Chaosbound: Elarith Chronicles

Ron and Markus: A Duo's Dedication

Ron offered Talia his help, but she gently declined, assuring him she was fine. With a respectful nod, Ron bid her farewell, thanking her for her time. He then turned to Markus, giving clear instructions. "Go to Lady Doriel's residence. Offer her help if she needs it. She's important to the children here."

Markus, ever reliable, agreed without hesitation. As Ron continued to interview other survivors, his usual sharp-edged humor was absent, replaced by a quiet remorse and unwavering determination. From a distance, Markus observed Ron, admiring how carefully he navigated the delicate emotions of Windmere's survivors.

Markus's Tale: Hope for the Children

Later, at the cliff's edge, Ron glanced at Markus. "What did you do there with the children?"

Markus leaned against the carriage, a small smile playing on his lips as he began to narrate his time with the kids. "The children were wary at first," he said, his voice calm yet warm. "But when I told them we were investigating and mentioned the Warrior Faction, their eyes lit up. Especially Evren—he seemed fascinated. He wished to become a warrior too." Markus paused, his expression softening as he recalled the child's excitement.

"To lift their spirits, I decided to tell them stories from our adventures," Markus continued. "Only the kid-friendly ones, of course. I... may have exaggerated a little," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "I made you the hero of the tales, Ron."

Ron chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course you did."

Markus laughed softly before continuing. "The kids were captivated. They cheered, they laughed—and they started looking up to you as a hero. Evren especially. So I gave him something—a little crest I made with my own hands. Nothing fancy, just a token of encouragement. I told him, 'If you want to be trained as a warrior, come to our land and show them this crest. Speak the name of Hero Ron and his sidekick Markus, and tell them we invited you to join. Ask for me specially.' His face lit up like the stars above."

Ron listened intently, a faint smile playing on his lips. Markus continued, his tone steady. "After that, I helped with the heavier tasks around the house—things only I could manage. Lady Doriel didn't ask much, but she was kind enough to express her gratitude. She said my presence gave the children hope, even just for today."

Ron's Reflection: A Bond Forged in Justice

Ron's chest swelled with pride as Markus narrated the story. He glanced at Markus with a thoughtful expression before speaking. "You did great, Markus. You've given those kids hope—and that's no small thing."

Markus shrugged modestly. "Well, the stories I told them were about you being the hero, so they all look up to you now."

Ron laughed, a light and genuine sound. "Well, Markus, let's not disappoint them," he said with conviction.

For a moment, Ron reminisced, his thoughts drifting back to the time Markus had come to his rescue when he was being bullied. That memory brought a grin to his face, and he chuckled again as he turned to his trusted friend. "You truly are a man of justice, Markus. Someone who cares deeply for people. I'm glad you're by my side."

Markus smirked slightly, looking out at the sea. "And I'm glad I'm here, Ron. We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

Ron nodded, the wind whipping around them as the waves crashed against the rocks below. This was one of those moments that reminded him of the strength of their bond. They weren't just companions on a mission—they were the best of friends. Together, they would face whatever lay ahead, driven not just by duty, but by the shared determination to bring light and hope to those who had lost it.

The Night of Revelation: Unraveling the Truth

As night deepened in the abandoned house they had taken refuge in, the wind howled outside, rattling loose boards and broken windows. Inside, Ron was back to his usual self—pacing and murmuring, piecing together the fragments of information he had painstakingly gathered. Markus, seated nearby, kept a watchful eye on him while attending to his own tasks, accustomed to Ron's trancelike deductive states.

Ron paused in front of a dusty old shelf, his sharp eyes catching the glint of something faintly reflective. Stepping closer, he brushed away the dirt and debris to reveal a religious artifact—its surface engraved with the unmistakable symbol of the sun. He stared at it, his mind racing.

"Sun... the Light..." Ron murmured, the words slipping out almost unconsciously. Then his thoughts shifted sharply, connecting to something buried deep in his memories. Malice... and the Luminaries. He remembered his father's words, spoken long ago: "The Luminaries once destroyed old records of the ancients, the gods, and anything that didn't serve their agenda. They burn what they can't control."

It was as if a spark ignited in Ron's mind. He froze, his breathing quickening as pieces began to fall into place. The sorrowfiends starting inside Windmere, the rumors of suppressed knowledge, the tragic timing of the Luminaries' presence after every calamity—it all seemed too coincidental to ignore.

Then, as if struck by lightning, Ron shouted, "Luminaries!"

