Chapter 98: Chapter 97 - The Castle Awaits
Ralph did not answer him immediately.
He only stared at Teclos from across the table, then rubbed his face in frustration, tapping his fingers against the wood.
"The Count," he repeated quietly.
Teclos nodded.
Ralph leaned back in his chair and let out a slow breath through his nose.
"You do understand what you’re saying, right?"
"I do."
"No, I mean really understand." Ralph looked Teclos in the eyes with a piercing stare. "This isn’t some merchant or a gang boss. This isn’t even some idiot noble. We’re talking about the Count."
Teclos stayed silent.
Ralph continued, his voice laced with concern.
"It’s the ruler of this whole city. The man has a good reputation, and people like him. Hell, I’ve done work under his supervision before with the mercenaries, and even our captain adores the man."
"That doesn’t mean he’s innocent."
"No," Ralph admitted. "But it means accusing him without proof... is dangerous."
Teclos’s hands tightened on the edge of the table.
"I’m not asking you for much."
"You’re asking me to help you sneak into his castle."
Teclos looked down.
For a few seconds, only the faint hum of the runes filled the room.
Then he lifted his gaze again.
"I know how it sounds. I know the risk. I know I could be wrong." His voice roughened slightly. "But it’s my mother we are talking about here, Ralph."
Ralph’s expression shifted, but he said nothing.
Teclos leaned forward.
"I can get equipment from our stash. I can go in alone. I only need help with the infiltration. You won’t be in any real danger. I just need a distraction, even if it’s only for a second. Just long enough for the guards to look at you instead of where I’m moving."
Ralph scratched the back of his head and looked toward the wall.
"It’s still really... really risky."
"I know," Teclos simply said.
"You’re insane."
"Hah! I know that too."
Ralph stared at him, and the silence stretched between them for a long moment. Then Ralph violently scratched his hair and slammed his hands on the table.
"Fine."
Teclos blinked, surprised.
Ralph pointed at him immediately.
"For old times’ sake. That’s it. Don’t make that face."
"Really?"
"Don’t make me regret it before I even start."
Teclos’s shoulders loosened for the first time in days.
"Thanks, man. I mean it. Really, thank you. Even if, you know..." He hesitated. "We aren’t really friends anymore."
Ralph let out a dry laugh.
"Hah. That’s your own fault."
Teclos lowered his gaze slightly.
"But," Ralph continued, "if you get caught, you’re dead. You know that, right?"
"It’s my mom we’re talking about," Teclos said. "I’m willing to take any risk."
"Well, at least that’s admirable, unlike what you usually do now."
"..." He couldn’t argue with that.
Ralph shook his head and stood.
"All right then. Come here when you have everything ready, and we can go do your stupid plan."
Teclos stood as well.
"Thank you."
"You already said that."
"And I’ll say it again."
Ralph looked at him for a second, then waved him away.
"Go before I change my mind."
Teclos nodded and rushed toward the door.
Behind him, Ralph stayed in the room for a few moments longer, staring at the closed door.
Then he scratched his head again.
"I sure hope I don’t regret this decision..."
With a sigh, he left the guild and headed toward the bar across the street.
—
Teclos rushed toward the Broken Crown next.
The moment he entered, the smell of ale, smoke, sweat, and loud noise hit him like usual. The pub was louder than the Silver Griffins’ guild, rougher too, but it felt more familiar and more like home to him than that polished Griffins guild.
Marek stood behind the counter, wiping a cup with a cloth, when he looked up and saw Teclos enter the pub.
He stared at Teclos as he passed.
"You look like you’re about to do something stupid."
Teclos stopped for half a second.
"I need to go to the back room."
Marek shook his head and slammed the cup down on the counter.
"Now, I know you won’t stop until you find her, so..." He sighed and looked away. "Just be careful."
"I’ll try."
Teclos almost smiled at Marek’s concern, but continued walking toward the back door.
Something was odd, though.
Now that he was inside, the pub did not feel as rowdy as it usually did. As he walked past the many mercenaries, their conversations suddenly lowered, then died down completely. Several of them watched him pass.
It was not mockery.
At least, Teclos did not think so. And then finally, after a few seconds of silence, comforting words came from them. One lifted his cup slightly.
"Take care, kid."
Another grunted from a table.
"Hope you find her."
A woman near the wall nodded once.
"Come back alive."
"Good luck," someone else muttered.
Teclos slowed.
For a moment, he did not know what to do with that. These were drug dealers, killers, drunkards, thieves, and criminals.
But somehow, they were being supportive. A faint smirk pulled at his mouth at the irony.
"Thanks."
He stepped through the back room door, and the noise finally died down. But the moment he opened the door to the weapons room, three shadows shifted in the corner.
Teclos stopped and then sighed.
"Guys, you do know I saw your shadows already, right?"
There was a pause.
Then Derrick stepped out with both hands raised.
"Oooh, hey! It’s our hero!"
Zamas, who sat behind his desk, immediately facepalmed.
Falcon leaned against the wall and shook his head.
"You really are dumb sometimes," Falcon muttered.
Derrick frowned. "What?"
Zamas slapped the desk once.
"Enough."
Zamas’s face was red, though whether from ale, embarrassment, or irritation was hard to tell. Falcon looked calm as usual, but his eyes avoided Teclos’s for a second longer than normal.
