Lawold.

The Royal Capital of the domain that the Cromwells presided over. Also known as 'The City of Lost Moon.'

Contrary to its name, the city did not lack a moon.

As a matter of fact, the moon hung unusually large and low, its enrapturing glow casting a bright blue light everywhere. It almost seemed as if the moon was dipping into the river that bisected the city, much like the sun at the time of Dusk.

The river flowed seamlessly, without making a noise, right in the middle of what seemed like the two parts of Lawold, the moon casting a long, enchanting reflection into the pristinely clear water body.

Buildings of varying heights and styles lined the right portion of the riverside, their facades adorned with simple, yet effective patterns and glowing lanterns.

Even at this distance, the hustle and bustle of people was visible as markets were brimmed with soft music of a bard's instrument filling the air.

'The lights here are unusually bright.'

This was the first thought that appeared in Arthur's mind as he looked at the otherwise breathtaking view of the city.

The journey from "The Keep" to "Lawold" was finished in the span of a few seconds. After a few moments of back-and-forth with his father, Aksel somehow made Arthur convinced that there was no hidden trick behind Jayden's invitation.

Arthur had somewhat guessed that both were men who recognised power and respected it, but his own sceptical nature made it almost impossible for him to completely trust Jayden. There was also the matter of General Ed Vorlith.

What Arthur had done could be counted as a necessary measure for survival, but for Ed, it might be an unforgivable matter. Since it was his mother. Even though he acted so indifferent towards it.

'It might just be a matter of his ego.' Arthur continued to think to himself. 'Well, I guess I just need to be really cautious around him.'

The faint hum of the Warp Gate brought him out of his thoughts as he glanced over his shoulder before returning his attention back to the view in front of him.

The Warp Gate was what teleported them here. And while the logic and mechanics behind it remained elusive to Arthur—for now—he didn't really bother to pay much heed to it anyways. It was quite natural for people in Eden to make such things.

The comparison of Magical Development between Earth and Eden can't even be described as 'a droplet in the biggest ocean,' just like how Eden's technology couldn't be compared to Earth's. They were thousands upon thousands of years of technological revolutions behind Earth.

But unlike humans, they did not have the misfortune of starting everything from scratch. Hence, the disparity in progression did not equate to actual numerical difference between the age and era of Earth and Eden currently.

"It's so...beautiful." Astrid commented from Arthur's side as she took a careful step towards the steep edge of the giant hill that overlooked the city.

Behind Arthur, Michael and Aksel also stepped out from the modest Warp Gate.

The scintillating grey mosaic that served as the 'Gate' between the two locations was encased like a mirror between the rectangular granite frame in the middle of nowhere. And when Jayden finally stepped out of the Warp Gate, the scorching runes along its sides started to subside, ever so slightly.

Before long, the Warp Gate lifted off the tall blades of grass atop the hill, hovering a few feet above the ground. The silvery smooth magical device folded in on itself, transforming into a miniature rhombus-like 2-dimensional shard that landed into Jayden's palm and then disappeared, seemingly absorbing into his pale skin and disappearing underneath it.

"Aren't you supposed to react with 'Kyaa~ Odin's Beard~! It's so luminously opulent~', eh?" Michael's voice's pitch dropped as he tried to imitate Astrid, placing his hands on his cheeks and wriggling his body like an excited girl. However, his lips shut tight as he looked over the wide expanse of the giant city rolling for as far as the eye could see and the captivating moon half-peeking out of the river. "Oh damn, it actually is beautiful."

"Won't be so beautiful once you know there is no McDonald's here." Astrid huffed, crossing her arms as the winds caused her silvery strands to wave like a flag.

"Wow, you are so funny." Michael scoffed. "But a big mac would've cheered me up after all the shit this guy put me through." He rolled his eyes, pointing his finger at Arthur.

Arthur looked over his shoulder. "You could've refused."

"Who could've guessed that you would fall so low!" He retorted, breathing furiously through his nose.

"Ehhhh? What's happening? What did he do now?" Astrid looked alternatively between the two.

Before Arthur could reply, Michael waved his hand. "Nothing. Just arguing to pass some time." However, he cast a sharp look at Arthur's direction as if telling him he knew what his intentions were.

Meanwhile Arthur just shrugged. The damage was already done. There was no use of worrying even if Michael had figured out what he wanted, despite how obvious it was now.

"Now, now, gather around!" Jayden's voice caused the three to turn their attention towards him as Aksel was already standing beside him. "They must have sensed my—our arrival already!" He said exuberantly.

