Rest had never felt so heavy. Eldrin's body sank into his bedding like a stone dropped into a still pond, the ripples of exhaustion spreading through every muscle. The previous day's short walk—merely a hundred steps—had drained him more thoroughly than hours of sword practice ever had. His legs ached with a deep, throbbing pain, a physical manifestation of his weakened state. Once, he had raced through these same halls with boundless energy; now, crossing a single room left him breathless.
Yet despite the physical toll, something had shifted within him. A spark, faint but unmistakable, had been kindled where before there had been only crushing darkness. The weight of his grief remained monumental, but now there existed alongside it a fragile sense of purpose—a reason to continue breathing when each breath felt like an act of betrayal to those who could no longer draw air.
Nightmares had once again besieged his sleep. The faces of his family, contorted in their final moments, haunted the landscape of his dreams. Blood-slick marble floors. The whisper of shadow magic. The assassin's black eyes, empty as death itself. But unlike the previous night, when he had awoken screaming and drenched in sweat, his sheets twisted around him like bindings, this time he merely jolted awake with a gasp. His heart hammered against his ribs, but his mind separated itself from the terror more quickly. Progress, however small.
The soft creak of his chamber door announced Sera's arrival before she appeared at his bedside, her lined face a map of concern and devotion. Without a word, she moved to the heavy curtains and pulled them apart with practiced hands. Morning sunlight spilled into the room, catching dust motes that danced like tiny spirits in the golden beams.
"Fresh air will do you good, young master," Sera said, her voice carrying the same gentle authority it had when he was half his current age. She moved to unlatch and push open the tall windows. The cool morning air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of dew-damp grass and flowering arbor trees.
Eldrin groaned, shielding his eyes from the sudden brightness. "It's unnecessary," he muttered, though without real conviction. The crisp air filling his lungs did feel surprisingly good, a cleansing counterpoint to the stale atmosphere of grief that had permeated the manor since the massacre.
As he finished rubbing the sleep from his eyes, a soft chime sounded—audible only to him. Instinctively, he glanced upward, where translucent text materialized in his field of vision:
[Shadow System Notification]
Daily Quest: Physical Rehabilitation
Walk 5 kilometers Complete basic stretching routine Note: Regular physical exercise promotes recovery from trauma and builds physical resilience.Reward: +5 Vitality, +3 Mental Fortitude
Accept? [Y/N]
Eldrin's eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. He had nearly forgotten about the mysterious "System" that had embedded itself in him along with the stone. Five kilometers? Yesterday, one hundred steps had nearly broken him. The request seemed impossible, perhaps even cruel. Yet something in him responded to the challenge—a stirring of the same determination that had allowed him to survive that bloody night when no one else had.
With an internal sigh of resignation, he mentally selected [Y]. The text shimmered and transformed:
[Quest Accepted]
"Sera," Eldrin called, his voice stronger than it had been the day before. "I'd like to take another walk. Could you help me up? And I'll need that scepter again."
The old woman's face brightened visibly. "Of course, young master!" Her weathered hands, strong from decades of service, gently supported his arm as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "It does my heart good to see you taking initiative."
Eldrin didn't respond, but inwardly acknowledged that yesterday's walk, difficult as it had been, had left him feeling more present in his own body than he had since the attack. The pain of movement was, in its own way, an anchor to the world of the living.
As Sera helped him into a simple but elegant doublet of deep blue—the color of House Valtross—a knock sounded at the door. Not the timid tap of a servant, but the firm, measured knock of someone accustomed to command.
"Come in," Eldrin called, straightening his posture slightly despite the effort it cost him.
The door swung open to reveal a young man in the distinctive white and gold armor of the duchy's knights. Sunlight from the windows glinted off polished pauldrons and the pommel of a sword that hung at his side. He stood with the straight-backed confidence of the well-trained, though his expression carried a solemn weight as he regarded Eldrin.
"Young Lord Valtross," the knight began, inclining his head respectfully. "I am Roland, Sir Dorian's apprentice. I've been assigned as your personal guard for today's activities."
