Another message came for the king.

One of many today and many more in the coming days. For the campaign was afoot. They shall march for the gate in Sagitta on the new moon. Basraeca was going to war.

It didn’t matter whether the heroes were ready by then.

Being the king’s primary advisor in matters of diplomacy, Markus Heinricht was trusted with the screening of such messages. Especially so when His Majesty needed to focus on the strategic discussion.

Someone like Toval should be doing this, but the man was occupied. King Basca had more faith in Markus with the task, anyhow. His Majesty and Toval were wiser than most men, that was true. Though among many, one would always be the best at something.

I want to meet His Majesty the King at his earliest convenience. – Caleb Ashling.

Markus raised his brows slightly. He… no, the thing had just spoken to them the previous day. King Basca had granted it the honorable position of a foreign ambassador. Still, it refused to disclose from where it came.

After searching through myths, legends, and historical records alike. They found nothing conclusive regarding its identity. But definitely not a fae folk. Too unnatural, too… artificial for it to be an aspect of nature.

It had not even blinked.

From what the Hidden Blades reported, Caleb had sat motionless in its room without moving, eyes wide, face frozen in a pleasant smile. Like a doll. A distasteful mockery of life.

He almost thought it was a high elf when they first met. Ageless titans among mortal men. Impossibly elegant, more real, more vibrant than the world itself.

Markus had seen them. Felt their presences. Beautiful. Benevolent. Belligerent. Facets of power, of concepts given physical form. Yet it, Caleb, felt wrong.

The duke wasn’t revolted by its existence, unlike the demons. Nor he felt any hostility towards it.

Simply, wrong.

He spoke of his worries to the king, of course. Implored His Majesty not to strike any deal with the foreign creature. His efforts didn’t fall on deaf ears. But not enough. The king promised it a favor.

May the Light of Mercy protect Basraeca. He would have to trust the king with the decision.

His Majesty had many run-ins with immortals, after all. Maybe he was right to do so, given his experiences with such beings. As for Markus? Doubt. Not for the king, but for Caleb. He had a bad feeling about the thing.

Even so, the duke excused himself to find out what it had to tell them right away. This felt important.

Thusly, he made for the reading room on the inner palace’s west wing, close to the library, where Caleb waited. Likely what it wanted to say had some relation to whatever it found browsing through books.

Upon entering the hallway leading to the meeting location, the duke could feel the awful, familiar oppressive atmosphere when he first saw it. His chainmail was definitely tighter, twisted. As if it was trying to stop Markus from walking forward.

Or attempting to constrict him. The duke didn’t speak objects.

He waved the guards away and saw clear relief on their faces. The duke almost chastised them, but he didn’t. Markus could feel it too.

Pausing just before the door, he peered inside and saw it. Still as a statue on the cream-colored lounge, reading.

Sunlight spilled into the room from the windows. The soft rustle of wind against the bushes sang a mellow, pleasant song. A fine day for reading.

If only that thing wasn’t here.

The rustling leaves sounded louder than they should be. At the edge of his vision, shadows seemed to pulse with false colors. Every piece of furniture was in the wrong shape, somehow. Yet when he looked at them, nothing was out of place.

He dearly wanted to send that thing away. Throw it to the demons. Let the abominations tear at each other until both sides perished.

But no, he could not. Even without His Majesty’s words, Markus knew it was too dangerous. Too foreign to simply brush away like a crazed demon. So, the duke steeled himself and knocked.

Stanik jumped at the sound and the thing shifted its attention on him.

Its eyes locked onto Markus then its head turned to face him. Opening its mouth to talk, a smile playing on its face a beat late. Its voice soft, joyful, yet hollow.

“Greetings, Duke Heinricht.”

“Go-h-Greetings, Duke Heinricht,” the mage-assistant stammered.

How the other summoned stand its presence, he didn’t know. But given the fact that they possessed the title of [Hero], there must be something special about those children. The duke hoped the heroes choose smartly… for their sake.

*****

It was unfortunate, for Caleb had to put aside the delightful act of spilling tea to preserve the course of events.

Who else knew about this besides themselves? Anyone who had seen these pieces of information must have figured out by now. Or at the least, suspected. Everything was just an interdimensional spat between neighbors.

Hilarious. Possibly morbid, depending on one’s views.

They would need to adjust their plans a tiny bit. But that also depended on the other party’s reaction.

