Boris wandered through the grasses alone. He was afraid of two things. The first, was the horror of what was happening at the manor, which he could still sense even if he couldn’t see. The second, was Lake Emera, which was growing ever nearer. The noises were growing distant, and the silence was closing in.
Suddenly, Boris stopped dead in his tracks. He hesitated for a moment before he resumed walking. But it wasn’t long before he paused again. He felt like something was tugging at his heels.
He stayed in place for a while before he slowly resumed walking once more.
The darkness was everywhere. It was so dark that he could barely even tell which way he was going. Boris stopped again when he couldn’t hold back his terror any longer. Then, ever so slowly, he changed course and began trying to circle around the lake.
He could hear the sound of water. Perhaps he was simply imagining it. He didn’t know if there was a stream that fed into the lake. He would much rather believe that he was hearing things because it was about to rain. He absolutely did not want to think about how the lake was lurking somewhere in the darkness where he could not see it.
Boris’ surroundings quickly fell silent. Surprisingly, he had actually managed to find his way to the three trees that his father had told him about with only the moonlight to guide him. He didn’t know that he was only a few dozen steps away from the lake that he so feared.
The trees were quite large. Boris was hopeful that he could hide behind him. The boy wiped his cold sweat away with his sleeve and crouched down where he stood. His shadow stretched in front of him because he was squatting with his back to the moon. His body felt so heavy. His armor was rather simple, but it was still quite heavy for the twelve-year-old boy.
His father… would probably come to find him later, provided he didn’t die in battle. Yulkan had never shown much affection for Boris, but Boris trusted his father’s sense of parental duty.
But, what if—just if—his father died? Who would know to come find him here then?
Boris tried to shake his head clear, but then another chill ran down his spine. That wasn’t the real problem. If his father died, then House Jinneman would die with him. Boris would no longer have a home to return to.
His uncle had tried to kill him once, back when he was very young. Vlado would try to eliminate his nephews once their father was no longer around to protect them. Even Yevgnen…
Just then, a shadow darker than the darkness itself appeared behind Boris out of nowhere. The boy froze up in terror. He couldn’t even scream. He didn’t even dream of turning around. All he could do was keep his eyes wide open and stare as the much bigger shadow slowly swallowed his own.
Ssss… Ss… Sss.
Boris heard something that reminded him of a giant insect’s wings, but the noise suddenly stopped. Then, he felt someone grab him by one hand and pick him up. It was only then that his throat finally started working again.
“Ahhh!”
The boy’s body jerked up about three feet off the earth’s surface and stopped. He desperately combed through the ground with his eyes. He could see something long, like a blade, protruding from above a shadowy blob that he could not identify.
There was more than one blob. Two, three, four… Were they arms? Those blobs? Were they tentacles, maybe?
Boris was actually free to move his limbs, but he failed to notice this. He couldn’t move. His entire being had frozen up in fear even though he knew that he might get shredded into tiny pieces any minute now. And…
Pow!
A bluish streak of light flashed in the darkness. A foul-smelling liquid suddenly fell over Boris’ head. It dribbled all the way down to his feet. The hand that was holding him up grew slack, and Boris found that he could move again.
Then, he plummeted to the ground. Boris probably would have sprained his ankle if he had simply landed where he was dropped. But Boris had unintentionally learned a lot of things while wrestling with his brother on the many hills in the fields, and he quickly bent his knees and rolled forward.
Boris scrambled to his feet and whisked around only to see a bizarre corpse sprawled out over the earth. Its skin looked stretched out, like leather that had been left in the water for too long. There was also more of that sticky, smelly liquid that had baptized him out of nowhere pooled beneath it.
Standing behind the corpse, was a person wielding a glowing sword. The sword was giving off a bluish light, which contrasted sharply against the reddish hue of fire and the black darkness. It was unmistakably Winterer.
“Boris?! Why on earth are you here?!” Yevgnen shouted. There was anger in his voice. He was sweating rivers, and he repeatedly wiped it away with the back of his hand. He pulled his little brother into a bear hug.
He was sweating so much because he was nervous. While Yevgnen was certainly more skilled than his peers, he lacked actual battle experience. That was why he had sweated so much in the short amount of time it had taken him to rush in when he saw the monster holding up a young boy who looked too much like his own little brother.
Eventually, the brothers pulled apart, and then they took one more look at the foul liquid that had spread everywhere and shuddered.
