Chapter 52 What Watches, Who Acts

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In the sky, a fortress floated, secluded from the rest of the world, surrounded by a swirl of clouds that slowly spun around its immaculate architecture. It was forged of stone so smooth and pure, glistening white, that such a place resembled the keep of Heaven.

Within its impenetrable walls, an illustrious throneroom awaited; the floors were of rich marble that echoed with each step the one that approached the throne took.

Statues stood tall on both sides of the chamber; colossal sets of knight armor, forged of rich steel.

Sitting on the lone throne was a wizened man of a long, aged beard of snow and lengthy hair to match; his garments were as seraphic as his domain in their silver-and-white design.

“Lord Aelor,” the visitor to the chamber knelt.

The aged man, resting his cheek against his jewelry-covered hand, gestured for his subordinate to stand.

“Rise,” Lord Aelor commanded.

A simple nod came from the visitor dressed in the all-white cloak as he stood to his feet.

“What is it?” Lord Aelor asked.

The messenger paused for a moment before speaking, “…It’s recently been discovered, Lord Aelor: another wielder of ‘that one’s’ power.”

“Mmm…” Lord Aelor’s eyebrow twitched as he listened closely.

“It’s the son of the Dragonhearts; Julius Dragonheart’s offspring,” the messenger said, “Traces of that power were found in a cavern; it seems the boy has awakened his gift from ‘that one.'”

This news seemed to disgruntle the man of authority who sat on his throne within the sky, though it was difficult to tell through his stone-like expressions.

Lord Aelor sat up, “He’s meddling with the balance of the world again, I see. This isn’t the first awakening from the last few years. If ‘that one’ is making his move, then something disastrous is coming.”

“What should we do, Lord Aelor? Should we eliminate the Dragonheart boy?” The messenger asked.

The throne occupant thought about it for a moment before sighing out, “…It is not our place as the overseers of balance to act so hastily. Perhaps the birth of the Dragonheart is a necessity for something yet to come, but perhaps his birth is also one of destruction. Simply, we do not know yet.”

“Then…?” The messenger lingered his question.

A snap of Lord Aelor’s fingers echoed through the exuberant throne room, bouncing off of the marble architecture.

The simple gesture caused a figure to appear in front of the steps leading to the throne as if warping; it was a woman with flowing, pale-white hair of a divine complexion.

“Lord Aelor,” she said.

She possessed golden irises that glowed like amber that reflected moonlight, paired with unique, cross-shaped pupils. Fitting to the nature of the sky-inhabiting fortress, she was dressed in a lavish, snow-white uniform that was half a dress and half a garment optimized for combat.

“Crescentia,” Lord Aelor called her name, “I am appointing you to keep watch over a boy bearing the name ‘Emilio Dragonheart’. Keep your distance and do not interfere with his life–that is, unless he is deemed to be a threat to balance. If you suspect him of being allied with ‘that one’ or if he presents destructive tendencies, eliminate him.”

Crescentia slowly nodded her head, “Understood.”

Just like that, the woman, who looked no older than her early twenties, but possessed a demeanor ageless in grace, warped away in a flash.

The messenger gulped as he thought to himself, “Crescentia…One of the Sentinels? I see; Lord Aelor is enacting supreme caution.”

Unknown to the two within the carriage, the golden eyes of the Sentinel watched over them from afar.

It didn’t take long for the carriage to find its way out of the occupied part of Yullim, leaving them passing through between the colossal mountains that loomed overhead.

He was already a ways away from home; the pace at which the powerful steed that pulled the carriage moved made sure of that. Through his second life thus far, he’d lived mostly sheltered around his home and sometimes going into town, but that was the extent of it for the most part.

It was different now–he was on a fast track from a long journey away from his home and family.

…Can’t be a kid forever, I suppose, he thought.

“…So, you’re a friend of Father?”

He tried to make conversation with the mysterious, platinum-eyed man who was lounging on the seats across from him, reading some sort of journal.

“Friend?…I guess you can say that. Not that I haven’t seen Julius in over fifteen years,” Vandread replied without much care in his voice.

“…If that’s the case, then why didn’t you talk to him when you picked me up?” He asked.

Vandread stayed silent, reading his tattered journal before answering, “Who knows.”

…How am I supposed to hold a conversation like this?! I’m already inexperienced with people as it is! He thought.

Any attempt at conversation was swept away just like that by the abrasive man’s uncaring attitude.

Even as somebody who wasn’t particularly an extrovert or even close to one for that matter, the silence was gnawing as the only noise that met his ears was the sound of the horse trotting and the carriage wheels rolling. Every now and then, pages flipping was audible, but that was it.

“What’re you reading?” He asked.

Vandread finished reading the pages he was on before glancing up, “A book.”

“…I can see that,” he wryly chuckled.

It was awkward, to say the least, and what certainly didn’t help was his own body speaking up–GROWL.

A small tint of his cheeks came as he covered his stomach, letting out an awkward laugh as he looked up at Vandread.

The dark-skinned man glanced at him, looking as if he was trying to ignore him by reading his book, but giving in as he snapped his fingers.

“You’re hungry?” Vandread asked.

Just like that, the carriage stopped moving at just the simple signal given by the man.

…Seriously, how well trained is that horse? He wondered.

He nodded, still embarrassed, “…Yeah.”

It had been since morning that he’d eaten, and it was already night outside–though if it wasn’t obvious from a glance out of the window of the carriage, it was by the crickets.

“Let’s go, then,” Vandread said, standing up from his seat.

“Huh?”

For some reason, he thought the man already had some food with him, especially since he had come all this way already, but that didn’t seem to be the case as Vandread stretched his neck and pulled his hood over his head.

“I thought you were hungry–get up. We’re going to hunt,” Vandread told him.

“…Alright,” he nodded.

It was definitely unorthodox, to say the least. As he followed the man out of the carriage, it seemed they had stopped in the middle of a dense forest amidst the trail. Under the curtain of the night, it was almost impossible to understand his surroundings as he stuck close to the scar-faced man.