“A fine morning to you, Sir Caleb,” Duke Heinricht swiftly made his way to a chair opposite them.

“His Majesty is occupied with some affairs at the moment,” the man sat down and nodded stiffly. “I will deliver anything you wish to convey to my liege if you agree with this arrangement.”

“I shall take your word for it.”

Placing a hand down the tea table – although there was no tea on it currently – Caleb pushed at nothing and an exact copy of ‘Abominable Demons, a Compilation’ slid towards the duke.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“This is…” Duke Heinricht flipped it opened and, upon recognizing the contents, narrowed his eyes at the panicking Stanik.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Caleb chuckled. “I didn’t take it from the library.”

“Where, then?” the duke snorted; they could hear an audible exhale from the mage-assistant from behind.

“I have my ways,” they preened as a cup of steaming hot cocoa appeared in their hands. “Let’s touch on the more important issue instead, hmmm?

“You see, I had been looking through these tomes on demons and their features. While many texts went into details on physicality, abilities, strategies to battle them, and so on, I couldn’t find anything with proper statistic estimates.

“Why is that?” Caleb leaned back. “I believe there are Skills and spells that can reveal such things, so why aren’t there any records of them?”

Duke Heinricht placed the thin manual on the table and observed the entity.

“For many years, we have tried,” the man began. “scholars, diviners, mages. Distinguished minds. And even with the assistance of… the less reputable sorts. None have found a way to pry into their [Status].”

“If there’s anything,” the duke rolled his eyes at Caleb’s cynical stare. “Our spies didn’t find them.”

“You mean ‘could not,’” they took a sip.

Glowering a little, Duke Heinricht didn’t counter their point. Judging by his response, however, Caleb could draw a few things about Basraeca’s diplomatic relations with other major social constructs on Otrea. And possible reasons why they were never able to draw a clear image of demons’ [Statuses].

All due to the two realms having different managers.

Before leaving the library, they had been mostly sure of that. A brief look inside the database had confirmed the suspicion. Now Caleb only needed to grab hold of one.

Which should go along nicely with the following event.

“That said,” the entity placed the cup down. “I have quite a lucrative deal for you.”

Caleb almost laughed aloud when Duke Heinricht grimaced.

*****

Getting out of the seat long after the duke had departed to relay the deal to King Basca, Caleb sauntered back to their room. Noon was coming, and the entity would join in for lunch to see how everyone was doing.

Couldn’t stay in their room all the time.

It was going to be the last time they would see the summoned ones for quite a while, as well. Caleb would hear the king’s answer within the day. And no matter the outcome, the entity would take their leave. Those little things called ‘demons’ weren’t going to show up to the front door so Caleb could check them out.

Since the entity was technically a free agent, receiving aid from the kingdom or Drahomir himself would count as payment for their time and effort. Which, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t amount to much, but rules are rules. A night’s stay and a meal were a sufficient price for Caleb’s ears.

They planned to leave for Chissinor, where the nearest holy site was located. Easier to contact gods when one was at the focal point of faith, after all. When one showed, the entity would ask it to call the others.

Caleb didn’t get why residents of Otrea worshipped three different gods in the same religion. A bit strange since it wasn’t one of paganism, but they weren’t about to comment on it.

Not to the believers, at least.

If the gods were properly connected to the holy site of their faith, Caleb would see ‘the Light of Mercy’ at Chissinor. These creatures didn’t even give the gods names with individuality. A shame. Calling these little ones ‘the Light of Judgement’, ‘the Light of Absolution’, and so on was going to be awkward.

Maybe the entity would grant them names, but that’s for the future. When their business was concluded.

Speaking of which. “Why are you still following me?” they turned their head all the way around.

Unsurprisingly, Stanik’s eyes shot open in horror and there was something between a hiss and a shriek spilled from his slack mouth; the young mage gripped his chest and heaved. Considering he only jerked back and not fell over, Caleb thought Stanik was quite mentally resilient. Or he was used to odd occurrences.

“I-I…” he stammered. “I wasn’t dismissed, Sir?”

“Oh!” the entity looked the mage-assistant up and down. “Thank you for your time, Stanik. You can go now. I shall have the king reward you appropriately.”

Caleb’s head flickered back into its usual position and they continued on while the young man stared at their back, fish-eyed. Before they made a turn at the end of the hall, Stanik called out.

“Please wait, Sir Caleb!”

“Is something wrong?” they wondered why these creatures talk after they decided to take off. Was it just humans in general that had this peculiar behavior or the same applied to other species as well?

