-Year 7335, Decatry Island – Delluzio Inn-
I can't sleep.
The room is small but clean. A narrow bed, a nightstand with a lit candle, a window facing the backyard. The silence outside is heavy — not the calm silence of the nights in Decatry County, but a silence of waiting. As if the night itself were listening.
My arm still hurts. The Ygresso wound no longer bleeds, but the skin around it is swollen, warm to the touch. The poison is gone, Ana said. But the memory of the creature — the red eyes, the scales gleaming in the half-light — remains.
I get up. The candle casts shadows on the wall. I put on my trousers and tunic. The sword leans against the bed, in its black leather scabbard. Andy said it belonged to a dead friend. Arthur Erréndias, I learned later. The man who lost everything.
I leave the room. The corridor is dark, lit only by a single oil lamp at the far end. My bare feet make no noise on the wooden floor. I pass by the girls' doors — Ana, Sara, Ariny. All closed. Silence.
The kitchen is on the ground floor, at the end of the stairs. A faint light comes from the ajar door.
I push it open slowly.
Ierály is there.
The innkeeper's daughter. Dark brown hair, green eyes. She has her back to me, leaning over a cutting board. Her hands move quickly, precisely. A pot is on the fire, and the smell of herbs fills the room.
"Can't sleep?" she asks, without turning around.
"No."
"I couldn't either, at first. When I came here."
"Here?"
"To the inn." She turns. The smile is in place — polite, empty. "My father brought me when I was little. My mother... died. Illness."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I never knew her."
She picks up a clay cup, pours something from the pot. Herbs, hot water. Tea, perhaps. She offers it to me.
"Drink. It calms the nerves."
"I'm not nervous."
"Yes, you are. You take a deep breath every few seconds. And you keep touching your tunic pocket as if looking for something that isn't there."
I look at my pocket. The paper. The system. The drug that no longer works.
"You observe a lot, don't you?"
"It's my job." She sits on a bench, leans back against the wall. "My father says a good servant sees everything and says nothing. I see everything. Sometimes I speak."
"And what do you see in me?"
Ierály tilts her head. Her green eyes scrutinize me, but her face remains neutral.
"I see a boy who doesn't know where he is. Who doesn't know what he is. Who is afraid, but hides his fear behind jokes and questions he doesn't want to hear the answers to."
"I'm not afraid."
"You are. And there's no harm in that. Fear keeps us alive."
"Or kills us."
"That too."
Silence settles. The fire crackles. Outside, the wind howls.
"Why did you come to the kitchen?" she asks, finally. "There's no food at this hour."
"I can't sleep. I told you."
"You did. But that's not all. You came because you're alone and you don't like being alone. That's why you're talking to me. A stranger."
"You're talking to me too."
"It's my job."
"You said that already."
She smiles. This time, the smile is different. Smaller. More... human.
"You're right. Maybe I'm also alone."
---
Lord Delluzio appears when the tea is already at the bottom of the cup.
He comes out of a room in the back, still fastening his armour belt. The platinum-blue armour, the one I saw in the duke's stable. The white tiger on the chest. The man is tall, broad-shouldered, with short greyish hair. His face is marked — scars, wrinkles, eyes that have seen too much.
"Slave," he says, recognizing me. "The duke spoke of you."
"My name is Ethan."
"Ethan, then." He sits on the bench next to Ierály, who discreetly gets up and returns to the cutting board. "Andy said you're Macano's chosen one. The first after him."
"That's what I was told."
"And you don't know how to use a sword."
"I know a little."
"A little isn't enough." Delluzio scratches his beard. "Tomorrow, before you leave, we'll train. The duke asked me to look after you until you reach the port. I won't fail."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. You haven't seen the training yet."
Ierály laughs softly, without turning around.
"Lord Delluzio is famous for having no patience. If he's offering to train you, it's because he liked you. Or because the duke paid well."
"Both," says Delluzio, with a dry smile.
---
Delluzio talks about the road to the port.
"There have been reports of attacks. People disappearing. The Contraranures are more active."
"Contraranures?" I ask.
"A cult. They worship the gods of hell. They make sacrifices to gain raw mana and corruption." He looks at Ierály, who remains with her back turned. "They used to be few. Now... they've multiplied."
"And the king does nothing?"
"The king is busy with the war. Trussum. A demon lord of the second strand. He summoned all the barons. Even the kings of Aryster and Ban have come."
"War?" The word sounds strange in my mouth. Wars were things from books, from webnovels. Not real.
"War," Delluzio confirms. "That's why the duke sent you to the academy. To keep you safe."
