Serith made her way back toward the Common District, threading through streets that gradually grew cleaner and calmer until she reached the ‘nicer’ quarter.
Here, nestled away from the grime and clamour of the lower alleys, stood the orphanage—a quiet pocket of warmth and safety amid Brisden’s restless chaos. A place where children without homes could find shelter, learning, and the fragile illusion of family.
She stopped some paces from the front door, the gentle sounds of voices and bright laughter spilling out into the afternoon air. A small group of children played in the modest courtyard, their carefree energy filling the space with life.
One little boy tripped over his own feet and tumbled into the dirt, only to burst into giggles as another child immediately rushed over to help him up. The simple, instinctive kindness of it made something deep within Serith’s chest tighten painfully.
They seem so happy… They must be having the time of their lives.
A sharp tug pulled at her chest—an old, buried longing she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge.
Let’s not think about this.
Steeling herself, Serith approached the front door and rapped her knuckles against the wood twice, the sound firm and precise, echoing faintly in the quiet courtyard.
The door clicked open moments later, revealing a woman with lustrous golden hair that caught the sunlight.
Such lovely hair… I wonder if it is her natural colour. It looks so incredibly soft. I want to glide my fingers through—
“Can I help you?”
The woman stood with a subtle but unmistakable tension in her stance, clearly on guard against the unexpected visitor clad in full armour, her eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked over the polished plates and sheathed blade.
Serith blinked, pulling her gaze upward with a jolt.
The woman wore a simple cloth shirt paired with practical trousers and boots—the comfortable attire of an adventurer who had finally retired for the day, yet still carried herself with quiet readiness.
“I’ve come to ask about the recent happenings related to the children’s kidnappings,” Serith stated, voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her mind, each word measured to conceal the frantic scramble of thoughts beneath.
The woman paused, studying Serith with narrowed eyes that gleamed with wary intelligence, the faint crease between her brows deepening as she assessed the knight’s intent.
“Why would I tell a random stranger I’ve never seen before about something so sensitive? Especially one who arrives openly displaying armour and weapons. Not like I’m in position to, I’m merely a volunteer here.”
Serith flinched hard, a sharp stab of mortification twisting in her gut. She resisted the powerful urge to shrink back, to retreat into the safety of silence. On the outside, her posture remained perfectly straight, knightly and imposing… but inside, she couldn’t help curling up into a soft ball.
I-I don’t look that intimidating… right?
Even as worry gnawed at her, Serith’s outer expression remained unchanged, a mask of cool professionalism forged from years of battlefield discipline, though her gauntleted fingers twitched faintly at her sides, betraying the turmoil to anyone perceptive enough to notice.
Ahh, why does she have to be so headstrong? Keep calm, Serith. Do not break down here. Avoid making a scene at all costs…
“I am currently investigating leads concerning recent kidnappings within Brisden and the surrounding areas. This incident was the most recent. I was hoping you might provide any information regarding the culprits, or at least about the man responsible for rescuing the children.”
“Hmm…”
The woman leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossing with a soft rustle of fabric, her posture shifting from guarded tension to a more appraising stance.
“You mean that half-dead fool who—”
Another woman suddenly bounced into view behind her, practically vibrating with energy.
“Selene, who is it?!”
“We’re just chatting about that suicidal idiot who swept you off—”
The second woman brushed past Selene with the eager bounce of an excited child, her eyes wide and sparkling with unrestrained curiosity, a faint flush colouring her cheeks.
“Hahh~ You’re talking about Arion!” Her long, elegant ears wiggled with unrestrained delight, twitching like delicate antennae sensing the thrill of gossip.
Serith stared at the ears a fraction too long, transfixed by their graceful curve and subtle movement, a flicker of unguarded admiration warming her gaze before she snapped it away as though caught admiring something forbidden.
