Xidriel stared at Lan, whose face had lost all the kindness and warmth he had displayed from last night, at a loss.

This kind of coldness happened with Amon last night too, though it only lasted for a few minutes.

Are the members of their organization prone to drastic mood swings?

Is it a prerequisite, perhaps?

Amon cleared his throat loudly, snapping the two out of their staring contest. “I did tell you that it’s useless to try and wipe his memory, but you didn’t listen. Anyway, let’s get going, yes? I’m not fond of the idea of people seeing us linger here longer than necessary.”

Lan exhaled slowly and a taut smile appeared on his lips. “Very well…”

He motioned for Xidriel to come closer to them, and once they were standing in a close, triangular position with only half an arm’s length distance between them, Lan lifted his hand that’s clasping the crystalline butterfly wings.

He then crushed it in his hand, the limbal rings in his eyes having turned bright silver.

Xidriel’s eyes widened when Lan opened his hand and the crystalline wing became fine, glittering powder that rose up from his palm even though there was no wind.

It moved around them, forming a thin veil that covered them from head to toe, and slowly obscuring their surroundings.

He could sense something is happening, as his insides were doing the somersaults like when he rode the Flying Fiesta, a swing ride he always hopped onto with his friends after getting drenched in a water-themed ride.

It may look like a normal swing with extra long handles when on the ground, but once it starts, it will lift you up in the air and spin around at a relatively fast speed. The only things keeping you safe from being dropped from that height is the seatbelt and the power of the screws holding the swing together above you.

Xidriel liked that ride only because it helps with drying off, and because he likes swings but he would never get used to the take off and its fastest speed when they’re in mid-air, seeing how high a drop it would be if anything went wrong. He would only calm down once the ride slows down and lowers them to the ground.

Noticing his discomfort, Amon smiles bemusedly.

“If you’re feeling nauseous, close your eyes. It’ll only take two minutes.”

Xidriel turned his head to look at him, about to ask what he meant by how long he had to endure this but his vision distorted and the crystal powder covered everything.

The earth under his feet disappeared and he was afraid that he would fall into something deep where no one could reach him.

His insides lurched as if he changed rides from the extreme swing to sitting in front of a roller coaster ride with the steepest drop.

The ringing in his ears doesn’t help with his situation as well.

He clamped his mouth shut with his hands to prevent himself from screaming and tightly closing his eyes.

He’s not sure if time is inconsequential in this crystal bubble, since two minutes shouldn’t take this long.

After a while, a long stretch of tiled floor materialized under his feet, and his knees buckled weakly, propelling him down to the floor as the crystal dust dissipates around him.

He stuck out his arms to stop himself from falling face flat, opening his eyes with a scowl.

He noticed both Lan and Amon were staggering as well, but not enough for them to fall onto their knees like he did.

Xidriel was about to open his mouth to complain but an ominous click of heels made him stop and look up at the person in front of them.

A man with clean cut dark brown hair, wearing a gray ensemble commonly worn by high-class merchants, partnered with burgundy dress boots with two inches of heels, stood with a haughty air about him.

He had a stern expression as he waited for them to get their bearings right.

Behind him were three other people, wearing varied versions of the gray business attire.

“I didn’t expect you two to still be alive.” The man finally said once he saw that Lan was stable enough to help Xidriel stand up and fixed his cloak. “Exceeding two weeks beyond the allotted time and zero communications. How could two people be this terrible on a simple investigation mission? ”

The corner of Amon’s mouth twitched but before he could fire off a snarky response, Lan spoke up.

“Unless your people deliberately withheld information from the initial reports that the Crimson Knights were involved all because of your petty, one-sided rivalry with Amon, you have no grounds to act high and mighty with us, Joaquin. I will bring this matter up to the Matriarch.”

The man named Joaquin gritted his teeth before smoothing out his expression to that of an amiable businessman.

“Now, don’t be like that, young master Lan. I would never do something that crass…” His voice trailed off when he saw Amon turn away and Lan putting a hand on Xidriel’s lower back to steer him towards the door.

“Wait…who are these strays you’ve brought with you?”

Amon picked up on the nervousness in his voice and he smirked.

“What are you surprised about? Aren’t investigations conducted to gather evidence?”

Lan lightly kicked Amon’s shin to keep him moving, not bothering to look back. He quickly herded the group out of that room, down the stairs and out to the lobby where Xidriel finally realized they were in a merchant guild office, though there’s not much activity going on.

He craned his neck to look at the carved out symbol hanging behind the receptionist’s area: a slender sword with a winged hilt and a crescent moon adorned with wisteria flowers underneath it.

He recognized it as the Sable Crescent’s logo, a large trade group owned by House Seymour for generations and its current leader is Lysander, Xidriel’s former classmate and a good friend.

Why and how did they end up here?

He doesn’t remember Lysander taking part in any activities that have any connection to the Inquisitors, myth or otherwise.

The Lysander that Xidriel knew, from the memories he inherited, was an easy going and charming gentleman, who had an unshakeable belief in life. He’s the kind of man who would rather be known as a coward than actively look for trouble, unlike Xidriel.

It’s actually a mystery how the two ended up being friends.

He turned his attention back to his companions, confusion evident on his face.

“If I ask what’s going on and how we ended up in Lysander’s guild…would anyone actually give me an answer?” He tentatively asked as he followed them towards the room to the farthest right. “And…where are we going?”

“Ah, it’s only a branch office, young master.” Lan replied with a slight smile. “Hastily made to be a retreat point for this mission since the butterfly wings can’t cover that much distance. We need to go through another portal to reach the Capital and report to the Matriarch.”

Xidriel paled upon hearing that, ignoring how Amon was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

The room they entered was empty, save for a small bust of a veiled person placed on a low pedestal, the diadem on top of its head looking vaguely familiar to Xidriel. Lan ushered them in and closed the door behind him.

“Is there…another way to reach the Capital?” Xidriel asked quietly, eyeing the blue gemstone on the diadem a little apprehensively.

It has that same shine as the butterfly wings from earlier, and he’s not looking forward to it.

“It’ll take three weeks for us to reach our destination from here, young master.” Lan said apologetically. “This trip is going to be smoother, I promise.”

Xidriel pursed his lips at that, then glanced at Amon as if looking for confirmation. The red head tried his best to keep his stoic expression, but the playful glint in his eyes says otherwise.

“Don’t look at me. I’ve never used this one before.”

That response made Xidriel want to chuck his uncomfortable leather sandals at his face.