On the way to the bell tower, as the car wheels turned, Ivaan's thoughts went back to Lin. He remembered the day when he saw her red thread. "Binding a woman's fate to a child who was about to die. How could leaving a child with someone so close to death ever be right?" he thought to himself, though he did not say this to Irwin.
His eyebrows came together as he murmured, "Replace the maid. Get someone else."
Irwin blinked, confused. What could be wrong with Miss Lin? "I don't know what the master is thinking, but I don't dare question him." He said out loud, "Yes, Master. I'll make the change immediately."
After a short journey, they arrived at the bell tower. Ivaan looked up at it, his eyes cold and calm.
Unlike the estate, this bell tower was maintained by ordinary humans people untouched by magic, unaware of the ancient bloodlines moving silently among them. Only a few humans, once tied to those bloodlines, knew the truth. The rest cooked beside witches, laughed with werewolves, and unknowingly brushed shoulders with vampires and whisperers, never realizing the hidden supernatural world living with them.
And all the while, those beings watched, guarded, and sacrificed in silence protecting without ever being known.
The bell tower rose above them, its stones worn and grey, its jagged edges sharp in the firelight. The glow of embers wrapped around its gothic frame, like a scene from a dark fairy tale.
Inside, Ivaan was greeted by nobles counts, clever viscounts, greedy barons, and a few loyal allies. Though Ivaan held no human title, he stood above them all. His presence demanded respect.
They bowed together. "Grace to our lord, Sir Ivaan. We wish you strength and health."
A viscount stepped forward, giving Ivaan a strange smile. Behind him stood a boy with blue hair.
Diana looked at the boy and thought, "If this man is with the viscount, then he won't stay here long." And indeed, the boy soon left the room. She did not think much more about him.
Ivaan thought to himself, "This viscount is always the same. I don't know what he is thinking or what he might do. It's better if I and my people do not fight with men like him."
He stood in the center, dressed in black ceremonial clothes, his cloak flowing behind him like spilled ink. Irwin stood at his side, calm and watchful, like a great statue.
The chamber filled with whispers low, uncertain voices. But the moment Irwin stepped forward, silence returned.
Irwin's voice was steady as steel.
"As you are all well aware of the recent Darkskin rumors or rather, the troubling incidents there you have been summoned. His lordship has decided to form a cavalry order, and this time he will personally inspect the matter. You already know what happened to the research team, which is why we now require capable people, and only the best among you will be chosen. But before that, His lordship wishes to hear your opinions. If he feels that changes are needed, he will consider them. Speak plainly, and do not waste words."
The faces of the nobles shifted with unease. For some, it was fear; for others, an opportunity.
The viscount once again glanced at Ivaan, and Ivaan returned the look with a plain, unreadable expression, as if to say: "What is this man's problem?"
Then, a baron with a sharp chin stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"My lord, the Darkskin Mountain troubles weigh heavily on us common folk, for we are the ones who face spirits and ghosts directly. If I may suggest we should provide protective charms, and invite a priest from Yueji. We have heard much about their priestess."
But what he did not reveal was that the charms would come from his cousin, and that in Suyatierra he had personal connections. He was already thinking more of profit than of solving the problem.
A count, dressed in crimson velvet, stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"My lord, may I suggest something more practical? We could send patrols at night, accompanied by our own soldiers. The mountain is still within our borders it would be a shame to lose it entirely to fear. If a cavalry order is to be formed, my men are ready to contribute."
Next, a viscount spoke, his voice calm but sharp. He was an old man with a cutting tongue and a grey beard.
"My lord, instead of wasting silver on foreign priests or staining our hands with unnecessary blood, perhaps we should raise the tolls and taxes for travelers passing through the Darkskin foothills. Fewer people would visit, and those who do will pay more. That way, more lives are protected. And, of course, it would not hurt if we also earned some profit. Besides," he added with a sly smile, "would it not be useful to declare it a sacred place? The younger generation should still hold some belief in the old myths… the whispers."
When he spoke the word whispers, he turned his face in such a way that it was clear he wanted to provoke Ivaan. After all, aside from the viscount and a few others, most ordinary humans knew very little about the supernatural.
The hall grew tense every eye shifted between the viscount and the lord, waiting for Ivaan's reaction.
Irwin stepped forward, his steady voice cutting through the silence.
"We should hear the next opinions… Lord Gabriel, Sir Jihan, Madam Diana would you care to speak?"
Sir Jihan, tall and hawk-nosed, stepped forward. A sly smile curved his lips half challenge, half charm. His silver hair fell across his face, shining faintly like moonlight. His pale eyes moved slowly over the lords, sharp as a hawk's.Many distrusted him, for he was the heir of magicians, son of a witch father and a whisper-born mother. Yet among all, he was one whom Ivaan himself praised.
The room grew quiet.
"My lord, with the highest respect fear is for children, not for us. Darkskin Mountain is no curse; it is an opportunity. I have seen the gardener you asked about his ailment is no common disease. And if it truly is tied to Darkskin, then why delay a righteous cause? Claim it. Plant your banners on its peak, ride our cavalry through its forests, and turn that nest of shadows into a fortress in your name. Let the world whisper if it dares soon, it will shout your glory. History remembers conquerors, not cowards."
Lord Gabriel, a stout man with nervous eyes and his hair neatly brushed back, gave him a noble air, though whispers called him the fallen duke,He wore pale robes fastened with a silver brooch, the emblem of a house that had lost much yet still held its dignity.
When he smiled, it was polite, careful, as if hiding something behind it. His voice trembled at times, yet it always sought reason, preferring peace over conflict ,cleared his throat first.
"My lord… as others suggest, we should avoid provoking whatever dwells in Darkskin Mountain. Rumors spread like wildfire. If people believe the place cursed, then let it remain so. Send no soldiers, stir no whispers. Fear, after all, can sometimes guard better than steel."
He paused, his gaze flicking uneasily across the chamber, then lowered his tone.
"Yet hear me I do not say we must be blind. Such matters demand we search their roots. If, after all inquiry, nothing of worth is found, then only then should we turn our thoughts to the viscounts and counts who whisper at our borders. Better to exhaust the truth than let shadows rule our judgment."
The room stirred again, divided between fear, ambition, and reason.