Chapter 21
History's Most Eventful Week
Sylas sighed in exasperation. Just how many things could possibly occur within the span of a single week? Broadly speaking, a lot—for sure. But, on an individual level, even one or two life-altering revelations would be beyond monumental, and yet, there he was, with yet another one strapped on his shoulders like a backpack that just continues to be filled up past its capacity.
There were now two monsters within the castle’s walls—one living in those walls, and one living inside a man responsible for those walls. It almost felt as though the world was telling him to pick a lane and stick to it… but, well, he always fancied himself a rebel without a cause. The only difference now was that he had a cause.
Reprioritizing once again, he first decided to investigate Farseew. His gut feeling told him that by ‘subjugating’ whatever he was, he’d also control the Baron, which was killing two birds with one stone.
To that end, he decided to look at one place most likely to contain the answers: the Prince himself. He wasn’t in a hurry, however, first hoodwinking Valen and enjoying the feast and some rest for a few days before finally deciding to open the floodgates and learn all the awful and inhumane things Farseew had done in his life.
“Farseew? Never heard of him,” Valen replied with a faint tone of confusion. If the boy’s confusion was faint, then Sylas’ was monumental.
“You… you never heard of him?”
“No,” Valen shook his head. “Could he be someone from the other Kingdoms?” I genuinely haven’t a clue… “Though we belie the public, each Kingdom has a shadow corps of sorts, the group of highly-trained spies in charge of gathering information, sowing dissent, or, in some rare cases, even assassinations. But I’ve never heard of someone called Farseew and certainly not of the moniker of ‘the Horrible’. Furthermore, Ethernia Kingdom doesn’t have Regent Lords—and, as far as I know, none of the nearby Kingdoms do either.”
“…” Sylas’ suspicions grew at that point. The likeliest scenario was that Farseew’s name, and thus his life and all the horrible deeds that come with it, likely predate the Kingdom’s founding. “Do you think it’s possible that the title comes from before the Kingdom? I mean, God whispered the name to me with a reason…” Sylas almost pleaded. After all, if Valen was drawing blanks, what possible chance did he have of ever finding out who the monster hiding in the Baron was?
“It’s unlikely,” Valen said, his countenance growing slightly more respectful at the mention of a ‘God’. “Though history dating that far back is mostly just oral and fantastical, the Founding Records—a set of documents inked on the day of the Kingdom’s founding—speak of merely open and fertile lands with no inhabitants to speak of or other powers.” Aye, if that ain’t mighty convenient…
Sylas didn’t press further. He realized that his new quest wasn’t the one he’d solve in a few days—it was yet another slug, meant to distract him over the course of months, if not years. He then stopped, a simple question popping inside his head: how long would his year be? He’d barely completed one event in the new world and had died countless times already, restarting the day—and in this case usually a week—over and over again. In fact, he’d already lost track of just how many days has it been. It was somewhere in the range of at least a few months, if not more, and yet, technically… only a night had officially passed. If it took him months to clear a single night, just how long would it take him to live out an entire year?
Shaking his head as vain means of dispelling the thoughts that caused his heart to tighten, he decided to go train some and, in the process, probe the gracious Captain for some information. Though it was unlikely that a random Captain of Guards in a virtually abandoned castle would know more than a Kingdom’s Prince, it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“… how do you know that name?” Oh, are you fucking kidding me! Sylas barely held himself back from rolling his eyes as Tenner asked him coldly. The man’s hand was already grasping at the handle, ready to take out the sword and likely chop Sylas’ head off. People here, Sylas mused, seemed to have a particular hard-on for chopping heads.
“Uh,” Sylas fought over the right answer. In the first place, was there a right answer? No matter what he said, since he had met the Captain just some fifteen minutes ago, it would feel cheap. “During the invasion, I heard someone say it reminded them of stories of Farseew the Horrible… so, I was curious… but there were no records, and anyone I asked claimed they didn't know."
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“…” the Captain took a long and hard stare into Sylas’ eyes, but the latter’s ‘I am completely innocent of any wrongdoing’ expression eventually won the man over, causing him to lift his hand off the blade and sigh lightly. “That’s not a name to be spoken of lightly. But, in all fairness, it’s likely just a folktale meant to scare folk.” I can aggressively assure you that it’s very much fucking real… nonetheless, Sylas grew extremely expectant, listening keenly.