Recognition flickered in Eldrin's eyes. Roland he knew that name, that face. Four years his senior, Roland had been his older brother Alaric's frequent training partner. Memories rose unbidden: summer afternoons in the practice yard, the clash of blunted swords, Alaric's triumphant laugh when he executed a particularly skillful parry. Eldrin had often followed them around, a small shadow eager to mimic their movements with a wooden sword.
Now Alaric was gone, his blood soaked into the very stones of this house. And Roland stood before him, a living reminder of what had been lost.
Eldrin couldn't meet the knight's eyes. His gaze dropped to the polished floor as a hollow ache spread through his chest. "I'm sorry about my brother," he whispered, the words barely audible. "He... he always spoke highly of your skill."
The soft clink of armor announced Roland's movement. When Eldrin finally gathered the courage to look up, he found the young knight kneeling before him, head bowed in a formal gesture of fealty that seemed almost excessive.
"My lord," Roland said, his voice tight with emotion barely contained, "I lost a friend that night. But you have lost everything. Yet here you stand." He raised his head, and Eldrin was startled to see unshed tears brightening the knight's eyes. "Alaric was like a brother to me. And though he is gone, I still have his brother before me. If you will permit it, I would offer you the same loyalty I gave him."
The formal pledge, delivered with such raw sincerity, broke something in Eldrin. Tears welled and spilled down his cheeks before he could prevent them. Not the violent, wracking sobs of the previous days, but a quieter, deeper grief—tinged now with something that might, in time, become gratitude.
"Please stand," Eldrin managed, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. The display of emotion embarrassed him; he was acting like a child, not the head of a noble house. "I... I would welcome your company on my walk today. If your duties permit."
Roland rose smoothly to his feet. "My duty is to you now, my lord. Sir Dorian was most explicit on that point." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "He suggested that your safety was worth more than the entire treasury of House Valtross."
For the first time since the tragedy, Eldrin felt something that might have been the distant cousin of a smile tug at his own lips. "That sounds like Dorian." He reached for the ceremonial scepter that Sera had retrieved for him, gripping it tightly. "Shall we, then? The garden paths might be a good place to start."
As they moved toward the door, Eldrin couldn't help but notice how Roland instinctively positioned himself at his left side—the position of a sword arm, ready to defend. It was a small thing, perhaps unconscious on the knight's part, but it spoke volumes about his training and commitment.
In the hallway, morning light streamed through tall windows, illuminating the ancient tapestries and portraits of Valtross ancestors that lined the walls. Eldrin paused before a particularly imposing image of his grandfather, a stern-faced man whose leadership had expanded the family's influence considerably.
"They're all watching me now," Eldrin said quietly, more to himself than to Roland. "Every ancestor. Every ghost. Wondering if I'm strong enough to rebuild what was destroyed."
Roland followed his gaze to the portrait. "With respect, my lord, I don't think they're wondering at all. Blood tells. And yours has weathered greater storms than this throughout the centuries."
Eldrin wasn't so sure, but he appreciated the sentiment. He took a deep breath and began walking, each step careful but more confident than the day before. The scepter tapped softly against the polished floor, marking their steady, if slow, progress.
In the back of his mind, he sensed the Shadow System silently tracking his movement, tallying each meter toward the seemingly impossible goal of five kilometers. He had no illusion that he would complete the full distance today, but he was determined to go further than yesterday. One step at a time. One breath at a time.
As they approached the grand staircase leading down to the main hall, Sera called after them: "Don't overexert yourself, young master! And be back for the midday meal. You need your strength."
Eldrin acknowledged her with a small nod, then turned his attention to the daunting descent before him. Stairs had once been nothing—now they loomed like a mountain to be conquered. But with Roland's steady presence beside him and the memory of his family propelling him forward, he took the first step down.
The path of healing stretched before him, longer and more arduous than any physical road. But for the first time since the massacre, Eldrin Valtross felt ready to walk it.
System Notification: 0.2km walked. 4.8km remaining.