Jayden was quite happy. For his own personal reasons, yes, but he was also someone who—much like the Olvasens—did not have an indiscriminate hate for other races. Despite the deep scar that Eve had left when Jayden confronted her a few thousand years ago, he did not hold any kind of obsessive grudge towards humans.

And much like Aksel, he respected those with strength and potential.

And while he did not have indiscriminate hate for humans, if it was anyone who was not as strong as Arthur, Michael or Aksel, he would not have hesitated to kill them all.

"Putting the matter of who would've sensed your arrival or not, I have to ask." Aksel started speaking. "Why are we on a hilltop?"

Jayden smiled and then placed his hand over Aksel's shoulder. Glancing at Arthur from the corner of his eye, he raised a brow.

"Avoiding panic." Arthur spoke and then looked away.

"Exactly as Arthur says!" He exclaimed. "If I were to teleport us to the castle, despite me being with you, most of the ministers would pounce at you without wasting a single moment."

"Oh, fair enough." Aksel shook his head in acknowledgment.

Astrid shifted and took a step towards Arthur. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder between him and Michael, she followed Arthur's line of sight. Her pale blue eyes were further illuminated by the bright blue moon that was brighter than the time they had seen at the Keep.

"What's wrong...you haven't talked since we left that place..." Astrid whispered, not turning her head towards Arthur.

"Nothing." His eyes continued to look in a straight line, piercing through the blue moon and looking at the sky that stretched infinitely beyond it, a barely perceptible sheen of an aurora hanging over it.

Arcanum was gathering around Arthur. Like an inquisitive animal, seeing if getting near to a human is safe or not, it hovered up and beside him, occasionally drifting closer. And then Arcanum was slipping into his primary node, slightly—almost unenticingly expanding it. His reserves. Almost as if it was alive.

Arthur raised his hand, a small congregation of lights blinking in and out around his fingers.

"Those are Manaflies. Really timid." Jayden spoke up, pointing at the small congregation of the fireflies around Arthur. "They rarely come close to people." His smile widened. "They must've sensed something strange or really appealing about your Arcanum."

"Or because it's dark." Arthur shrugged it away causing Jayden to raise his hands in a placating manner.

"Mana? Only weirdo normies use that term." Michael scoffed.

"It was indeed a commoner traveller who named it." Jayden nodded his head. "Despite the first impressions, you don't seem to be completely...a brute."

"HAH!? Watch your tong--"

Michael was interrupted as a long, faint shadow stretched over them. Immediately afterwards the shadow was accompanied by a deep sound...the rhythmic flapping of something enormous. The beats stirred the air, sending gusts of wind billowing outward, rustling the medium length blades of grass and causing them to look upward.

Hovering above them, not one, but numerous creatures floated.

And then with a practised efficiency, they flew down from the shadows, their massive forms causing the velvety pelt beneath their feet to undulate which caused Astrid to jump back in a sudden fright.

Arthur turned around slowly and narrowed his eyes.

The creatures in question resembled wyrms, their long, crooked bodies covered in overlapping, cracked scales that gleamed faintly under the moonlight, each one a dark, iridescent hue. Like an almost opaque, lustreless object.

Their heads were adorned with a pair of curved, horn-like protrusions, framing eyes that glowed softly, reflecting the starlight with a gleam. But it wasn't predatory. Much to Arthur's surprise, the notion of hunting and pouncing on people seemed to be totally subdued.

As Arthur looked at the ten or so wyrms land, he completely turned around.

'Merely domesticating them won't result in such a subdued state of mind...something's strange.'

The wyrm's wings were vast, stretching out to either side with a worn-out leathery texture, the heavy sound of flapping that sent ripples earlier whittling down as they stabilised themselves on solid ground.

The thin membranes between the skeletal structure of their wings were outlined faintly against the night sky. Their tails, equally long, ending in a wickedly sharp barb that swayed rhythmically as it slithered forward.

Their backs had huge saddles, securely fastened with thick, leather straps that criss crossed its chest and sides. The saddle was crafted from something that according to Earthen standards could be classified as normal leather, reinforced with metal studs and decorated with swirling patterns.

It had huge, curved edges and there were various loops and compartments for storing gear and other things a rider could need.

The creature's breaths came in deep huffs, misting slightly in the cool night air.

Three hooded figures unmounted the wyrms and immediately got into a battle stance. However, the swords immediately returned to their scabbards as they saw Jayden glaring at them.

Falling to their knees, they lowered their heads.

