Christmas Special: Gifts, A Myth, And Questionable Hijinks

Christmas Special: Gifts, A Myth, And Questionable Hijinks

I'm Samaiel Curol, son of the late Sir Azador Curol, an honorable knight that served under the late Crown Lord Este family and then under the Holy Royal Crown Lord Ryder family. He was a respected warrior, a loving husband, a dedicated father, and a deep admirer of the most beautiful elven town in existence: Escanso.

And I shall follow in his footsteps.

Though Escanso is a gorgeous place, the Goddess of Piety once said that "only Heaven is heavenly," so we, keepers of peace, must maintain an eternal watch over the Realm. But she also said that "the doors to Hell are always open," and so, we must go further than merely maintaining order. It's our duty to act before harm is inflicted upon our subjects.

As the successor to my father, I've learned that reading reports from the Investigator's Officer and the Lord's Hall give me the pulse of the town, and the trained eye can spot problems before they arise like a healer with a high [Diagnosis]. These reports were also the source of the most outlandish adventures that my father shared with Mother and I, so every afternoon, I'm eager to read about what has happened in town.

The moment the royal family returned from the Sky Lands, Escanso boomed with business, so there are a lot of "interesting" events happening all over town...

But never have I been so puzzled with a report before.

"A noblewoman reports a break-in, but instead of something being stolen, she found in her daughter's room a wooden box wrapped in cheap leaf-paper, and inside, there was a vine choker, something her young daughter once mentioned she desired.

The noblewoman was most puzzled but also quite frightened by this intrusion and called for the Investigators' Office to inspect her home. But after a short visit, the Investigators found no sign of break-in and were also unable to come up with an explanation for this mystery.

Some Investigators suggested an elaborate prank from the noblewoman to entertain her daughter with a surprise gift, while others suggest the work of a young boy paramour born with the Fate of an assassin. But since no leads were found, they assuaged the concerned noblewoman and decided to archive the report."

A break-in to gift someone an item instead of steal it? As unheard of as Weepers who can [Blink], which appeared only twice during Crown Lord Mavel's rule!

But then I forget about all that, and my ears start to tingle with excitement as my mind focuses on the suggestion that a boy has done it. This sounds so not implausible that I believe it's actually a plausible explanation, though I believe that the boy's Fate is more closely tied towards thievery than assassination.

And I know exactly where such a promising rogue candidate would be found. It's a romantic tale that has happened many times more often than [Blink] Weepers!

I visit the orphanage and meet with the Matron.

"Surely you see the irony in asking me to find a child born with sneaking skills?" Matron Paticia wryly questions. She's a small, mature golden woman with a taste for cuteness, but that's merely a trap for her gaze is that of a worn but still very sharp sword who has seen more combat than a young knight like me.

And I politely correct her, "Rogue skills, not sneaking." Though I do appreciate her sense of humor. "This child is likely to be found inside a supposedly locked room or navigating across a building through the ceiling beams or roof, though they'll be certainly hard to find if they believe they're being hunted."

She delicately raises a curious eyebrow at me as I make my description, but then her expression freezes, and a strict motherliness gradually appears in her pretty, mature face. "Weeper's Dream, I might actually know a little one who could be your mark."

The good Matron dutifully takes me to the temple's library, then towards a darker section separated by bars and a locked door. But she suddenly stops before the door and takes a good look at the handle as she frowns.

"Look at this. There's dust on only one part of the handle, but the print is too small to be the hand of an adult, and we don't have any halflings or dwarves as scribes here," she carefully analyzes like a trained Investigator.

"Oh-ho, perhaps we found the little scamp already?" I ask lightheartedly, amused at her behavior.

She nods then puts on her Matronly mask and frowns disapprovingly as she barges in. "Hmph...! Joan! You shouldn't be here!" she shouts sternly.

"Ack!" we hear a boyish grunt then a flurry of steps as he attempts to run away.

But the Matron triumphantly announces with a wide grin, "I barred the window! Don't try it, or you'll get stuck!"

We hear the scrambling sounds of a boy climbing a bookcase, but then there's a silence followed by a thump as the boy jumps down onto the floor.

"I'm sorry..." he preemptively apologizes as he comes into view. Joan is a little silver elf boy, but his skin has a gentle roast of an imperial, and his steps have the elegant swagger of a feline, not the gentle composure of an elf, so I'd bet the tip of my long ear that one of his parents were a werecat from the capital. I used to see their kind with contempt for choosing to forgo elven purity, but after meeting with the Royal Ryders, I just don't know what to think anymore.

