A man walked slowly through the city of Azbirut as dusk began to dim. His long cloak swayed with each step, his round hat pulled low to hide much of his face. In his hand, he clutched a clinic card tightly. His eyes traced the address printed on the slip of paper card, as though searching for a direction… or for someone.
Rosem Bloom Clinic
"Under the Blessing, the Cures Blossom"
Frapp Street no. 21, West Bastion Azbirut, Kingdom of Aetheris.
I did not expect to run into Gasper and his companion… Elrac thought, his mind wandering back to what had happened just moments ago.
---
Earlier…
He had just stepped out of a coffeehouse, the aroma of roasted beans still lingering in the air. After only a few paces, his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure—an old man in a cloak, accompanied by a younger man whose gaze was sharp and vigilant.
"I did not expect to see young Elrac here," greeted the old man, Gasper, with his characteristic smile.
Elrac narrowed his eyes, his lips curving in a faint, ambiguous grin.
"Old man, you didn't come out just to look for me, did you? I heard the Gold Scrambler only leaves his den when there's real trouble."
"I did not expect you to recognize me beneath this disguise," said Elrac, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. "How could you notice me in an instant?"
Gasper's smile deepened slightly. "Not me. Selim told me."
Selim lifted his head, visibly confused by those words.
"No," Elrac countered softly. "Your bodyguard looked more bewildered than anything when you rushed toward me."
"Is that so?" Gasper rubbed his chin, then patted Elrac on the shoulder. "Well then, come walk with me a while through the market."
Without further protest with his questions unanswered, Elrac followed. The three figures moved through the lively sprawl of Azbirut—streets buzzing with merchants shouting their wares, laughter ringing, and the faint rhythm of street musicians weaving through the din.
"I want to visit the ruins nearby. They say there are still places left untouched. Do you know where, old man?" Elrac asked, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.
Gasper paused briefly, his gaze drifting past the crowd, far into places unseen. He's still searching for it… that person's legacy, he thought.
"There is. Southwest of the city. It's quite a journey, but I believe those ruins have not yet been fully explored," he said at last, his tone soft yet assured.
Elrac nodded. "Good. Thank you for the information, old man."
Their conversation drifted lightly, carried along by their steps, until they reached the heart of the bustling market.
"I heard you are preparing to leave tomorrow?" Elrac asked, glancing at him with a faint smile.
"No," Gasper replied curtly. "I leave tonight."
Elrac raised his brows, surprise mingling with amusement. "Tonight? You are in quite the hurry, old man."
If Elrac meant to lighten the moment, Gasper met it with unwavering seriousness. "If you have a message, leave it with Selim."
Elrac's eyes flicked sideways toward Selim. "This is the first time I've seen your underling."
"He's my nephew," Gasper answered lightly. "He just recently assigned to guard me."
Selim bowed respectfully, adding nothing more.
They halted at a busy crossroads in the market. Gasper fixed his eyes on Elrac for a long moment, then slipped something into his pocket.
"Here."
Elrac pulled out a small card, scanning the words quickly.
Rosem Bloom Clinic
"Under the Blessing, the Cures Blossom"
Address: Frapp Street no. 21, West Bastion Azbirut, Kingdom of Aetheris.
"What is this, old man? You're drunk. I'm not sick."
Gasper merely snorted. "You should meet him."
Elrac fell silent. Only a faint murmur slipped from his lips. "I see…"
Without waiting for a reply, Gasper and Selim turned and vanished into the press of the crowd. Elrac stood unmoving, watching their backs until they were gone. Then he adjusted his hat, gripping the card tightly.
Perhaps I should go after all.
---
Back to the present.
Elrac now stood before a building encircled by a low iron fence. Its small garden bloomed with spring flowers, greeting him in soft colors. A wooden sign above the gate bore the name:
Rosem Bloom Clinic
"Under the Blessing, the Cures Blossom"
Elrac drew in a slow breath. Yes, this was the place. He followed the stone path past the side garden of the clinic. A few patients sat on benches—some tending flowers, others merely resting. Their eyes briefly followed the stranger in his formal cloak and dark round hat, a presence that quietly drew attention.