“F-Father told me t-to—” Boris tried to reply.
“Father told you to come here?”
Yevgnen immediately understood what had happened. In all likelihood, their father had sent Boris here for the same reason why he had come here himself. Their uncle would not have considered that they might escape to Lake Emera.
Lake Emera had always been regarded as an ominous place, but it had become all but taboo ever since their aunt had passed away. There were also monsters here—it wasn’t just a rumor.
The monster that Yevgnen had just slain was not the first monster he had encountered here. Yevgnen had snuck to the lakeside long ago in an attempt to find the monster that had allegedly killed his aunt. That had when he had learned that monsters were not uncommon near the lake.
He had also learned that the monsters were not the only things that were here.
“But why are you here?” Boris asked. Boris recalled the last thing that their father had told his brother. Hadn’t he told Yevgnen to go somewhere far away?
Yevgnen delayed answering by wiping away the liquid from his little brother’s hair. Finally, he quietly replied, “I’m waiting for Father.”
“What?”
Yevgnen peered into Boris’ face and, with more certainty this time, repeated, “I’m waiting for Father. I don’t agree with what he thinks. You, Father, and all the people who’ve defended our house all this time are more important to me than mere treasures.”
“But, didn’t Father say that it’s your duty to keep the Winterbottom Kit safe? Grandfather—”
“You’re right. Grandfather put his life on the line to obtain the Kit, and he cast aside his honor to keep it safe. But…”
“But?”
Yevgnen’s mind was filled with complicated feelings, but he did his best to simplify his thoughts for his brother.
“Aren’t treasures meant to be used in times like this?”
There was no point in safeguarding a treasure that would never be used. It was only obvious that the Winterbottom Kit’s fame would outlive House Jinneman’s name in the long run. Yevgnen believed that it was more important to act as a member of his house than to be just another name in the treasure’s long list of owners. Why should he care about what happened to the Kit after House Jinneman was gone? It wasn’t even as if anyone could own it forever. After all, no one could ever possibly outlive it.
“Are you going to go back to where Father is, then?”
Yevgnen shook his head.
“No. Not right now.”
“Then…?”
Yevgnen did not know how to simplify the current situation in terms that his brother could understand. Eventually, he had Boris sit back down while watching the dusk-shrouded lake out of the corner of his eye.
“We need to wait here until the fighting’s over.”
Boris opened his round little eyes wide.
“But what if Father passes away while we wait?”
“Father isn’t going to pass away.”
The night breeze was chilly because they were wet. The two brothers huddled close together as the disgusting liquid dried up little by little.
“It’s not only our greedy uncle that our house is fighting against right now, Boris,” Yevgnen said. “There’s also Elector Khan, who’s behind him. Elector Khan lent Uncle Vlado over a thousand soldiers, but I don’t think that’s because he’s rewarding Uncle for his service. House Jinneman may be in decline, but even still, we’re not so weak that we can’t deal with a few hundred enemy soldiers. They know this too. So then, why did Elector Khan decide to lend Uncle Vlado so many men? The answer’s obvious. They made some kind of secret deal. But it’s not too hard to figure out what that deal’s about.”
Boris looked at the silver-white armor that his older brother was wearing.
“Snowguard and Winterer?”
“Yes, and also House Jinneman’s loyalty and cooperation once Uncle takes over. Naturally, their deal would be predicated upon Father’s death.”
“So?”
Boris realized that their father was in danger. So, why did it seem like his brother was suggesting otherwise?
The light in Yevgnen’s eyes seemed subdued as he looked back at Boris.
“Father is probably much more aware of this than I am. He probably knows that we stand no chance of winning in a frontal assault too. Why else would he have told us to escape here? Do you really think that Father’s the type of person to put his life on the line for a fight that he has no chances of winning? He’s not. That’s why he sent you here. And he’s going to join us soon too.”
Their father was the type of person who would prioritize his interests even if it meant sacrificing every last soldier who had sworn fealty to him. Boris was certain of this. Yet, there was still something that he just could not understand.
“But you didn’t know that I was here.”
This was the one thing that Yevgnen couldn’t explain away. Yevgnen was sure that their father also believed Lake Emera to be the only place that was safe from their uncle’s army, just like he did. After all, that was why he had come here to begin with. To regroup with their father.
