The journey back to Eldrin's chambers seemed to take an eternity. Each step required more effort than the last as the morning's exertion began to take its toll on his fragile strength. Sera hovered anxiously by his side, her hands perpetually outstretched, ready to catch him should he falter. The priest walked on his other side, allowing the boy to continue using the ceremonial scepter for support, its silver surface gleaming in the morning light that streamed through the tall windows of the mansion's corridors.
"Almost there, young master," Sera murmured encouragingly, her eyes never leaving Eldrin's face. The fear that had gripped her upon finding his room empty still lingered in the tight lines around her mouth, though she was clearly making an effort to conceal her distress.
As they approached the heavy oak door of his bedchamber, Eldrin noticed something unusual voices emanating from within his room. Sera exchanged a quick glance with the priest, her brow furrowing with concern.
"Sir Dorian arrived while I was searching for you," she explained softly. "He brought Magister Thorne as well. They've been waiting."
Eldrin felt a flutter of apprehension in his chest. He had not seen either man since awakening from his trauma-induced unconsciousness, and the thought of facing them now—in his weakened state filled him with a peculiar shame. These men had served his father loyally for decades. What must they think of the trembling child who now represented the once-proud House Valtross?
The priest seemed to sense his hesitation. "Courage, young lord," he said quietly. "Remember—even small steps are still steps forward."
With a deep breath that did little to steady his nerves, Eldrin nodded for Sera to open the door.
The scene that greeted them was not what Eldrin had expected. Rather than standing tall and imposing as they typically did when reporting to his father, both Sir Dorian and Magister Thorne were slumped in chairs near the fireplace. Their normally impeccable appearances had deteriorated significantly Dorian's armor was unpolished and missing several decorative pieces, while Thorne's usually meticulous robes were wrinkled and stained with what appeared to be spilled ink.
Most striking, however, were their faces. Deep shadows circled both men's eyes, evidence of sleepless nights that rivaled even Sera's exhaustion. Thorne's thin face seemed to have aged years in mere days, new lines etched around his mouth and between his brows. Sir Dorian, always the picture of military strength, now sat with shoulders rounded by invisible weight, his weathered face haggard with fatigue.
Both men started to rise as Eldrin entered, but the effort seemed to cost them greatly.
"Young master," Thorne began, his voice hoarse as if from overuse. His piercing eyes immediately assessed Eldrin's condition, narrowing at the sight of the ceremonial scepter and the boy's obvious weakness. "You should not be walking about without proper guard! Especially not you—the last of House Valtross!"
The sharp rebuke sliced through the room's stillness. Eldrin flinched as if physically struck, guilt washing over him as he truly saw the toll his family's tragedy had taken on these loyal servants. They had not only lost their lord and lady but had been forced to shoulder the enormous burden of keeping an entire duchy functioning in the midst of unspeakable chaos.
And what had he been doing? Hiding in his bed, consumed by his own grief, while these men worked themselves to exhaustion.
"I... I'm sorry," Eldrin managed, his voice small and fragile in the large room. "I didn't think—"
"Precisely," Thorne continued, though his tone softened somewhat at the boy's evident distress. "You didn't think. We cannot afford such luxuries now, my lord. Every action must be considered, every step calculated. You are no longer simply Eldrin—you are House Valtross itself."
Sir Dorian raised a calloused hand, silencing his colleague's lecture. "Peace, Thorne. The boy has suffered enough without our scolding." He turned his weary gaze to Eldrin, and beneath the exhaustion, there was a glimmer of something that might have been pride. "Though I must admit, I am surprised to see you on your feet so soon. It shows strength of character."
Just as Dorian finished speaking, a soft chiming sound echoed in Eldrin's ears a sound only he could hear. In the corner of his vision, the shadow icon pulsed insistently, expanding into a translucent notification:
QUEST #2: "MORNING WALK" - COMPLETED
REWARD CLAIMED: MENTAL FORTITUDE +5%
CURRENT MENTAL FORTITUDE: -10% [IMPROVING]
Eldrin blinked rapidly, trying to dismiss the notification before anyone noticed his strange reaction. The system's timing couldn't have been worse—he needed to focus on the conversation, not on mysterious floating text only he could see.
