Translator: CinderTL
In the study deep within Marquis Grayman's estate in Alden Town, candlelight burned steadily on a bronze candelabra, casting shadows on a map of the northern territories and several military intelligence reports marked with coded annotations hanging on the wall.
Paul Grayman sat behind a wide oak desk, his knuckles tapping lightly on the surface, his expression calm. Outside, the night was deep, and the wind swept through the courtyard, rustling the iron bells hanging from the eaves.
Intelligence Chief Cecil Vayne stood before the desk, his posture erect, a dossier clutched in his hand. His voice was cautious and clear:
"My Lord, we have compiled further information regarding the mysterious Spellcaster recently active in the north."
Paul raised his eyes. "Speak."
"As you already know, the first confirmed record dates back to the recapture of Windbreath Fortress."
Cecil opened the first page of the dossier. "As Derrick Heller led his troops toward Windbreath Fortress, they were intercepted by an unfamiliar man. The man didn't reveal his name, but he warned in a low voice that Orc prisoners within the fortress were plotting a riot, which would erupt imminently!"
He paused, his voice growing heavier. "Derrick initially didn't believe him, but the man's tone was so certain, his details so precise, that Derrick sped his troops back to Windbreath Fortress. General Harrison and the others immediately mobilized, thwarting the planned uprising."
"Derrick was absolutely certain," Cecil whispered. "The man used magic. They tried to pursue him, but he simply walked at a normal pace, yet somehow moved away from the cavalry at incredible speed."
Paul nodded slightly.
"Since then, Alden Town's Intelligence Department has been focused on this individual. We deployed twelve teams of agents, setting up a network to search along the Windbreath Fortress, Neron Corridor, and Watchers Fortress routes."
"But this man's movements are incredibly elusive," he continued. "We've come close to his trail three times. Once near the Salt Valley Ruined Fortress, an agent witnessed him talking to a caravan guide. Another time, at Camel Bell Pass, he left behind a parchment marking a safe route. And finally, at a post station outside Sandwell City, he briefly appeared to help a traveler who had fallen ill."
"Each time we arrived, he had vanished without a trace."
"Based on eyewitness accounts," Cecil said, turning to the final page, his voice tinged with gravity, "this individual appears to be quite young, no older than twenty. He's of medium build, dressed in a standard traveler's robe, and usually wears a hood to conceal his face. However, on several occasions, our agents saw him lift his hood—revealing black hair, black eyes, and a small mole behind his left ear."
He raised his gaze, meeting Paul's eyes directly. "Your Grace... I must offer a hypothesis."
Paul inclined his head slightly.
Cecil took a deep breath. "These features strongly match those of the man who accompanied Madam Marianna back to Alden Town and left with her a few days later—your brother, Nathan Grayman."
A sudden silence fell over the study.
Paul's fingers froze mid-air, his eyes slowly darkening.
Nathan... his brother.
The brother who had displayed magical talent from a young age and whom Marianna had chosen to take with her when she left Alden Town—the thought still rankled Paul, perhaps out of jealousy that Nathan had enjoyed a decade and a half of their mother's undivided attention?
He had returned?
And had secretly intervened in the conflict, preventing the near-disaster at Windbreath Fortress.
The candlelight flickered, casting complex shadows across Paul's face—a mixture of shock, doubt, and a subtle tremor he couldn't quite conceal.
But he remained silent, slowly leaning back against his chair.
To be honest, Nathan hadn't exchanged more than a few words with his brother since his return.
The sudden shift from enemy to blood relative was bound to cause unease, but Paul could also sense a lingering hostility from the Spellcaster toward ordinary humans—after all, Nathan had spent his entire life within the Arcane Order for the Discrimination of Mortals, a group that openly despised mortals.
The candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the study fell silent.
Paul slowly closed his eyes, his fingertips tracing lazy patterns across the tabletop as if sifting through a long and intricate memory.
In his mind, the Arcane Order had always been a source of suspicion.
That shadowy organization hidden deep within Gabella meddled in national politics, controlled intelligence networks, and operated with cryptic methods and unfathomable means. To them, the interests of Spellcasters came above all else, and everyone else was merely a pawn on their chessboard—undoubtedly, the standard villain in Paul's eyes.
But this time... a completely different intuition arose within him.
Marianna's return, the rare warmth during their reunion, the concern in her eyes for him and Alden Town, her deep contemplation of the situation in Aldor—all of this convinced him that she was no longer just a high-ranking member of the Arcane Order. She was also his mother.
And Nathan, his own brother, how could he possibly be here to sabotage things, considering how obedient he was in front of Marianna?
He opened his eyes, his gaze calm yet sharp.
"The captive's confession mentioned," he said slowly, "that Abal and Gabella—or rather, the Arcane Order—had contact. While the information hasn't been confirmed, there are traces to follow."
He paused, his voice deepening. "Being inside the Arcane Order, Mother and Nathan might have known about this long before we did."
Cecil stood silently, listening.
Paul turned his gaze toward him. "So, if that Spellcaster really is Nathan, he shouldn't be our enemy."
"He stopped Derrick, warned against the riot, and saved our people. He's been wandering the North, yet he's never revealed himself to demand compensation or contacted any hostile forces. If he wanted to cause trouble, he'd have had plenty of opportunities."
Paul stood up and walked to the window, gazing at the night sky to the north.
"Tell your people to be careful," he said, his back still turned to Cecil, his voice calm. "Continue tracking the Spellcaster's movements, but—do not harm him."
"If his identity as Nathan Grayman is confirmed, all agents are to only observe. They must not approach him, nor take any action against him unless he is actively engaged in destructive activities or posing a threat to Alden Town's safety. Otherwise, all his actions are to be considered neutral."
Cecil bowed slightly. "Yes, my lord."
The intelligence chief offered no objections to Paul's decision. After all, Nathan was the blood relative of his former lord, Old Grayman, and theoretically, someone he was supposed to protect.
Cecil gently closed the study door, his footsteps fading away.
The candlelight flickered in the bronze candelabra, casting Paul's solitary figure in silhouette. The study fell silent again, but his heart remained restless.
Nathan had returned, yet refused to reveal himself.
Not as a younger brother, not by knocking on the Marquis's estate door, but like a shadow, appearing silently at the edge of the battlefield to deliver a warning, then vanishing back into the darkness without a trace.
Paul's fingertips tightened slightly. He didn't doubt Nathan's good intentions—if Nathan truly harbored hostility, why bother saving Windbreath Fortress in the first place?
Paul couldn't help but feel annoyed.
Ever since his father, Old Grayman, had passed away, their family had grown increasingly cold. He had shouldered the military and political burdens of Alden Town, fighting pirates, the Kent Family, and Orcs. Despite having the loyal Phillip and a host of devoted subjects, he still occasionally felt lonely.
Then, one day, his mother and brother—two cherished relatives he had long believed lost—suddenly reappeared before him. How could he not be overjoyed?
Even with the memories of his past life awakened, the bonds of family in this life remained incredibly precious to him.
It was precisely because of this that he felt somewhat angry at the cryptic Nathan.
(End of the Chapter)
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