As he stepped inside, the scent of herbs, healing oils, and old wood filled the air. A young nurse approached him, her face touched with mild concern.
"Excuse me, uncle" she greeted politely, "what business brings you here?"
Elrac inclined his head slightly, a thin smile on his lips.
"I came to visit someone. I was told he is being treated here."
The nurse nodded warmly. "Please proceed to the administration desk first. Then we will guide you."
Elrac gave a short nod and followed her toward a wooden desk at the far end of the room. Behind it, a clerk greeted him with a gentle smile.
"Visiting under whose name, sir?"
Elrac hesitated, his brow furrowed as though searching his memory.
"Whose… name was it again…" he muttered, then after drawing in a breath, added softly, "…Evaran."
"Very well. Please fill this out" the clerk said, handing him a simple form.
As Elrac wrote, the clerk caught sight of a passing nurse—Rina—and whispered to her while gesturing subtly toward him.
"Psst… Rina. Please escort this gentleman to Everan."
Rina Rina glanced briefly at him, she bowed politely. "This way, sir."
Elrac followed her down a narrow corridor flanked by patient rooms. The smell of herbal remedies grew stronger here. Some patients turned their heads briefly, their eyes catching on his unusual attire.
At last, they stopped before a faded white-painted wooden door. A small hand-written board above it read: Evaran.
Without a word, Rina bowed again and departed, leaving Elrac alone.
He stared at the doorknob for a moment, exhaled quietly, and pushed it open.
Inside, the air was calmer. Thin curtains swayed with the soft evening breeze flowing through the open window. By the bedside sat a young boy. His hair was disheveled, his body still frail, and his clear eyes turned in startled confusion at the sight of the unfamiliar man entering.
Elrac drew out a wooden chair, settling slowly beside the bed without a sound. His smile was faint, unreadable.
For a long moment, silence hung between them. The two simply sat, gazing at one another.
---
[PoV Evran]
I sat still on the bed, my body still weak. Suddenly, a rather plump man entered the room. His face carried a friendly smile, yet somehow, I could not feel any true warmth behind it.
What now? Why does another stranger suddenly appear before me again?
"So this is the boy that old man spoke so highly of," the man said as he stepped closer. His hand reached out to stroke my head, the gesture seemingly gentle, but to me it felt oddly foreign.
I looked at him in confusion. "Uncle… do you know me?" I asked softly.
Inside, I muttered to myself. Lately, so many people act as if they are close to me.
"Of course I don't know you, boy. But that old man, Gasper, hasn't stopped talking about you. He even asked me to come visit you. You're very fortunate," he replied flatly, his hand still brushing against my hair.
"Huh?" My confusion deepened. "Why this man?" I muttered under my breath.
"Who knows," he shrugged, raising both eyebrows as if clueless. "As he grows older, he seems to have a fondness for children like you," he said as if he was already familiar with him.
I eyed him carefully. "Then why… are you here now?"
The man fell silent for a moment, "The old man told me to meet you, boy..." he said it while rubbing his stomach absentmindedly before turning his gaze back to me. "Boy, shouldn't you introduce yourself first?"
He was deliberately changing the subject. I stared back at him, then quietly said, "My name is Evran, Uncle."
"Oh!, That such a good name! My name is Tonsini Maller," he quickly answered, extending his hand. I took it hesitantly.
A moment later, Tonsini asked, "That old man said you have a guardian now, is that right?"
I nodded. "You mean Doria, the merchant?"
"Oh, so he's a merchant," Tonsini seemed surprised. "How is he? Does he bother you?"
I gave a faint smile. "No, he has helped me a lot."