A Heated Revelation: Connecting the Dots

Markus, startled from his quiet tasks, turned to Ron with wide eyes. "Luminaries? What?"

Ron spun around, his eyes alight with intensity. "Markus, don't you see? Everything—it's all connected! The sorrowfiends, the destruction, the tragedies—they're always there, always involved."

Markus raised a skeptical eyebrow but didn't interrupt as Ron began pacing again, his words tumbling out in a flood of logic and conviction. "It's their history," Ron said, his voice gaining momentum. "My father told me—they've destroyed ancient records. Entire archives burned because they didn't fit the Luminaries' narrative. Why? To control knowledge. To shape their ideals as the only truth worth worshiping."

Markus crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful but cautious. "Ron, isn't that just what they do? They're healers, messengers of the light. The Nomad Healers help in the same way—food, care, shelter. You can't ignore the good they do."

"Yes, they help," Ron admitted, his tone sharpening. "But think about it—every time tragedy strikes, they're there. And yes, the Nomad Healers also help, but the Nomads don't destroy knowledge. They don't burn records to fit their agenda. The Luminaries do. And look at this..." He gestured toward the sun artifact, holding it up as though it was the missing piece. "A symbol of their light, found right in the heart of this chaos."

Markus frowned slightly, trying to keep up with Ron's leaps in logic. "And you think they have something to do with the sorrowfiends?"

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Ron nodded, his intensity unwavering. "Yes, or at least they benefit from the tragedies. Think about it, Markus. Who gains the most from all of this? Every disaster, every town devastated—they're there, offering salvation, gathering followers. They're not just healers—they're consolidators of power."

He pointed at his hastily drawn notes spread out on the table, linking ideas and evidence with lines and annotations. "Who benefits when knowledge of the past is erased, when people are desperate and willing to follow any beacon of hope? The Luminaries. They gain more followers, more influence."

Markus rubbed his chin, his skepticism giving way to cautious consideration. He couldn't deny that Ron's deductions, while ambitious, were compelling. "You might have a point," Markus said finally. "But it's still a lot to take in."

Ron smirked, his usual confidence returning. "That's why I have you—to keep me grounded while I dive headfirst into madness."

Markus chuckled despite himself. "Well, someone has to. Just don't start screaming Luminaries in public. I don't think they'd take kindly to your theories."

Ron laughed, a genuine, warm sound. "Don't worry, Markus. For now, I'll keep it between us. But this... this could be bigger than anything we've uncovered so far."

The night continued, the two friends debating, theorizing, and piecing together the puzzle. The weight of Ron's deductions hung heavily in the room, but so did a sense of purpose. Whatever the truth behind the sorrowfiends and the Luminaries, the duo knew they were one step closer to uncovering it—and they would face whatever came next together, their friendship stronger than ever.

A Morning of Decisions and Interruptions

The early morning light bathed the ruins of Windmere in a faint golden glow, though it did little to soften the grim reality of the town's devastation. Ron and Markus, preparing to depart, busied themselves loading their belongings into the carriage. Ron, carrying a heavy crate alongside Markus, seemed lost in thought. His mind churned through the details of his investigation, revisiting the evidence gathered from survivors and his theories about the Luminaries.

His conclusion, while intriguing, wasn't certain. "It's not enough proof," Ron murmured to himself as he placed the crate in the carriage. He had included the Luminaries among the list of possible suspects, but their involvement wasn't concrete. "For now, we'll follow the trail from the evidence and the information we have," he said aloud, voicing his thoughts. His eyes flicked briefly to Markus, who was securing the carriage with expert precision.

Ron trusted Markus implicitly. He knew that Markus, as always, had already sent their report back to the Rugal Estate, ensuring their findings and theories were safely recorded. It gave Ron some comfort, knowing their work was being tracked back home. But with Windmere's ruins behind them, where would they go next?

"Maybe we should go back to Havenford," Ron suggested, his tone contemplative. He glanced at Markus for confirmation.

Markus looked up, nodding. "Sure. Now?"

The Messenger's Urgency: A New Lead

Just as Ron and Markus prepared to leave, the sound of hooves thundering against the rocky path caught their attention. The pair turned, their hands instinctively falling to their weapons, though they relaxed slightly at the sight of horseriders approaching with haste. The riders, clad in simple but sturdy travel gear, shouted as they drew near.

"Sir Ron! Sir Ron!" the lead rider called out, his voice urgent. "We are from Havenford! We bring news from the Elder!"

