The great hall's doors creaked open as King Voldin Bravero Malvin entered, his royal robes brushing the stone floor. His gaze flicked to King Filgo on the throne, then swept across the four heroes standing before it. When his eyes landed on Alfred, they narrowed, sharp with disdain. Alfred, facing Filgo, turned his head just enough to meet Voldin's stare, his expression cold and unyielding.
Benjamin's glance burned into Alfred from the side, a silent plea to stand down. Alfred felt it but held Voldin's gaze a moment longer before shifting back to Filgo. The room seemed to hold its breath, every guard and noble sensing the tension coiling between the two men. 'Voldin's mine,' Alfred thought, his jaw tight, 'but not today.'
Voldin paused, his lip curling slightly, then spoke, his voice clipped. "King Filgo, we need to talk."
Filgo raised a hand, cutting off the faint murmurs in the hall. "Heroes, you're dismissed," he said firmly. "I'll call for you later."
Michael, Benjamin, and Griffin bowed, their movements swift and respectful. Alfred didn't move, his refusal quiet but deliberate. As the heroes turned to leave, their boots scuffing the stone, Alfred passed close to Voldin without a glance. He could feel the king's eyes on him, tracking every step.
The doors closed with a heavy thud, leaving the hall's tension locked inside. Alfred's hand rested near his sword, the faint hum of holy light stirring within him, a reminder of the fight he was holding back, for now.
"I'm splitting off," Alfred said, his voice low and sharp, already turning toward the guild district's shadowed streets. "I'll catch you guys later."
Benjamin's scarred face twisted with suspicion, his eyes narrowing like a hawk's. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he growled, stepping closer, his bulk casting a shadow over Alfred. "You stared at Voldin like you wanted to carve him up. Tell me you're not planning something stupid."
Alfred's lips curled into a faint smirk, his expression a mask hiding the storm within. 'Let him think what he wants,' he thought, his pulse quickening with the memory of Voldin's sneer in the hall. 'He's not wrong to suspect me, but I'm not reckless enough to strike now.'
Michael's voice cut through, steady but edged with caution. "We can't let you go off alone, Alfred. Not with the war this close—"
"I'm not going after Voldin," Alfred snapped, cutting Michael off, his tone sharper than intended. "I'm meeting someone I owe. They helped me out before, and I'm settling that debt. That's it." 'The guild's where the answers are,' he thought, his mind racing. 'That Artwine investigator, Voldin's presence, the torn carriage, something's rotting here, and I'm not waiting for it to fester.'
Benjamin's jaw clenched, his fists balling as he sized Alfred up, searching for a crack in his story. Michael hesitated, his gaze probing Alfred's face for any hint of deception. "Fine," Michael said finally, voice tight. "But don't do anything reckless. You're not a lone wolf, Alfred. We're in this together."
'Together,' Alfred thought bitterly, giving a curt nod as he turned away. 'They don't trust me any more than I trust them. Good. Trust gets you killed.' His boots crunched on the gravel as he moved toward the city, the guildhall's weathered silhouette rising against the storm-heavy sky. The streets buzzed with mercenaries and vendors, their shouts blending with the clang of forges, but Alfred's focus was razor-sharp. 'Voldin's here for a reason, and that investigator's no coincidence. Whatever's coming, I'll find it first.' His hand brushed his sword, the holy light within him pulsing like a second heartbeat, eager for what lay ahead.
Alfred slipped through the crowded streets of Septon's capital, his cloak pulled tight against the chill of the evening air. The city thrummed with the chaos of war preparations, adventurers darting between armories, blacksmiths hammering steel, and commoners scurrying to safety with wide-eyed fear. He made straight for the cramped room he'd rented above the tavern in the guild district, hoping to find Ileana, his sharp-tongued elf friend. He pushed open the creaking door, but the room was empty. 'Where are you, Ileana?' he thought, a knot of unease tightening in his gut.
