Previously—
Alexander tore the parchment. A magic circle appeared beneath them, mystic runes glowing on the green circle. Ethereal energy surrounded them—and suddenly, they warped to a different landscape.
Location: Warp Station 01, Duskrane CountyDate: 25th, Month of Zephyris, XXXX
Fwish.
The party materialized in a dimly lit room, their feet resting on an altar of solid stone. The circular platform was carved with intricate runes that pulsed faintly—the last remnants of the warp's energy fading into the air.
"Haah." Alex inhaled deeply, the musty scent of old stone filling his lungs. Moments later, the doors swung open and servants streamed in, lining up with practiced precision. They wore white and purple uniforms, the insignia of crossed hammers and swords embroidered on their vests.
A butler stepped forward and bowed deeply. His face, aged yet dignified, creased into a warm smile.
"We greet the Dukes and welcome Lady Amelia and Lady Sophie."
Straightening, he placed a hand over his chest. "Please, allow me the honor of escorting my lord's guests."
"Uncle Jonathan, no need to be so formal," Sophie said with a grin.
Amelia's gaze softened as she noticed his slight limp. "How are you, Uncle? Do your joints still ache?"
A small tear escaped the old man's eye. "Lady Amelia, Lady Sophie… this old man is grateful for your concern."
Alex nudged Ed, lowering his voice. "Isn't he the butler who babysat them?"
Ed sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah. Can't believe they made a five-star knight look after two girls with runny noses." He clapped a hand on Alex's shoulder.
As they stepped out of the chamber, a crisp mountain breeze washed over them. Vast gardens stretched as far as the eye could see, their emerald waves swaying gently in the wind.
They had barely taken a few steps when Alex suddenly halted. His brows furrowed in confusion.
"…Where's Vincent?"
Jonathan blinked. "Young Master Vincent? He is with Lord Duskrane."
"Really?" Ed scratched his head.
Amelia's eyes lit up as if recalling something. "Wait. While we were warping, I saw another magic circle beneath Vincent." She turned to Sophie.
"It must be Orianne," Sophie confirmed with a nod.
Duskrane Castle
As the gardens gave way to the estate's core, Duskrane Castle loomed ahead. It was an imposing yet unassuming structure—unlike the grand, ornamented keeps of wealthier noble houses, Duskrane's stronghold was built for resilience, not extravagance.
Its gray stone walls, weathered by time, bore the marks of countless seasons but stood unyielding. High towers crowned its corners, offering a commanding view of the land, while the reinforced gatehouse ensured formidable defense.
Yet within its walls, Duskrane Castle was anything but plain.
The training grounds were its pride—far larger than those of most noble keeps. Rows of well-maintained sparring rings, archery ranges, and combat dummies sprawled across the estate. Soldiers trained with strict discipline, their synchronized movements a testament to the house's martial tradition. Underground chambers and enclosed halls allowed for training in harsh weather, while an advanced drill section—featuring moving targets, agility courses, and reinforced sparring pits—set it apart from other noble houses.
Beyond the training grounds, the castle gardens and home plantations stretched in careful harmony. Ornamental and medicinal plants thrived side by side, their carefully arranged plots ensuring both beauty and utility. Orchards bore fruit in abundance, and the grain fields and vineyards provided sustenance for the estate. Duskrane relied on no outside trade—it thrived on self-sufficiency.
At dusk, as the last light faded beyond the horizon, the castle remained alive—the distant clash of swords, the rustling wind through the trees, and the flickering glow of torches casting shadows along the stone walls. Duskrane Castle was no beacon of opulence, but of strength, resilience, and quiet refinement.
As they walked, a long line of figures awaited them. At the center stood Count Duskrane, an elderly man with a flowing white beard and piercing blue eyes. Beside him stood his wife, Countess Duskrane, her golden hair gleaming under the evening light, green eyes filled with warmth.
To the Count's right stood his firstborn and only son, Young Count Henry Duskrane. His white hair shimmered like frost, his green eyes steady with a warrior's discipline. At his side, his wife—Young Countess Orianne Duskrane—smiled gently. Her golden locks were tied in an elegant bun, and her amethyst eyes gleamed with quiet intelligence.
Between them stood Vincent Duskrane, dressed in a fine purple vest over a white shirt—grinning as the party approached.
"Father! Mother!"
Amelia and Sophie ran forward, embracing the Count tightly.
"I missed you, my daughters." The Count wrapped them in his arms with the gentleness of a father—but the firmness of a man who had seen decades of war.
The Countess cleared her throat, arms crossed. "Oh? So you don't miss me?"
"We missed you too!" Amelia and Sophie laughed, pulling her into the embrace.
Henry let out a dramatic sigh. "After getting married, you two completely forgot about me. I'm angry!"
Amelia and Sophie exchanged grins before tackling him in a hug. Henry pouted but gave in, pinching their cheeks playfully.
"I'm here too, you know," Orianne teased, waving.
Sophie turned and hugged her tightly. "Elder sister! How are you?"
Amelia cupped Orianne's cheeks. "You look pale… is Henry troubling you?"
Orianne chuckled. "Don't worry. He spoils me more than he should."
Amelia narrowed her eyes. "If he ever does trouble you, tell us immediately."
Henry raised his hands in exasperation. "Are you brats really my sisters?" He pointed accusingly. "Don't fill my wife's head with nonsense."
Sophie smirked. "It's just hard to believe you even have a loving side."
"Yeah," Amelia chimed in. "We only ever saw you as a rampaging bear."
Henry's mouth opened in protest, but the Countess stepped in. "Amy, Sophie—go rest. You must be exhausted."
Orianne giggled softly. Henry, catching sight of her smile, immediately straightened up, adjusting his clothes. Then, turning to Alex and Ed, he stretched out a hand.
"How are you, brothers-in-law?"
Ed shook his hand with a tired sigh. "Never better."
Alex hesitated before taking it. "Just fine."
A voice suddenly rang out.
"Henry!"
A suffocating pressure filled the air. It wasn't magic—it was something far heavier. An oppressive aura, stronger than that of an ancient dragon, bore down on them.
Vincent raised a small hand. The moment it entered their view, the weight lifted.
"Grandpa, may I go? I have to feed Pinky 02."
The Count's furious expression melted into a warm smile. "Yes, you may."
Fwoosh!
Vincent vanished in an instant.
Count Duskrane turned his gaze to Ed and Alex.
"Let's continue this talk in the training grounds."
He strode toward the platform, his presence commanding.
Alex and Ed exchanged nervous glances. They turned to Henry for help, but he only smirked—pulling out a small box of popcorn from a magic circle.
The real nightmare was about to begin.