She smiled in relief then got up. She picked up the damp cloth and a basin. Giving me a final glance she left the room. i watched as she left then turned my attention back to the system.
I felt the urge to find a sword and try to practice my swordsmanship. I felt the overwhelming urge, much of it inherited from Lucien, to make a break for the Knight realm.
However that was bound to take a long time. The system offered the Ievel up in an instant, however looking at the price, I almost gave up. I needed more money.
I needed to talk to Garron.
As if if by divine intervention. The door opened to reveal Garron, his ever present dark armor shining with a dull glow.
He found me on my feet, leaning against the polished bedpost like I belonged there.
He was predictably shocked.
"Lord above," he muttered. "You look... awake."
"Awake and angry," I said. "Tell me—how far does Reynard's reach extend within this estate?"
Garron looked at me the same way Selene had.
"He tried to kill me, Twice." the last word I spat out with venom. "I am not that naïve, Garron. Death opened my eyes."
Garron looked impressed and proud. "About damn time."
Thinking about my question. He scowled. "Too far. He's replaced your personal staff, stripped most of the old guard. I'm one of the few left with direct loyalty to your father."
"And the council?"
"Split. Most assume you're a weak heir on your own. Reynard's working to delay your inheritance—says your illness made you unfit to lead."
"And my assets?"
Garron was a bit surprised. Lucien previously didn't care for that. In fact although the previous Lucien was politically savvy he had no experience, he trusted Reynard.
If he wanted something he asked Reynard, giving him most of the authority.
"Only the allowance that Reynard is forced to give. He tried as much as he could to thin it to a thousand gold coins per month."
I gritted my teeth. Of course he'd cut off my purse. The system would be useless if I couldn't pay into it.
But there were ways around that.
"Then it's time to be clever. I remember that there were hidden treasuries, places that kept treasures."
Garron blinked. "I don't know. Only the family head knew where those were. Most can only be accessed through the signet ring —"
"Which Reynard took," I finished grimly. "But I have the memory now."
I held out my hand. A small shimmer of light danced around my fingers as I traced the rune into the air. The air shimmered.
I felt something resonate from certain locations in the estate. The feeling was poignant and resonant. Tied to my very blood.
I grinned in triumph. "Garron. We are going treasure hunting."
Garron's expression was serious, "We have to be careful. Your uncle's men patrol the estate."
Garron's brows furrowed at my declaration, but he nodded without hesitation. "Then let's move quickly. Before Reynard gets wind of this."
He moved to the wall, pressing on a carved molding I hadn't noticed before. A panel slid open with a soft click, revealing a narrow servant's corridor, cloaked in shadows and dust.
"We'll use the hidden paths," he said. "Your father had them built to avoid assassins. Ironic, isn't it?"
I gave a sharp smile. "Let's hope they're still good at that."
The corridors were tight and dim, lit only by slits that let in stray beams of moonlight. I followed behind Garron, my legs still shaky but growing stronger with each step. The system had done more than revive me—it had enhanced me. My senses felt sharper. My awareness deeper. Every creak of wood and shift of stone registered like thunder in my ears.
Garron raised a hand. We froze.
A pair of Reynard's men patrolled the hallway just a few feet from the hidden slit. I recognized one—Sir Bront, a former loyalist now wrapped in Reynard's black cloak. Their voices were low, but clear.
"…You hear the boy's awake?" Bront murmured.
"Rumors," the other muttered. "Reynard says it's a stunt. The poison should've killed him."
I clenched my fists. Not this time.
They passed, their boots echoing down the corridor until silence returned.
We slipped out through an old wine cellar, then deeper into the estate's underbelly. I guided Garron using the pulsing aura I felt from the system. It tugged at my blood like a compass—faint but insistent. We moved through hidden chambers, unused stairwells, and forgotten rooms thick with cobwebs and time.
Finally, behind a cracked mosaic wall in the eastern wing, we found it.
A family crest—D'Aureville's lion rampant—was carved in the stone. I traced it with my fingers, letting my blood hum with memory. The symbol pulsed faintly, glowing as my system interfaced with the old magic.
The wall rumbled, grinding open to reveal a vault door laced with silver runes.
Garron stepped forward, awed. "By the gods. I never knew this was here."
I stepped closer, placing my palm on the center sigil. The resonance pulsed outward. The lock clicked.
And then… a low, inhuman snarl echoed from behind us.
The air thickened. The torches flickered.
A shape detached itself from the shadows near the ceiling—a grotesque creature of mottled blue scales, sinew, and ethereal eyes. It dropped to the ground with a thud, wings flaring behind it. The beast was no mere animal. It was bound to the vault's magic, a guardian summoned by bloodlines long past.
It shrieked.
I stumbled back instinctively, my mind flaring with danger signals.
"Get behind me!" Garron barked.
He stepped between me and the creature, dark armor shifting, absorbing light like a void. With a flash, his greatsword swept from its sheath, runes along its length glowing with righteous fury.
The beast lunged.
Garron met it midair, their collision cracking stone. Steel met claw in a flurry of sparks. Garron's strength was immense, but the guardian was fast—unnaturally so. It darted, slashed, twisted through the air like a serpent with wings.
Even injured, I could see the fight for what it was: a blur of reflex, muscle, and deadly intent.
The creature shrieked again, wings buffeting the chamber. It struck Garron in the ribs—his armor dented—but he gritted his teeth and planted his feet.
"You call that a hit?" he growled.