The office of Alaric Varnheart basked in the last glow of the sun. Light spilled in through the tall window at his side and his back, painting the rows of shelves and the heavy oak desk in shades of orange and gold. On the desk lay neat stacks of parchment—tax reports, supply ledgers, and patrol records. Alaric's quill scratched steadily, pausing only for the occasional blot of ink.
The door creaked open. Marcus, his trusted assistant, entered with his usual careful composure.
"My lord," Marcus bowed lightly, "Young Master Lucian has slipped into the library again."
Alaric's hand stilled. A faint chuckle escaped him as he leaned back in his chair. "That makes four times now, doesn't it?"
"Yes, Lord Alaric," Marcus replied, adjusting his spectacles. "The boy is… remarkably curious about knowledge for his age. Most children would rather chase dragonflies than read about them."
"Rare indeed," Alaric murmured, amusement flickering in his eyes. "At his age, Jason was more interested in climbing rooftops than studying tomes."
Marcus allowed himself a small smile as he settled at the side table. "Young Master Susan, on the other hand, seems to have inherited more of Lady Risa's temperament."
Alaric's brow quirked. "Spirited, yes. Perhaps too spirited."
The lord brushed aside the thought and tapped the top report on his desk. "I have reviewed the harvest reports. This year's yield is smaller than last."
Marcus nodded grimly. "Yes, my lord. The fields near the eastern border suffered during the monster incursion two months ago. The Adventurer's Guild cleared the threat, but the damage to crops could not be undone."
"Mm," Alaric hummed, steepling his fingers. "The guild did their duty, but numbers do not lie. We'll need to import grain if winter is harsher than expected."
A knock broke their exchange. One of the butlers stepped in, bowing. "Lord Alaric, Commander Gustav requests an audience."
"Let him enter," Alaric said.
Moments later, the door opened wider. Gustav strode in, the commander's presence filling the room even before his voice did. He wore a dark tunic beneath a long jacket trimmed in silver thread, the weight of his sword resting easily at his hip. A short beard framed his stern expression, and his dark hair was cropped close.
"Good evening, Lord Alaric."
"Commander Gustav." Alaric gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "Come in, sit. I've been waiting for your report."
Gustav lowered himself into the chair, posture straight as a lance. "Then I will not waste your time. The disappearances are worst on the northeast side, near Livia Village. Farmers, travelers, even entire families have vanished without a trace. The locals whisper of monsters in the woods—but I cannot rule out bandits."
Alaric leaned back, fingers steepled. "Bandits would explain travelers vanishing on the roads, but whole families? That reeks of something else."
"Exactly my thought," Gustav replied, tone grim. "If it were mere brigands, we would find camps, tracks, stolen goods turning up in the markets. Yet there is silence. Too clean. Too deliberate."
"Then monsters?" Alaric's brow furrowed. "But beasts that are bold would have left signs—blood, claw marks, ruined homes. Are the villagers lying? Or hiding something?"
Gustav hesitated. "It is possible, my lord. Fear twists stories. Yet…" He lowered his voice. "There is also the chance of a third hand at work. Smugglers, perhaps. Or a group wishing to stir unrest—remove villagers, weaken food supply, push our borders into chaos."
Alaric's gaze sharpened. "A political play."
"Indeed," Gustav said. "Greenfield's farms feed not only our people, but neighboring districts. If panic spreads, trade slows, prices rise, and discontent festers. Whether by fang or by blade, someone benefits from this disruption."
Alaric sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down. Finally, he said, "Have you sent men to investigate?"
"Yes, my lord. A detachment left this morning. I regret the delay—the village has few stationed guards, and we could not spare men until patrols were reinforced."
"That is acceptable," Alaric replied firmly. "But understand this, Gustav: I want certainty. Monster, bandit, or conspirator—find out which hand is moving against us. We cannot allow panic to root itself in Greenfield."
"Understood, Lord Alaric." Gustav bowed slightly.
"You may leave."
"Thank you, my lord." With a brisk nod, the commander rose and departed, closing the door behind him.
Marcus exhaled softly once Gustav was gone. "If the disappearance persists, trade will be affected."
Before Alaric could respond, a sharp knock sounded—and without waiting for permission, the door swung open.
Lady Risa swept inside in a rustle of silks, her eyes flashing like polished amber. "Darling!" she said with dramatic flair. "The sun has already set, and you are still buried in paperwork. Do you mean to starve us all of your company?"
Alaric's lips twitched. "Risa…"
She planted her hands on her hips, fiery as ever. "You think only of your ledgers, never of people. Poor Marcus is still trapped here because of you! His wife and children are waiting for him, you know."
Marcus went rigid, half-rising from his chair. "M-My lady, I—"
"Silence, Marcus," Risa said firmly, though her tone softened at him. "You deserve rest as much as my husband does."
Alaric raised his palms in surrender, sighing. "Very well, my love. You've made your point. The work is nearly finished. I will be there soon."
"Good." Risa's stern expression softened into a smile. Then her eyes narrowed. "And when, exactly, will Jason's birthday arrangements begin?"
Alaric paused, brow furrowing. "…Ah."
"Alaric. Don't tell me you forgot your own son's birthday." Her voice dropped like a hammer. "There are only three days left."
He straightened quickly. "Do not worry. Everything will be arranged as you wish."
"See that it is," she said sweetly, then turned on her heel. "Now hurry up and come to dinner." With that, she swept out as swiftly as she had entered.
The silence she left behind was broken only by Alaric's quiet chuckle. He glanced at Marcus, who still looked faintly rattled.
"Marcus," Alaric said, "please see to the arrangements for the party. We'll close for today."
Relief washed over the assistant's features. "Of course, my lord."
As Marcus gathered the papers, Alaric leaned back in his chair, staring at the fading glow of the sunset through the tall window.