That alone told Teclos something was off, and Zamas cleared his throat.
"Listen, kid... although we won’t be coming with you, we’ll at least gear you up."
Teclos stared at him, surprised and stunned.
Meanwhile, Zamas gained another shade of red and scratched his neck again.
Derrick’s grin widened.
"Hahaha! Boss is being shy!"
Zamas’s face darkened.
"Shut up!"
"You are! Look at you, all red and concerned."
Zamas stood and slapped Derrick across the back several times with his heavy hand.
Derrick immediately hunched forward.
"Aahh, stop! That hurts!"
"Then stop talking."
Falcon stepped forward before they could start properly fighting. He held out a small ring.
Teclos looked at it.
"What is this?"
"A spatial ring," Falcon said. "Not as convenient as your dark dimension, but useful if you need to keep certain things separate."
Teclos slowly took it.
Falcon nodded toward it.
"It has items inside that you’ll need. Smoke bombs, flash bombs, rope, climbing hooks, a few lockpicks, two healing potions, one mana potion, and a small rune dissolver. Use that sparingly. You have enough of it to melt maybe three or four runes."
Teclos looked down at the ring in his palm, and his throat tightened.
Zamas leaned back in his chair, trying very hard to look casual.
"We all put something inside that we thought could be useful to you... this is our farewell gift to you, should you find your mother and run away."
Derrick crossed his arms.
"Good luck, kid. And hopefully we won’t see you for the last time."
Teclos looked up sharply when he heard that they had guessed his plans so obviously.
Derrick smirked.
"What? You think we didn’t notice? Kid, you have it written all over your face."
For a few seconds, Teclos did not know what to say.
He had come here expecting that he would have to steal the stuff from the weapons room, not have it handed over so readily.
It was enough to help him survive most situations.
He closed his fingers around the ring and tried to hold back a tear.
"Thank you."
Derrick waved it off.
"Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sentimental now. It’s weird."
Falcon’s expression turned serious, and he gave him some advice.
"Listen carefully. The castle has outer patrols, inner patrols, and warded sections. You’ll have to use a distraction just to get in. I would recommend throwing a flash bomb outside the walls... I could maybe help you with that, ’accidentally’ drop it as I drunkenly play around. After that, you are alone."
"Yeah, I know, but don’t worry. I already have some help prepared."
"Oh, well then it’s fine, I guess. Also, try to avoid killing anyone," Falcon said. "Those knights inside are strong enough to notice and thwart your assassination attempt on them, meaning it’s going to be a loud fight... and help will be on the way for them."
Teclos nodded.
Zamas pointed at him.
"Again, if you get caught, you were never here... but I do hope you won’t, boy..."
"I know."
Derrick stepped closer and placed his hand on Teclos’s shoulder.
"Good luck, kid. I, for one, hope you’ll return to us."
Before Teclos left, he looked at them again. "If it’s possible, I will definitely return," he said.
—
Teclos returned to his broken home and prepared himself.
He cleaned up the kitchen until it was spotless, and no traces remained. But even then, even if it was clean now, it couldn’t replace the void of warmth left by Saldia.
He did not look at it for long and walked to his room, laying everything out.
He still had the ranger armor.
It was dark, fitted, and flexible, reinforced with thin plates over the chest, shoulders, forearms, and thighs. Enchantment runes had been etched into the material, softening the sound of every movement he made. It was the perfect armor for him—silent, yet sturdy.
It would not stop the full force of a knight’s strike, but it might keep him alive through one mistake.
One mistake was more than he could usually afford.
He put it on piece by piece, tightening each strap with careful precision. With every plate he fastened and every buckle he drew tight, his expression shifted. The softness left his face, replaced by something colder and more focused.
He looked as if he were preparing for war, even though his only intention was to slip inside silently and, if possible, kill no one.
Throwing knives went onto his belt in neatly arranged rows. The knives that didn’t fit went into the dark dimension.
In a way, he was preparing for war with all of the gear he was throwing into the dark dimension.
Smoke bombs.
Flash bombs.
A coil of rope.
Climbing hooks.
Lockpicks.
Healing potions.
Mana potion.
Rune dissolver.
Lastly, he threw the stealth cloak over himself.
It wrapped around his shoulders and was fastened at his collar. The fabric blended with his own shadows until his outline blurred at the edges naturally.
Instead of the claymore he had, he fitted himself with a short sword from the weapons room. The claymore was too large to move around with in tight spaces.
He still had it in his dark dimension. If things went wrong, he could just pull it out if the need arose for something that could cut through armor.
Then he stood in the center of the room and closed his eyes.
He breathed slowly, letting the noise in his mind settle until only one image remained.
Saldia.
He saw her smiling tiredly over a pot of stew, scolding him for coming home late, pressing herbs into his hand the way she always did when she was worried. He heard her voice, soft but firm, calling him her son.
When his eyes opened, something in them had changed.
The room around him darkened.
Shadows crawled up from the floor and wrapped around his boots, his legs, his arms, his cloak. His presence sank deeper and deeper until the air itself seemed to forget he was there.
He looked once toward the kitchen.
Then he walked outside.
Tonight, he would enter the Count’s castle.
And if Saldia was there, he would bring her home at all costs.
If someone stood in his way...
Then they would learn what happened when a desperate son ran out of options.