It was incredibly unlikely that their uncle would look for them here. But, wasn’t the lake still dangerous? Yevgnen couldn’t comprehend why their father had sent the young boy here. Did their father simply not care whether he found Boris here waiting for him alive or whether Boris died in a stroke of misfortune? Was that really what he’d been thinking?
Yevgnen smiled awkwardly and replied, “What do you mean I didn’t know? I told you before, remember? I can always sense it whenever you’re in danger.”
Boris was certain that he’d heard his brother yelling, ‘Why on earth are you here?!’ earlier, but he decided against digging any further. He was aware of how little he was worth in his father’s eyes.
The shock began to subside little by little as they spoke. Their eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness, but they remained hidden quietly in the shadows. So quietly that no one would notice them even if they walked right past them.
Boris shuddered when the moonlight shined down upon the monster’s corpse—it reminded him of a splattered egg—and asked, “What was that? Was that the ghost of Lake Emera? Did you get rid of the ghost?”
“No.”
“Then, there’s still something else out there?”
“Yeah.”
Yevgnen was leaning against his sword, and he was quivering so faintly that Boris hadn’t noticed. There was no guarantee that fortune and skill would always both be on his side at the same time. He swore to protect his brother no matter what, but…
Yevgnen licked his dry lips and waited only for his father to arrive.
Only then, would they finally be able to leave.
And he prayed that they would not run into the ‘red-eyed ghost.’
“You lost them?!”
The manor was sinking deeper into chaos. Things weren’t going the way that Yulkan Jinneman had wanted. House Jinneman’s forces fell apart before the invading army once they lost their commander. There weren’t even a hundred soldiers left now. And only half of them had decided to struggle stubbornly until the bitter end.
“You mean you couldn’t find them?!”
Vlado Jinneman had summoned Zongnal, the mage, and sent as signal to the scouts waiting around the entire perimeter of House Jinneman’s territory as soon as his older brother had vanished away right before his very eyes.
Zongnal didn’t like Vlado very much, and he was only participating in the war because Elector Khan had ordered it of him. That being said, it wasn’t as if he particularly disliked Vlado either. Strictly speaking, Zongnal thought that Vlado was in no position to be giving him orders. After all, Zongnal commanded all the mages currently under Elector Khan’s command.
Still, his master had ordered him to assist Vlado, and it wasn’t as if he could simply disobey his master’s orders.
The scouts had swiftly cut off all the roads that led out of Jinneman territory as soon as Vlado had given the signal. A considerable amount of time had passed, but they still had yet to find Yulkan Jinneman or his mage, Tulk.
The two of them had teleported without any preparation, so they couldn’t have gone very far. Besides, each scout was carrying a couple pouches of Hinden’s Powder, which could detect magic once it was scattered into the air. Yulkan and Tulk would be caught immediately if they tried to use an invisibility spell or something of the sort to get past the scouts.
Vlado was furious, and Zongnal wasn’t exactly happy either. He was already being ordered around by his inferior as it was, and now that very inferior had deemed him useless. His features crumpled into a deep frown. Vlado turned around and scowled at him after hearing the scout’s report. The sight of it made something surge up from within him.
“Leave it to me,” Zongnal said on impulse. “I’ll cast Quireh’s Eighty Eyes for you.”
His tone heavily suggested that he very strongly wanted to add, ‘I’m about to use an incredibly powerful spell for the likes of you. You should be grateful.’
Vlado caught on. Instead of getting angry, however, he simply smirked and said, “Thank you.”
Simple spells only had functional names because they had been around for so long, but powerful spells of a known individual’s creation typically also bore their creator’s name. A mage named Dagnes Quireh had famously dedicated his entire life to creating spells that could be used to expand one’s field of vision or to uncover that which was hidden from view. Eighty Eyes was the second-most powerful spell that Quireh had created. It was a scarily precise spell. One that could locate a single needle in a haystack from a full day’s worth of travel away.
Vlado and his men finished off the remainder of Yulkan’s forces while Zongnal prepared his spell. Yulkan’s soldiers either perished, deserted, or hid. Vlado didn’t stop until none of them were left.
Eventually, Zongnal finished drawing the magic circle and runes for Quireh’s Eighty Eyes with moonlight-infused chalk. The magic circle was roughly six feet long in diameter. It was filled to the brim with dozens of other overlapping circles, runes, and incantations.