Ron and Markus exchanged quick glances before Ron stepped forward. The rider dismounted swiftly, pulling a parchment from his satchel. He handed it to Ron with an air of importance, his expression serious. "One of the witnesses we encountered recently has come forward with new revelations. The Elder instructed me to find you immediately and deliver this. He said you would understand its significance."

Ron took the parchment, his curiosity piqued, and unfurled it carefully. Markus, standing nearby, kept his eyes on the riders, ensuring no threats lingered. The parchment bore the insignia of Havenford's Elder Eldric Vahn, and the message within began to reveal itself.

The Message Unfolds: Malrik Veylshade

The duo paused, the wind carrying the whispers of waves in the distance, as Ron's eyes scanned the first few words of the Elder's cryptic message. The rider stood silently, awaiting further instruction, as the weight of the revelation lingered in the air.

Dear Sir Ron,

I trust this letter finds you in good health.

The other day, the witness Lola Madr awakened after what we now understand was a possession. She has provided a new testimony, recounting what she experienced during that time. Remarkably, Lola appeared to be fully aware of her ordeal while possessed. During her struggle, her latent divinity worked to suppress and resist the malignant influence of the sorrowfiend—a feat that likely saved her.

Please keep the contents of this letter strictly confidential. The messenger I've sent to you is trustworthy and bound by loyalty to me; you have my word that he has not, and will not, read its contents. For now, let this information remain between us until we can verify its full extent.

Lola Madr, as we discovered, is an elementalist and a latent divinant whose powers only recently awakened. This may explain why she successfully managed to regain control of her own body. Among the details she shared, she provided a description of a specific person—captured through elemental projection, with the aid of a local elementalist divinant who assisted her in creating an image of the individual responsible for implanting the malice into her.

To pursue this lead further, I sought the assistance of our mutual acquaintance—the broker. I paid a significant price for his services and obtained results, though the information provided is limited to what I could afford. Nevertheless, we were able to trace the origins of the individual in question.

The name we received is Malrik Veylshade.

Please reflect on this information and consider whether it aligns with anything you've uncovered in your own investigation. I trust your insight and thoroughness to unravel the implications of this revelation.

Yours in trust,

Elder Eldric Vahn

Decisions and Uncertainty: A New Path

Ron stood tall as the messenger finished his task, bowing slightly before burning the letter on the Elder's orders. The flames flickered briefly before consuming the parchment entirely. The rider then spoke, his tone firm yet courteous, "We will return now, Sir Ron. Our errands end here."

Ron nodded, his expression steady. "Thank you. Please extend my gratitude to Elder Eldric Vahn." As the riders mounted their horses and disappeared into the horizon, Ron took a moment of quiet reflection. In his heart, he felt immense gratitude for the Elder's efforts.

Turning to Markus, who was busy fastening their belongings onto the carriage, Ron spoke with renewed determination. "We have a new lead," he said, the weight of the information evident in his tone. "I trust that this requires verification. Malrik Veylshade—that's the name we've been given. But where do we go from here?"

He paused for a moment before adding, "Quick—send a message back to the Rugal Estate. Let them search the archives for any clues about Malrik. My father, Aric, has access to them, and this couldn't come at a better time. He's already on his way to meet with the Bladelords and the Swordking. If he finds nothing himself, he can raise the issue directly with them during the meeting."

Markus nodded, placing a hand on the carriage as he processed Ron's words. "Alright, I'll send the message. But you know it'll take days before we hear back from them, right?"

"Right," Ron replied, rubbing the back of his neck as frustration crept in. "That's the problem. We're back to square one. Malrik Veylshade is a great lead, but we can't let ourselves get stuck waiting on answers. We need to keep moving."

The Bigger Picture: Relentless Pursuit

As Ron considered their next steps, the importance of his father's role in this investigation grew clearer in his mind. Aric wasn't just a warrior; he was a trusted figure with deep connections to the Bladelords and, by extension, the Swordking himself. If anyone could bring the name Malrik Veylshade to the forefront of higher councils and investigative forces, it was his father.

Even with this reassurance, Ron's unease lingered. Despite the lead being valuable, it still felt like chasing shadows. "Markus," Ron said, breaking the quiet, "we'll follow what we have, but we can't just rely on this one clue. It's a start, yes, but we need to keep our momentum."

Markus, as steady and practical as ever, nodded. "Then we keep going. No matter where the trail leads."