Having his servants do away with the things Xidriel had requested of him, Lysander went to his office located on the second floor.

Knowing his friend, who loves taking long baths and taking his time on picking an outfit, it would be a while before he emerged from that room.

It would be best if he sends word to the Sternbergs that they have found Xidriel…

Lysander tried his best not to grimace at the thought of writing to his friend’s family.

They never liked him as a friend for Xidriel, all because the other noble children had alienated their youngest child for being closely associated with Lysander, a meek and powerless second son.

They tried to separate them to no avail, as Xidriel is stubborn on who or what he wants to be with, and so the Sternbergs had no choice but to tolerate his presence.

To Lysander’s knowledge, there’s no bad blood between their families and yet he couldn’t understand why the Sternbergs have deep-seated distrust towards the families descended from the Inquisitors.

Which is half of the nobility and the whole royal family.

The reason why he wrested the position of Grand Meister from his older brother, even though the result was lackluster when he took the Rite, was to prove to the Sternbergs that he’s not as meek and powerless as they thought him to be.

However, it was all for naught, as he realized that the Sternbergs were the real founding family of the Inquisition, yet relinquished their leadership to the Seymours at the end of The Purge for some reason.

They were given an honorary title and position within the Inquisition against their wishes, and the Churches would often pressure the Head of the House to join them every once in a while.

During his inauguration, Duke Sternberg was present and the dark scowl on his face was enough to keep everyone around them quiet and swallow their complaint about having Lysander as their new Grand Meister, since his ability is subpar compared to his older brother.

Everyone assumed that the Duke wouldn’t come to that event, as he had strongly emphasized in the last gathering he attended that the next time someone from his family would come, it would be his son.

His sudden appearance made everyone think that he’s quietly fully supporting Lysander, a close friend of Xidriel, but the nervous Lysander thought otherwise.

While the Duke didn’t outright threaten him, Lysander knew he had to keep his mouth shut or else he would suffer terrible consequences.

He did manage to operate the organization far better than his predecessors to silence the old fogeys and those who doubted him, but it wasn’t enough for Duke Sternberg to accept him.

Lysander sighed, shaking his head as he opened the door to his office.

×××

Xidriel emerged from his quarters wearing a simple white shirt, light brown pants and comfortable loafers, with the full intent of looking for Lysander to have a meal with him and discuss the ordeal he went through.

It frustrated him that he couldn’t remember what happened the moment he was thrown onto the stone altar, but he chalked it up as a mental defense mechanism.

He could infer what happened anyway, since seeing his side with a gaping wound only meant one thing: the ritual they attempted was nasty and gruesome.

He met the butler halfway down the stairs and followed him to the private dining area where Lysander was waiting for him.

×××

Later that night, Lysander sat in his dim office, one hand massaging his throbbing head.

To think that his friend got caught up with those heretics they were chasing after receiving reports of human trafficking at the border villages, as well as the suspicious activities of the Crimson Knights lately, he’s thankful that Xidriel came back home safe.

At least the physical changes that had happened to him aren't life threatening. The Reverend Mother assured him that much after receiving another missive from her earlier.

The Sternberg blood, said to be much more sacred than any Saint or member of the royal family that flows in his veins, must’ve activated at the face of great danger, saving him from mortal peril.

The one problem giving him a headache right now is the individual report he received from Amon: they returned with a homunculus that is housing a powerful yet unknown entity but the Matriarch only had it squirreled away by the Grand Cross Knights, with no mentions of plans to destroy it.

Lysander bit on his lower lip, not liking the implications that the Churches are planning to use that thing for their own gains.

He may not like Amon’s money-grubbing personality but he’s good with his work that Lysander has to begrudgingly acknowledge him; the fact that he could send an encrypted report like this without being traced or intercepted by the Churches’ spies is proof enough.

“What are they hiding…?” He muttered under his breath as he closed his eyes.

He didn’t mean to doubt the Churches’ motives, as he was raised in a religious household, but he couldn’t ignore the gut feeling he had when they tried to stop him from investigating the people backing the Crimson Knights.

Those rogue knights recently emerged and styled themselves as the true rebirth of the Inquisition, yet none of their works benefitted the general public.

In fact, they were the leading culprits as to why the royal family and the majority of the nobility are on edge, fearing a coup d'etat brewing on the horizon. Lysander had a hard time reassuring the King during their private meetings that he’s already looking into who’s sponsoring them, omitting the fact that the Churches forbade him to do that.

It somehow worked out for him when his friend went missing and he used it to discreetly investigate; the Crimson Knights being connected to the heretics was something he didn’t expect.

Sighing tiredly, Lysander opened his drawer, covertly pressing a small indent on the side that activated a small spatial dimension in the deepest part of the drawer and slid Amon’s report into it.

He snapped it shut when he heard someone knocking on his door, making him frown.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Xidriel. May I come in?”

Lysander glanced at the clock, surprised that his friend was still up at this hour.

He normally sleeps around nine in the evening without fail.

“Come in.” Lysander replied as he stood up to brighten up the room.

The door slowly opened and a sheepish Xidriel walked in, wearing soft white pajamas. Lysander gestured for him to sit down at the window nook bed to the side that he rarely uses, usually hidden by a curtain.

“Were you still working…?” Xidriel asked as he glanced over to the desk with a handful of papers scattered about.

“It’s nothing important.” Lysander assured him as he sat next to his friend, peering at him closely. “Did you regain more memories of what happened to you?”

Xidriel shook his head and shyly rubbed the back of his neck. “I…couldn’t sleep. The silence around me was too much so I figured that maybe we could grab a nightcap together and chat a little more about what I’ve missed out on…if you’re up to it, of course.”