Date: December 1st, Year 1570 of the Moon Calendar
"For me to tell you my story, we first need to talk about myself. I am... a lost soul!"
Wind blew in-between the cracks of the wooden doors in a chamber that glowed with a rose hue, crimson as the flames of a phoenix. In this chamber sat two middle-aged men. Though their dispositions differed, one wore a fine suit and hat, while the other wore torn prison clothes.
The presumed nobleman was shocked, holding his glass of wine like a statue. He wanted to speak but couldn't; the weight of the prisoner's words was overwhelming. The room was silent for a moment until the nobleman spoke:
"Do you know the burden of the words you've shared with me? I'm glad no one else is around, or else..."
The prisoner was quiet for a moment before replying, "Indeed, I know. Anyone associated with lost souls is to be dealt with according to the empire's 's law."
The room went silent once more, for the length of a burning incense stick. The wind howled outside, as if delivering a divine declaration of war. Footsteps echoed towards their cell, and soon the door opened. The guards entered, and one of them spoke:
"Ahem, Mr. Azel, it is about time."
The nobleman, Mr. Azel, stood up. He gave the prisoner one last look before leaving the chamber with the guards. As he stepped outside, he was met by a group of guards standing in three-foot-deep snow. A snowstorm had engulfed the heavens, and the guards were constantly shoveling the snow, everything coated in white.
Mr. Azel sighed deeply and nodded to the guard leading the way.
"Lead the way out."
The guard escorted Mr. Azel to a chamber that the nobleman didn't recognize as the exit. Confused, Azel asked, "I assume the warden wishes to see me?"
The guards remained silent as Mr. Azel opened the door to a luxurious room, its furniture embedded with pearls and gold. This was the warden's chamber. As Mr. Azel entered, a voice greeted him:
"Welcome, Count Azel. It is an honor for me that you came. Please, sit."
The warden gestured toward a sofa at the center of the room, while he took his main seat. Mr. Azel sat down, took out a pipe from his pocket, and lit it, releasing a stream of smoke.
"So, what do you want to know, Warden? I was about to leave, yet your men led me here. I'm a busy man."
The warden looked intently at Count Azel, the air between them feeling frozen.
"Count, I assume you know of the prisoner you met and the circumstances relating to him."
Count Azel took a puff from his pipe. "I know. He was detained by His Majesty, the Crown Prince himself, and was ordered for execution by the rise of the next moon."
The warden took a deep breath and leaned forward.
"Count, I must ask you to share what you talked about with the prisoner. By order of His Majesty, the Crown Prince, everything related to the prisoner must be handed over to him."
The count put down his pipe, giving the warden a sharp look.
"Warden, do you believe I can't have you hung? As for the prisoner, I'll write to the Crown Prince myself if I find anything. The prisoner shared nothing with me off the record."
Sweat dripped from the side of the warden's face. He dared not meet the count's gaze for long, clearly unaware of the secret of the lost soul. With a shaky voice, the warden finally spoke:
"You may leave, Count Azel. Thank you for your visit on behalf of His Majesty the Crown Prince and myself."
Count Azel stood up, gave the warden a final look, and sighed. He walked toward the door, where a guard was waiting for him.
"Follow me, sir," the guard said.
The guard led Mr. Azel to the exit, a colossal gate engraved with serpent carvings. As the doors slowly opened, the storm outside raged on, swallowing everything in sight. A dim light broke through the white veil, coming from a lantern hanging at a carriage. A young man in his twenties, dressed as a butler, stepped out of the carriage and bowed.
"I hope you've been well, Count. Let us depart."
The count entered the carriage, sitting in the back. The butler closed the door and sat in front of the count.
"Is everything fine, Count? I was surprised when we received the letter from the Crown Prince to visit Frosthold Prison."
Count Azel took a deep, heavy sigh, longer than any that day. The carriage was enveloped in silence for several minutes, and the butler, sensing the tension, remained quiet. Finally, the silence was broken by the count.
"It seems the world will plunge into chaos once more... A lost soul has resurfaced."
The butler's expression turned to shock. He lowered his head in thought. What was this lost soul? And what did it have to do with the impending chaos?