"That's good then," Tonsini looked pleased. "When will he be coming?"
"He should arrive soon. Usually he visits me around noon."
Tonsini nodded thoughtfully. "Such a good guardian you have. Don't be naughty to him, alright?"
"Of course."
"Oh, and that old man sends his regards," Tonsini added. "He said, 'stay well until your wounds heal'… and that tonight, he's leaving."
I froze. Why that old man? … I only met him once…
Then Tonsini reached into his pocket and pulled out a string bracelet with a deep-blue crystal at its center.
"Here, a gift from me," he said.
I accepted it, staring at it curiously. "What is this?"
It was a woven bracelet, holding a magical stone that gleamed brightly if one looked long enough.
"That… will be useful in desperate times," Tonsini said softly.
"And also this…," he added, handing me a basket of fruit. "What kind of visitor doesn't bring fruit?"
I took it and placed it on the table. Then I slipped the bracelet onto my left wrist. Tonsini only watched me in silence for a while.
"Seems I shouldn't linger here. Your guardian will be here soon," he said as he rose to his feet.
"He will be here soon? I didn't hear any footsteps coming into this room." I said confusedly, and I asked "you re leaving already. "
He gave no answer. His steps moved straight to the door. "Be careful tomorrow, boy. Stay here in the clinic… no matter what happens," he said softly before disappearing beyond the door.
I could only nod, though I did not understand his meaning.
He came unclear, and left just as unclear, I thought.
Moments later, Doria entered carrying a plastic bag of small treats.
"How are you, boy? I heard someone came to see you," he said while closing the door.
"Yes," I answered briefly.
"A friend of yours?" he asked again, arranging the food into containers.
"No… a friend of that old man from yesterday."
"A friend of Gasper visited you?" Doria muttered, though his face showed delight.
Spotting the basket of fruit on the table, Doria asked, "Why is there fruit here?"
"He gave it," I replied.
"Here, let me peel it for you," Doria said, taking the basket and a knife from the table. He sat beside me, beginning to peel the fruit.
"Eat some snacks," he offered.
I hesitated, but eventually picked up a few small cakes and ate slowly. Doria watched me with a smile.
"So this is what it feels like to be a father. A training before meeting the one I'll love," he chuckled.
"Who?" I asked.
"My future wife, of course," he answered with a grin, daydreaming.
"You already have one? Are you engaged, Uncle?" I asked curiously.
"Not yet… but someday, I'll meet her."
"Are you sure anyone would want someone like you?" I smirked as I looked at her clothes from top to bottom.
"What? You doubt this man's charm?" he retorted. "You haven't seen the deadly sweet talk of a true man like me!"
"Ugh… just looking at you makes me want to vomit," I jeered with a wide grin.
Doria glared at me, veins faintly bulging on his temple.
"You're cruel, boy," he grumbled, then suddenly flicked my head.
"Ow!" I winced, pretending it hurt.
Of course, I didn't stop there. I kept teasing him with words that made Doria even more annoyed.
Our laughter echoed. Somehow, that laughter felt warm within the silence of the clinic. Before long, Doria stood up, jokingly threatening me.
"You little rascal!" he shouted.
I leapt up and darted around the room. Doria chased after me, and a playful chase began. I tried dodging his hands as he reached for me, while he cursed lightly, laughing between breaths.
"Haah… haah… troublesome brat," he panted, finally giving up and sitting back down, drinking from a glass of water before nibbling on some snacks and fruit.
I returned to the bed, chuckling while rubbing my forehead where he had flicked me. Though tired, the moment felt fun.
I stayed cautious, afraid he might strike again.
"Enough, boy. I'm already tired," he said.
I sat down, taking his half-filled glass of water, and ate with him.
"By the way, seriously now. I still don't know your age," he asked, this time more serious.
"Mm… mm…" my mouth was full of apple. "Nine years old."
"So young… I thought you were eleven."
"What about you, Uncle?" I asked in return.