“I first heard it, what? My second year here? It was one of the older Captains who shared the story with the rest of us one night when he got drunk,” Tenner said, a somewhat longing look emerging on his face. “Supposedly, some three-four hundred years ago, a man came limping from beyond the wall during a very stormy night. The castle took him in. The man had countless scars and even fresh wounds across his body, but the most striking feature of his was the long, straight, black hair that seemed to be dyed in ink.
"After the man recovered, he was given some menial jobs for a while before working his way up to become a Guard. All the while, he didn't say a word—most suspected that whatever he saw beyond the wall… muted him permanently. He worked hard, though, and so, nobody cared. After twenty or so years of pedantic service, he became one of the Four Captains—just a few days before one of the greatest Ghoulish Invasions the castle has ever recorded. Supposedly, thousands of ghouls came marching toward the walls, unbothered by the excessive rain.
“And just as the defense of the castle seemed all but imminent… Farseew kicked open the gates, seemingly unprompted. Instead of standing on the side of men, he sided with the Ghouls and began massacring everyone, laughing crazily all the while. In the end, however, he was a human and they were the Ghouls—and thus… they killed him and ate him too. The legend has it that his spirit still roams the castle, coming alive during the massive invasions and assisting Ghouls in the joyous slaughter of his fellow men. As I said, it's most likely just a folktale, but it's a bad omen to chat about him as to not tempt fate. Recently, though, fewer and fewer people seem interested in the tale, and, as such, us Captains mostly stopped sharing it down.”
Sylas felt ecstatic—not because of the horrible event that 100% happened—but because this was the easiest he'd ever solved a quest so far. All it took was just asking a question of the right person and bam, he knew the entire story of Farseew the Horrible. One thing, however, that he didn't know… was the 'Regent Lord' part.
“Did he have a title?” Sylas asked. “Something like ‘Regent Lord’ or such?”
“No,” Tenner shook his head. “As I said, he was just a Guard’s Captain. We are lucky to be afforded the ability to retire, let alone a title.”
Well, at least most of the history is unveiled, quickly finishing up with Tenner, Sylas withdrew to the lavish chambers and sat in the comfortable chair, aligning everything that he learned with his own little bits of speculation. There was a connection there—connection with how Farseew, seemingly out of nowhere, betrayed the humanity and joined the Ghouls in the invasion, and with how Baron Cyrs essentially did the same.
There was also the fact that Farseew came from 'beyond the wall'. Even though that sounded fancy, Sylas had, in fact, seen the map of the peninsula—'beyond the wall' was not at all what its name made it out to be. It was a twenty-thirty-mile stretch comprised of the forest facing the north-western wall, and the steep, tall cliffs facing the ocean beyond. That was also the mystery—where did all the Ghouls come from? To Sylas’ shock, no one seemed bothered or even confused by the fact that the Ghouls had nowhere but the ocean to come from. It was almost just an accepted fact that they just… ‘appeared’, so to say.
Furthermore, the point about Farseew effectively 'haunting' the castle was probably not exactly true. But Sylas couldn't just ignore it either—after all, one way or another, the spirit of someone who's been dead for hundreds of years did somehow end up inside a very-much-alive man, no matter how deeply buried. Considering the heavily circumstantial implications, Sylas would much rather bet on the fact that someone quite literally shoved the spirit into the Baron rather than the spirit just wandering into the man and it all just being a big coincidence.
The problem was… he couldn’t prove anything. Not without his favored excuse of ‘God told me’. And even though that might work on Valen, it had limitations—just as the Prince himself. What could anyone do against the seemingly undying spirit? But, more to the point, just who would go to so much trouble to take down this castle and, more importantly… why? There was a story there, Sylas knew—none of these things were coincidences. It all mattered. It was just that he was missing several key pieces of the puzzle, and he wasn’t going to get them shooting blindly in the dark.
He was pulled out of his thoughts abruptly by a screen that popped in front of him, the screen he was expecting ever since Tenner shared Farseew’s story with him.
You have completed ‘Monster in the Hiding’
Having learned the folktale-like history of Regent Lord Farseew the Horrible, your understanding of the world grows
Reward: dark spirits fear that which they are made of
New Quest: A Touch of Darkness
Find a way to subjugate Farseew the Horrible
Reward: a ‘Spirit Consolidating’ talisman