As the carriage slowly disappeared into the snowy storm, the butler snapped out of his thoughts and looked at his master. He wanted to speak but felt as though something held his mouth shut. The count saw this and smiled.
"Everything will be fine, Joseph. You know who I am, right? I am Count Azel, the empire's 's greatest inquisitor."
The count's voice faltered for a moment, as though something heavy weighed upon him. There was visible pain in his eyes. Joseph, unable to hold back, cried out:
"But that's what I'm afraid of! You... after what happened with—"
"Joseph!" The count interrupted, stamping his foot. It was not in anger, nor in love.
Joseph went silent. The pain of old memories hung over them like a storm cloud, pressing down on every inch of the carriage.
"Joseph," the count finally said, his voice grave, "we both know what a lost soul means, and the consequences that come with it. Once the world finds out a lost soul has resurfaced after decades, it will surely spark a storm unlike any we've ever seen. Even the Dark Covenant may make their move."
Joseph listened intently, all signs of his earlier outburst gone. A cold, aloof butler was all that remained.
"I understand, Count. My deepest apologies."
The count sighed, gazing out into the storm.
"Are you seeing this too? It seems I've gotten myself into trouble again."
The carriage continued its slow journey. The coachman, glancing back at the count, sighed and turned his gaze to the storm, as though searching for someone.
"Alas, I can't do anything yet again."
The carriage moved through the storm, pushing towards a distant light that shimmered through the blizzard. As it crossed that boundary, the storm suddenly vanished, as if it had been severed from the rest of the world.
The count looked at the spectacle.
"It seems we've left Frosthold's territory. I can never get used to this," he said, peering out the window.
Joseph also glanced outside, observing the world beyond.
"There's a lot of traffic today, even the military is on patrol."
The scene outside was of a road leading to a distant city. Flying airships hovered above, releasing clouds of steam. Some hauled large crates, others transported people. A few bore luxurious designs, while others appeared built for war, flying the Empire's black flag emblazoned with a crimson dragon. On the ground, steam-powered carriages moved alongside traditional ones, with Victorian-style houses lining the road. Copper and wooden signs hung from doors, and people—most dressed in tattered clothes, though a few wore fine garments—traveled by foot.
The grand buildings of the distant city shimmered under the bright, reflective sun.
"Where to, Count?" the coachman asked.
Count Azel looked out at the vast world with a contemplative gaze.
"Take us back to the manor."
The coachman nodded and led the carriage down the road toward the city.
---
Back at Frosthold Prison, in the Warden's Chamber...
A smooth voice came from behind the window.
"Well, Warden, what do you think?"
A woman stepped inside, her voice like a siren's song. She appeared to be middle-aged, dressed in a black silk gown, her snow-white skin contrasting with her crimson, flame-like hair. A mask covered her face, though even with it, her beauty was evident. The warden was caught off guard.
"Lady Eireen... I wasn't expecting yo—"
Before he could finish, Eireen seemed to teleport, passing the warden to sit in his seat.
"What do you think, Warden? Is our beloved Count telling the truth?"
The warden responded immediately, as though he couldn't hide anything from her.
"Lady Eireen, surely you know who we are dealing with—the empire's 's greatest inquisitor. I wasn't able to find anything. Even with my men prying, no sound leaked from the room."
Lady Eireen raised her brows in curiosity. "Oh? It seems Count Azel is going all out from the start, using a shadow fragment even here."
The warden's eyes widened as if a mystery had just been solved. Relieved, he said, "The Count used a shadow fragment? No wonder we couldn't do anything."
"But Lady Eireen," he continued, "we checked Count Azel thoroughly before letting him see the prisoner. How could he have gotten a fragment across?"
Lady Eireen smiled at the warden. The warden, even in his age with gray hair, felt his heart throbbing. It was as if he suddenly realized something.
"I... see, it was because it was Count Azel!" he exclaimed.
Eireen smiled again. "Surely, you are a genius, warden. The crown prince is happy to have you on his side."
Saying this, she walked towards the warden, passing by him. As he looked back to see her, she had already vanished. Finally, the warden relaxed with a sigh of relief.
"These fragment users will be the death of me," he muttered.