For the moment, Lucian had no clear plan. The scraps of information in his hands were far too few. One thing was certain: both the faction of the Two Fingers and the faction of the Three Fingers had meddled in this Peninsula's affairs.
And what they sought… it was likely not only Irina.
At least for the Two Fingers, their goals clearly went beyond her. They'd had countless opportunities to dispose of Irina—whether through an assassination in town or during the chaos of the rebellion. Yet they had let her go, later sending only a weak, almost symbolic envoy to deal with her.
No… there had to be something more important hidden within Castle Morne. Something that compelled the remaining defenders to stay behind at all costs. And those defenders—the Leonine Misbegotten and the two others—would not be easy opponents, especially if they fought in concert.
As for the Three Fingers… he still had no idea what their true aim might be. But he would be wise to prepare himself for the worst—there could very well be Frenzied Flame cultists lying in wait within the castle.
"Sir Lucian…"Irina's voice trembled, tinged with a quiet plea.
"…Alright," he said at last. "We'll set out now."
He turned to another figure. "And thank you for your information—it's been a great help."
Anogo waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing worth thanking. Just be careful on the road. Those people are dangerous."
Lucian rose to his feet, raising a whistle to his lips. A clear, piercing note summoned Torrent to his side.
He helped Irina up. She was unsteady on her legs, trembling like a newborn fawn.
Once mounted, she slipped her arms around his waist from behind, as she always did. Even through his armor, he could feel the faint tremor in her body. Lucian searched for something to say to comfort her… but no words came. Instead, he urged Torrent into a gallop.
Before long, the looming silhouette of Castle Morne appeared at the far edge of their vision. The fortress was built upon a lone mountain, its position almost unnatural—sheer cliffs rose on every side, the kind of terrain no sane person would expect to be breached from the outer walls.
At its base stood a colossal golem, an unyielding sentinel with a large bow.
"Irina," he asked, "as long as we have the token, the golem won't attack us… correct?"
"Yes. I have it here with me. You can charge straight through without fear."
Torrent thundered along the main road. They passed a familiar type of stone monument—similar to the ones marking map fragments—but Lucian didn't stop to investigate. On a slope nearby, however, the golden shimmer of a Illusory Tree caught his eye.
That, he couldn't ignore.
If he could claim its seed, he could increase the number of Crimson Flask uses—a critical boon.
Riding up the slope, he found the large golden seed lying on the ground, heavy and warm in his palm.
But as they resumed their path toward the castle, calamity struck.
Whoosh—!
A massive arrow shrieked through the air toward them.
Lucian yanked the reins, and Torrent leapt down the slope in a blur. The giant arrow tore through the air where they had been, smashing into the ground with a deafening crash and shattering stone into a spray of fragments.
He turned to see the arrow embedded deep in the rock, the Illusory Tree behind it blasted apart into splinters.
"Wh–what was that?!" Irina gasped.
"A golem's arrow," Lucian replied grimly. "Looks like the token's no good anymore."
He drew in a breath. "Hold on tight. We're going through."
The golems' range was immense; retreating now would only leave them trapped within its killing zone. Worse, he couldn't even see its movements clearly to predict the shots.
Ahead stretched a wide, open plain—normally impossible to cross under such fire. But luck favored them: massive fragments of ancient ruins lay scattered across the field.
Lucian angled Torrent toward the broken stone, weaving through the gaps, using each as a shield between shots. He counted the seconds between volleys, dashing from cover to cover.
The last stretch, however, offered no cover at all.
As soon as the golem loosed another arrow, Lucian kicked hard, driving Torrent into a full sprint. The giant's draw was ponderous, but the distance was far.
The bowstring sang.
Torrent surged forward, the arrow slamming into the ground just behind them. They closed the final distance before the next shot could be drawn, skidding to a halt at the golem's feet.
Lucian swung his halberd in brutal arcs, striking again and again at the creature's legs. The stone-like plating there was cracked and weathered, revealing molten, lava-like fluid beneath.
Sensing the damage, the golem abandoned its bow, lashing out with massive limbs—but Torrent was far too nimble, darting between the giant's steps.
One precise thrust into a deep fissure, and the golem's leg gave way, stone splitting apart as molten fluid gushed forth. It collapsed forward, shaking the ground.
Lucian spurred Torrent up the creature's body to its chest, where a great furnace—the heart of its power—glowed. Driving his weapon into the seam, he tore it open. Liquid fire spilled out in torrents, and the golem convulsed before going still.
He let out a slow breath. A close call—but they had survived.
It was then that he noticed the crystalline throwing knives embedded in the golem's waist. Someone had already tampered with it, disrupting its recognition of the token.
A sudden pull on his own magic wrenched it from him—instinctively, a storm erupted around them.
Lucian spun, just in time to see a pitch-black bolt intercepted by the swirling wind, tumbling harmlessly to the ground.
His eyes followed its trajectory back to the castle wall, where a figure in a black robe turned away and disappeared.
His heart pounded. That silent bolt would have killed either him or Irina outright—had the Ancient King not guided his magic to block it.
Melina's voice murmured in his ear. "That bolt was the envoy's—silent, black as pitch, its barbs coated in multiple poisons."
Her tone grew sharper. "Inside the castle's narrow corridors, Torrent will be more a hindrance than help. Leave him outside with Irina. He's clever—he won't be taken down by arrows if he's wary."
Lucian considered it. She was right. Mounted combat would be impossible in such confined spaces, and there was too great a risk of friendly fire. Outside, even if someone tried to pursue Irina, they'd never catch her with Torrent beneath her.
He explained the plan to Irina, telling her to flee at the first sign of danger. She nodded, reluctant but understanding.
Watching them ride off to safety, Lucian turned toward the massive gates of Castle Morne.
The outer platform was fortified with great bulwarks and flame-throwing artillery aimed squarely at the road. Under normal circumstances, storming such defenses would be near impossible. But the rebellion within had turned the castle against itself.
Stepping over the bodies of fallen soldiers at the gate, Lucian crossed the threshold into the lion's den.