The Albert family.
Among the countless noble houses of the Re-Estize Kingdom, the name had been insignificant until three years prior—one more minor lineage struggling at the lower end of the hierarchy.
Then Catherine Cort Albert emerged.
At the age of eighteen, she single-handedly destroyed a high-ranking monster that had breached a city's defenses and nearly annihilated its garrison. According to the Adventurers' Guild, the creature's scales could repel third-tier magic, and it possessed petrification abilities. Under ordinary circumstances, suppressing such a threat would have required the coordinated effort of at least three mithril-rank teams.
Catherine Cort Albert killed it alone.
The shock rippled through the Kingdom. The Adventurers' Guild elevated her directly to the adamantite rank—placing her among the highest class of adventurers. She earned the title Starlight Witch, and from that day onward, the Albert family was no longer ignored.
They were noticed.
Gazef Stronoff had heard of her, naturally. Anyone who bore responsibility for the Kingdom's military could not afford ignorance of such an existence. Yet he had never met her, nor had he any dealings with the Albert family.
And now, her younger brother—Lock Kote Albert—had issued an invitation.
Gazef's instinct was to refuse.
The Alberts leaned toward the noble faction. Gazef stood firmly with the royal faction. Their paths did not intersect without friction—especially not during a time when the border situation threatened to ignite.
But the mention of border intelligence changed matters.
This mission involved not only Gazef himself, but the lives of the soldiers under his command. If there was even a chance the information was genuine, he could not ignore it.
"…Very well," Gazef said at last. "Lead the way."
"Please follow us."
He returned to his unit and spoke briefly to his deputy. "Ala and I will proceed to meet Baron Albert. Take the rest and wait outside the castle."
"Captain… is there danger?" the deputy asked quietly.
Gazef hesitated, then shook his head. "No. It is only a discussion."
Before further objections could be voiced, the six armored knights bearing the horned serpent crest had already turned their mounts and ridden ahead.
Gazef gave the order. The cavalry advanced.
After breakfast, Lock walked through the inner grounds of his castle at an unhurried pace.
This was not leisure—it was a habit.
Rose gardens stretched along cross-shaped stone paths, trimmed and symmetrical. At the center stood a circular fountain, and within it a towering statue carved in his likeness. Beneath the statue bloomed a giant lotus, water spilling from its petals in steady arcs.
Lock reached out, plucked a rose without regard for its thorns, and lifted it to his nose.
"This scent is familiar," he said.
"Yes," Vier replied smoothly. "I use petals from these gardens when preparing your bath."
Lock glanced at her, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You know that is not what I meant."
Her smile deepened—polite, unreadable. "Then I must ask what you meant, Master."
The exchange ended there.
Heavy footsteps approached along the stone path.
A knight in mithril armor halted before Lock and bowed. "My lord. Warrior Captain Gazef Stronoff has entered the castle. He awaits you in the reception hall."
"So he has arrived," Lock said. He handed the rose to Vier. "Let us receive him."
She accepted it carefully, as though it were something precious. Later, it would be preserved, tended, and kept alive by magic.
The reception hall was silent.
Gazef sat upright on a richly upholstered sofa, his expression tight. Beside him, Ala stood stiffly, eyes flicking downward despite himself.
The carpet beneath their boots was embroidered with gold. Ala knew—painfully—that its value exceeded his lifetime of wages. To make matters worse, damp soil clung faintly to the edges of his boots.
Footsteps echoed.
Gazef stood at once.
The man who entered did not resemble the nobleman he had anticipated.
Silver-white hair, neatly cut. Pale red eyes, calm and observant. His expression was composed, almost gentle. No arrogance. No excess.
But the details betrayed the truth.
Every ring on his fingers radiated restrained magical power. His coat was woven with enchantments of a level Gazef had only seen on artifacts reserved for national treasures.
Even the King did not dress like this.
Who… is this man?
Lock noticed the shift in Gazef's gaze at once.
"So," he said lightly, "even the Kingdom's strongest warrior finds me noteworthy."
Gazef stiffened, then inclined his head. "Forgive me. I spoke out of turn. Baron Albert… you are the most striking man I have ever encountered."
"High praise," Lock replied as he took his seat. "Though I would prefer it spoken by someone more… persuasive."
The meeting began.
"You know why I summoned you," Lock said.
"Yes. Your knight claimed you possess intelligence regarding the rebel forces near the border."
"Correct. Information that may be of use to you."
Gazef did not respond immediately. His posture hardened, eyes sharpening.
"Before that," he said slowly, "I must ask you something. And I expect a sincere answer."
Lock waited.
"In your territory," Gazef continued, "I observed no fewer than three thousand armed men. They are disciplined, well-equipped, and trained beyond the standard of private forces."
His voice lowered.
"For what purpose have you gathered them?"
Silence pressed down on the hall.
"What," Gazef demanded, "are you preparing for?"
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