"Twenty-eight," he answered cheerfully. His smile turned a little wistful. "Looking at you reminds me of my best friend. He was also a merchant, just like me… we were so close, like brothers. His name was Phil."
I fell silent. In my memory, there was a man… my old neighbor, kind and also a merchant. His name was Phil. Could it be the same man?
"But never mind… that was the past. I believe he's at peace now," Doria whispered softly.
He then gathered the dirty plates.
"I'll go wash these," he said.
I nodded faintly, leaning back against the bedrest, staring at the blue bracelet on my wrist.
---
Evening slowly descended, and the hospital grounds grew quiet. Evran walked alone, savoring the cool air after the rain. His steps were slow along the narrow path that cut through the small garden, seeking relief from the stench of medicine that clung to the ward.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed his wrist.
"Hey, wait up!" cried a boy.
Evran turned, startled. A slightly older boy, messy-haired and grinning wide, stood before him. Evran vaguely recognized him — the same boy he had seen around the clinic courtyard the other day.
"I'm Rallon," the boy said quickly, still holding his hand. "You're the new kid, right?"
Evran nodded slightly. "Yes… I'm Evran."
But the moment Evran spoke his name, Rallon quickly waved it off.
"Not now!" he said fast, smirking. "Introductions are for tomorrow's gathering, not here."
Evran frowned. "Why?"
"Because that's the rule," Rallon said, feigning seriousness. "New kids can't say their names before the official gathering. Makes it more fun."
Evran stayed quiet for a while, then chuckled softly. Strange rules these kids have, he thought.
"Come tomorrow afternoon," Rallon continued quickly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We'll gather at the back field. There'll be games, stories… and free snacks too."
Evran hesitated. "I… I am not sure."
Rallon scoffed, pretending to be upset. "You'll just stay in your room. You'll get bored, you know!"
Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice. "If you're brave, come. If not, then you're just a coward."
Evran snorted. "Fine… I'll try."
Rallon laughed with delight, then pointed toward the back of the hospital. "Tomorrow afternoon. Don't make me come looking for you."
Without waiting for a reply, the boy ran off, leaving Evran standing there. Evran watched his back vanish behind the trees, then smiled faintly.
A children's gathering, huh… what would that even be like?
After that, Evran continued toward his favorite spot in the garden. He searched for the old man he had spoken to yesterday, but the figure was nowhere to be seen. Finally, Evran sat on the bench he often occupied, enjoying the quiet of the evening.
From afar, Elrac with the disguise of Tonsini maller— the man who had met him not long ago — sat at a pastry shop, reading the newspaper. He appeared calm, yet beneath the surface, Elrac had already placed a spell upon Evran, when shaking his hand. Without the boy knowing, the magic allowed Elrac to watch over his every move, ensuring his safety. It was his way of guarding against unforeseen dangers, ready to act should chaos arise. With eyes sharp yet steady, Elrac monitored Evran from a distance.
Elrac sipped his tea and nibbled on the pastry he had bought. Suddenly, another man approached, carrying a black-and-white chessboard. He placed it on Elrac's table without permission, speaking boldly.
It took Elrac no time to recognize him. That face, those eyes — unforgettable. Acrat, The Mad Night Owl, notorious in the underworld. Not for his strength, but for his unending ambition and madness that even sane men avoided.
"Aren't you bored, Uncle? Why not play with me," Acrat said, setting up the chess pieces and inviting Elrac to choose.
"White or black?" he asked.
Though uninterested, Elrac replied calmly with smile on his face, his voice full of authority, "I'll Choose White, young man."
"Your move first, Uncle" Acrat said.
The game began. Elrac opened with the Spanish Game — the Ruy Lopez, a classic rarely used in this era. Minutes passed, and Acrat's expression tightened.
"Damn it… I thought you were a newbie," he muttered in frustration.
