Xidriel frowned, wondering if the cuffs and chains were some kind of symbolism that his mind made up because the two of them were linked in one body.

A breeze gently fluttered around him, ruffling his hair in the process. And within it, he heard a soft voice urging him to take the creature’s hand.

“You want me to take your hand…?” He asked with uncertainty. “Why…?”

Another breeze kissed his ears, carrying with it an offer to help him fit in the world he had stepped into by giving him access to its abilities in exchange for a wish it would ask of him at a later date.

Xidriel pondered about it for a moment, as he knew from experience that rushing into an ambiguous contract that looked favorable to him on the get go rarely ends up well.

He had been silently worrying about why he doesn’t seem to have any special abilities apart from being able to speak and read a dead language after being ‘awakened’ as Amon puts it, and he had been wary about Lysander asking him to join their organization because of it.

It would be embarrassing if he turns out to be nothing more than a linguistic specialist and have nothing else to offer, be in combat or support position, after being such a fanboy of the group he once believed to be mythical.

The timing of this offer popping up seems a little suspicious as well.

Silence befell them, with the creature in front of him still waiting for him to take its hand.

“Would your wish result in any harm to me or anyone around me?” Xidriel finally asked.

The creature lowered its arm at that, its head tilting to the side as if it was thinking before slowly shaking its head.

A tinkle of a water droplet hitting the wet ground rang clearly in Xidriel’s ears, and he could pick up on the amusement in the creature’s thoughts and minute actions when it shifted its weight, appearing more casual and friendly towards him.

Xidriel chewed on his lower lip, weighing his options for a minute.

He couldn’t wholly trust this creature’s word about its wish, so maybe they could come up with a binding contract of sorts to keep him on the safe side.

×××

Lysander jerked out of his doze when he sensed something was amiss.

He was seated in the carriage with his arms crossed. Xidriel lay down opposite of him with a fleece blanket over him and a small cushion to rest his head on.

The cold sense of unease prickled on the back of his neck, his eyes moving about his immediate surroundings as he tried to pinpoint where it was coming from exactly.

The air was thick with twisted glee and anticipation, like a monster that had cornered its prey.

An alarmed shout made Lysander look out of the window, closely peering at the darkness. He could make out the shapes of the knights moving into a defensive formation, as round fire balls lit up one by one around them to illuminate their surroundings.

It seems like Amon was on the night watch for him to be able to react this fast.

A white fog rolled in from all directions, with the distinct sounds of fluttering wings approaching their location. A few seconds later, a thin line of bright green particles encircled their camp, halting the fog’s progression and Lan walked away from his shared carriage with Amon with a frown, his oak leaf bracelet subtly glowing green as well.

It swirled up against the invisible barrier, surrounding them on all sides as wisps of it slithered upwards like some unattended creeping vines.

Zain and Noé, who had gotten out of their respective tents they pitched nearby, had come up to the carriage when they saw Lysander open the door, glancing carefully at the sleeping Xidriel.

“You two, stay close to him. Don’t let him out of the carriage.” Lysander told them as one of his knights came over to hand over his sword. “My people will deal with this situation.”

Zain furrowed his brows as if he wanted to object about that order but Noé only nodded in affirmation and carefully went into the carriage.

Lysander, noticing the conflicted emotions on Zain’s face, clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You’re one of the few handful of people that has been briefed about us, so it’s better to accept the fact that a knight such as yourself is not suitable in this situation.”

Zain gritted his teeth and balled his hands into tight fists.

It irks him that Lysander, a person who is physically weaker than him, speaks the truth. Not to mention, the four Sternberg knights that came with him were actually external members of the organization that Lysander leads, making them somewhat qualified to deal with the trouble at hand.

“I know my place, cousin.” Zain replied tersely as he stood guard by the carriage’s door. “Don’t get yourself killed out there. The young master treasures you after all.”

Lysander stared at him quietly before taking out a small vial filled with blue liquid from his chest pocket, and handing it over to him.

“Splash it on your blade if any manages to slip past us. Its effectiveness should last at least three hours.”

×××

Amon stood near the Seymour knights, hands in his pockets, calmly observing everyone around him.

The persons he and Lan had brought with them were a non-combative unit, but they were given the task to be the healer and support for this whole retinue.

One of the perks of being an Inquisitor is having the ability to choose people and nominate them in joining the external members where they are sworn into secrecy about the group’s existence; they then act as their civilian agents outside of dangerous missions, collecting information and evidence before the Inquisitors launch a formal investigation.

Talented knights from the Seymour House were typically conscripted into becoming part of the external members of the Inquisition to act as the Grand Meister’s personal guards, and so they’re used to dealing with this kind of situation every now and then.

However, seeing the people from Sternberg being unfazed by everything surprised him, leading him to think of the many possibilities of the Grand Meister pulling some strings to indoctrinate people who have no actual business becoming members, all because of his close friendship with Xidriel.

Lan sidled up to Amon, eyeing the roiling fog surrounding them carefully. “What could attract an Achlys witch to come close to the Capital?”

“Who knows…” Amon absentmindedly replied as he looked up to the skies.

Large winged creatures were approaching them fast, their white bodies a stark contrast to the night sky.

From the fog in front of them, a person with an androgynous physique appeared before them, their face pale and pointed, with pitch black eyes that are devoid of any sclera. Their auburn hair was short and unruly, and the unsettling smile on their face that stretched all the way to their ears sent shivers down their spines.