"Apologies, my Lord. We thought..." the man dipping his head low bit on his lip, avoiding any further talks as Jayden's intent suddenly weighed down on him.

After a while of emptily staring at the man, he turned to the other two.

"Prepare the wyrms." He spoke and looked at Aksel who nodded. "Nostravlun is about to welcome the first humans in thousands of years." He announced as the three demons exchanged exasperated gazes between each other. "Cue the trumpets."

Arthur let out a heavy breath. 'I don't like this.'

Arthur Olvasen:

After the stupid turn of events due to my father, we were currently now in enemy territory.

Although what I found more strange and somewhat interesting were the Warp Gates.

The sensation of passage was subtle, almost too smooth, causing an eerie dissonance to rattle my senses. When my feet finally sank into the soft, ankle-high grass, the abrupt change made me stumble, thrown off balance by the unexpected shift.

After that, nothing much happened. We saw a few wyrms that were there to carry us, but nothing out of the ordinary.

When you have seen and fought elves, frost giants, dwarves, trolls and demons, something like a wyrm fails to keep up in the 'ta-daa, surprise!' department.

For me, at the very least. And while Astrid and Michael showed totally opposite reactions to my own, they were each distinctively different from one another. Astrid was quite excited, scared and every equivalent giddy feeling after seeing it for the first time, all at once.

Meanwhile Michael just boasted about how many he had either killed or captured when wyrm riders attacked Washington DC. And while he might not have noticed the slip-up, it means that Whites have captured Eden's beasts and not reported it.

Are they trying to make a personal army?

It can't be improbable.

The Seven Syndicates have always tried to own personal Arcanum user armies for ages, but the sheer lack of them made it impossible. The ones they were able to get their hands on were either hidden until they breathed their last or killed during a scouting mission or a skirmish between subjects of two or more families.

Well, who am I to talk? We have 2 elves locked up in our basement. Even though I didn't have any say in it, I am still—begrudgingly—a part of it.

Currently we were flying. Not by ourselves, of course, but riding on the wyrms that had arrived as a backup when the guards sensed other Arcanum signatures along with Jayden's which were foreign, alien.

After a while of whining and a gruesome series of trial-and-error, Astrid was able to mount a separate wyrm as well.

Aksel—my father and Jayden were riding in the forefront while me, Astrid and Michael were in the middle with the remaining people flying behind and to our sides, their gazes set on us warily.

In contrast to the approach of people I had seen in the Keep, the demons here were not as hostile. Just…curious.

I could feel one of them—the one that was pushed down by Jayden when he tried to attack us—stealing glances at Astrid. Maybe because she was flying closer to him and he had the reins of her wyrm or it could be some other reason. Who knows. But it made me kind of uncomfortable, for some odd reason.

Michael was riding his with relative ease. His loose hair was flapping wildly in the cold air.

Turning my attention back to myself, I clung lightly to the saddle, feeling the rise and fall of the wyrm's scales beneath the leathery seat. The rhythmic motion of its scales was oddly soothing even as the wind whipped my hair around my face.

High above the ground, the air felt crisp and cool.

My cheeks tingled with the chill, but the rapid beating of my heart and the Arcanum subtly slipping into my node kept me warm.

The landscape below blurred into a patchwork of gauzy, unlit yellow, grey and browns, thin streams snaking through the right populated side of Lawold like silver threads.

I could almost see the small establishment underneath, dotting the unusually bright city, tiny from this height, their thatched roofs glinting in the blue moonlight.

People—normal and couples happily trudged across from one place to another, hands in hand. A romantic tune was playing from the Bard's instrument.

The music was not loud. It was reaching even up here, but it felt like he was playing it in a vacuum. I could tell because the sound waves were not deteriorating. It stayed the same, from the point of origin and then until here.

It was strange. And fascinating at the same time.

My fascination was short-lived as I saw ahead. A massive cathedral-castle loomed right in front of us, not even 3 kilometres away, its towers pointing towards the sky.

It was dark but the walls were a deep, ancient grey, made from stone blocks as big as average houses on Earth.

Banners, flapped in the wind, their colours bright against the stark grey stone. I could make out the movement of guards patrolling the battlements, their silver armour glinting like tiny stars.

Beneath, I felt the wyrm's muscles flex and contract beneath the saddle. The sensation of flight was exhilarating. It was like swimming through the sky, the air rushing past me, filling my ears with its constant hum which went oddly well with the Bard's music.

