As they left the enclosure where the nursing wolf rested, Arthur finally spoke the question that had lingered in his mind.
"Where was that wolf's male?" he asked. "It was supposed to be guarding."
His voice sounded casual, yet the question carried another purpose.
Arthur wanted to confirm something quietly.
If the pup they had brought possessed an unusual life force, he needed comparison.
Observing another adult wolf would reveal whether the structure he sensed in the pup was unique or natural to the species.
Quinn responded not with words but with a sharp whistle that echoed through the corridor ahead.
The sound carried far, bouncing across the stone walls of the castle passage.
Without stopping, Quinn continued walking, guiding them deeper through the inner halls.
Arthur and the others followed behind him.
The long corridors curved gradually around the inner structure of the fortress.
Their footsteps echoed softly along the stone floor.
The journey through the castle had begun to show its weight on the travelers.
Cellis walked quietly, her shoulders slightly lowered, her eyes heavy with fatigue.
The exhaustion from maintaining the mana transfer earlier had not yet left her.
Her eyelids drooped as she walked, though she forced herself to remain attentive.
Quinn glanced briefly behind him as he continued speaking.
"That female you saw earlier," he said, "belongs to my partner."
They were now passing the sculpture area, entering into the seeming painting gallery.
"I assumed you might wish to understand more about the knightmanes."
His voice remained calm and measured as he explained.
"Wolves of this species form pairs once they reach maturity."
They come upon a painting showing two maned wolves, one completely black except for the grey muzzle, while the other, the muzzle's white stretched and thinned towards its abdomen; its nipple surrounding the line.
"A healthy knightmane pair conceives exactly nine pups throughout their lifetime."
Below them were 9 pups sleeping with ease.
"However, survival among them is rarely equal."
They came upon the next painting, where only 5 of the previous pups and the parents were also missing.
"Common manes can endure the strain of raising multiple pups at once."
The background of the picture depicted many of the common knightmanes, with brown-grey fur and shorter manes.
"But for those born of the royal line, bearing several at once can become a harsh burden."
As each of the 5 wolves divided the pack, the youngest was clearly depicted; it faced out the painting while the others drifted away, and their age differences were substantial.
"The wolf you saw earlier is the nurse for your pup, one of the few that can endure such strain."
At that moment, a large presence approached from the far end of the passage.
Heavy paws stepped across the stone floor with slow confidence.
The creature that emerged from the corridor ahead was far larger than the wolves they had seen earlier in the enclosure.
Its mane flowed thick around its neck and shoulders, darker than the rest of its fur.
Without hesitation, the creature walked directly toward Quinn.
It circled around him once before settling beside him calmly.
Quinn rested his hand against the creature's neck.
"This," he said, his voice smoothing with familiarity, "is my knightmane, Gerath."
"He was selected from among the finest of the royal lineage."
Both looked at the three guests. Behind them stood the painting of their younger selves, perhaps painted later than the actual event, the young pack leader overpowering Quinn.
Quinn's hand moved slowly across the thick mane as he continued speaking.
"I still remember when he was no larger than a small pup."
"Now he has grown old alongside me."
"This entire city rests within the territory he has claimed."
Arthur watched the beast carefully.
His attention was not on its size, nor its presence.
Instead, he focused inward, narrowing his senses.
Slowly, he extended his perception toward the creature.
The same ability he had used earlier while examining the injured pup returned to him naturally, his awareness settling around the knightmane's presence.
Within Gerath, he sensed it.
A single life force.
Unlike the structure he had observed within the newborn pup earlier.
The life force within the creature burned steadily, contained and powerful.
Yet the amount of mana surrounding it was immense.
Far greater than he had ever sensed before, stirring within him a strange mixture of awe, fear, and quiet fascination.
Something else brushed against Arthur's perception as well.
It was an unfamiliar form of mana; Arthur understood the structure of mana well enough, But he could only distinguish between attribute mana and null mana.
Whatever this presence was, it fit neither description clearly.
It lingered within the mana like a hidden current.
Arthur could not name it yet.
But he knew it was there.
The group eventually reached a quiet section of the castle.
The hallway opened into a set of resting chambers prepared for guests.
Quinn gestured toward the beds arranged neatly within the room.
"I presume you will need this," he said calmly.
Cellis did not argue.
The moment she reached the bed, exhaustion overtook her.
She lay down and quickly drifted into sleep without concern.
Her breathing soon settled into a quiet rhythm.
Arthur, however, remained awake.
His attention returned to Gerath, who remained beside Quinn.
Once again Arthur focused on the life force within the knightmane.
Still, only one.
The realization lingered quietly in his thoughts.
After a moment of silence, Arthur spoke again.
"Why did you bring up the topic of royals earlier?"
Quinn turned slightly toward him.
For a brief moment he studied Arthur's expression before answering.
"From what I know," Quinn said slowly, "the pup you brought carries dark mana."
Gerald came besides Quinn.