"You aren't, or you wouldn't have done this," she immediately retorts and glares at him, creating a stark contrast to her cute looks.

"But the books-..." the boy stubbornly begins.

"Are locked in here for a reason. If you want access to them, grow into a scribe first!" the stern Matron finishes and kneels to make him feel even harder the intensity of her glare.

"Awn... that's too boring...!" Joan grumbles and frowns as he looks away.

But then her expression softens, and she starts to exude pure motherliness. "Life is boring and safe. Those who try to make it exciting either die early or get locked up... so the most important thing you must learn is how to not get caught!" And she gives him a cheeky smile.

"Matron, really?" I blur out, in disbelief of my elven ears.

She stands up and flashes an impish grin, then becomes strict and motherly again. "I'm not encouraging him to steal, Sir Curol, but instead, I'm trying to get him to understand the consequences of being naughty. I can't tell him to not follow his Gods-given path, so I shall only teach him how to be safe on his journey."

This is a surprising amount of gentleness considering the stories we hear about the Matron. Many former orphans have joined the Townsguard or become adventurers, and a few even managed to enter the Lordsguard, all possibly following their parents' footsteps, so my father had a lot of contact with these formerly roguish children, giving him many stories to tell.

But there's no denying that she's a true mother. And of course, I'm unable to confess my thoughts to her.

So I simply accept that she knows best, "Very well. I can't honestly criticize you, especially not since I must make use of this child's knowledge."

"Uh, what...?" Joan mumbles confusedly and tilts his head.

And the Matron promptly follows up with a firm question, "Joan, my child, did you or any of your friends start to fancy a young noblegirl and give her a surprise gift?"

Then the boy answers so calmly that I instantly accept that he has no relation, but the contents still give me pause, "No, but we know that Claus has been giving surprise gifts to a lot of people in the Gloom."

"Who's 'Claus'...?" the Matron immediately asks concernedly.

But my ears tingle with excitement as my mind focuses on the word "Gloom." That's the slang for the bottom level of Escanso, the floor perpetually in the shadow of the upper layers, a dark, damp, and gloomy place, home to those at the bottom of the stairs of wealth.

And the setting of most of Father's stories.

I feel at home while walking through the night's Eia mist. I have a small talent in [Weaverism], allowing me to "see" through the white, smoky shroud, and this "sight" is such a unique sensation that I miss it dearly whenever I leave this town.

This is why I've always been such a child of the night. Nobody but Almaria and her [Weaverism] mages could catch me, but I quickly abandoned my roguish tendencies and decided to use this talent for good... and also to occasionally spy on girls.

But anyway... it's this talent that allows me to stroll through the Gloom alone and without care. The purple lights of the ever-present legumdinotes make the atmosphere so gloomy, but it's better than their absence for these plants are eaten by the residents in times of famine, so we've grown to fear the dark.

And just my luck, the place I'm going to is pretty dark, but deliberately so for the people in there aren't very fond of having their faces recognized.

The Vea Fofocaia (Gossiping Crones in Ingua) is a weird, infamous, but also quite useful establishment. We elves love to talk about intrigue and comment on each other's lives, so much so that the Gods gave us very long ears to listen better (and perhaps also eavesdrop better), and the Crones is a place where the commoners go to hear the salacious rumors and shocking news about all sorts of topics. As such, they tend to befall afoul of the nobility, who value their reputation very much, so the Crones prefer to remain in the dark, which means that people like me, sworn to a noble (and a royal one at that), are most unwelcome.

Still, I brave the Eia mist and cross the shady entrance to the shady establishment. I'm not wearing armor, so the muscular bouncers merely eye me with an analytical gaze, and my casual gait hides my noble background, allowing me to safely get past them.

After a short and also dark corridor, I open a heavy door, and the humming of a busy tavern leaks out along with the thick smoke of Eia (different from the mist of Eia). The Crones follows the "conversational tavern" style popularized by the imperials, so this place is uncomfortably crowded with tables, chairs, and people, and there's a constant background music to make it harder to eavesdrop, but at least the smoke of Eia is less insufferable than whatever the imperials like to smoke.

I'm not here to make conversation with any of the shaded or hooded gossipers here, so I promptly make my way to the stage. Then I locate the masked attendant and make my request in Ingua, "[I want to ask for rumors about a topic]." My commoner accent is a bit dusty and moldy, but it's workable.

"[The fee is ten silver coins]," she replies, exactly like how father told she did, so she has no suspicion of my true background.

