Chapter 46: Favor
The girl blinked at him, her eyes bright with curiosity — and faint unease.
Raven smiled faintly, crouching so that their gazes met. Shadows from the nearby cottage fire rippled over his face, giving his expression an unreadable edge.
"I can walk through dreams," he said softly, "and see what people hide from the world — their darkest thoughts, their most precious secrets. This dream of yours," his eyes wandered across the gentle hills behind her, "is one of them."
Judith's little face tensed. Her lips parted to ask something, but the thought slipped away as if stolen. A strange pressure pressed against her mind, dulling her awareness.
"Don't struggle," Raven said. "When you wake, you'll understand what I mean."
She blinked in confusion. "Dream?"
Raven straightened slightly, his smile sharpening. "I'm Charles Nightwind — a wizard, and a teacher. I came to ask you a favor."
The wind stirred the grass. Judith frowned. "A favor?"
"Yes." He reached into his cloak and drew out a small glass vial — its surface glowing faintly red from within. "I need you to save my disciple's aunt. She's innocent, but will be sentenced to life in prison… or worse."
The girl's eyes widened. "Executed?" she whispered. "Why would someone—? I don't understand!"
"You don't need to," Raven said calmly. "But when the time comes, you will."
Judith bit her lip, nervous now. "Maybe you should talk to the village chief. He knows the lord who—"
Raven shook his head. "Not yet. You'll forget this for a long time. Centuries, perhaps. But when this memory awakens, a boy named Raven Silallus Jorvot will find you. Help him. You'll gain more than you can imagine."
Her small shoulders stiffened. "Benefit? Gifts?"
"If you need proof," Raven said quietly, "I'll give you one."
He raised his hand. Red runes ignited in the air, spinning lazily between his fingers. "This is a secret no one on this continent knows. A formula for Fire Affinity Potion."
Judith tilted her head, baffled. "Potion? Like the one that saved the tailor's sister?"
"This one change one's fate." His tone darkened, turning reverent. "Three milliliters of Magma Serpent blood. Five grams of powdered ignis crystal. Ten milliliters of golden ember oil. One Crimson Flame Flower petal. Twenty grams of Flame Mushroom. One hundred milliliters of Ember Water."
Her eyes widened with each impossible name. "W-What are those?" she stammered, taking a cautious step back.
Raven's gaze softened. "You'll know one day."
Then he spoke again — slow, deliberate — describing the process, the temperatures, the sequence of alchemical fusion. His words rippled through the dream like threads of light, each syllable sinking deep into the girl's consciousness.
When he finally fell silent, the red runes scattered into sparks that rained softly over the meadow.
"Remember this, Judith," he said. "When the time comes, you'll understand the value of what I've given."
Judith gawked at him. "You're crazy! Nobody can make up names like that!"
Raven chuckled — a quiet, haunting sound. "Perhaps."
And then his form began to dissolve, edges glowing white before fading into dust.
"Wait!" she cried, but he was gone.
The meadow rustled. The air smelled of ember and rain.
Judith frowned and muttered, "I should tell Aunt Amy… She always says not to talk to strangers."
Then she turned and ran toward the village.
…
When Raven opened his eyes again, the Dream Realm's silver mist parted. Selene was waiting, her pale hair floating faintly in the dreamlight.
"You're back already, my lord?"
Raven adjusted his coat, still half caught between reality and illusion. "We leave. Before she wakes."
They joined hands, their fingers tightening as one. The world folded inward, collapsing into darkness—
—and then light returned.
…
Judith's Mansion — Midnight
The crystal glass slipped from Judith's fingers, wine spilling across the carpet. She froze, her breath sharp.
That dream.
The images replayed in her mind — a man's voice, the name Charles Nightwind, the impossible recipe whispered like prophecy.
'That wasn't ordinary,' she thought. 'Could it be… a sealed memory?'
Her fingers trembled as she set the empty glass aside. 'Raven Silallus Jorvot. That name… wasn't he the stillborn prince? The child declared dead the night he was born?'