Selene groaned. “Not again—”
Serith perked up instantly, a spark of genuine hope igniting at the promise of a real lead.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
…
“He stormed into the bandit camp like a golden hero of old!” Elise declared, eyes sparkling with theatrical flair, her hands gesturing wildly as though painting the scene in the air between them. “Rivaling even the king himself in bravery! He carved through every bandit foolish enough to stand in his path. Then, with unmatched courage, he challenged the demonic bandit overlord for the life of the helpless and weak Seraphel hostage!”
She paused dramatically, one hand pressed to her chest with feigned swoon, her voice dropping to a hushed, reverent tone that hung in the air like incense.
“Then—bam!”
Serith visibly flinched at the sudden exclamation, her gauntlets clenching involuntarily as the sharp sound pierced the quiet courtyard like a whipcrack.
“The leader fell in glorious defeat, slain by his blade! He ventured through the desecrated camp like a figure from legend and found the Seraphel, injured and teetering on death’s very door. He carried her all the way back to Brisden upon his own back, only to vanish into the night without a trace…”
Serith stared in stunned silence, her mind racing to sift truth from embellishment.
Selene looked utterly deadpan, her expression a mask of long-suffering endurance.
Selene rubbed the bridge of her nose again. “She does this every single time…” she muttered, visibly cringing as though the words themselves inflicted physical pain.
Both women experienced second-hand embarrassment, though on entirely different frequencies—Serith’s a quiet mortification at the over-the-top drama, Selene’s a weary exasperation born of repetition.
“Elise, dear,” Selene said with strained patience, her tone laced with the gentle firmness of a caretaker corralling an errant charge, “you were unconscious for most of it. How would you even know what happened? You skipped straight past the children’s rescue, might I add?”
“I-I was still semi-conscious!” Elise pouted, cheeks puffing out adorably in mock indignation, her ears drooping slightly for added effect. “My hearing is very sensitive, you know! I heard plenty!” Her expression shifted into something dreamier, eyes glazing with fond recollection. “He was a gentleman with just the right touch of devilishness, hehe. I saw his beautiful dark skin and those piercing red eyes. His touch still lingers on my skin even now—”
Bump.
“Mmmf! Selensh!” came the muffled protest, Elise’s words garbled against the sudden barrier.
Selene’s hand was now firmly clamped over Elise’s mouth, her fingers gentle yet unyielding, cutting off the flow of enthusiasm mid-stream.
“I think that’s quite enough out of you,” Selene said sternly, though a flicker of amusement softened her eyes despite the stern set of her jaw. “You’re still recovering. Keep your mind clear of any over-stimulating thoughts, understood?”
She turned back to Serith, hand still in place, her posture radiating quiet authority amid the domestic chaos.
“Sorry about that. This one is still quite out of it—her mind took a heavy toll from the incident and is still recovering. Don’t take her account too literally. It’s likely her memories have been warped or even tampered with.”
“Ehh?! Selene!” Elise cried indignantly from behind the muffling palm, her voice a comical warble that echoed faintly through the orphanage walls.
Selene sighed wearily, the sound carrying the weight of endless work and unyielding care. “Look. All I can truthfully say is that he arrived at death’s door. I healed him as best I could. Then he slipped away in the middle of the night—without so much as a thank you, I might add. So sadly, we know almost nothing of value.”
Serith let out a heavy, controlled exhale. The weight of another fading trail pressing down on her.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to examine my patient’s head again for any lingering damage.”
The door shut with a firm click.
Muffled chaos immediately erupted from inside the building—voices rising and falling in playful argument, the sound of footsteps and laughter weaving through the walls.
Serith stood motionless for several long moments, the courtyard’s gentle breeze stirring her silver hair as she processed the whirlwind of half-truths and embellishments.
The orphanage door suddenly felt heavier—sealing away another fragile lead in the growing labyrinth of mysteries.
A great disturbance was clearly stirring in the lands around Brisden, and Serith had the growing suspicion that this was only the tip of it all.
She let out an internal, defeated sigh.
Why does it feel like I’ve made even less progress than before I arrived…?