"It shows traits of both royal knightmanes and those of the common line, yet in truth it belongs to neither."
He continued, while caressing the wolf's mane.
"Even so, it is still a knightmane."
Herold frowned slightly.
"Could you explain that more clearly?" he asked.
Quinn paused briefly before answering.
"Both you and that pup are fortunate," Quinn said quietly.
The guest hall was also filled with paintings, paintings of blue eyed wolves, with varying fur and mane some similar to the knightmanes some completely different, and yet they all were there, as depiction of juvenile and young wolves', the paintings were intricate depicting the aura of death around them, long dead lifeless eyes and their cold bodies.
"Though I have yet to see the pup's eyes, I am certain they will be blue."
Quinn shut cellis's door .
"Very few noble pups survive through every stage of life."
He turned and started moving towards the next room.
"Birth alone is not the end of the danger."
As he reached it he looked at Arthur and pointed at the door.
"Nursing can claim them."
Arthur opened the door. And headed inside.
"Nurturing can claim them."
Arthur shut the door as Quinn lead Herold to wards his room.
"Even reaching adulthood is uncertain."
Herold narrowed his eyes slightly.
"You mean it is one of its kind?"
Quinn shook his head slowly.
"No."
He took a step forward,
"But it does not weigh enough."
He frowned upon the many paintings that his ancestors had accumulated.
"There is still a strong chance that it may die."
Quinn's voice softened slightly.
"For now, all we can do is hope for the better."
>>>
Morning arrived quietly within the castle walls.
After the strain of the previous day and the sleepless night before it, Arthur and Herold rested deeply. The guest chambers had been prepared well, and the silence within the fortress allowed their fatigue to finally settle.
Quinn, however, had risen earlier.
As the first light reached the stone corridors, he had already made his way toward the knightmane den. The free pack had returned from their hunt, and the food they carried needed to be distributed among the beasts of the den. Quinn supervised the process calmly, ensuring that order remained undisturbed. During this time, he also checked upon the knightmane pup.
Thus the night passed peacefully within the fortress.
Each guest slept in a separate chamber, while the quiet presence of the furifurs patrolling the corridors provided an unspoken sense of security.
>>>
The next morning, Cellis was the first among the guests to wake.
The unfamiliar surroundings left her slightly uneasy. The castle halls were vast, and the structure was far more complex than she had expected.
Unsure where to go, she decided to find Arthur.
Stepping out into the corridor of the guest wing, she paused for a moment. The walls were lined with paintings, each one depicting wolves with striking blue eyes. Their forms were precise and detailed, the fur rendered with careful strokes.
Yet something about them unsettled her.
The wolves appeared lifeless.
Their bodies were clean, without wounds, decay, or damage. They looked almost identical to living creatures, yet the eyes held no presence. The stillness in them felt unnatural.
Cellis frowned faintly before dismissing the thought.
Perhaps the artist simply lacked the skill to give them life.
Continuing down the corridor, she stopped before another guest room and knocked lightly.
"Arthur! Are you here?"
No response came from inside.
After waiting a moment, she stepped back.
If Arthur was not there, it would probably be easier to ask one of the castle residents. Someone would surely know where he had gone.
With that in mind, she began walking through the halls.
Soon she reached the sculpture gallery they had visited the previous day. The chamber felt unusually quiet now, the statues standing alone in the open space.
Cellis continued onward and eventually turned into a corridor she had not seen before.
The hallway gradually opened into a chamber decorated not with statues or paintings, but with embroidered cloth and woven displays. Frames of intricate fabric art lined the walls.
Curious, she slowed her pace.
Fatigue from the previous day still lingered faintly in her body, and the quiet room offered a welcome moment to pause.
Beneath many of the displayed pieces were small plates explaining the materials used.
One display quickly caught her attention.
Unlike the others, it was not a finished piece of art.
It was simply a spool of thread.
Cellis tilted her head slightly, puzzled by its placement among the embroidered works. Leaning closer, she read the inscription beneath it.
This thread is made from sinew.
'It is formed from sinew; fibers extracted from the tendons of animals.This particular coil was created by joining numerous sinew fibers taken from small animals and insects.The final thread was strengthened by binding it with the sinew fiber taken from a Log Runner's hind leg.The total original length of this thread measured approximately twenty‑seven strides.'
Cellis blinked.
A stride measured eight rods.
That meant the thread had once reached more than two hundred rods in length—nearly two hundred times her own height.
She stared at the thin coil in disbelief.
The thread wound around the spool looked far too small to have ever reached such a length.
At that moment, footsteps approached from behind her.
Someone had entered the chamber quietly.
Without turning, Cellis spoke.
"Look, Arthur," she said with amazement. "This thread is two hundred times my height."
The person stepped closer and read the description himself.
After a moment he scoffed lightly.
"It's been used," he said. "It's probably not at its original length anymore."
Cellis turned toward him.
Only then did she realize the voice wasn't Arthur's.