Zongnal sat down crossed-legged inside the triangle at the center of the magic circle and slowly began performing mudras. The soldiers were standing off to the side so they wouldn’t get in his way, but they couldn’t help but ogle with curiosity. It wasn’t every day that one got the chance to watch an archmage cast such a complicated spell.
First, he drew a horizontal circle in the air with a finger and then jabbed that finger into the ground.
Second, he chanted three short syllables while bringing his palms together.
Third, he slowly raised his joined hands higher.
A rune, which had had drawn with chalk, burst into flames with every mudra he performed. The magic circle’s insides began glowing after several dozens of runes had burst into flame. Zongnal’s eyes began glowing with a yellowish light beneath his closed eyelids. His final mudra involved covering his eyes with both his hands and then uncovering them. A ring of light arose around him upon its completion, and it expanded outwards in the blink of an eye. It expanded beyond the circumference of the magic circle, past the soldiers, and spread across the vast fields in every direction before it finally disappeared from view.
They thought it was just a flash of light. That’s how fast it had been. It was already gone by the time they thought that they would feel something coming. Neither Yevgnen nor Boris had any idea what it was.
They did, however, understand what happened next. The space in front of them suddenly began wavering like water before spitting out two human silhouettes. It almost looked like they had walked out of a mirror.
“Father!” Yevgnen cried out. Then, in a slightly different tone, he continued, “What… What happened?!”
Yulkan was conscious, but he wasn’t able to keep himself steady. Tulk had tried healing him multiple times, but to little avail. Hagrune, the black blade with which Vlado had stabbed him, was imbued with a magical poison that kept wounds from healing. This was why Hagrune was treated as a famed sword despite having such a dull blade.
Tulk was House Jinneman’s mage and butler, but he had rarely ever spoken with either of Yulkan’s sons. He only ever consulted with Yulkan, his master, about anything, which had led to him giving off a taciturn, or perhaps even insidious, impression.
Tulk gave Yevgnen, the eldest son of the household, a curt nod out of courtesy before saying, “He was injured.”
“Have you tried using healing spells?”
It was only natural for Yevgnen to be baffled. Tulk didn’t know any offensive spells, but he was exceptional when it came to healing and support spells.
Tulk shook his head. His face betrayed no emotion.
“They didn’t work.”
Boris walked up to his father. Yulkan, who was leaning heavily against Tulk, looked between his sons without a word. His face stiffened up.
“Why are you still here, Lord Yevgnen?” Tulk asked in Yulkan’s stead.
Yevnen bit his lip, but he didn’t reply. He knew best that nothing he said would get through to his father.
Tulk glanced back at his master before turning back to Yevgnen and posing the question that Yulkan had wanted to ask. It was almost as if he could read his master’s mind.
“Has anything odd happened while you were here, Young Master?”
“We were attacked by a strange monster. But Brother killed it. With Winterer.” It was Boris who answered. He had noticed that Yevgnen was about to be scolded and had quickly redirected the conversation to show off Yevgnen’s accomplishments. He continued, “I would’ve died if it weren’t for him.”
Tulk looked behind the two brothers and turned his gaze to the corpse—it looked like a leather pouch now—and the pool of mucus under it. He didn’t appear very interested, however.
“Was there anything else? Like a spell, for example…”
“There was a bright flash of light coming from the manor just now, but it disappeared as quickly as it came,” Yevgnen replied. He didn’t know if any of this information was actually useful. But then, he saw Tulk, who was normally expressionless, suddenly turn as pale as a sheet. He panicked and hurriedly asked, “What was it? Is it something bad?”
Yevgnen subconsciously grabbed Boris’ hand tight. Meanwhile, Tulk turned to his master and said, “I believe that may have been something from the Quireh’s Eyes family of spells, Master. The strongest spell that Zongnal knows how to cast from that family is Eighty Eyes. If the young masters saw the flash of light, then that means they’ve already been found. You and I were in the middle of teleporting, however, so I’m not sure how the spell would have recorded our location.”
Even Boris understood what Tulk was saying this time. Yevgnen bit his lip and asked, “Then, what do we do now?”
Tulk put Yulkan down and tried casting another healing spell in the lieu of a reply. He did this simply by chanting two runes—he didn’t need to do anything too intricate to cast the spell.
Boris’ eyes were wide open, as if he was trying to spot a single droplet of water in the middle of the rain, by the time Tulk finally responded.
“We pray for luck.”
Yevgnen understood what Tulk had meant. Simply put, there was no hope for them.
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