"You underestimated me, young man," Elrac answered with a calm smile, adjusting his robe, folding the newspaper neatly on the table, then rising to his feet.
"Eh, wait. Uncle!!. Isn't it rude to leave after beating someone without telling your name?" Acrat clutched Elrac's shoulder.
Elrac, displeased by the gesture, brushed him off firmly and replied casually, "My name is Tonsini Maller."
"Pleased to meet you, Tonsini Maller," Acrat extended his hand.
Elrac returned it with a dignified smile. "And My name is Acrat," he said.
"That a unique name" Elrac answered curtly, turning away. "Then I'll be going now."
With swift, quiet steps, Elrac left the pastry shop. Acrat grinned widely, watching his retreating figure. "Seems I've just met someone… interesting," he muttered.
Moments later, several knights arrived, bearing uniforms marked with a distinct crest — an owl with its wings spread wide, its sharp eyes piercing the dark. Within its chest, a hidden "V" could be seen only by careful eyes.
"It's time to go, sir," one knight said.
Acrat thought briefly, then nodded with authority. "Let's go."
Elrac Voss walked away without looking back. Behind his calm steps, his mind turned. He knew very well the man behind that chessboard.
To think the Mad Night Owl is in Azbirut… he mused. Men like that always brought needless trouble.
But Elrac quickly cast away his unease. There was something far more important awaiting him. His thoughts returned to Gasper's message — of the ancient ruins outside the city, the very place he had been searching for, the place that might hold answers to the riddles that burdened him.
I must go there tonight… he decided. Tomorrow would not be the right time. Gasper had asked him to stay vigilant, to guard the city from a danger his instincts had already sensed.
So be it…
Silent as a shadow, he walked the deserted streets. His outline blurred, his form dissolving into the encroaching dark. Step by steady step, Elrac vanished — moving toward the ruins Gasper had spoken of, before the night fully consumed the city.
---
Late at night, almost at midnight, a large group—enough to plunder even the grandest of merchant caravans—rode on horseback across the desert, their gray-black cloaks whipping in the wind, their galloping mounts kicking up waves of sand.
Ahead of them loomed tall walls, built to withstand the world's raging storms. Behind those walls lay the settlement of people, the city of Azbirut's western district.
Their mission tonight: sow chaos, and most of all, hunt down and kill Gasper the Golden Scrambler, the fugitive marked by his many enemies for death.
At the head of the riders was a man leading the operation.
He pulled back his hood, revealing his face: brown hair, a blazing red right eye, and a deep scar beneath it shaped like a cross.
Around his neck hung a beautiful red-gold necklace—so alluring that anyone who saw it would want to claim it for themselves.
He smiled, a smile of authority on the surface, yet beneath it was the smile of a psychopath who would not hesitate to slaughter foe or ally alike.
Beside him rode a knight, face hidden behind his helm.
Only his eyes were visible—sharp and cold, as if capable of killing at any moment without mercy.
This was the right hand who would see the plan through.
The leader unfurled the letter of commission once more, reading it aloud before speaking.
"You all know what must be done.
As the one commanding this operation, I order you—kill as many as you can.
Pillage them. Seize their men, women, and children, they will serve as our slaves.
Wreak havoc upon their homes, their dwellings." He said excitedly then took a small breath.
"Tonight, we will feast upon chaos."
His lips curled wider as his voice rose into a mad proclamation.
"May the God of Destruction bless us in this ritual!"
The horde erupted with wild shouts:
"Let's do it!"
"Kill them all!"
"My bloodlust cannot be contained any longer!"
"I'm sick of waiting!"
They began their preparations:
one licked the edge of his blade, intoxicated by the thought of blood.
Another sharpened his weapon with a screech of steel.
Others conjured their spells, or gathered their aura.
Their predatory instincts burned.
"Hm…" The leader's smile was barely containable.
"Then—let's move." The thunder of hooves surged as they rode hard toward the western gate of Azbirut.