—— ? —— —— ? —— —— ? ——
Deflated, she began to turn away, each step heavier than the last as the courtyard’s laughter faded behind her.
But before she could take more than a few steps, a window creaked open above her, the hinges protesting with a faint, rusty squeak.
A small, bright voice called out with sly mischief:
“I heard you guys were talking about Arion.”
Serith turned swiftly, her cloak swirling with the motion, eyes lifting to the source with sharpened focus.
A little head poked out from the orphanage window, curious eyes sparkling, framed by tousled hair that caught the afternoon light.
It was Wiela.
What a cute little lady.
“We were,” Serith replied, stepping closer with measured grace, her voice steady yet laced with a subtle warmth that surprised even her. “Though I’m unsure if it has helped me much.”
“Well,” Wiela swung her legs casually as she leaned further out, her small frame perched precariously on the sill, “he did mention a few things about himself to me.”
Serith’s interest sharpened, “Really? What did he tell you?”
“Hmm…” Wiela tapped her chin, eyes sparkling with mischief as she drew out the moment. “Well, that’ll cost you, lady knight.”
Never mind… she’s a little demon.
Without hesitation, Serith reached into her pouch and flicked a silver coin upward in a clean arc, the metal glinting as it spun through the air.
Wiela snatched it from the air with suspiciously sharp reflexes and made it vanish instantly into her pocket, her grin widening with triumphant glee.
“He said he was a simple hermit,” she replied with casual innocence that belied her shrewd gaze. “Living all alone in the forest. In a tree cabin.”
Serith blinked, the revelation landing with a quiet thud in her mind.
“…That’s it?”
“Well…” Wiela tapped her chin again, enjoying the moment far too much, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “The only other strange thing was that he didn’t know any basic common magic at all. I had to explain everything to him from scratch.”
Serith stiffened noticeably, her posture shifting as implications cascaded through her thoughts.
“He looks to be in his early twenties. Even if he was a hermit… who doesn’t know or cast even the most basic spells?”
Her eyes narrowed, the gears in her mind turning rapidly as new suspicions took root, branching into new suspicions that deepened the mystery surrounding this elusive figure.
“Well, that’s all I know. Good luck, miss knight!” Wiela chirped, shutting the window with a cheeky grin that echoed in Serith’s ears long after the latch clicked.
“Hm…”
Serith started walking away from the strange encounter, mind already racing through the implications, each step carrying her further into the web of questions that refused to untangle.
Arion.
An individual who had bled out in the woods, stormed a bandit camp single-handedly, defied all common sense, and then vanished without a trace.
No Guild record. No proper spell training. No gratitude or desire for recognition.
That last part bothered her more than the violence itself, gnawing at the edges of her disciplined mind like an unresolved chord in a solemn hymn.
True heroes did not leave so quietly.
Nor did criminals walk away from the children they had ‘saved’.
Her fingers brushed unconsciously against the pommel of her blade, the cool metal grounding her amid the swirl of suspicions.
A man who seemed to belong nowhere…
Surely I won’t have to venture deep into the forest to find him…
She sighed.
As she made her way back toward the Central District, sudden shouts echoed through the streets ahead. The front gates of the town were thrown open with a heavy crash that reverberated through the cobblestones.
Guards scrambled into formation, forming orderly lines with practiced urgency, their boots stamping in unison.
Flags snapped in the breeze, vivid colours whipping against the sky.
The rhythmic thunder of marching boots filled the air, a martial cadence that drowned out the everyday bustle.
Armour of brilliant gold caught the midday sun, gleaming with imperial splendour that cast long, dazzling reflections across the surrounding walls.
Serith stopped dead in her tracks, her hand instinctively drifting toward her hilt.
An emissary from the capital of Dawn… here in Brisden?
Such a small, unremarkable town…
She watched the procession march through the streets, the very air seeming to tighten and grow heavier around their commanding presence, as though the weight of empire itself had descended upon the unassuming stones.
Why are they here…?