I pay her, then she leads me into the stage, and our appearance silences the whole tavern, who eagerly await to hear what curious topic I'm bringing to them. Then we stop at the center, and she hands me a [Project Voice] magic tool.

I'm not scared of crowds, so I immediately begin my speech, "[I'm looking for any information or rumors on a certain Claus. They're known to be giving 'surprise gifts' to people in the Gloom and the only reason I know they're named 'Claus' is because they've also occasionally left cards saying 'Claus wishes you a merry day,' but that's all I know about them]."

But the reaction I receive is unexpected.

"[Don't snoop on Claus]!" a patron exclaims angrily.

"[Yeah, Claus is a good one]!" a second follows up.

"[Let Claus stay in the dark]!" a third demands

I try to memorize the faces of the ones speaking out, but the thick smoke, low illumination, and their choices of attire make it hard to do so. I also don't think they know anything significant about Claus, so interrogating them would be fruitless, anyway.

"Why do you protect them?" I inquire, trying to get any information on this "Claus" that I can.Fiind updated novels at novelhall.com

"[Why do you seek them]?!" a smart one ripostes.

"[Claus is disturbing the lake. I must get in contact with them before they meet a lurker from below]," I cryptically reply, but most of the patrons should know very well the meaning of my words, and those who don't can easily figure it out. This kind of speech is popular with the commoners, so it's more effective to speak like this than be straightforward.

"[Where's your shell, boy]?" an older female patron asks, and I tense up. She has successfully guessed my identity, so I carefully choose my next words, for my reply will dictate whether this foray is successful or not.

They're rightfully correct in being wary of knights, but I'm not just another servant of a proud noble, I'm an agent of the Holy Royal Ryders, and everything my father said about the royal family tells me that they're respected and venerated by the commoners, which is why he was so content in sacrificing his life for them. So, if I'm to believe that my father's loyalty had any meaning, then I must trust and rely on the Ryders' honor.

And I proudly confess, "[I'm Sir Samaiel Curol, son and successor of the late Sir Azador Curol, honorable knight that served the Este family and the Royal Ryder family]."

The whole tavern falls silent, but I find relief in the fact that they haven't immediately turned hostile.

Then a patron solemnly asks, "[Sir Azador was good to the Gloom and the people. Are you going to be like him]?"

I've clearly found the correct path, so I nod and boldly move forward, "[I will. Claus has acted upon a noblewoman's home, and I don't want them to stir the nobility any more, so I need to get in contact with Claus before this gets out of control]."

"[It makes sense]," the same patron calmly agrees.

"[I know as much about Claus as you do, but they're a good one, so keep this in mind]," another follows up.

"[Yeah, and if Claus gets done, we'll know who was responsible, so also keep this in mind]!" a more excitable patron cautions me, and others hum in agreement.

So I appease them, "[I will, you have my word as Sir Curol, and may the Gods observe me and judge me for my actions]." Then I feel my Thread being tied to my words as the Gods accept my vow.

"[Damn, he swore on the Gods]!" a cheerful patron exclaims.

And the air is filled with murmurs as they comment among each other.

Then, after a moment, I ask again, "[So, does anyone have any more information on Claus...]?"

But nobody answers, and they start to look around, surprised that the Crones actually don't have much to say about this wonderful person, so you imagine my surprise.

"I don't know much about 'Claus,' but I can help you find them," a large man states in Andraste as he stands, and I recognize the fellow.

"What were you doing there, Sir Nero Galvalas?" I question him the moment I close the door of my office in the Lord's Hall.

"Don't call me 'Sir.' I'm just a slave serving the Ryders," the bearded imperial calmly replies and obediently remains in place as I make my way to my seat.

"You're their spymaster, so don't try to be humble, it's unbecoming of you," I sternly retort and motion for him to take a seat.

He snorts, but simply accepts with a shrug, "Fine, fine..." Then we take our seats at the same time, and he promptly continues, "My trainees found out about that place while gathering information, and it sounded so interesting that I decided to scout it out myself."

Fortunately, our destination isn't too far since Claus has been combing through the middle-wealth neighborhood, which is where the Lord's Hall is located, so it only takes us a couple of minutes to reach the area where Nero's trainee was stationed.

And just as soon as we stop, a person suddenly lands before us, but we're in the main street, and there's no nearby tall building or tree for them to have jumped off from, unless they were either floating or their jump had astonishing horizontal distance. Then I see that the latter is the more likely answer since the trainee is a werecat, one that I recognize being a former criminal that the Royal Ryders brought from Mac Gantus so she may redeem herself, basically the same story as Nero.

