There's only one way to go about this. And that's going in alone.
You can't bother your brother with this. You can't bother anyone with this. This is your responsibility. The responsibility to show that you are capable in your own right.
You wait patiently. You go to your study, read a few books, go to the yard and give the training dummy a few whacks, then you eat dinner and make everything seem ordinary. Of course, the thought of how irresponsible this choice is racking your mind. What will mother say when you return? Especially without informing her. And shortly after your birthday, too! The fact that it's winter probably won't help to calm her down.
After you're done with the pumpkin soup, you stand up and prepare your plan to get into the armory. Typically, the small shack outside the house has some decent weapons, but nothing excellent. Your mother keeps the good, enchanted and enhanced stuff down in the basement vault of magical artifacts.
What magical artifacts? Well, where do you think all the dragon bones, treasures, cursed swords, and dark wizard robes go after the enemy is defeated? That's where they go, but if you try to break in, you'll be toast. The security measures on that thing are nuts. There's probably at least a few dozen traps, plus some magical ballista turrets, golem sentries, and similar doohickeys.
***
Since it might be a good idea to talk with your brother some more before you go, you ask the butler for directions and he points you to the parlor, where Roland and Ria apparently find themselves.
You enter the room. It is small and minimalistic, at least for noble standards. There's a small chandelier, a pair of green, slightly decorative sofas with a coffee table between them, and a fireplace to the right, as well as a large carpet spanning the entirety of the chamber.
"How's she doing?" you approach, sitting next to Roland.
"She's great. We've been playing a lot, haven't we?" Roland looks at his pet, then moves his finger up to the baby drake's mouth. Ria tries to clumsily bite him, but not in a malicious way, making Roland repeat his previous sentence in a very 'childish' tone.
"Who's a good lil' drake? Yes, you are!"
The two of them play together affectionately, while you observe.
"Hey, Roland," you suddenly speak.
"Hm?" he turns his head to look at you.
"We might not see each other for a while."
"Why?" he asks confusedly.
"I have to leave for practice for some time. Don't worry though," you respond with an endearing smile.
"How long?" he lets go of Ria. The drake moves underneath the coffee table and observes the conversation.
"I guess a month? Surely no longer than that. Maybe even a week," you fear to list 'forever' as a possibility. You gulp in anxiety.
"Hm... okay," he says, less disappointed than he originally was, "I was scared you'd be gone for like... like a year, or something. What are you practicing?"
You mumble.
"Huh?"
You clean your throat, "Magic."
"Oh, okay," he nods, but you can tell he is rather sad you're leaving, "Hey. Maybe when you come back, you can show me what you've learned? Some magic tricks!"
"Right," you nod and once again smile.
"Have fun while I'm gone and make sure not to overfeed her, you scallywag!" you leap at Roland, taking him into a hug from behind and messing his hair up by shuffling it with your hand.
He laughs, "Quit it!"
***
Dusk. The sun set beyond the horizon about half an hour ago. Very faint, orange outlines of its light can be seen at the very edge of the border of sight. As soon as they fully fade away, you get up from the bed and away from the window, dress up in a bunch of warm clothes, write a letter to inform your parents you'll be back before they say 'Excalibur' and proceed outside.
You take and put on some light armor. Nothing big, since putting on a complex armor is too time-consuming and you hate to be worn down. Just a small cuirass, with some larger faulds on the sides and two, big gauntlets to protect your forearms and hands. You also get some knee-high boots, to be safe. You reckon you don't need more. Besides, more armor would be too heavy for you to apply your neat agility to the fullest, right?
You're feeling anxious. Stealing a horse is one thing, even though you're not exactly stealing as you intend to return it back and it is kind of your horse, in a way. The problem is that you have absolutely no idea how to steer such a magnificent steed because your training with them was minimal. You only know how to saddle up and... actually, that's it.
With that in mind, you sneak into the stables and struggle with one of the horses. A mare called Dullahan.
"C'mon, girl... come on," you struggle and pull the leather straps, "What's wrong?"
The horse neighs in response. It might be because it's midnight, or because it is so cold. Great. This is just another problem to add to the list. You consider all of the possible ways out of this predicament, but you're not quite sure of a way out.
"Fine, let's try it."
You step away from the horse, laying your hands on her neck. You close your eyes and cast an Enhancement spells on the coat of skin of the horse. Upon recalling a short incantation in your memory, mana flows into the horse's neck and spreads through her skin. Dullahan briefly glows, before neighing as the mana covers her body. In a few seconds, the glowing light disappears.
You open your eyes and smile.
"Think you can endure the cold now?" you ask endearingly.
The horse neighs again.
You lead Dullahan outside to the typical road that leads to the south. You struggle to get onto the saddle for two minutes, almost falling off three out of six times. When you are on, Dullahan proceeds to move forward without much fear of the searing cold.
***
You travel like this for several hours, channeling mana into the Enhancement spell every now and then to refresh it and keep Dullahan fairly invigorated and warm.