The wyrm opened its maw as it let out a low rumble, a sound that vibrated through my bones.

"Damn! This thing makes the same noise like that time when I ripped its wings out!" Michael laughed, talking in English instead of the Abrahamic which we had been using until now.

For someone who claims to have a lot of morality towards killing, he sure acts like a psychopath. And then I am the one who takes the brunt of allegations because I did what was right at that moment. Hah…the duality of people.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

I felt my eyes widen as we approached the castle. While I had seen Fjellborg, which was one of the most elegant castles on Earth, this was something else. It had a blend of the grace of a cathedral and the security of a fortress.

Tall towers rose up, each crowned with small turrets. Demons with weaker Arcanum signatures were laying down inside it, seemingly hiding from being spotted from the otherwise flat terrain. Bows were ready in their grips and a small pile of quivers full of arrows rested along the inner, circular wall of the turrets.

Atop the turrets in the rear were battlements, with notched crenelations where archers and spears were standing. Narrow arrow slits, like dark eyes, dotted the walls.

The thick curtained walls—that connected the 4 turrets in the first layering of walls—wrapped around the castle, sturdy and solid. They looked almost impenetrable.

The gatehouse was right ahead, its portcullis ready to drop, while the drawbridge that was held by heavy chains, spanned a deep moat below.

Past the gatehouse, I saw the barbican, an extra line of defence projecting outward.

Machicolations jutted from the walls, openings for defenders to drop stones or boiling liquids in case of an invasion.

Beyond the outer bailey I saw a lush courtyard surrounded by the curtain walls.

In the inner bailey was the actual place where—most likely—Jayden and his family lived…the castle's strongest part.

This central tower was taller and thicker and the walls were lined with parapets, low barriers providing safety for guards walking along the top. Ramparts added another layer of defence, broad and sturdy.

The gate towers flanked the main entrance offering even more defence and lookout points. Chimneys rose above the roofline, releasing smoke from the fires inside.

Even though it wasn't all that cold.

"Achoo! Fuck! FUCK!" As Michael wiped his mucus-laden hand against the saddle, I turned my head away from him.

Maybe it really was cold.

Back to the castle, the watchtowers stood even higher.

Murder holes were hidden in the ceiling of the gate passage. As our wyrms circled the castle, I couldn't help but think.

Even modern weapons would have a rough time infiltrating this place. Even after factoring out the aspect of Arcanum augmentation.

The wyrms decelerated and then started to flail their wings sharply, the sound of flapping drowning the almost finished melody of the Bard.

And then they dipped downwards, all of a sudden. The air rushed past me in a blur causing my hair to wave backwards, wildly.

The moment we touched down, I felt a ripple of force surge from the wyrm's body, transferring up through the saddle and into my legs. There was a slight jolt, like a gentle but firm push as the wyrm's claws scratched against the stone ground with a rather displeasing sound.

The scales beneath me quivered with the vibration of the landing.

Letting out a slight grunt, the wyrm turned its head back at me. Its eyes were hollow, and I couldn't exactly put a finger on what colour its irises were. Shaking my head to get rid of any useless thoughts such as the colour of a beast's eye colour, I flipped my feet over and landed deftly on the ground.

The ground underneath was made of sturdy stone.

As everyone unmounted the wyrms one by one, the man flying close to Astrid—the one that was holding the reins of her wyrm—extended a hand to her. Slipping her hand into his, she nervously jumped down.

I was about to go after her, but then I remembered. There was more to the current situation than just worrying about a single thing. We were in a foreign territory. Not only in an extremely hostile area, but in the centre of the giant tornado.

The Castle of The Cromwells.

Word had already reached the castle about our arrival. Hence the reactions of the guards were nothing more than mere curiosity. They looked up and down at us as they were stationed in every corner of the pathway that led to the inside of the main residential part of the castle. It almost felt like we were animals on display inside a zoo.

Demons, mostly commoners, gawked with wide jaws at Michael.

And they are not the ones to blame. If I were them, I would be surprised as well. Michael looked eerily similar to the Cromwells. So much that it was uncanny. Just an addition of fake horns made everyone believe he was someone from their family.

Aksel was walking alongside Jayden. Common courtesy would usually demand the ones who are not the Kings to fall behind the one who is, but I suppose I can't expect common sense from a man who befriended someone who he was hell-bent on killing.

I mean, how does that make sense? How does that work? What was the thought process? I am genuinely intrigued as to what changed the strong emotions of 'I am going to kill this man' into 'I found my best friend.'

It's absurd!

