Garret Halven POV:
Ivoria, Capital District – Aethergate Spires
The marble roads of Ivoria gleamed beneath my boots.
Even after all these years, the capital still managed to look like something carved out of a god's daydream: glittering towers that clawed toward the heavens, streets paved in sun-brushed silver, and gold-veined statues honoring saints, scholars, and long-dead emperors.
The city pulsed with a silent arrogance, its opulence meant to blind visitors to the rot beneath.
Ivoria was a monument to triumph. And to ruin.
Once, this empire had been something worth revering. Forged in the fires of chaos by the great unifier, Ivoria Exclessia Vangar, hero, conqueror, and sorcerer.
They say he carved the first districts from stone and will, binding the fractured territories together with nothing but ambition and the will of the aether.
His victories over the Human Legions and the rebel kings made him a god in the eyes of his people.
But like all things built by men, the golden age could not last.
After Vangar's death, the royal house, his bloodline, descended into decadence and tyranny.
The Vangars hoarded knowledge, experimented with forbidden energies, and used fear to tighten their grip on power. Dissidents vanished. Cities burned. They ruled not as kings, but as executioners.
Then came the Civil Divide.
Four great houses, each born from the ashes of nobility and fed by years of quiet resistance, rose up. House Valerianus, forged in the crucible of military tradition. House Sapiens, the stewards of knowledge and reason. House Potentia, masters of influence and political shadowplay. And House Praestans, the keepers of culture, art, and societal elegance.
Together, they crushed the Vangar dynasty.
The war tore the empire apart. Brother turned on brother. Entire provinces bled themselves dry. But in the end, the four houses prevailed. They dissolved the old monarchy, formed the High Council, and instated a regent to manage stability until a permanent solution could be decided.
That was two decades ago.
The regent still rules.
The High Council still bickers.
And Ivoria, for all its beauty, remains a fractured crown resting on a bed of knives.
I moved through the streets like a ghost in familiar armor, my cloak trailing behind me, marked with the silent sigil of the Kynethean Branch, the eyes and ears of House Potentia.
A fancy name for what we are. Spymasters. Interrogators. Watchdogs.
We clean the messes no one wants to admit exist.
I passed vendors shouting about floating fruits, aether-lit chandeliers, and rune-stitched robes.
Children played beneath giant statues of General Zakari Valerianus, hailed as the Lion of the East. His image was everywhere lately- part hero, part weapon, part warning. He'd returned from the 'twilight' not long ago, bringing back the head of a demon and the ashes of his sister.
He wanted blood now.
And I had brought him something that might spill plenty of it
The guards at the gate recognized the seal I wore on my cloak. The crest of House Potentia. The Kynethean Branch,our polite way of naming the Empire's intelligence division.
They didn't speak. Just opened the gate.
I descended.
Ivoria's beauty was for the surface. The truth dwelled far beneath.
Vault stairs of onyx spiraled downward, lit by pulsing aether crystals embedded in the walls.
I passed through three checkpoints before reaching the iron door of the Inquisition wing. There, waiting like a ghost in silk, was Regent's Watcher-General Lurein Vos.
"Halven," he greeted, voice sharp as ever. "You're late."
"I'm on time," I replied, slipping past him. "The world just moves slow."
Inside, I laid the sealed case on the table. He didn't open it. Just studied my face.
"You saw her?"
"Yes," I said simply. "And her invention."
Vos leaned forward. "The printing device?"
I nodded. "Efficient. Clean. Replicable. She called it a press. Used for art, flyers, notices. Could change the way we control information."
"That's dangerous."
"It is," I said, my voice steady. "Which is why I suggest we contain it."
Vos drummed his fingers. "Contain?"
"She's not from this world. Whether Otherworlder or prodigy, I'm unsure. But the system she uses, the way her sword pulses, the strange glow in her eyes, it's more than magic. She's aligned with something beyond."
Vos narrowed his eyes. "Aether?"
"No. Dark energy. But refined. Not even seasoned mages would notice. But a Warglock like me? I felt it the moment I saw her. She's touched by shadow. It's not born from hate, but survival."
He finally opened the case. Inside, one of the posters Ryazania had printed.
He studied it. "And this boy? Her reason?"