The connection made her pulse quicken.
'Execution. Imprisonment. The Sword Princess's kidnapping… could it be linked?'
Judith rose abruptly from the couch and crossed to the window. The moon bathed her reflection in pale gold — elegant, ageless, yet visibly shaken.
"Affinity potion," she murmured. "Something even the Wizard Union couldn't perfect."
For centuries, she had sought a way to raise affinity — the one dream all alchemists shared and all failed to achieve. Yet every attempt had ended in frustration.
And now, a man from her own forgotten past had whispered the answer through a dream.
Her lips curved. "If this is madness, then I'll indulge it."
She snapped her fingers. "Philip!"
The butler appeared moments later, bowing with practiced grace. "Your Grace?"
"Bring me parchment." She scribbled rapidly, listing every ingredient with meticulous strokes. "Purchase ten batches of these. I'll be in the alchemy lab."
Philip blinked. "Immediately, Your Grace."
As he hurried away, Judith's gaze lingered on the paper. The ink shimmered faintly — as if the words themselves were alive.
"Charles Nightwind," she murmured. "Whoever you are… I'll play along."
…
Two Hours Later
The alchemy lab flickered with orange light. Vials lined the walls like sleeping eyes. Steam curled above a glowing cauldron.
Judith worked in silence, sleeves rolled up, her movements fluid and exact. Each powder shimmered as she poured, each drop hissed with restrained energy.
'Ignis crystal — perfect quality.' She ground the fragments with care, her motions steady despite the excitement pulsing beneath her calm.
Flame reflected in her emerald eyes as she poured the Magma Serpent's blood. "Hold together," she whispered.
The cauldron hissed once, then quieted.
When she lifted the vial, crimson liquid swirled inside like molten glass.
"Beautiful."
But beauty wasn't proof.
"Philip," she said, her voice echoing through the mansion. "Bring me a Fire Affinity Orb from the Guild. Highest grade."
The butler returned thirty minutes later, panting lightly, carrying a runed crystal the size of his palm.
Judith took it, her expression unreadable. "Thank you. Now… place your hand on it."
Philip hesitated, then obeyed. The orb glowed faint red.
"Good affinity," Judith said absently. "Call the servants."
Soon five nervous servants stood in the main hall. Judith descended the stairs, the orb glowing faintly in her hand.
"One by one," she said. "Touch it."
None reacted — until the timid blonde maid's touch made the orb flicker faintly.
Judith's eyes narrowed. "You stay. The rest may go."
Philip opened his mouth to ask something, but Judith's tone left no room for questions. "If a man named Raven or Charles visits, bring him to me. He'll be… expected."
She turned to the maid. "Follow me."
The girl obeyed hesitantly.
Back in the lab, Judith handed her the crimson vial. "Drink this."
The maid blinked, wide-eyed. "Your Grace—?"
"Drink."
The girl swallowed the potion. Instantly, she coughed, clutching her throat as heat bloomed under her skin. Sweat dripped down her temples.
Judith watched with cool interest. "It'll pass."
Minutes stretched into an hour before the maid's breathing steadied.
"Now," Judith said, offering the orb again. "Touch it."
The maid obeyed — and the orb burst into a soft, steady red glow.
Judith's lips parted in disbelief. "It… worked."
Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned the orb, watching the glow fade. "Centuries of research… and a dream gives me the key."
The maid looked confused, but Judith only smiled faintly. "You saw nothing, remember?"
"I—I won't tell a soul, Your Grace."
When the girl was gone, Judith leaned back against the table and exhaled. Her eyes burned with renewed purpose.
"Charles Nightwind… whoever you are," she whispered, "you just changed history."
…
The Next Morning
Raven adjusted his collar as the carriage rolled to a stop before Judith's mansion. He'd switched vehicles twice, changing faces once. The monocle shimmered faintly over his left eye.
'Risky,' he thought. 'But necessary.'
Two armed guards stood by the gate. They stiffened as he approached.
"State your name."