I walked a few steps away from them. At this rate I am sure being in close proximity to him might result in a meltdown of my brain cells.

Not like Michael is any better, but at least there is a consistency in his behaviour.

Once we were inside the castle, I found myself in awe. Once more.

The ceilings were unnecessarily high with arches that appeared to have been carved by giants. Or in our current case. Trolls.

The walls themselves were decorated with thorough detailing. Yet, considering how large the castle was, it was eerily quiet. As if it was holding its breath. Metaphorically, of course.

Was there a need to specify that in my thoughts?

..

..

Nevermind.

After a while of walking through the silent corridor that was lit by the torches on each side of the walls, we stopped right before a series of stairs that spiralled upwards.

Suddenly, I felt a shiver run down my spine.

But I was able to immediately see the source of this. Two people were stationed there as they walked down the stairs and then split to the sides, standing on each side of the giant marbled frame before the stairs.

When Jayden shifted a little from my sight, I was now able to discern the two guards' features.

One figure appeared to be a woman, her apparent demeanour friendly and approachable. Her short, green hair gave her a tomboyish look, but the feminine curves beneath her tight and long dress suggested otherwise.

Standing beside her was another woman with longer green hair and exuding a fiercer aura, her sharp eyes and a scar crossed her left eye adding to her rugged appearance. The only weapons I observed were short daggers secured at their waists.

They both had medium length black horns that weren't complex. Just straight, dagger like horns without any spiral design or unique colour.

"Welcome back, my lord." The tomboyish woman spoke. "It's a blessing to see you in good health, my lord." She bowed subtly, her voice rough in timber but not lacking in any way when it came to showing genuine respect and worry for her lord.

"Greetings, my lord." The other—scarred woman spoke this time, bowing more deeply. After a while of bowing down, Jayden hummed, causing them to straighten their backs.

The tomboy looked in Aksel's direction and then back at Jayden. "My lord. I see you brought humans…" she paused, "…guests."

"Is that a problem, Harper?" Jayden cocked his head.

"Pff—she's named Harper." Michael breathed a subdued snicker.

"Not at all, my lord." She instantly bowed her head back. "I am merely…" She stopped talking, seemingly unable to formulate words.

The scarred woman stared at Michael and then looked up at me, sparing only a single glance before looking back at her lord.

"Allow me, my lord." She spoke in a stern tone.

"What is it, Sloane?"

Sloane eased out the single crease in her tight-fit, maid suit.

"Is it really appropriate for humans to be placed in the same chambers where the Young Lords reside?" She asked disapprovingly.

"Of course it is." Jayden waved his hand off.

"But-" She was about to talk again but Jayden raised his hand.

"I am not here to hear advice from you." He spoke with a nonchalant tone, but the cutting edge was still there. Concealed. "Not in front of the guests."

Sloane's chest rose up and her lips pursed. Dipping her head down, she bowed. "As you command, my lord."

Jayden huffed out through his nose. "Harper."

"Yes?"

"Are the rooms appropriately readied?"

The tomboyish girl's sickly green eyes flicked upwards with a rather keen eagerness. "Given the window of time, we have done our absolute best to greet your…guests."

The pauses before guests every time tells me that there is some alternative, loving word for us.

Well, I already know some of it. The elves called me a Mudwalker. It is quite strange and funny at the same time though, given how whenever we want to name someone beneath us, we use the term mud. It's uncreative, but it does the job.

"Good enough." Jayden replied with a satisfied look and then turned back to us. "Harper and Sloane will escort you three to your resting chambers." He spoke as he rubbed the side of his neck.

It was only after focusing heavily that I noticed the small patch of blackened skin. Perhaps from the clash of Technique Deployments.

"As for my new friend, Aksel!" He turned to him. "I have something special arranged for you beside my very own chambers."

"Hah! Now I am excited." Laughing with each other, the two left, leaving us three with the two demon girls. Or women.

"Please, follow us." Sloane spoke, her long green hair that framed her face unmoving.

We followed after the two as we climbed the spiralling stone stairs. It was quite similar to the ones that were in Fjellborg, but except the stifling humidity there, the temperature in this staircase was well regulated.

I suppose it must be because it is above the ground surface.

As we climbed, I kept my senses on high alert. I could even feel Michael and Astrid's concealed uneasiness seep into me.

As we reached the top, the vastness of the floor surprised me.

It stretched out endlessly, with corridors and rooms branching off in every direction like the spokes of a giant wheel.