"Which house, Harriet?" Nero promptly questions.

She points to a humble two-story house. "That one."

And I emphatically state, "We're barging in. We have to find the invisible thing you saw."

The werecat spy nods in understanding and describes, "It was small, no bigger than my head, and could possibly be winged since I heard a flap."

"A monster?" I question concernedly.

But she shrugs. "Possible."

So I caution them, "Then it might not be our Claus, but it's still a dangerous being that must be stopped!" Then I draw my sword and [Equip] my armor. "With me!"

The poor family is terrified of our intrusion, but I quickly soothe them while Nero and Harriet search for the monster. Nero has Dust of Appearance on his person, which I believe makes sense for a spy to have, so he promptly begins to spread it all over the house while Harriet uses her sharp senses to seek out the disturbance she previously spotted.

"FOUND IT!" Nero's muffled yell comes from above.

"I must go!" I state to the family and leave.

I [Rush] up the flight of stairs and find Nero and Harriet inside the child's room along with a small, winged, glowing ball, perched atop the wardrobe. The Dust sticks to the [Invisibility] and glows, so there's no mistaking it. It's our quarry.

"It's a Beholder! An invisible monster!" Harriet exclaims and charges forward, sword pointing upwards and ready to thrust while Nero follows closely behind.

"DON'T KILL IT!" I desperately bellow, making them both stop and turn around to attack me with their disbelieving glares. "IT COULD BE RELATED TO CLAUS, AND I GAVE MY WORD I'D BRING THEM NO HARM!"

"IT'S A MONSTER!" the big imperial man bellows back, his voice impressively powerful.

I become desperate to find an excuse, so I just use the first thing that comes to my mind, "BUT... IT'S NOT DOING ANYTHING!"

They both turn and stare at the glowing ball as it remains there, unmoving. Then we realize that this is actually pretty odd.

"Wait... you're right. It isn't even trying to run," Nero curiously remarks and takes a careful step forward.

"Alright, you're the boss," Harriet hums and steps back as she lowers her weapon.

Then we hear a *poof*, and the ball stops glowing as the Dust of Appearance falls down onto the wardrobe.

"What?!" Harriet hisses, incredulous.

And I can scarcely believe my eyes or my ears.

"Wait, wasn't that..." Nero begins.

"A summoned monster!" I finish and nearly stumble in shock.

I return to my office, alone, and a servant warns me that I have a guest waiting, but this is actually quite convenient, though it does give me a bit of dread.

The moment I enter the waiting room, "Nai" Caterina's high-level aura presses down on me, and I feel like a child before their stern mother. She's not angry; this is just how she usually is.

"Sir Curol, I heard that you were chasing after a supposedly 'holy' person? And also that you were going to speak to us about it?" the dignified Head Priest promptly questions me, and it takes a bit of effort to not immediately obey her.

But I sigh softly and let myself relax as I amusedly answer, "Ah, yes, I was. I'm going to meet with the 'holy person' now, so it'll be convenient if we go together as our words will have more impact for our... request."

Then I simply take a seat and serve myself some warm tea.

"Are you going to finish explaining yourself?" she questions, now deliberately putting a bit of pressure on me.

"I feel like it'll be funnier if I don't and just let you hear the whole story from the beginning," I mischievously reply. At least this much playfulness should be allowed, right?

"Have we learned something today, Wolfy?" Queen Alissa sternly scolds our Holy Lord-King.

But in his shame, he has shed his magnificent royal cloak and returned to being a young, boyish man corresponding to his age.

"Yes..." he embarrassedly coos. Then he glances at Her Highness, whose harsh gaze is unrelenting, and obediently recites what she wants to hear, "I learned not to invade people's homes, or to eavesdrop on their lives, even if it's to give them gifts... and also to talk to my sworn servants before performing pranks on my subjects."

Then Priestess Teresina actually shows a bit of kindness, thoroughly amused at the absurd story she has been told, and gives His Highness a sensible amount of praise, "You succeeded in creating the myth of Saint Claus, so I must commend you on that... but you also almost caused a riot, so-..."

"Wolfy, bad!" Queen Alissa scolds again, and the young royal woman looks like a genuine mother right now.

"Wolfy, bad..." Priestess Teresina amusedly repeats, like a kind grandmother observing her children and grandchildren.

I... didn't expect things to go this way, and I believe that I should never ever tell anyone what happened here.

But this makes me wonder, did Father also participate in any stories he wasn't allowed to tell?

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