"Lord Thorn…"
Aaron's voice was quiet and sad, his face wearing an expression of pity and disappointment.
As if reading the boy's thoughts just from those two simple words, Cauron smiled sorrowfully towards the ground, despair tearing its way through his heart.
"I thought that would be your answer…"
The two did not say another word for a couple of minutes as the orange-haired man stared blankly at the dirtied carpet.
All that could be heard would be the echoed murmurs of the woman in the cage, wafting through the chamber like birdsong.
Each word made the Sea King wince as if the very fiber of his being was eaten away by the words.
Inside the blond boy's mind, a depressing thought emerged, overwhelming the suppression by the barrier magic.
Every time she talks, it reminds him of what she used to be… Yet, he still chose to place her in his bedchambers regardless…
Taking a slow and heavy breath, the boy took a step forward, holding out his palm to gesture for a handshake.
Cauron Thorn didn't flinch; however, his actions were clearly not out of disrespect, but simply disappointment and sadness.
While such promises of wealth, power, and influence would gather the attention of all, Aaron Grimstall was possibly the only one exempt from such a mindset.
There was nothing to be gained from securing an upper hand in the Trials of God, a challenge that, while many thought he would participate in, he would not undertake.
Already, wielding a Ghostship made such a commitment useless and would only seek to reveal his secrets to the world.
Nevertheless, the opportunity to win the Sea King's favor was still a worthy goal, yet was undermined by the true value of Nautilus.
As he stepped towards the door and prepared to pull it open, he stopped, thinking hard about everything he had heard.
That vault…
Crafted by the Architects, the Vault of Nautilus was the greatest storehouse on the planet; however, there was one place that the boy had once visited that could possibly compare.
Could that vault compare to the one in Sea Fallen?
He had given no thought to the very same illusory world he had found the feminine sword, its endlessly aligned halls so vast and plentiful that it bent the mind in strange ways.
Unless that place is a backdoor to the Vault of Nautilus…?
It was a possibility that couldn't go unchecked, the items he had heard of existing within Nautilus' walls so valuable that Penelope could easily fit amongst them.
No… This isn't the time for that.
Aaron placed his hand on the doorknob, taking one final look back at the orange-haired man who stood alone beside his wife.
Preparing to take a step outside the room to leave the pair together, he heard a whisper come from Thorn's lips, barely noticeable to the boy.
"I knew when I married her that she would die as a mortal, while I watched in my youth, yet it seems fate had other plans for my love than I could even grasp…"
The sad words from a widower left a deep impression on the blond boy's heart as he closed the door behind him and began the walk through the empty castle halls that felt longer than they ever had before.
…
The weather was sunny, not a cloud in the sky, wind blowing gently, and a temperature verging on deadly.
Regardless of that, Raphael von Steinfeste stood beside Aaron Grimstall within the Blackport Museum, their eyes locked on a portrait that hung from the most extravagant frame.
"Are you ready for your fight?"
The white-haired noble's words were cold and unwavering; any trace of his selfish desires he had shown on their first meeting in Corvassa was now gone.
His fellow challenger simply groaned, his hands balled together so he could bury his face in them.
"As much as I can be for someone who returned from Mount Evermore less than two hours ago…"
Raphael shook his head slowly as he heard the words, his eyes observing the picture of that very same mountain range pictured in the painting.
"I suppose you haven't slept since I found you right outside of Chrone Castle. Not only that, but oddly enough, you seem to show no remorse for drowning me in the tournament."
The blond boy's face paled as he suddenly remembered what he had done at the end of their fight, his hand quickly covering his mouth.
In that critical moment, he had allowed the Naelith's influence to overwhelm his emotions, its spine-chilling words that it uttered day and night manifesting in his actions that day.
"I am yet to hear an apology for burning my face to cinders."
Digging his index finger under a flap of fake skin adhered around the glabella, he unfurled the skin mask that he had placed on his face days earlier.