One side of the floor was quite lavish, with opulent draperies depicting scenes of ancient battles and royal ceremonies hanging from the high walls.

The floors were covered in soft rugs. Golden candelabras casted a warm, flickering glow that danced on the polished marble floors. The air here smelled faintly of incense and aged wood.

Although not much different, the other half of the floor was somewhat austere.

The walls here were decorated with simpler tapestries. The floors were covered with plain but well-crafted carpets, and the light came from polished brass sconces. The difference was subtle but noticeable, like two parts of the same story told with different emphases.

Harper and Sloane took a turn towards the less ornate side after arriving at the cross-section of the floor that divided the two places.

"Since the young masters were recently given this upper floor, only the practical area was renovated for them." Harper explained.

"Hmm." I hummed in response, looking in every direction. There didn't seem to be any hidden doors or traps made for ambush. Surprisingly. Since the exterior of the castle, or fortress, was extremely packed with such things.

"Does this area at least get showers?" Michael asked, his voice croaky.

Both Harper and Sloane looked at each other and then turned back.

"Shower? As in a rain shower?"

"He means bath. Do you have bathtubs?"

It felt like Harper was about to reply excitedly but suppressed it.

"Of course. Once inside, there are bathtubs inside the quarters. A change of clothes will be provided shortly afterwards." She spoke in a formal manner.

"Damn, imagine not having showers."

After just a minute of talking, Sloane directed Michael away and took him to a room that was inside a corridor right before where Harper led us.

The room was spacious and it was well decorated. Contrary to the first impression when the door was shut. It seems like they actually didn't renovate this place and are not throwing us into a bad place.

However, there seemed to be a problem.

"Where is my room?" I asked. Since she had directed Astrid to enter.

"This is your room." Harper replied, unblinking. "The Lord ordered us to prepare two rooms. One for a human named Michael and the other for a human named Arthur and his mate Astrid. Are you not them?"

"MATE!?"

Hah…not this again. Why are there so many allegations? And why is this the first thing they assume? I can be homosexual for all I care.

"Hmm. Alright. Thanks."

"A change of clothes will arrive soon." Harper said and after casting one…judgemental look at us, left.

A silent hush descended.

I could feel her eyes burn into me.

But after what she said and what I thought, this was the worst time to talk to her. There was also this matter of something weird when it came to her. Something I couldn't put my finger on.

Something you wouldn't feel or consider about someone who is merely your caretaker.

Before she spoke the first words, I moved towards the door.

"Lock the door. Only open to pull your clothes in and don't leave until I tell you to do so." Without looking at her, I spoke and opened it.

"Wait, what? Why are you going?"

Casting a glance over my shoulder, I spoke. "You know, I don't really want to hear you taking a bath."

She flushed slightly, her eyes narrowing with a mix of embarrassment and maybe slight…anger?

"Oh really?" she retorted, clearly both startled and slightly indignant.

"Well, better make myself scarce then," I shot back, backing away slowly. I barely caught her muttered retort.

"Arthur, I want to tal—"

"Later." With that I closed the door behind me.

Maybe my wording was not the best but I shook my head, once again. Now was not the time for all this, I reminded myself before taking off somewhere only somewhat familiar.

***************

My knuckles knocked against the door I was standing in front of. The sound caused an echo, making it reverberate in the empty floor. There was no one on the other side it seemed, since even after deliberately making some noise by tossing a vase and a table down, no one came from the side where the supposed young masters were.

Suddenly the door flew open and closed immediately afterwards.

After a few seconds, it opened once again.

His golden gaze was more surprised than agitated. "Your wife kicked you out?"

"She's taking a bath."

"And?" He narrowed his eyes on me. "Did you pop a boner or something?"

"No, I—" How did he even come to that conclusion?

Actually, now that I think of it, it's quite natural. I am acting that way.

"Maybe." I just surrendered, letting out a deep breath.

"Can't blame ya." Contrary to my expectations, the door completely opened as he stepped to the side. "Get in."

Taking a step inside, he closed the door and clicked the deadbolt into its place.

I looked around.

It was a decently decorated room filled with all the basic necessities required for a guest. It had a few books on the shelves, a dressing table, a double bed and two couch chairs with a crystal table in front of it. The area which is usually glass seemed to be made out of pure diamond.

"Crazy, isn't it?" Michael spoke from behind me. As I turned around, I saw him standing while leaning against the wall, dressed in a long robe. He was wearing nothing other than a robe. His legs were visible from the place not tightly held by the belt of the robe. "I checked it. The table is made out of pure diamond. Almost as if it is nothing to them."