Suddenly, you pull. Dullahan stops.
You stare forward. In front of you, on the road, there is a black shape. You reach into your scabbard, undoing the latch and laying your hand on Excalibur.
"Who are you?"
"..." The figure is silent. It takes a step in your direction.
"Halt!" you threaten, but the figure keeps moving.
Ten meters are between you. It keeps moving, step after step.
Eight meters.
"I said halt!" Six.
You prepare to draw Excalibur, but then you recognize the shape.
Black, long robes reaching to the earth. A metallic mask in the shape of a gloomy, frowning face. Dark leather gloves and a bunch of magical tomes underneath the rope. In front of you stood none other than the supposed ex-black mage, Cervitou.
"Artoria Baragar," he calls, "What are you doing?"
"W-what?" your eyebrows jump, your mouth hanging open for a moment.
"I asked what you are doing," he dryly replies, not moving a centimeter from his spot roughly five meters in front of you.
"None of your business," you recompose yourself.
"I''m afraid it is," he shakes his head, then looks straight into your eyes. He takes a deep breath, "Tell. Me. What you're doing in here."
His words are like a physical power. A wave of energy that entices your mind, captures it, and forces an answer out of it. The words slip out of your mouth on their own, "I intend to hunt an ancient dragon on my own." You realize what you just said and shake your head in confusion of why you just said that. Did he use hypnosis on you?
Cervitou stands in place, seemingly responseless.
...
"That is troubling news," he muses, "Does your mother know?"
"No. And don't think about telling her," you almost plea, but you try to maintain a sound and demanding tone.
Cervitou doesn't answer. His head turns around and looks back, staring alongside the road you are going down.
"Are you going to Megafni village, south of here? No, wait. That is a dumb question. Of course, you are," he deduces properly from the fact that this road leads only there.
"You completely ignored my demand," you mention. He waltzed off from one topic to another like it's nothing.
"I did not," he says defensively, "You can count on my discretion, Artoria Baragar, but do not come crying to my chantry as a spirit once a dragon eats you. It would trouble me extensively to have to perform necromancies again."
"You're a necromancer?" you ask. From a brief encounter, this shifted into a full-blown conversation.
"Naturally."
Huh. You suppose black magic and some aspects of necromancy aren't that far away from each other, but you wouldn't expect this guy to be one. You didn't see any signs of him drinking wine from skulls, or waving dead souls and dismembered hands around.
"More importantly, Artoria Baragar, there is something I must ask you. I could not visit yesterday to discuss with your mother due to my personal..." he stops speaking. Cervitou stops, looking for the right word to describe his predicament, "turbulences."
"What's the question? Also, hurry the hell up. I'm freezing out here," you say, breathing out some air which creates a white cloud of frost.
"Naturally," he replies. He seems to like that word. "Did you encounter anything weird yesterday, perhaps during the party?"
"Weird? Such as?"
"Such as things that are statistically improbable."
"Gee, thanks. I asked for an example, not a definition."
"I do not have examples to provide you with," he answers, in the same, aloof, yet corteously polite tone as always.
You sigh. This guy... "I suppose the drake was there, and–––"
"Ah, yes! The drake!" he exclaims suddenly. The way he pronounces it is like an explosion of passion, very uncharacteristic of him, but he says it in the same voice.
"You know... Ria?" you ask, perplexed.
Cervitou suddenly calms down. "No," he lies. The lie is as obvious as his inability to feel excitement toward anything normal. Still, asking about the subject further wouldn't yield any results, since he has no intention of explaining it in the first place. "Anything else?"
"There was this weird boy. He took a few magic books from me."
"Irrelevant and unimportant," Cervitou asserts, more like some kind of cold, mechanical golem than a human being... is he even a human? You never saw his face. Maybe he's a golem with a soul?
"And... oh! I got a crystal ball from an unknown person as a gift. When I touched it, I got weird visions and I felt tired suddenly."
"Witchcraft, heresy, and black magic," Cervitou explains the situation clear to you, without you even asking for it. "I request––no––I
demand that you destroy that object at once when you return. Actually, don't bother. I will proceed to the Baragar mansion to do it myself. Where is it?"
"In my room? Don't touch anything in there, or I will kill you."
"You can be most certain I have no intention to touch your property, save for the crystal ball, which is not your property, but devilwork."
"Devilwork? Do you know who sent it?" you ask, disoriented by his words.
"No," he says, but obviously, he's lying again.
"I know you do," you try to force him into a corner.
"Incorrect," he replies.
"You do," you continue, slowly getting tired of his dull dishonesty. He could at least come up with something creative.
"Fine," he admits, "I will explain it as selective misinformation?"
"What the heck does that mean?"
"I lied to––" he stops.
... Silence falls. The wind brushing against the trees is the only sound of the forest for a moment. The snowflakes begin to settle on his suit until he looks up at you.