That would be quite irritating.

“Sir Caleb,” even though his face was a little green, Stanik held his gaze firmly while looking at them. “You deal in favors, do you not?”

“I do.”

“What can I…” he exhaled. “What would it take for you to teach me magic?”

“Are you not the Grand Councilor’s apprentice? One of them?”

“No, Sir. I manage Grand Master Jorgensen’s administrative work,” Stanik shook his head. “Filing papers...”

Looking at the young mage, they couldn’t tell what Stanik was specialized in. His presence was just as feeble as the beckoner – the old Caleb. Weaker? Stronger? The entity could barely feel the mage if they pulled their attention off of him.

Everything here, on Otrea, felt the same if Caleb didn’t look.

So frail.

“No, I don’t take students. Nor anything of the likes, for that matter.”

“Not even a servant, Sir Caleb?” even though Stanik was peering down, his dour face gave Caleb the impression the young man was looking up instead.

“I don’t need one.”

“Is it…” after a short pause, Stanik rasped. “Is it because I am weak?”

“I’m not the one to decide what power is. And what makes you think I can teach you?”

“Hmm…” they tapped a finger on their lip. “There is something I can tell you, however…” those words made the young mage perk up slightly.

“You did ask the right question. What would it take indeed…” Caleb stared into Stanik’s eyes. “We may find the answer to that soon.”

The entity bid the mage-assistant farewell and strode off, leaving their statement to hang over him. Stanik stood there for a long time, looking despondently at the documents Caleb presented in the sitting room. Then, it suddenly hit him.

“… still a chance…”

*****

No one was in their room this time around. Not even the tiniest insect. It seemed the electromagnetic radiation frequency they’ve been using after catching the spy was a sufficient deterrent, no matter the size. And it didn’t cause lasting damage to any creatures; the [System] had some uses, after all.

Without anything to bring with them, Caleb didn’t need to spend time preparing for the trip. So, the entity sat down and tuned into Grave Spring to see its progress while waiting for lunch. Apparently, showing at the dining room before being invited would be improper. More so when one was considered a guest.

Visual components had been rebuilt almost in their entirety since they could assemble the data without relying on a medium. It was fascinating to see how the game menus and sub-menus fit seamlessly with one another, situated in a layout of three major widgets on the top left, top right, and the entire bottom of the viewport.

They’d rearrange their positions later to accommodate gameplay in a dive. Originally, Grave Spring was made to display visuals through a screen, but improvements could always be made; Caleb would be able to implement them without much trouble as well.

A servant came after a short period. Before the fiddly creature could knock, Caleb had moved from their seat and pulled the door open. The maid yanked her hand back, startled, but she recovered quickly and bowed.

“Si-Sir Caleb, His Majesty invites you to attend luncheon,” the woman quivered.

“Of course, I’ll be out right away.”

Casting another look across the spacious suite, the entity determined that everything was back in its place until their eyes rested on a silver candelabrum upon a nightstand. One of a pair. They had used one to secure the spy last night.

That might pose a problem.

Motioning for the maid to lead the way, Caleb paced after her and soon, they were at the dining room. Having finished the task of escorting the entity to their destination, the woman curtsied and scurried off the moment she got out of view.

Instantly, everyone but the king stiffened. Noticing the change in the air, Drahomir nodded at Caleb and a faint wave of energy washed over the vicinity, alleviating others off the pressure from the entity.

On the seat next to King Basca to his right was a woman in similarly regal attire, a small jeweled crown of gold atop her tidy braids of brown hair. While the designs of her clothes were close in style with Drahomir’s, they didn’t share the liberal use of animal fur and pelts.

A seat down from the king’s left was a boy. His feet hung above the floor as he trembled slightly on the tall-back chair, its frame stretched above the mess of the boy’s brown hair.

Sitting close to the richly dressed woman was a girl with black hair. The same color as the king’s; albeit shoulder length as opposed to the short trim Drahomir wore. Shuddering as she looked at Caleb, the girl gripped her hand on the sword on her belt.

With their positions and close resemblances, Caleb could guess these were other members of the royal family. The entity could only see the king and the girl in the beckoner’s memories, but that was enough to confirm the fact. How friendly the old Caleb had been with the ruling house was of no consequence.

“A fine day’s greeting to you and yours, Basraeca’s ruler,” a bright smile bloomed on their face.