A hush had fallen over the grand castle, the air thick with both the scent of polished stone and the subtle chill of an approaching evening. From a window, you could see the distant lights of the capital, flickering like scattered jewels. It was a strange night for a funeral, a strange night for a banquet, and an even stranger night for Leornars and Stacian to be dressing for it.
Leornars stood before a large, ornate mirror, his posture as impeccable as his white tuxedo. The stark white of the suit, paired with a black bow tie, was a striking contrast to his pale skin and hair, while his red eyes glowed with a faint, internal light. A fine red chain hung across his chest, and from his left ear, a single, intricate dragon-shaped earring dangled, catching the last of the afternoon light. He was a being carved from ice and fire, and his attire only amplified that unsettling beauty.
Stacian, meanwhile, was a vision in blue. Her dress, a flowing cascade of sapphire fabric, complemented the gentle curve of her black Dryiand horns. A delicate white purse was clutched in her hand, and black heels clicked softly against the stone floor. Her blue earrings matched her dress, and a red necklace, a twin to Leornars's chain, rested against her collarbone. They were an odd pair, a study in color and shadow, but they moved with a synchronized grace that suggested a deep, unspoken understanding.
The door swung open without a knock. Zaryter stepped into the room, his green horns a stark contrast to his serious expression.
"Ever heard of knocking, brat?" Leornars said, his voice a low, thoughtful hum that carried a hint of annoyance. He didn't even turn around.
"So, for our agreement," Zaryter replied, his voice calm and low, as if a lack of courtesy was the least of his worries.
Leornars finally turned, one brow raised. He recalled their deal. It was a simple transaction—he'd saved a life, and Zaryter would owe him. Now the time had come to collect.
"Oh, yeah... bring her in. Stacian can heal her as we leave for the banquet."
The word "banquet" hung in the air, prompting a question from Zaryter. "Banquet?" he asked as he left the room, only to return a moment later, carrying a small girl in his arms. She was his sister, an exact replica of him save for her horns, which were a vibrant blue. Zaryter gently placed her on the bed as Stacian stepped forward, her hands glowing faintly as she began to examine the child.
"Can you heal her? Will she be okay?" Zaryter's voice was tight with worry.
Stacian's touch was gentle. "This is a minor problem, just a curse... hmmm... we are extremely lucky she had a day left. Wow, I've never seen this kind of curse." She trailed off, her fascination overriding the urgency for a moment. "It's fascinating... only a highly skilled mage or witch can inflict this kind of curse," she said, lifting the girl's arm to check the scorched parts on her back.
"Less interest, more healing," Leornars said, his voice a quiet command as he knelt to finish tying his shoelaces.
Stacian nodded, placing her hand on the child's forehead. A soft, warm light enveloped her hand. "Inturia heal," she murmured, and the scorched skin began to mend, leaving no trace of the horrifying curse.
Zaryter, still reeling from the events, turned his attention back to Leornars. "So, what's this banquet about? You two seem too dressed for the occasion."
Leornars adjusted his bow tie, his gaze distant. "Just minor changes to the nation." He spoke the words as if he were talking about a small errand, not a political upheaval.
"Zhylyena," he called out, and from his shadow, a graceful figure emerged. She was ethereal, a being of pure darkness and light. She knelt before him, her presence as silent as a wraith.
"Lord, you called," she said in a calm, hollow tone.
"I'm aware you were a princess and I'm very sure you know every single misdeed and fraud committed by the nobles and the royal family, right?"
"Yes, I have all the records accounted for in my chambers below the cabinet," she replied.
"Bellian," Leornars summoned again. Another figure, this one cloaked in shadow, appeared beside Zhylyena.
"Lord?" Bellian said, his voice a low, rumbling echo.
"Zhylyena will inform you of what to get," Leornars said, dismissing him. Bellian turned to Zhylyena, and she began to whisper to him, her words a soft, sibilant sound.
Leornars turned to Stacian. "Stacian, I need all the records of our accomplishments. Every receipt, document, or paper..." he ordered. She nodded and walked out to the workshop room they'd been assigned by the king.
While she was gone, Leornars turned his attention back to his shadow. "Did you dispose of the chancellor yet?"
"Yes, Lord. I threw his corpse 300 miles north from here," Zhylyena said without a hint of emotion.
Leornars looked genuinely surprised, and he reached out to pat her hair. "Good job. I'm impressed."
"I'm deeply grateful for your mercy," she said, her voice filled with a reverence that was almost heartbreaking.
"My mercy?" he asked, a hint of genuine confusion in his tone.
"Yes, Lord. Before you turned me to Zhylyena, I was Princess Alisha Montgomery, the heir, nothing more. Even my own father and mother kicked me out of the castle to the manor because I was a hindrance to their ideals for slavery and fraudulent activities. You gave me a purpose of existence, ending racial discrimination and hatred. Now that I'm undead, I'm no longer human and consider myself a wraith."
"Poor thing," Leornars said, his voice soft, almost regretful. "Guess even nobility has their own problems. Zhylyena, tell me everything you know about Count Barnsley."
Zhylyena's voice was a chilling recitation of facts. "Count Barnsley is well known as the ruler of the Huletal provincial. His domain is the closest to the kingdom of Durmount, which allows slavery to the demi-humans. Count Barnsley has dealt a lot of dark and evil deeds, like torture to the slaves, putting them against monsters for show, and assassination of merchants who refuse to decrease prices for him."
"So he's a bastard," Zaryter added, his jaw tight.
Leornars's red eyes narrowed. "You know him?"
"Yes, he's the one who sold me and my sister to the black Acers," Zaryter said, his voice laced with bitter memories. "He lied to us that he'd give us food and protect us until he was handed a few gold coins and sold us."
A cold front swept through the room. Leornars's calm composure shattered, replaced by an aura of pure, unadulterated hate and murder. Stacian returned with a stack of documents to find the air itself had turned frigid. Zhylyena and Bellian, their tasks complete, retreated back into Leornars's shadow.
He took the documents from Bellian's hand, his fingers tightening around the papers as he began to read.
"So I guess one of my suspicions was right. Count Barnsley was in contact with the king of Durmount on my capture, but who hired the Black Acers?"
Zaryter turned to him, his expression one of confusion and awe. "Lord, as I was in the Acers, a man dressed in royalty garments gave the job to the Acers. He had a crest, but I can't read. I'm sorry for being illiterate."
Leornars looked at him, his gaze surprisingly gentle. "Don't worry about being illiterate. Draw the crest on the paper."
Zaryter took a piece of paper and began to draw the crest. Stacian looked over his shoulder. "I've been a captive for so long; this crest is new to me," she said.
"Zhylyena," Leornars called. She appeared again, her wraith-like form bowing. "Tell me what nation owns this crest."
"This is the Furverla family crest. They are a noble family in the kingdom of Seraphim," she said.
"Okay, you may go now," Leornars said. Zhylyena bowed and vanished into his shadow.
A slow smile, cold and full of a chilling pleasantness, spread across Leornars's face. "So another nation is picking a fight with me? How pleasant." He turned to the others. "Stacian, Bellian, Zaryter, and Zhylyena, we are heading to the banquet... be excited."
He picked up a small, wrapped gift from a nearby table, his movements as sharp and precise as a well-honed blade. The evening had just begun, and the "minor changes" he spoke of were about to be revealed.