I hummed in response. "There always have been fundamental differences between the norms on Earth and Eden, even before the separation. So, I am not really surprised."

"Hrmmmm." He let out a loud humming sound and then took a sip out of a goblet that had a dark red liquid in it. "Wah! This is amazing."

"It could be poisoned." I stated as a matter-of-factly.

"Oh, well…" he paused and then shrugged, "…at least it's not as stupid as your father leading us straight into the dragon's maw."

I was about to agree with him, but he spoke again.

"Don't get me wrong, I am not berating your dad." He continued, taking another sip from it as he placed it on the dressing table and sat down on a small stool beside it. His hair was still damp, and slight steam was rising from it. "If it was my father, he would've done the same thing. These old, selfish farts are all the same."

He then looked up at me. "Don't tell me you love your daddy and can't stand me talking shit about them."

I raised my hands up in a placating manner. "Be my guest, by all means." I had no objection. After all, what he said was completely true. It was quite likely that he was told by mom to further relations with them after saving me.

Since me being alive is of absolute paramount importance to whatever she desires.

"Even though I am in your room." I ended my sentence.

Michael's eyes went wide and he then chuckled. "Do you have a split personality or something?"

It didn't sound condescending or anything. Just a genuine query. Somehow it felt strange. It wasn't how he usually acts or talks. Not like this. At least as far as I remember. But as I was pondering that, something clocked.

Split personality?

Without much change in my demeanour, I asked casually as I shifted in my seat. "Is something the matter?"

"Nah." He shrugged, rolling words in his mouth with his tongue. "Was just wondering how did you suddenly devolve into this…" he paused, once again, as if searching for appropriate words, "…utter prick."

What is he talking about?

Still maintaining an outwards façade of neutrality, I pressed a little further, keeping my words measured. But one could only be so oblivious. But I was willing to take the risk.

"I have always been like this."

Michael suddenly scoffed, pressed the goblet to his lips and then immediately drank the whole thing in one go. Letting out a loud groan, a flush crept up his cheeks as he swayed slightly, gripping the edge of the table for support. "Hell no." He spoke up, locking his eyes with mine. "You were much more tolerable before."

This isn't giving me much to go off of.

"In what way?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and poured himself another glass. "This is some good shit, I can't lie. You gotta try this."

"I'm good." I refused, placing my head against the backrest. It was way too hard and precarious to extract information from Michael. And despite how tense our relationship looked, oddly enough I had talked the most with him. Not even Maria came close.

"Aw man, you're such a party pooper." He clinked the goblet in his hand with the other one that was on the table, half-filled. "Cheers." He talked to himself.

"It's not like I don't like drinking alcohol." I replied as he looked at me through the mirror. "I don't feel comfortable drinking while we are in an enemy castle where even the guards are powerful enough to give us more trouble than I'd like." I pointed at the door, beyond which Harper and Sloane were approaching our…Michael's room.

"Ehh, you are way too stiff for your own good. Let loose a little." Saying that he stood up and walked up to the door. As he opened it, he was met with Sloane who had a change of clothes draped over her arms. She tilted to the side and saw me sitting on the couch.

"Don't you have clothes to give us?" Michael asked brusquely.

She exhaled sharply and thrust two pairs of what seemed like tunic robes to him before turning around. Harper lingered for a while before speaking. "Lord Cromwell has sent for the humans named Arthur, Michael and Astrid. Lunch has been served. The Lord's chief guest Aksel has arrived in the main banquet hall already."

Lunch? Wasn't it fully dark outside?

"Alright, alright. Off you go." He shut the door at her face.

Turning around he threw my clothes at me.

"You stink man. Get a bath." A smirk found its way to his face. "Unless you wanna go back and have a bath with yo—"

"I will take a bath here." Before he could complete his awfully predictable sentence, I interrupted him and went to take a bath.

The bath wasn't much different than the ones we had on Earth. As one would expect, the main visual difference one would expect from two worlds being centuries apart was there but other than that, it wasn't much different.

Like the walls were covered in tall vines instead of the usual marbling. The bathtub was made out of a cold stone. However, it only felt cold right now. It had a conductive property which changed temperatures. There were taps for both cold and hot water as well.

Although I could sense Arcanum from the water. It wasn't poisonous or harmful. If it wasn't that then it means that the water is being regulated using magic, or an artefact that uses Arcanum.