"Her cousin. Lost. A memory made into movement. It's her motivation, but also our key. She's hunting something. And if we let her go unchecked, she might find more than family."
Vos nodded. "Zakari must be informed."
I smirked. "Already done. He'll want her alive."
Vos gave a mirthless chuckle. "Alive is harder."
"Not for me."
As I turned to leave, Vos called after me, "Garret. You said 'contain.' You plan to bring her in?"
I paused. "No. Not yet. Not until I understand the sword."
"And what if the girl turns against us?"
"Then I'll do what I was trained to do."
He nodded. No further orders were needed.
I climbed the spiraling stairs alone.
Back into the sun. Back into the lie that was Ivoria's perfection.
Because somewhere out there, in a frostbitten city built on stone and secrets, a girl with a sword was changing the world, and nobody, not even the Empire, was ready for her.
Ryazania POV:
I woke to the gentle warmth of morning light slipping past the curtains, bathing the lavish guest room in a soft golden hue. For a moment, I forgot where I was. The bed was far too soft, the sheets silkier than anything I'd ever touched in Eldenforve.
Then I remembered, the letter, the dinner, the deal.
Elros Darethiel had been a courteous host, but behind that elven grace was a man with plans. I could see it in his eyes even when he smiled.
There was a soft knock on the door.
"You may enter," I said.
An elven woman stepped in... tall, dressed in flowing navy robes with silver trim. "Good morning, Miss Ryazania. My name is Velna. Lord Elros left early for a senate meeting. He asked me to assist you while you're here. You are free to explore the manor and gardens. He also mentioned your... invention is welcome to be demonstrated again, if you so wish."
"Thank you," I replied, sliding out of bed.
Downstairs, the manor was still. Warm light poured in through stained-glass windows.
I passed through tall hallways filled with artwork and books older than any city I'd been to. Eventually, I found Vengir in the garden.
He was kneeling in the dirt, sleeves rolled up, talking with one of the gardeners.
He looked... at ease, for once.
"You're up," he said, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Hope they didn't feed you elf food. Everything here smells like flowers."
I grinned faintly. "I've had worse."
"Lord Elros said we can take a look around. Wants us comfortable."
"Comfortable is not the word I'd use," I muttered.
Still, there was something calming about this place. Like time moved slower here. No knights breathing down our necks, no screaming in the dark. Just roses and morning dew.
Velna reappeared shortly after. "If you'd like, I can show you the workshop Lord Elros prepared for you. He said you might want to make improvements to your printing device."
That caught Vengir's attention.
"You bring the press?" he asked.
"They did," she said. "And everything you requested was delivered to the southern hall. Lord Elros was quite thorough."
Vengir gave me a look, and I nodded.
"We'll take a look," I said.
Before we left, I glanced at the horizon. A city like Eldenforve wasn't built on peace, it was built on quiet ambition. Everyone here had a purpose.
And I was starting to wonder what Elros Darethiel's really was.
I followed Velna through the southern wing of the manor, her steps light against the polished stone floors. The air here smelled faintly of parchment and lavender oil, and the silence was broken only by the soft creak of wooden doors being opened ahead of us.
We arrived at a double door chamber- tall, arched, and carved with delicate runework. Velna pushed them open with practiced ease.
Inside was a workshop unlike anything I had seen before.
Polished tables lined with brass tools and mechanical arms. Shelves stacked with materials, fresh scroll paper, brass gears, even crystallized ink jars etched with aether runes. My printing press stood proudly at the center, perfectly intact, gleaming under the filtered morning light.
They had reassembled it exactly as we left it.
Vengir let out a low whistle beside me. "Well... guess we're not the only ones who take this thing seriously."
I moved toward it, running my fingers across the edge of the machine. The wood was smoother. The knobs re-polished. Someone had taken great care to restore it, maybe even improve it.
[Environmental calibration complete]
[Printing Press functionality: 100 percent operational]
[New interface detected]
I blinked. The system flickered across my mind. New options, enhancements, even faster print queue configurations. Someone...perhaps their engineers,had tried to interface with it. But the core commands were still mine.
Still locked.
Still mine alone.
Velna approached a second table beside the press. "Lord Elros mentioned you might want to draft more portraits. He provided the sketching tools and requested..should you wish...to duplicate more notices."
"He thinks we're still looking for Ryuu," I murmured.
