The moment the garden gate clicked shut behind Emma, the mask of the relieved survivor fell from Greem's face, replaced by a cold, still calm. He turned and walked back into the manor, his steps measured and silent. He went straight to Clara's room, not bothering to knock.
She was sitting on her bed, still clutching her hands. It appears he had interrupted a late night prayer. She flinched when he entered. By the surprise in her eyes, it looked obvious she was thinking about him.
"Greem, I—"
"Explain," he cut her off, his voice low and devoid of all the warmth he had shown their parents. "Now. Why would you step into this world? You have a life, a position."
Clara let out a shaky, bitter laugh. "A life? What life? I'm a decorative piece, Greem. Father acknowledges Kael as his heir. You, his clever son with a head for numbers. Me? I'm the daughter to be married off to strengthen an alliance"
Her voice cracked. "The only thing that kept me going was your smile when you came back home...even if you were hiding something from me. I liked the warmth in your eyes, the fact that you answered every single one of my caprice, going so far as to pick up the sword. When you disappeared, my whole world crumbled"
"Your captain… Peter", Greem stated, remembering the man—charming, ambitious, well-connected. A Lv. 6 knight, a respectable man that had earned respect from the whole family, including his father.
"Peter", she whispered the name like a curse. She stood up, her movements stiff. With trembling fingers, she began to unbutton the high-collared dress she always wore.
She let the top part fall to her waist, then turned her back to him. Fading yellow bruises mottled her shoulder blades.
Then she pointed to the soft skin of her inner thighs, visible above her stockings.
More bruises, darker and angrier. "He's seldom here. But when he is… This is my life. And he sponsored Kael's last voyage. If I speak out, I ruin our brother's career. I'm trapped"
Greem's world narrowed to a single, cold point. The calculations ran in his mind, swift and merciless. The political connections, the potential fallout, the methods. All were weighed and found insignificant against the evidence on his sister's skin. The shadowy energy within him, the Wyvern's blood, stirred in response to his icy rage. Unlike his usual cold blood and calmness, a terrifying rage was barely held together.
He looked at her, and his eyes were no longer those of her younger brother. They were the eyes of an acolyte who had assassinated political opponents, knights of the town watch and survived a full month in the catacomb amongst cultists. His killing intent was seeping, the primal instincts of a shadow wyvern evident.
"Then it's a simple matter", Greem said, his tone utterly flat, "We kill him. You should have spoken sooner. He is just a knight"
Clara froze, her eyes widening. She had expected sympathy, perhaps a desperate, complicated plan. She had not expected this… this finality. She saw the absolute lack of hesitation in his gaze, the chilling practicality. This wasn't a bluff. This was her brother stating a solution as one would state the time of day, with all the protectiveness a brother could have.
The realization of what he truly was—what he must have done to survive and return with such power—washed over her. But the emotion that surfaced wasn't disgust. It was a profound, heartbreaking pity.
"Oh, Greem," she breathed, her voice thick with tears. She didn't recoil. Instead, she crossed the room and embraced him, holding him tightly as if she could somehow pull him back from the abyss he walked. "What did they do to you?"
He stood rigid for a moment, then slowly relaxed, patting her back awkwardly. "They showed me how the world works," he murmured, "Now, come."
He led her to his room, locking the door. He moved a loose floorboard under his bed, revealing a hidden compartment. He pulled out several thick, leather-bound volumes—[Fundamental Mana Theory], [Elemental Channeling for Beginners], [Wards and Seals: An Introduction].
"Each of these cost me more than you can imagine", he said, placing them in her arms, "Not in gold. In magical crystals. This is the currency of acolytes like us. With your talent, this should occupy you. Study. Learn to defend yourself. Leave Peter to me"
Her eyes shone with a mixture of terror and grim determination as she clutched the books to her chest. She was in now. There was no going back.
"He is a knight! A strong one! I have seen him kill a thug with a single punch once. I felt his strength...too...", she muttered
Greem smirked: "Did you not hear Emma? I am a knight too. But I also have spells. That's what makes me stronger"
Later that night, in the dusty storage room near the city gates, the air was thick with tension.
Vanessa was the first to speak, her arms crossed over her chest.
"You look like hell, but you move like a different person. What happened down there?"
Willem sat on a crate, paler than usual, his movements still slow with the after-effects of the potent sleeping draught. He said nothing, but his red eyes were fixed on Greem, waiting.
"We were captured by a group called the Skull Sect", Greem began, giving them a differently edited version he'd given the Watch. He omitted the bloodline, the Wyvern, and his new status within the sect.
"They're stronger than we thought. An intermediate rank leads them. I escaped during an attack. Willem, they killed Iriana. She's dead, as far as I know."
Willem's jaw tightened, a flicker of pain in his eyes. "We will deal with that," he rasped. "But not yet."
"Now", Greem said, his voice cutting through the room, "I have a favor to ask. A personal mission."
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "Personal? We just got you back."
"It concerns my sister", Greem's gaze was like polished obsidian, "We need to kill a man. Peter Celsius. Captain of the merchant vessel Sea Serpent. He beats her. He believes she has no recourse."
The statement hung in the air. This was not a mission for the Association. This was an assassination born of fraturnal vengeance.
Vanessa's expression didn't change. She merely grunted. "A wife-beater with a title. Scum. Where does he dock?"
Willem finally spoke, his voice a dry rustle. "Personal matters are the most dangerous. They create loose end." He looked at Greem, assessing him.
"But a debt to a teammate is also a bond. You carried me and risked your life when you could have escaped this hell alone. Vampires of the Pourshield are not ones that don't know how to repay debt. How do you propose we do it?"
Greem allowed a cold, thin smile to touch his lips. "He's a merchant captain. They deal with contreband...an accident can happen at any time"
The matter was settled. There were no more questions. The line between their professional and personal lives had been irrevocably blurred. For Greem, it was all the same game now, and he was done being a pawn on anyone's board but his own.
The very next day, news spread like fire. Peter Celsius was found dead in a dark alley. His arms mutilated. His eyes open and cold, as if he had witnessed the darkest horrors of hell. In a single night, Greem had relieved her sister of a heavy burden.