"I can't tell why I lied."
"That's fine, I guess. You do you, pal," you sigh. It's not like you wanted to keep the crystal ball anyway. You planned to destroy it, but somehow, it slipped your mind. You might as well leave the chores to him, especially since you're leaving for quite some time.
"Enjoy your hunt, Artoria Baragar," Cervitou takes one step back.
Suddenly, his black frame begins to float. His outfit flutters in each direction, massive winds propelling through it. And in a flash of intense darkness, similar to some kind of tangible shadow cloud, he disappears, poofed from the place where he stood.
"Mages are so weird," you mutter. Then again, aren't you partly a mage by now?
Anyway, you need to hurry up. It's without a doubt that mother will send a search party for you, first thing in the morning. Or maybe she will understand that you want to do it alone and leave you to it, with enough trust for you to do this yourself? Regardless, you hurry Dullahan and the horse proceeds with a steady gallop to the town of Megafni.
***
You arrive very early in the dawn.
The fresh breeze of snowflakes and air ramps through the heightened, hay roofs of the houses, creating a shrieky sound. You stop by a shop to get some food and water for Dullahan, as well as yourself. Upon eating a breakfast more befitting of commoners at the tavern, you proceed outside only to watch the most uncanny sight.
"I told you to quit it, Marinus!" a boy is following another boy. Both are roughly your age and you recognize one of them. It's the unwelcome guest of your birthday party. He's going after some other kid with blue hair, clearly annoying him. You ignore their clearly unpleasant conversation and head over to Dullahan to take off.
Marinus stops. "Tavish Oshha... Didn't I tell you to keep your nose out of other people's business?" he says rather darkly and lacking impression.
"This is my business as well, and you know that damn well!" the other boy angrily shouts, drawing a lot of attention.
"So what? Do something about it, punk!"
One pushes the other and a fight breaks loose. You can't tell who started it since you weren't too invested to begin with. This is something you can't ignore.
You turn and rush to the two of them, walking in between both of the idiots and splitting them apart with your arms. "Hands down! What the hell are you two doing?"
"Oooh, and who are you?" the blue-haired boy says mockingly, "A town guard? They don't hire girls, y'kn–––" You give him a mean look, which is enough to make him shut up.
"Who started it?"
"He did," Marinus points at Tavish.
"You," you say, looking at him.
"Me?" Tavish replies.
"No, the king-of-goddamned-fairies; Oberon. Yes, of course!
You," your voice carries a clandestine malice, "Each day, you jump from one heap of trouble into another."
Tavish scowls at Marinus, then looks at you. "He's.... nevermind."
Tavish turns away and walks off, while Marinus chuckles under his breath, clearly in satisfaction. You turn around to the blue-haired boy and stare at him until he leaves. The look in your eyes is enough to compel him to move on and ignore these events.
Why did you have to interfere? You could have just let the two of them eat each other and it'd end up better for the world that way.
"Whatever," you murmur, walking up to your noble mare and sitting on top of her.
***
You ride through the town, prepared to leave. You want to go further south to the larger city called Mora. Supposedly, there should be a library there with plenty of knowledge about recent dragon sightings, or maybe even some kind of oracle or diviner to help you out. Let's hope there's an inn on the road there, or you'll have to find a cave to sleep in.
You're stopped. "Wait!"
The familiar voice makes you turn. Tavish again. "You again. What in seven heavens do you want?"
"You're Artoria Baragar, right?" he questions.
You're not impressed. You told him your name yesterday. "Yes."
"Where are you going, though?" he asks.
"And you want to know
why?" you ask, less scornful than usually.
"I want to return this, but I don't know when to do it if you're not at your place," he holds the magic textbook you gave him out to you.
"You can keep it. I don't want it," you answer dryly, doing your best not to sound high and mighty, but it comes out that way.
"And can I thank you in some way?" he asks, in a sincere manner, "I don't like being indebted, especially to nobility. I'd rather just pay back what I owe at once."
"I don't need your money," you say, smiling in a conversation with him for once. Maybe he's more solid than you supposed. "Just keep it as a gift. Free of charge, debt, or favor."
Tavish nods. "Thanks."
You prepare to ride off, but now that you know that maybe he's not a total scoundrel, a single question of curiosity pops into your mind. The curiosity is too much and you feel the urge to satiate it, so you turn back to him and ask him one question.
"By the way, what did the fight with you and that other boy break out for?"
"We had an... argument," he gulps, looking away.
"Over?" you inquire further.
"I think he's––actually, I deeply suspect he's abusing his sister. Verbal warnings don't work on him, and she doesn't want to take this to the guards. This is a problem to me because she's my friend, but I can't do anything about it."
You consider his words.
[] Help him out. Let's go give that 'Marinus' guy a scare he won't forget.
[] No time for it. Bid Tavish adieu and set off for Mora at once.
Calendar: 1005-01-01
Time: Dawn
Mana: 196/200