"Aren't you?" Velna asked gently.
I gave a small smile. "Always."
She didn't pry further.
Vengir crossed his arms. "What I want to know is why they'd go through all this trouble. Giving us ink, metal, space, meals like we're royalty."
"Because it's not about what we made," I said slowly. "It's about what it means."
Vengir raised a brow. "The machine?"
"No. The idea."
He didn't argue.
We spent the rest of the morning tinkering, tightening bolts, feeding fresh scrolls, adjusting the lever pressure. Every time the press printed, it felt like more than just paper being made. It felt like a message. A defiance.
By the time Velna returned to escort us for lunch, I had already stacked dozens of portraits. Some were Ryuu's. Others were blank templates I planned to fill later, with maps, names, records.
Information.
Weapons, in a different form.
As we walked the halls once more, I couldn't shake the question in my mind.
Why go this far?
Elros Darethiel didn't strike me as someone easily impressed, yet he had done all this for a press and a stranger.
What did he know?
Or worse, what did he want?
[Notable activity logged: House Eloras infrastructure accessed]
[Recommend monitoring political channels]
I felt the system hum in my mind. A warning? Or just an observation?
Either way... I wouldn't let my guard down.
Lunch was served in a glass-paneled atrium filled with sunlight and the scent of flowering vines. Elven servants moved silently, setting dishes of steamed greens, golden breads, and wine-crusted meats onto the long, curved table. Vengir looked uncomfortable, he picked at a roll like it might bite him.
Velna remained nearby but silent, her eyes ever watchful.
"I'm starting to think they're feeding us better than their own council," Vengir muttered, tearing into a slice of roasted fruit.
I only nodded, eyes drifting to the glass ceiling. Birds circled above the atrium's domed top, free and distant.
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
The workshop. The resources. The patience.
None of this was casual hospitality. Elros Darethiel was preparing something, if not for himself, then for those he answered to. And no matter how refined his tone or genuine his offers sounded, he hadn't shown his hand yet.
After the meal, Velna returned.
"Lord Elros sends his apologies," she said with a graceful bow. "His meeting with the Senate has been extended, but he asked that you feel at home. If you require anything, I'll see it arranged."
I gave her a polite nod. "Thank you."
"And he requests," she added, "that if you develop any improvements or concepts from your time in the workshop, you share them. It would help him in his report."
That made me pause.
"Report?"
Velna smiled slightly. "House Eloras, as you may know, holds an advisory seat on the Council of Eldenforve. Your invention will likely draw attention, this is simply preparation."
"I see," I said quietly.
Vengir caught my eye. He didn't like the sound of it either.
We spent the afternoon wandering the estate.
Ornamental bridges crossed still ponds filled with pale koi. Artifacts from across the continent decorated stone paths, broken relics, ancient weaponry, even a shattered Ivorian shield mounted on an iron tree.
A reminder, maybe, of war.
Or its cost.
When the sun dipped low, casting long amber shadows over the stone, I stood once more in the workshop.
I stared at the press.
Fingers hovering above the lever.
I printed one more page.
Not a portrait this time. Not Ryuu's face.
But something new.
A message.
A call for information.
And as the press hissed and released another perfect sheet, the system whispered in my head.
[Message posted]
[Signal spread: Medium range]
[Likelihood of public response: 67 percent]
I stared at the paper, heart pounding.
Vengir stepped up beside me. "What now?"
I folded the paper, slid it into my pocket.
"Now," I said, "we find out who's watching us."
The manor quieted by evening. Lamps cast a soft, amber glow across the hallways as Vengir retired early, muttering something about not trusting rooms without soot on the walls. I stayed awake longer, sitting by the window of my guest chamber, watching the stars crawl across the velvet sky.
The printed message sat folded beside me on the desk.
It was simple, unassuming.
Seeking information on a young man: dark hair, scar beneath the left eye, answers to the name Ryuu. Last seen near the northern range before the storms. Any knowledge would be rewarded generously. Speak with the girl bearing the lion seal.
The lion seal had been Fein's idea. Easy to remember. Hard to forget.
A soft breeze drifted in through the open window, carrying the scent of lavender and parchment ink.
I knew someone out there had seen him.
Someone, somewhere, remembered.
The system's voice buzzed faintly behind my thoughts again, calm and mechanical but present.