"Raven. My teacher sent word to Madam Judith."
Recognition flickered in their eyes. One saluted sharply. "Welcome, Sir Raven."
The gates swung open.
Raven stepped through, boots crunching against the gravel path. The mansion loomed ahead, its runed spires glinting under the morning sun. Waiting at the entrance stood a man in a butler's uniform, silver-haired, posture perfect.
Raven's monocle shimmered. Data scrolled silently before his vision.
…
[Name: Philip (Edward Raynor)]
[Title: Eye of the Watcher]
[Class: Expert Walker (Rank-3), Seventh Circle]
[Status: Wariness]
…
Raven's heartbeat slowed. Eye of the Watcher?
The mansion smelled faintly of lavender and parchment. Raven followed the old butler through the hallway, his steps quiet against the polished marble. Crystals embedded in the chandeliers hummed with restrained magic, casting ripples of light across oil paintings and golden drapes.
"Welcome, Sir Raven," Philip said, his tone measured, respectful. "Her Grace is in an important meeting. Please wait in the guest—"
A soft tremor ran through the air. A woman's voice, calm yet commanding, drifted through the hall like a divine decree.
"Philip. Bring him to the study."
The butler froze mid-step, bowed his head, and changed direction. "At once, Your Grace."
They ascended a spiral staircase, the scent of old wood and incense deepening as they approached a pair of ornate doors carved with runes and bird motifs. Faint light pulsed beneath the carvings — warding sigils, alive and aware.
Philip pushed open the doors. "Her Grace awaits."
Raven stepped inside.
Judith sat behind an enormous desk, papers neatly stacked, her fingers tapping against the parchment in silent rhythm. Her gaze was sharp — the kind that stripped away masks. Behind her, bookshelves towered to the ceiling, each filled with scrolls and relics that whispered of centuries of study.
But Raven's attention shifted to the other woman seated across from Judith — young, perhaps twenty at most, with golden hair tied neatly and amber eyes that gleamed with intelligence. The long black coat she wore bore the insignia of the Imperial Advocates Guild.
She noticed his glance and smiled faintly.
"Lorain," she said. "Advocate. High-rank."
Her words were clipped, professional, yet her tone held quiet pride.
Judith finally spoke.
"So, the dream wasn't just an illusion after all," she murmured, her gaze flicking between the two of them. "Raven Sillalus Jorvot… the boy from the dream."
Raven inclined his head. "Yes, Your Grace."
"Before we begin," Judith leaned back in her chair, "I must ask… is your teacher still alive? A man who can project his voice into the past and speak through dreams — surely he wouldn't need my help."
Her voice was curious, almost amused.
Raven paused. "He lives," he said at last. "But he's… far from here. Beyond reach, even for me." His tone carried a weight that made the air colder. "I apologize for dragging you into this, Your Grace. But I've run out of choices."
Judith smiled faintly — sharp, knowing.
"Desperation has a familiar scent. So, the dead prince seeks my aid? The one who, according to the Empire, never took his first breath?"
Raven met her eyes. "I am that prince."
A soft, skeptical chuckle escaped the advocate, Lorain.
"If that's true," she said, "then why did the Royal Family declare you stillborn? Why would a woman — Shirley, was it? — risk kidnapping you and the Sword Princess in the dead of night?"
Raven's expression darkened. "She didn't kidnap us. She saved us."
Judith tilted her head. "From the Emperor?"
He nodded once. "From my father's will."
The study fell silent. Even the candles seemed to still.
"I was born without affinities," Raven continued, his voice low. "My soul was… fractured. They saw no value in a crippled heir. So, they planned to end my life the day I was born. My aunt and sister learned the truth. They fled with me before the execution could happen."
Judith's gaze softened — only slightly. "That's quite a tale."
Raven reached into his coat and produced a silver bracelet. "Then perhaps this will help you believe."
Judith took it. The air pulsed as her spirit power brushed the artifact. A faint royal insignia shimmered to life on its surface — a twin-headed serpent coiling around.