Keeping it clean with drinking water on the mountain was difficult, but not impossible if he tore into his own rations.
"Your face has got uglier, I see… Maybe that cherry-haired freak will stop drooling over you now."
The white-haired boy chuckled quietly as he spoke, the revelation of Akari's true emotions completely going past Aaron's head.
"No… I remember something about that now… Her mother always said she drooled when she slept, so I doubt it'll change anything just because my face is—"
He was cut off by Raphael, who waved his hand in front of the boy's face, muttering something under his breath.
"Quite the selective memory you have for an amnesiac."
Finishing his speech with a snide remark, he began walking towards the next section of the museum, the blond boy following after him.
Overall, the Blackport Ridge Museum was considerable in size, perhaps the largest in the world; however, the only worthwhile exhibit would be the one pieced together from the written records of the Architects themselves.
And as Aaron and Raphael stopped before the masterful artwork that had been drawn in interpretation of the writings by those people, the white-haired boy whispered to the turquoise-eyed child.
"The God Slaying Blade."
He looked downward at the fifteen-year-old's hip, where there was not only a large gap torn in his shirt.
"I'd assume that the Sea Kings had their suspicions about the nature of your weapon after that fight; however, you were lucky."
The soon-to-be adult paused, his eyes glancing over at the painting.
"Since the colors were never mentioned in the ancient scripts, it was up to the artist to fill in those blanks. Apparently, he chose wrong."
Pointing forward at the 'God Slaying Blade', an image depicting a black broadsword wielded by a hooded figure in the middle of a storm lay in the center of the room.
"Your blade spoke to me once; it warned me that divinity was not welcome. I shrugged it off at the time; however, when I truly faced its splendor in the arena, I felt as if I was staring down a god incarnate."
Raphael tightened his grip, the patch wrapping around his marked finger replaced with a simple bandaid.
"They will overlook yours due to Masaru Kurogane's incident; however, I suspect even he knows the truth about your choice of weaponry. Otherwise, why would he do what he did?"
Aaron's brow furrowed downward, his voice coming out in a sudden contrast to the white-haired noble's claims.
"No. He did it because he wanted to prove that the Hunters' Guild is strong enough to hold its own against the Oceanic Association. He said it himself when I—"
The blond boy stopped his own sentence, the oddity of the interaction reappearing in his mind, bringing one question to the spotlight.
How would the greatest swordsman in the world not know what damage he would cause with a single strike?
Of course, regardless of his intentions, he would still be guilty of the indirect murder of hundreds; however, if his intent was different than what he had said, then the punishment would be drastically different.
By accepting a reduced punishment and going into exile, it puts to rest the conversation of his intentions and allows him to prevent further questioning…
Watching his comrade begin putting together the puzzle pieces, Raphael spoke aloud one more time, his eyes never leaving the painting.
"If the governments knew that you held the God-Slaying Blade, they, of course, wouldn't let you keep it. Not only that, but it's likely that it is a binding tool and that they would kill you to obtain it. They approached me while you were on the mountain about the Nautilus incentive and about the incoming disaster. Therefore, I know that if they were to understand that you are in possession of the very weapon they now search for, then you would certainly meet a fate worse than death."
He frowned, turning his head towards Aaron.
"Kurogane understood this and allowed everything to be pinned on him, the God Slaying Blade wielded by a Marshal rather than a challenger, changing the situation drastically."
Cracking a smile, he patted the turquoise-eyed boy on the shoulder, noticing the stunned look of realization on his face.
"He saved your life that day and even sold himself into exile all to protect your secret. Perhaps the one that you should be speaking to should be him, instead of me."
And with those words, the Prince of Sunlight walked past Aaron, who stood still, staring blankly at the image of the hooded figure in the painting.
Five hours remained until his fight with Akari Ayaka, a time that, while seemingly ample, wasn't nearly long enough for what he would need to do to prepare for the greatest battle of his life.