Old John's choked voice unlocked a distant memory in Kai—one of a young boy, barely more than a toddler, struggling to complete drills in a courtyard. If he hadn't been abducted to the Underdark, Kai might have become a fine knight.
Old John had been a good soldier. Without his teachings, Kai would have starved to death on the journey to Menzoberranzan, or been bullied to death by other apprentices before mastering even basic magic. Before he could wield spells, his strong physique and strength had been his only protection in the Dark Magic Academy—at least until Lena had taken him under her wing. No matter the circumstances, Old John owed Kai a debt of gratitude, even if he'd only taught Kai the basics of breathing and combat on the count's orders.
The memory faded. Kai stepped out of the carriage and helped the old man to his feet. He was about to ask how Old John had fared over the years when the veteran leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Young Master, word of your arrival and the commotion in Grant City must have reached the castle by now," Old John said. "The count has eyes everywhere in the city—news of you will have been sent to him at once. But it'll take time for him to return. Until then, you must be careful of those in the castle who might trouble you… especially Her Ladyship."
They were still some distance from the castle, hidden by the surrounding trees and shrubs—no one inside would overhear their conversation.
Kai frowned at the warning. "My mother?"
"Your mother, Lady Catherine, fell ill with grief and passed away the year after you were killed by bandits," Old John replied. "The current Lady Thea is the daughter of a marquis from the Kingdom of Sifa. The count married her after Lady Catherine's death."
Kai froze. Hope had crashed into disappointment, leaving him numb—as if encased in ice. The cold seeped not just into his body, but into his heart.
He had no memory of his father, Count Grant. He'd searched his mind for even a flicker of the man, but found nothing. He'd been only six when he was taken to the Underdark; memories from before that age were fragmentary at best. The clearest image he had was of his mother—though he couldn't recall her face. He remembered only her silver hair, sapphire eyes, and the white dresses she often wore. A lullaby echoed in his mind, too—one she'd sung to him while he sat on a garden swing. He couldn't remember the tune or the lyrics, but the warmth of that moment had been his only refuge during the harsh years at the Dark Magic Academy.
"Young Master? Young Master?"
Old John's voice pulled Kai out of his sorrow. For a man who'd survived two years in the Barren Sand World, Kai was surprisingly fragile now—tears slipped down his cheeks. Was he grieving his mother's death? Or mourning the shattering of the last beautiful memory he'd clung to?
In that moment, he ached to see Lena. He wanted to tell her everything: about his mentor Modesto, about his mother, about the two years he'd spent alone in the Barrens. But Lena wasn't there. He didn't even know where she was—only that he hoped to find her in the Western Isles once he became a formal mage. Lena and his senior sister Phil were likely there.
Kai snapped back to reality, casting a Cleaning Charm to wipe away his tears. The sudden surge of magic startled Old John, who finally realized: the Young Master was a mage now. He could only wonder what Kai had endured over the years.
…
The Grant Territory castle was imposing from a distance, but even more so up close. Word of the commotion in eastern Grant City had indeed reached the castle—by the time Kai's carriage crossed the moat bridge, a large crowd had gathered to "greet" him. The atmosphere, however, was hostile.
"Legna! What do you think you're doing?" Old John roared. "The carriage holds a noble guest of Grant Territory. I've sent word to the count in Skorway—he'll be back soon!"
His shout made the crowd step back. Legna, their leader, was also a high-tier squire—younger than Old John, and likely stronger in brute force. It was no wonder the count had left him in charge of the castle's defenses.
Old John's warning—and the mention of the count—made Legna hesitate. Seizing the moment, Old John pushed through the crowd, guiding Kai's carriage into the castle. Most people dared not stop him, out of respect for his seniority and fear of the count's wrath. But a small group didn't care—they were loyal to the current countess.
A high-tier squire in red armor stepped forward with a dozen knights, blocking Old John's path. They drew their swords.
"What's this?" Old John snarled. "A pup from Sifa dares to draw a sword in the count's castle? When I fought alongside the count in the Sand Basin, you were still sucking your mother's milk!"
The red-armored knight was one of Lady Thea's retainers, brought with her from her homeland in the Kingdom of Sifa. Old John's taunt made his face flush—first red, then purple. The mention of "Sifa" only worsened matters: neither Legna nor the other Grant Territory knights stepped forward to help the red-armored knight. They were Lycian, and after years of war with Sifa, old rivalries ran deep.
Only the red-armored knight and his dozen Sifan squires stood in Kai's way: one high-tier squire, three mid-tier squires, and nearly ten low-tier squires.
"I act on Lady Thea's orders—to arrest this impostor who dares pretend to be the count!" the red-armored knight declared, his voice cold. "John, do you dare defy Her Ladyship?"
His Sifan followers drew their swords in unison.
"Lady Thea's orders?" Old John laughed bitterly. "This is Purple Rose Castle—Grant Territory! The count alone decides what happens here. You're nothing but a lackey, and you dare block my path?"
Though Old John was old, he still wore heavy steel chainmail—a testament to his strength. The red-armored knight, however, was seething. He was an honorary lord of Sifa—a higher rank than Old John, who'd only been granted the title of "knight" for his service to the count.
"I've had enough of you, old man," the red-armored knight spat. "I might have feared you years ago, but look at you now—nothing but a gatekeeper. Die!"