Regardless of that, there was no soap. The only equivalent I could find for soap was some powder that turned into a bubbly, soapy texture after I mixed some water in it. The texture was a bit weird, like scrub since it had small granular things inside it.

But it did the job. It had a nice smell as well. As one would expect, it was quite close to natural smells, rather than the artificial ones we were used to. It smelt of a forest after rain. A specific bark of a tree.

After taking around 30 mins soaking my tired and somewhat battered body into lukewarm water, I went outside.

Michael was already dressed by the time I was out. His hair was styled in his usual unkempt bun, tied back with a black rubber band. He was wearing a long black robe that had a brown belt on his waist.

His waist was narrow enough to make women envious.

Well, if you looked close enough and removed the perpetual scowl from his face, even his facial features were a bit effeminate. Not in a bad way, of course.

I, myself, was wearing a grey coloured tunic with black belt tying it together. Underneath was a warm grey shirt. Since we were the same height, it didn't really matter which colour he picked.

After a few gruesome minutes of styling my hair in the usual curtains, I was finally ready. Styling the hair, by far, was the hardest task. Since I usually have Astrid comb it for me. Or she does it herself. This also gave Michael an opportunity to sneak a few snickers at me while I struggled.

When we got out of the room and walked to the edge of the corridor, I looked to my left. The door of the room in which Astrid was wide open.

Sloane was waiting for us, now wearing a much more formal maid dress. Contrary to the previous dress that looked more-or-less like a tight, nighttime lingerie. This dress seemed to be made from a coarse fabric—like linen, with muted colours—black and white.

The primary garment was a kirtle, a simple, loose-fitting dress with long sleeves that extended to the ankles. Over this, she was wearing an apron made of linen. Underneath, a shift or chemise, also made of linen, served as a base layer.

She was also wearing a simple head cover—a wimple.

Footwear was basic and functional—ankle length leather boots.

A woollen cloak hugged her shoulders, slightly curving over her chest.

Her dark green eyes narrowed at me, the scarred eye twitching before slightly motioning to the stairs. "The Lord and the Elders await you."

"I hate this anime setting. What's next? A blue haired demon maid?" Michael grumbled to himself, causing Sloane's brow to twitch once again. The slight motion of her horns suggested she was shaking. From anger or tiredness, I couldn't tell.

Once we were through the stairs and some corridors, we finally reached the giant double doors that led to the supposed banquet hall. Astrid and Harper were already standing there.

Astrid was wearing quite an elegant piece of royal blue coloured silk gown. The gown had long, flowing sleeves and a fitted bodice, highlighting her narrow waist. Underneath, she wore a linen chemise, soft against her skin.

A decorative silver belt cinched at her waist. Completing the whole ensemble was her headwear which included a finely woven veil. A fur-lined cloak dangled loosely from her shoulders.

Her hair was styled in the usual casual hairstyle of a side ponytail, held high by a velvet ribbon.

"Damn."

"What?"

"Huh? Nothing." Michael shook his head, a little intoxicated.

As Astrid spotted us, she walked over. Her lips had barely moved to say anything as the heavy doors behind us opened a gust of wind rushed outwards.

A shiver ran down my spine.

Inside, rows upon rows of demons were lined up, their hands clasped in front of them, each of them giving out the same aura as Ed—some even stronger.

Aksel was sitting in the forefront of the room, right beside Jayden who looked back at me and smirked. "Let the celebration begin!"

Celebration for what? But it became quite clear after I saw it. The victorious smile on Aksel's face.

Damn it.

He has already negotiated something with him.

This is bad…

GLOSSARY FOR SOME HARD WORDS THAT MADE UP THE CASTLE COMPONENTS:

Battlements: Protective walls on top of the castle with gaps (crenelations) for archers to shoot through.

Keep: The central, most fortified part of the castle where the lord and his family live.

Drawbridge: A bridge that can be raised or lowered to allow or prevent access to the castle.

Moat: A deep, wide trench filled with water surrounding the castle, serving as a defence mechanism.

Bailey: The enclosed courtyard within the castle walls.

Machicolations: Overhanging parts of the castle walls or towers with openings to drop stones or boiling liquids on attackers.

Barbican: An outer defensive structure protecting the gate.

Portcullis: A heavy grilled door that can be lowered to block the entrance.

Turrets: Small towers often at the corners of the castle or on top of larger towers.

Crenelations: The notched battlements at the top of the castle walls.

Murder Holes: Openings in the ceiling of a gateway or passage through which defenders could attack invaders.

Chimneys: Chimneys are chimneys, duh.