[Pulse detected]
[Observation node registered: Elevated platform – southern wall]
[Life signature: Concealed. Passive. Non-hostile... for now.]
I glanced up.
The manor's perimeter was too well-guarded for this to be a coincidence. I wondered if it was Elros's men keeping an eye on things or someone else entirely.
"Still watching?" I muttered under my breath.
No reply came, but the silence itself felt heavy.
Elros returned late.
I didn't see him arrive, but I heard his voice carrying faintly through the stone. His stride was unhurried and precise. A commander dressed as a noble.
I half-expected him to summon me again.
But he didn't.
Instead, a knock came to my door near midnight.
Velna.
"Lord Elros requests your presence in the solar," she said softly. "He said no formalities."
I dressed quickly and followed.
The solar was a room carved high into the manor's west wing. The walls were curved glass, overlooking the cliffside and the endless black sea beyond. Inside, Elros stood at a marble table, hands folded behind his back, staring out at the stars.
He didn't turn when I entered.
"I heard you printed something new," he said.
I stopped a few steps behind him. "Yes."
"And?"
"I'm looking for someone. My cousin. He's the reason I started this journey."
At that, he turned.
There was a softness to his gaze now, calculated but not cruel.
"You still believe he's alive?"
"I have to."
He nodded slowly. "Conviction. That's rare in people our age."
"I don't have much else," I replied, voice quiet.
He stepped forward and placed a sealed envelope on the table between us.
"I have a courier riding to the Senate archives tomorrow. I can include your message with it. Discreetly."
I studied him. "Why help me?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he walked back toward the window, hands clasped behind his back once more.
"You're changing things, Ryazania," he said finally. "You don't even realize it yet. That press, that idea, it's not just about a missing boy. It's a doorway. And whether you like it or not, there are people already stepping through it."
I looked at the envelope.
And I thought of Ryuu.
"I'll take that risk," I said.
Elros gave the faintest smile. "Good. Then we understand each other."
continue
He left the solar quietly, his footsteps fading into the manor's long corridors. I stood there for a while, staring down at the envelope resting in front of me. My name hadn't been written on it, but somehow, it felt heavier than anything I'd carried through the labyrinth.
The window showed only the black waves of the sea and the moonlight glinting off the glass.
I sat down.
My fingers hovered over the envelope, then pulled it toward me. I didn't open it didn't need to. Elros had given his word. It would be sent. And once it was, Ryuu's face would cross desks and lands I couldn't reach on my own.
The press had done its job.
But something still didn't sit right.
[System notice: Courier route calculated. Estimated travel duration – three days]
[Success rate: 83%]
[Monitoring request acknowledged. Passive tracking enabled]
I rubbed my temple. "You're getting oddly helpful lately."
[Observation indicates elevated stress levels. Assistance is prioritized]
A faint chuckle escaped my lips. I didn't know if it was comforting or concerning that the system could read me so well.
The door creaked open again. Velna peeked in with a polite smile.
"Will you be staying in the solar tonight, Miss Ryazania?"
I shook my head. "No. Just needed some air."
She nodded. "Breakfast is served an hour after sunrise. Shall I send for you then?"
"Yes. Thank you."
I returned to my room. The manor's stillness followed me like a shadow, too perfect to be natural. I knew eyes were on us, maybe from Elros, maybe from beyond.
I climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling. The sheets were warm, soft, welcoming. But my thoughts were anywhere but here.
Ryuu.
I whispered into the dark, "You better still be alive."
No answer came.
But I wasn't expecting one.
Not yet.
—
Elros Darethiel stood at the edge of the cliffs behind his manor, the wind tugging at the edges of his robes. He gazed down at the stone roads leading toward the city's center, where flickers of torchlight wound up the hills like veins of fire.
A younger aide stood beside him, watching silently.
"She's going to change things," Elros said softly.
"Sir?"
"Ryazania," he replied. "The girl with the sword and the mind of a builder. She's walking into something deeper than she knows."
He turned to the aide.
"Send word to the Senate. I want her invention documented and her presence… observed. Quietly."
"Yes, Lord Darethiel."
He stared out into the night once more.
"She might just be the storm this empire needs."
And far beyond Eldenforve, across the snows and sea, gears began to turn.