I found myself slipping back into the familiar feeling of slight nausea and the package of time in my mind as I returned to the manor. The steward, aware of my entry, waited for me at the gate, with two guards and two maids.

“Hope your trip was up to your liking sir?” He said, his tone courteous yet felt hollow.

I looked at him briefly and debated the idea of telling him everything and giving him the ring. It felt like the right course of action, one which I could complete immediately and go back quickly.

I knew there was a lot to learn for me, in terms of being an Artist at least, and it would only be right for me to not dilly dally when danger seems so close. Closer than ever.

But that danger was the same reason I was hesitant to give him the ring.

‘It’s the damn number.’ I cursed internally. I’m a man who believes in coincidences, but even I’m not idiot enough to ignore a sign when it presents itself.

So now the question was, can I trust the priest and the steward?

It might not mean anything, and the guy had seemed like a genuine old grandpa. He wasn’t the fanatic believer one would expect from men of clergy, nor was he a ‘different tastes’ person. He seemed most amiable and showed a forward attitude towards teaching me.

But…. the number had shown itself twice in relation to him. I can’t just ignore it and act as if something supernatural is not at play here.

Maybe it was the priest himself, trying to convey something; or perhaps it was a different party. But what are they trying to convey!?

‘Goddamit, what should I even do?’ I wondered and realized I’d stared at the steward for a minute too long. In a moment of unexpected decisiveness, I decided to buy time. I needed to think over it a little more.

“It was fun, yes. I’m very tired and would like to retire to my bedroom.” I said as I walked away, him following beside me.

“Your room has been cleaned and made ready for your use. I’ll leave Hiruni here for anything you might require of.” He stated, pointing towards the maid to his right behind us.

Looking back I gave her a glance. She looked like a plain girl with a crooked nose and thin chin. She wore a black bolero- with pockets both outside and inside, and a raised collar to hide her neck- above and a simple white-red dirndl inside.

Nodding at her, I pocketed my hands as I played with the ring. A desire to wear it overcame me and the next moment I admonished myself for playing with unknown things.

I have no idea what it is or what it entails. Even if it looks simple enough, who knows what kinda Artistic-fuckery is going on here. ‘Yeah let’s get some room before any shenanigans.’

Then I noticed, but the steward still walked beside me. Surprised, I asked him, “Is there something left Mr. Arden?”

“That’s what I meant to ask you, sir. Is there anything you are forgetting to tell me?” He looked at me with a deep piercing gaze as if knowing things beyond what he should.

‘Does he really know?’ My suspicions strengthened, I decided to lie. “Nothing for now Mr. Arden. I’ll let you know if there’s anything. You are dismissed.”

“Very well.” With a small bow, he left.

Left with my thoughts again, and my new maid Hiruni, I finally reached my room.

Locking myself inside, I finally relished the feeling of emptiness in my mind as I sprawled on the bed.

Tired in both mind and body after the whole day of travel and conversations, I simply closed my eyes and sleep came naturally to take me away to its abode.

- - - - * - - - -

The steward, Mr. Ricono Arden, had just left the young lord and was walking towards the wine cellar.

The meeting with the one he always held a slight contempt towards was not very pleasant and had left a sour dry feeling in his mouth. He’d have expected him to stop being a little prick and just do what was told of him.

According to what he knew about him, Conor used to be a very gullible kind of person. He’d have never questioned something the priest told him to do, not when it entails giving him something he desires.

He knew what Agak could’ve offered him. The same thing he offered him all those years ago and what had set him on his current path. The Path of Questions is not an easy gift nor a small one. It’s the grandest honor to learn about it. Yet Conor refuses to do it blindly.

What the hell could’ve ticked him off!? It was the current biggest worry Ricono felt. What made him so cautious all of a sudden? Does he suspect something?

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With a bitter mood, he finally reached the wine cellar. It was a cold room, with a blue tint to the lighting in the basement of the manor. Walls painted with stories of a lone adventurer in the mountains of Emei, it provided the coldness and lighting of the basement.

The walls of the square room were lined with shelves of mahogany filled with all kinds of wine from all over the empire. There was a sofa in the center of the room, a desk beside it, and a table in front of it. The drawers in the desk contain common wine testing equipment like thermometers, hydrometers, a pH meter, and some other things Ricono never bothered to learn much about.

All one needs to know about a good wine is a sense of smell and the taste of an expert, a connoisseur of wine as he likes to call himself.

But all this wine in here is not for him. Not for him to drink without an occasion.

Hence why he keeps a secret stash. In the thick wood of the shelves, a small gap opens on the sides to give him his wine. He has probably ‘sabotaged’ how many of such wines through the years of working here. Even today he could count at least 15 of such bottles hidden in the room.