Crimson battle qi blazed along his sword—a sign of a high-tier squire's ability to channel qi externally. With battle qi, high-tier squires could strike over longer distances and fight for hours on end. On the battlefield, they were forces to be reckoned with—capable of cutting through a hundred soldiers or leading a cavalry charge through enemy lines. In the wars between Sifa, Lycia, and the Orc Empire, high-tier squires were often the highest-ranking casualties.
The red-armored knight charged, his sword slicing through the air. A blade of battle qi carved a deep gash into the castle's white stone floor.
Old John tensed, lowering his center of gravity—solid as a boulder. Age had weakened his strength and stamina, but he had something the red-armored knight lacked: decades of combat experience. He knew he couldn't win a head-on fight, especially with a dozen squires backing his opponent. Instead, he waited for an opening—a skill honed in a hundred battles.
As the red-armored knight attacked, the other Grant Territory knights finally moved. They didn't attack Old John—they moved to block the red-armored knight and his Sifan followers. Old John was right: this was the count's castle, and only the count could judge right and wrong. The countess had no authority here.
Legna, the castle's defense leader, also stepped forward. He respected Old John, and he'd guessed who was in the carriage. He knew Lady Thea's motives for ordering the arrest—and he knew better than to act before the count returned. Skorway was close; the count might already be on his way back, now that he'd heard of his son's return. Legna's only goal was to keep the peace.
But no one expected who would strike first.
It wasn't Old John, or Legna—it was Kai, from inside the carriage.
A quick, urgent incantation filled the air. The surge of elemental energy made the knights uneasy. They were veterans of war, and they knew the truth: while knights were the peak of individual combat, magic was the deadliest weapon on the battlefield. A high-tier squire might kill a hundred enemies before tiring, but a senior apprentice mage could wipe out a hundred soldiers with a single well-timed spell—and still have enough magic left for two or three more. Magic was mysterious, and terrifyingly powerful. In the Lycian military, a mid-tier apprentice mage was treated as well as a high-tier squire—all while staying safely behind friendly lines.
The spell Kai cast wasFlame Blade—his only high-tier spell. It wasn't a wide-area attack, but a precise, lethal strike. A blade of azure flame materialized in the air, its heat making the knights step back. Even with battle qi, a direct hit would be catastrophic.
The red-armored knight, sensing danger, dodged at the last second, raising his sword to block. But he was too slow.
Clang!
Sparks exploded as the Flame Blade collided with his sword. The blade was knocked from his hand, and a searing gash opened on his arm. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air.
The red-armored knight bit back a scream. His arm was badly burned—even with battle qi, it would be useless without immediate treatment. He reached for a dagger at his waist, but before he could draw it, Kai was standing in front of him.
Kai's Acid Staff glowed with elemental energy—a death sentence for the red-armored knight. If he moved, his head would be melted in an instant. The knight's resolve crumbled. His dagger clattered to the ground.
Old John, still stunned by the speed of Kai's action, rushed forward to pin the injured knight's good arm behind his back. The other fights ended just as quickly: with their leader defeated, the Sifan squires surrendered. They were, after all, part of Grant Territory now—even if they'd come from Sifa. Infighting would only bring shame to the count, especially with war looming. Lycia and Sifa might soon be allies against the Orc Empire.
The "farce" in the castle ended the moment Kai revealed his strength as a senior apprentice mage. He didn't need to defeat the entire castle—only to neutralize the red-armored knight and his followers. From Old John and Legna's reactions, it was clear they recognized and respected his identity. No one doubted his bloodline: he looked nearly 80% like the count did in his youth, proof enough that he was the "dead" young master abducted 19 years ago. And the childhood memories he'd shared with Old John were impossible to fake.
The red-armored knight was dragged away in chains. Kai didn't care if he received treatment. He hadn't wanted to resort to violence on his first day "home," but learning of his mother's death—and his father's new wife—had soured his feelings toward this place.
Guided by Old John, Kai walked deeper into the castle. Though he couldn't remember the layout, his body seemed to—sometimes he turned down corridors without Old John's guidance, as if following an old habit.
Soon, they reached the castle's heart. Kai walked quickly, leaving most knights behind—only Old John and Legna could keep up. As they neared the inner chambers, lower-ranking servants and guards fell back; they weren't allowed in this part of the castle.
Kai's final destination was the council hall—a vast, grand space connected to several smaller rooms. One was a dining hall, with a long table set with silverware and candles. Others were more mysterious, hidden in the shadows. The count's castle was far more luxurious than the lord's mansion in Pete City, but Kai paid no attention to the gardens or the gold decorations. His mood was too fraught.
Then he saw it: a massive portrait hanging on the council hall's central wall. It stopped him in his tracks, calming his restlessness.
The portrait depicted a young woman in a white dress, her silver hair and sapphire eyes glowing softly. A faint magical aura surrounded the painting—cast by an apprentice mage to preserve its vividness and protect it from decay. It felt like looking at a memory made flesh.
Kai stepped forward, reaching out to touch the frame. "So this is my mother," he whispered.
The count had hung his first wife's portrait in the most prominent place in the castle—a sign of true love. But Kai didn't think about that. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of high heels clicking on stone.
A commotion erupted, and a woman in a luxurious gown appeared. She wasn't alone: behind her stood the bandaged red-armored knight and his Sifan followers, plus a young man with red hair who bore a faint resemblance to Kai.
"Why hasn't this impostor been arrested?" the woman shrieked. She was beautiful, with the poise of a high noble—but her demeanor was anything but elegant. She looked hysterical at the sight of Kai. "John! Legna! Have you forgotten your loyalty to the count? To me?"