Next, he checked the shadowed alley where he'd last seen the one-eyed prisoner from Artwine's dungeons, a man who'd hinted at secrets about Voldin's schemes. But the alley was deserted, only a stray cat slinking through the gloom. 'Gone, too. This isn't coincidence.' Alfred's hand brushed his sword, the holy light within him flickering like a warning.
As he wove through the bustling streets, dodging carts piled with arrows and shouting vendors, a name cut through the din, Krestar. Alfred's face broke into a rare smile, the first in hours. He turned, spotting a familiar figure directing commoners toward a fortified shelter, his voice calm but commanding. Alfred approached, his boots scuffing the cobblestones. "Krestar?" he called.
The man turned, his weathered face breaking into a grin. "Yeah, who's asking?" His eyes landed on Alfred, widening. "Alfred? Damn, it's been ages! Where the hell you been hiding?"
Alfred didn't answer the question, his smile tightening as he clasped Krestar's shoulder. "Good to see you alive, Krestar," he said, voice firm, though his thoughts churned. 'He doesn't know the half of it, Voldin, the investigator, the war breathing down our necks.'
Krestar laughed, brushing off the sentiment. "Me, die? Not that easy, friend. Don't waste your worry on me."
Alfred's gaze sharpened. "Last time we spoke, you were hunting the source of that suppressing energy. Any luck?"
Krestar's grin faded, replaced by a grim shake of his head. "Not yet. But I'm damn sure it's coming from one of our enemies. Something's out there, choking our magic, and it's no accident."
'He thinks I'm one of them, doesn't he?' Alfred thought, his stomach twisting. 'Not directly, but he's circling the truth without knowing it.' He kept his face neutral, nodding. "Keep looking. We need answers, now more than ever."
Krestar clapped him on the arm. "You sticking around? Could use a hand with these folks."
"Not yet," Alfred said, glancing toward the guildhall's looming silhouette. "Got someone else to find. But I'll be back." 'Ileana, the prisoner, someone's tying up loose ends. I need to know who.' The holy light pulsed in his veins, urging him forward as he melted back into the chaotic streets, Krestar's words echoing in his mind. Enemies, indeed.
The sky above Septon's capital was a deepening bruise, its inky blackness swallowing the horizon and cloaking the kingdom in an ominous shroud. Alfred paused, his eyes tracing the heavy clouds, the air thick with the promise of a storm, and something darker. 'Just like Artwine,' he thought, his jaw tightening. 'They came at night, shadows spilling over the walls. Could be tonight, tomorrow night, who knows? They might already be here, slinking among us.' The thought sent a chill down his spine, the holy light in his veins pulsing like a warning drum.
He moved through the crowded streets, weaving past flickering torches and the glow of braziers, their light casting jagged shadows on the cobblestones. Adventurers shouted orders, herding commoners toward shelters, while the clatter of armor and weapons filled the air. Then, through the chaos, Alfred's gaze snagged on a familiar figure, the Artwine investigator, his hawkish face half-hidden under a hooded cloak, slipping through the crowd with practiced ease. 'There you are,' Alfred thought, his pulse quickening. 'What are you sniffing around for?'
Alfred followed, keeping his distance, his steps silent as he blended into the throng. The investigator moved with purpose, darting down a narrow alley where the torchlight barely reached. Alfred's hand hovered near his sword, the holy light stirring, ready to flare if needed. At the alley's end, the investigator stopped, glancing around before a second figure emerged from the shadows, a man in a tattered cloak, his face obscured by a low hood, but his posture screamed suspicion. His movements were too quick, too guarded, his hands twitching as if hiding something beneath the folds of his cloak. 'Who the hell is this?' Alfred thought, his eyes narrowing. 'No one meets in a place like this for honest business.'
The investigator leaned close, whispering something Alfred couldn't catch, his gestures sharp and urgent. The suspicious man nodded, slipping a small, glinting object into the investigator's hand, coin, a vial, or something worse? Alfred's grip tightened on his sword hilt. 'Voldin's lackey? A spy? Or something tied to the demons?' The air felt heavier, the darkness deeper, as if the night itself was watching. He edged closer, careful to stay unseen, determined to uncover what these two were plotting in the kingdom's shadows