"The young master insisted on stretching his legs," the priest explained, guiding Eldrin toward the bed where Sera had already begun arranging pillows for him to rest against. "I believed the exercise would benefit his recovery, so I accompanied him to ensure his safety."
Sir Dorian nodded slowly, but his frown remained. "Understandable, Your Holiness, but in these uncertain times, the heir must never be without proper protection. We still don't know who orchestrated the attack on the family or whether they might return to finish what they started."
The blunt statement hung in the air like a physical presence, reminding everyone of the grim reality they faced. The assassin with the shifting face remained at large—a shadow that might return at any moment to claim the last Valtross.
"I'll assign my apprentice to you," Dorian continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Roland is young but exceptionally skilled. He'll serve as your personal guard whenever you wish to leave these chambers."
Before Eldrin could formulate any objection, Sera stepped forward, her expression resolute.
"That would be most appreciated, Sir Knight," she said firmly, shooting Eldrin a look that silenced his nascent protest. "The young master's safety must be our priority, but his health requires movement and fresh air. A dedicated guard would provide the perfect solution."
Eldrin recognized the protective determination in Sera's eyes. To her, he wasn't just the ducal heir—he was the child she had helped raise from infancy, the only family she had left. The realization struck him with unexpected force: he wasn't the only one who had lost everything that night. These people Sera, Dorian, Thorne they had lost their world too.
"I understand," Eldrin said quietly, surprising the adults with his sudden composure. "I'll accept the guard."
Thorne's eyebrows rose slightly at this mature response. He exchanged a quick glance with Dorian before turning back to Eldrin.
"There is much to discuss regarding the duchy's affairs, young master," Thorne began carefully, "but perhaps it would be best to wait until you've had more time to recover. Lord Valerian has been managing admirably with our assistance, but certain matters will eventually require your attention or at least your formal approval."
The weight of responsibility settled on Eldrin's narrow shoulders like a physical burden. He was only twelve winters old what did he know of managing a duchy? His education in governance had barely begun, with his father intending to start his serious training after his thirteenth birthday. Now that training would never come.
Eldrin looked from face to face Sera's worried gaze, Thorne's exhausted but determined expression, Dorian's weathered features marked by grief and duty. These people had served his family loyally for years, decades in some cases. And they had all come from humble beginnings, taken in by the Valtross family when they had nothing.
Dorian's father had been a knight in his grandfather's service, the position passing to the son as tradition dictated. Thorne's mother had served as the duchy's chief librarian, her brilliant son groomed from childhood to take a higher position in the administrative hierarchy. And Sera—Sera had been found abandoned in the woods by Eldrin's father when he was still a teenager, her parents having left her to starve rather than feed another mouth during a harsh winter.
The Valtross family had given these people everything purpose, position, home. And now, all that remained of that legacy was a traumatized twelve-year-old boy who could barely walk across a garden without assistance.
The shame of his weakness burned in Eldrin's chest, but something else burned alongside it determination. He would not let these people down. He would fight through his grief and trauma, would learn whatever he needed to learn, would become whatever he needed to become to preserve his family's legacy.
Fighting to keep tears from falling, Eldrin straightened as much as his weakened body would allow. "I will be ready," he said, his young voice cracking with emotion but firm with resolve. "When you need me, I will be ready."
The priest, who had been a silent observer of this exchange, now stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Eldrin's head. The gesture was both blessing and comfort, reminding everyone present of the divine aspect of their struggle.
"The Goddess sees your courage, child," he said softly, "and blesses the path that lies before you, difficult though it may be."
In that moment, something shifted in the atmosphere of the room—a subtle change, like the first whisper of spring after a long winter. The grief remained, as did the exhaustion and uncertainty, but alongside these darker emotions now stood something new: hope, fragile but unmistakable.
Eldrin might be broken, but he was not beaten. House Valtross had not yet fallen.
And somewhere deep within him, the mysterious Shadow System pulsed with quiet anticipation, as if eagerly awaiting the next chapter in the saga of its new host.