"You can visit the market," he added. "Buy what you need. I have an appointment."
He paused, then glanced back over his shoulder. "And your surname is Shaw. Not de Vedre."
Daisy nodded immediately.
Lily frowned, clearly confused—then nodded anyway, trusting the adults knew what they were doing.
Klaus tapped the air in front of him few times, deliberately, as if pressing an invisible button. "Contact me if there's a problem," he said casually. "I have to go."
Lily blinked, her brows knitting together. "How?"
He glanced down at her, a faint, amused curve touching his lips. "Just tap the party tab on your status. You'll see my name there. You can contact me anytime."
She immediately did, eyes darting back and forth as the screen shifted. Then she froze.
"Who's… Leopold de Vedre?" she asked softly.
The humor drained from Klaus's face. "My dad."
The word landed heavier than it sounded.
Before the silence could thicken, Daisy cleared her throat gently. "We'll be going then, Klaus. We'll return home as soon as we buy what we need."
Klaus nodded once and turned away, heading in the opposite direction of the town center, his back straight, his steps unhurried.