Taking a bottle of red wine with a sticker saying ‘Bacardi Vineyard’, the famous wine supplier from the northern parts of the empire. It was one he dearly loved for its rich yet soft cherry-like flavors.

Sitting on the sofa, he carefully took out a wine glass from the drawers along with the wing corkscrew. Leaning forward, he carefully and masterfully uncorked the wine bottle and poured himself a drink.

Using a wine stopper to close the bottle again, he held the glass between his fingers as he leaned back and swirled the wine in the glass. He loved this red liquid in his hand.

Smelling it he let out a moan of pleasure as he, with utter delicacy and finesse, sipped the wine a little.

A wave of pleasure so profound passed through his body that he felt an erection in his loins. A dark thought crossed through his mind yet he suppressed it.

“Not now, not now.” He told himself as he sipped his wine and enjoyed the company of the man in the paintings.

If there was one thing he loved more than wine, was this…. this... Art. He had searched so much, high and low, and finally, he had found the question. And yet the answer was just as hard to find. Standing up he walked to the walls and caressed them with his fingers.

“But it’s so close now. So close. I’ll soon reach there, just a few more days.” He finished his wine and with the heaviest of hearts, cleaned the place and went upstairs again.

Slipping into the hallways quietly, he walked towards the viscount’s office.

Knock knock

Waiting outside the door, he checked the statues. They gave off a feeling of strength and resilience yet Ricono knew what secrets hid even deeper within them.

It was unfortunate he couldn’t feel the familiar sensation of using his powers ever since he had reverted, but not like Ricono would’ve understood much more than a normal 2nd stage Artist.

“Come in.” A gruff voice sounded from behind the door and he slipped back into his familiar detached state as he entered.

The viscount stood against the window, his frame looked so tall yet weak to Ricono. Yet even he can’t help but respect this human who reached so far with not an ounce of Artistic strength within him.

“Hon. Viscount.” He said with a small bow. The weight of obedience settled on him.

“Tell me, Arden,” started the Viscount, “do you feel something wrong?”

“What do you mean, Viscount?”

“I had reports coming in this morning. When one of our newly semi-motorized cargo ships was taking items for trades last night, they had to cancel their trips. Do you know why Arden?” The viscount finally turned and looked straight at him.

“I have not known about it, sir. I deeply apologize for this mismanagement. I’ll look into it as soon as I can.”

“That would not be necessary, Arden. I know what happened. It was due to the guarding Artists. Every single one of them suffered a massive headache as they neared the exit of the city and collapsed before they could ever reach the exit.

“You know how our outposts around the Vault were recalled and a team of Artists from the military was sent to investigate? All of them report an oddity, an intense feeling of nausea, and a massive headache. Even the most veteran of Artists can’t get anywhere close to the Vault now.

“Long-distance communications have been attempted, but they’d take at least a week or so to gather any meaningful assistance.

“Attempts to call for our outpost Artists, the ones beyond the city are a failure as well. They can’t enter the city just like ours can’t go out.

“Do you understand what I’m getting at Arden?” He said, his voice grave.

‘What is this… I’ve only been engaged with the brat for a few days and so much happened? No no no, this is bad. Very bad. Not at the last step!’ He cursed internally, and with a faint seriousness in his expression now, said, “Sir do you mean to say… we are trapped here?”

“Yes.”

“But how?”

“Who knows Arden… who knows.” His tone suddenly a little melancholic. “We have made many enemies along the way, but never one who would be capable of this.

“I have my suspicions. This all is very coincidental. Very coincidental to Fourth’s awakening. I don’t know if he’s behind it or not, have you noticed anything in the past days?”

“The young lord has displayed slightly different behaviors and a more vibrant and energetic attitude, and he seems to have grown a sudden fondness of mirrors, but we couldn’t find anything different than his reflection.

“Apart from the minor changes, he seems to be just as clueless about the ways of an Artist and is struggling with getting used to it. My team has been monitoring him closely, we’ll let you know as soon as something happens, Sir.”

“Hmm, I can’t be bothered with him anymore, Arden. I feel something, as if someone or something is coming. It feels like a calamity or maybe a blessing.

“We need to be prepared for it. The sun can’t set on my state while I live.” The viscount proclaimed, his voice strong and shoulders slouched. Ricono wondered if he believed his own words, but he understood the graveness of the situation.

With the sudden change things have turned, his earlier plan would have to be modified. He can feel a headache coming, a dryness in his mouth and he craved wine. Just one sip might make things better.

‘All because of that little shit.’ He cursed, but he couldn’t do anything about it. The end was near and he wouldn’t let his years of sacrifice go to waste.

A storm of plans flew through his mind yet he discarded them one by one. He needed something solid. And then it clicked!

The viscountcy is gonna be in a state of emergency and tension, so what could he do to create a little distraction?

It was time for some extra fieldwork.

- - - - * - - - -