Ierály drops a knife. The noise echoes in the kitchen. She crouches to pick it up, but says nothing.
"The academy is on the Derylini peninsula," I continue. "Isn't that far from here?"
"A day by boat, if the sea is calm." Delluzio stands up. "Now, try to sleep. Training is early."
He leaves. Ierály stays.
"The Contraranures," I say. "Do you know anything about them?"
"I know what everyone knows." She washes the knife in the water bowl. "That they're evil. That they do evil things. That they deserve to die."
"You talk as if you don't believe that."
"I talk as someone who has seen many evil people smile. And many good people kill."
She looks at me. Her green eyes no longer smile.
"Go to sleep, Ethan. You have a long journey tomorrow."
---
I don't sleep.
Her tea calmed me, yes. But the thoughts won't stop. The war. The Contraranures. Trussum. The masked man. Zirinos. Arth.
*Why am I here? To protect some girls I barely know? To become strong? For what?*
The system paper is under the pillow. I take it out. I look at the unintelligible symbols. Nothing.
I fall asleep with it in my hand.
---
Delluzio wakes me before sunrise.
"Get up, slave. Training doesn't wait."
The inn's courtyard is a square of beaten earth, surrounded by stone walls. The sky is still dark, but a grey line on the horizon announces the dawn.
Delluzio throws me a wooden sword. I catch it. It's lighter than mine, but the balance is similar.
"Stance," he says. "Show me."
I position myself. Feet apart, weight distributed, sword forward.
"Not terrible." He approaches, corrects my wrist. "Like this. Your wrist can't tremble. The sword is an extension of your arm, not a weight."
"Yes."
"Attack me."
"What?"
"Attack me. I won't bite."
I step forward. The strike is slow, clumsy. Delluzio dodges with a minimal movement, almost lazy.
"Again."
I step forward again. He dodges. Again. Dodges. Again.
"You're not thinking. You're guessing." He steps back, lowers his guard. "Your movements are all the same. You always cut from the same side. You're predictable."
"I have little training."
"You have little brain, if you keep doing the same thing expecting different results."
I remember the phrase. Insanity, they called it on Earth.
"What should I do?"
"Observe. The opponent isn't just arms and legs. They are eyes. Breathing. Tension." Delluzio points at my chest. "Your heart beats fast. Mine doesn't. Know why?"
"Because you're stronger."
"Because I've killed more men than you've ever seen. Calm comes from experience. Or from lack of fear."
"I'm afraid."
"I know. I can see it in your eyes." He lowers the sword. "Enough for today. I don't want you arriving at the port limping."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good for you. Bad for your training." He puts the wooden sword back in a barrel. "On the boat to the peninsula, train alone. Basic movements. Vertical, horizontal, diagonal cuts. A thousand times each."
"A thousand?"
"A thousand. If you do less, you won't improve. If you do more, you'll hurt yourself."
---
Breakfast is served in the common room. Hot bread, cheese, fruit, tea. Ana comes down first, followed by Sara. Ariny takes her time.
"Did you sleep well?" I ask Ana.
"No. The bed is hard."
"Mine too."
"I don't mind hard beds. I mind what I dreamed."
"What did you dream about?"
She looks at Ierály, who is serving tea. She doesn't answer.
Sara is more animated than yesterday. She talks about the academy, about classes, about the friends she'll make. Ana mocks her. Ariny sits in silence, drinks her tea, doesn't look at anyone.
Ierály observes. Always observing.
"Do you like serving?" I ask her, as she passes by me.
"I like having a roof and food." She smiles. The empty smile. "The rest is secondary."
"You have no ambitions?"
"I do. But I don't share them with strangers."
Ana laughs.
"Leave her alone, Ethan. She's a servant. She doesn't need ambitions."
Ierály doesn't reply. Her green eyes fix on Ana for a second. Then she looks away.
'That girl hates us', I think. 'Or she's afraid of us. Or both.'
---
Gustavo prepares the carriage. Delluzio says goodbye.
"Remember: a thousand cuts. Every day."
"A thousand."
"If you don't do them, don't ever speak to me again."
"I don't plan on coming back."
"Plan to. The duke trusts you. Don't disappoint him."
I get into the carriage. Ana beside me, Sara and Ariny in front. The empty bench where Gustavo used to sit is now occupied by luggage.
The carriage creaks. We start moving.
I look out the window. The Delluzio Inn recedes, turns into a dark smudge in the grey landscape.
Ierály is at the first-floor window. Her green eyes fix on me.
She wasn't a servant. She was a spy. And I had no idea what she was looking for.
The inn disappears into the mist.
The road to the port begins.