Chapter 194: Father Reunion

Before they were to leave for the new mission to clear a Demon Gate World, the party members whose family were present in the Bastion, were allowed a word with them.

Amongst them Aethelstan, even though he didn't really want to, was called to his father's private chambers.

Inside the room, the air was thick and suffocating. In a literal sense as well.

There were no windows, only heavy iron braziers burning with low, crackling flames. But at least a magical machination kept the room cool.

King Alfred sat behind a golden table, his hands clasped together. His eyes were fixed on his son, cold and direct, like the prince was used to.

Aethelstan stood before the table. For a Knight his level, and the crowned Prince of the Human Kingdom, he looked incredibly small.

His golden eyes, usually alight with arrogant fire, were fixed on a crack in the floorboards. He could feel a cold sweat pooling beneath his heavy breastplate.

"I will ask you one final time, Aethelstan," King Alfred rumbled. "And you will answer me not as my son, but as a Knight of my realm. Why is your party fractured? Why do Grigor's daughter and the Elven Princess claim that the Outworlder acted in self-defense?"

Aethelstan's jaw tightened. The memory of the forest, of Liraeth's blood and the Outworlder's cold, indifferent eyes, flashed in his mind.

But stronger than that memory was the absolute terror of his father's disappointment.

"They are mistaken, Father," Aethelstan said, forcing his voice to remain steady, though his hand twitched at his side.

"In the chaos of the skirmish, their perception was skewed. The Outworlder is a rabid dog. He refused my royal command, and when I stepped forward to enforce your will, he drew his weapon with intent to kill."

Alfred remained perfectly motionless, his unblinking stare dissecting his son.

"Liraeth..." Aethelstan swallowed hard, the lie tasting like ash on his tongue. "Liraeth only cast her spell to defend me. She saw his murderous intent. The peasant slaughtered her for it. That is the truth, Your Grace."

The silence that followed was agonizing. Alfred finally leaned back, the leather of his chair groaning. "You are the Prince of this kingdom. If I find out that your pride cost me the greatest asset this world has ever seen, I will take you out of the Heroes' Party myself. Go now, you're dismissed."

Aethelstan bowed rigidly, his heart hammering against his ribs, and practically fled the room.

Once his son left, the king lowered his head, tired. "Oh… my son."

In a completely different wing of the Bastion, Grigor was with his daughter.

Here, the atmosphere was quite different compared to the King and his prince. The small parlor was richly furnished, smelling faintly of expensive incense and spiced wine.

As Nessa stepped through the doors, she immediately felt the tension drain from her shoulders.

Lord Grigor Nightfall turned from the arched window. The ginger noble turned into a happy father.

"My lovely daughter," Grigor said softly, opening his arms.

Nessa walked into his embrace, letting her stoic facade slip for just a moment as she hugged him back.

Grigor pulled back slightly, his long fingers gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair from her face.

"You look tired, Nessa. The Heroes' Party takes a toll. How has your training been going?"

"Fine, Father," Nessa replied, her voice quiet but steady. "My Shadow Assassin skills are progressing. But the Heroes Party... it is not what the Kings hoped it would be."

Grigor guided her to a velvet settee, pouring her a goblet of water from a silver pitcher. "The Outworlder. Let us speak of him. Tell me exactly what happened in the Hollowcreek forest, Nessa. The truth."

Nessa took the goblet, her dark eyes looking into her father's. "It was all Aethelstan's fault. His pride killed Liraeth, Father. He provoked the Hero. He drew his blade first. The Outworlder was merely defending his own life."

Grigor steepled his fingers, leaning back with a slow, thoughtful nod. "I expected there would be an explanation," he murmured, his sharp mind already turning the gears of politics. "It would be truly strange for a man who explicitly stated he wanted to be left alone to suddenly go out of his way to murder a noble's daughter. It did not fit the profile."

"Aethelstan is furious that I will not corroborate his lie," Nessa said. "Is there anything you can do, Father?"

Grigor thought about it for a while. "I can only offer a whisper in the King's ears, my dear. The rest... the rest is entirely up to you. Perhaps you can find the Hero before Aethelstan does. Speak to him."

Grigor leaned forward to whisper. "I have told you before, Nessa. He is the only way we can stop the Demon Lord. And now, he is the only one who knows how to clear these Demon Gates."

"Master Omares informed us we are going into one today," Nessa said, her grip tightening on the silver goblet.

"I know," Grigor sighed, looking genuinely tired. "It is for the sake of confidence. If the Heroes of Evernia are seen cowering from the Demon Gates, then the common folk will panic. No Awakener would dare enter them, and our world would perish from the monsters bleeding out."

Grigor stood up, stepping over to Nessa. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head with genuine affection.

"Be careful in there. But remember your duty," Grigor whispered. "We need Percival Nightstar, Nessa. He is the path towards the success of our family."

Nessa closed her eyes, absorbing her father's words. "I understand, Father."

Meanwhile, in the elegant, sunlit suite designated for the Elven Crown, King Galadrien paced the length of a beautiful woven rug.

Corisande sat gracefully on a gilded chair, swinging her legs slightly. She acted differently than she did around the other Heroes. With the familiar presence of her father, the princess was more outspoken.

"Is it true, Cori?" Galadrien asked, his melodic voice strained with worry as he stopped pacing. "Did the Outworlder truly act in self-defense?"

"Yes, Father," Corisande said plainly.

"Tell me what happened."

"Well, it was a mess. We approached an A-Ranked Gate, but the Hero came out of it. He'd just cleared it and Aethelstan, he didn't like that. It escalated when Aethelstan drew out his sword."

"So the prince swung first."

"Yes," Corisande nodded. She let out an exasperated sigh, crossing her arms. "The Human King's son is incredibly irritating. He is so full of himself, Father. He attacked the Outworlder for simply ignoring him, and Liraeth paid the price for following his temper. I despise him and his arrogance."

Galadrien offered a weak smile at his daughter's straightforwardness. He loved her sharp wit, even if it was hidden behind her sweet demeanor in public. But his smile faded quickly. "If this is true, then Eristasia is hunting an innocent man."

Corisande looked down at her hands, her brow furrowing. "Father... there is something else."

"What is it?"

"The Outworlder," she began softly, her elven ears twitching nervously. "When he spoke to me... he called me Cori."

Galadrien froze. "He called you Cori?"

"Yes," she nodded, looking up at him with wide, confused eyes. "Only you and mother call me Cori. It was so strange, Father. The way he looked at me, the way he spoke... It was like he knew me. Somehow."

Galadrien's ageless face tightened. "But that's impossible."

Corisande gazed at her father. "I know."

There was silence in the room for a while as Galadrien thought about the implications. They were staggering. An Outworlder, summoned only a few months ago, knowing the intimate nickname of a royal Princess?

"It is becoming more and more important that I speak to this Hero," Galadrien murmured to himself. He walked over to Corisande, placing his warm hands on her shoulders. "Keep this to yourself for now, my sweet. And please... be extraordinarily careful in that Demon Gate World today. Do not take unnecessary risks."

"I won't, Father," Corisande promised.

She stood up, hugging him tightly before leaving the suite.

As Corisande stepped out into the grand, white-marbled hallway of the Bastion, she paused.

Further down the corridor, the bronze door belonging to King Baldric, the ruler of the Dwarves, clicked shut.

Stepping away from the door was Dagna.