"…A royal inheritance bracelet," she whispered. "Authentic." Her eyes narrowed. "And yet, these are bound by life. How did you remove it?"
Raven only smiled. "Does it matter, so long as it's real?"
A flicker of amusement crossed her face. "I suppose not."
Lorain set down her quill. "Even if he's the real prince, Your Grace, this case is still impossible. The Chief Judge of the Supreme Court possesses the Eye of Truth. Lies hold no power in his presence. Your aunt will be condemned before the first bell tolls."
Raven's jaw tightened. "So the verdict's already written."
"Of course," Lorain said. "The Royal Family wants closure, not justice."
He exhaled slowly. "Then I'll rewrite it."
Judith leaned forward, intrigued. "How do you plan to do that?"
Raven met her eyes. "By changing what the people believe."
A beat passed. Then Judith chuckled — a quiet, dangerous sound. "You speak like a revolutionary, boy."
Raven didn't deny it. "Your Grace," he said, "do you believe this Empire is truly ruled by the Emperor?"
Judith's brows furrowed. "Isn't that obvious?"
He shook his head. "No. Wizards rule this land — not kings, not nobles. The Wizard Alliance pulls every string from the shadows. Even the Emperor bows before them."
Judith's eyes hardened at that truth. She didn't respond immediately, and Lorain's expression turned unreadable.
Finally, Judith sighed. "You're not wrong. If not for sentiment, I'd have joined the Wizard Alliance years ago. The mainland offers power… freedom. Here, we chase scraps."
"Then you understand why I can't rely on laws written by them," Raven said. "That's why I came. I need a stage — not a verdict. During the hearing, I want the Prime Minister present. Can you make that happen?"
Judith glanced at Lorain. The advocate smiled faintly.
"If I take this case, he'll come. He loves to watch me lose."
Raven's lips curved. "Then let him watch."
He stood, bowing slightly. "You don't have to win, Advocate Lorain. Just make sure the world sees."
Lorain studied him for a moment — the determination in his eyes, the calm beneath his defiance — and finally nodded.
"You want exposure, not victory. Fine. I'll give you that."
She reached into her spatial ring and produced a golden badge. "Show this at the Supreme Court gates. You'll be seated with the VIPs."
Raven accepted it with a nod. "That's more than enough."
Judith tilted her head. "You're planning something."
He smiled. "I'll appear for only thirty seconds in the court… and then vanish. After five minutes, you may continue as if nothing happened."
Lorain frowned. "A disappearing act? That's suicide."
Judith's expression, however, brightened with intrigue. "A spell capable of fooling even Legendary Wizards…" She tapped her chin. "Now that is interesting."
Raven gave no answer. He only bowed once more. "Then, I'll take my leave."
He reached for the door, paused, and said quietly,
"My teacher left a warning for you, Your Grace — a wolf named Edward Raynor hides near you."
Judith's fingers froze mid-tap. Her gaze sharpened. "Edward Raynor, you say…"
Raven nodded.
"Tell me one thing before you go," she said. "Your teacher — is he from the mainland?"
He hesitated. Zera's voice whispered in his mind.
[Keep it vague. Too much truth draws too much attention.]
Raven smiled faintly. "No, Your Grace. He's from a faraway land… perhaps even a faraway world."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Judith sat still for a long moment, the silence heavy.
Lorain broke it first. "Another world? Is he serious?"
Judith's lips curved into a thoughtful smile. "Maybe. Maybe not. But anyone who walks in with that much confidence either carries madness… or truth."
Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the morning light fell in slanted gold lines.
"And if he's right about that wolf… then we've been feeding the wrong hand."
Lorain frowned. "You think Edward's connected to the Alliance?"
"Everything connects to them eventually," Judith murmured. "Until we learn to make our own path — we'll always be prey among wolves."
Below, Raven stepped out of the mansion into the cool morning air. He glanced back once — the runed windows gleaming faintly in the sun — then disappeared into the streets, his cloak trailing like a shadow.