Chaosbound: Elarith Chronicles

A Messenger's Arrival: Markus and Ron's Moment Interrupted

Within the courtyard of the Familia Rugal estate, the steady clang of steel echoed as Markus repeated his swordsmanship drills. His brow furrowed with focus, his technique sharpening with each repetition.

Across the stone path, Ron, fresh from the shower and still drying his hair, grinned mischievously. "Wohoo! Working hard there, mate. Must've done that a thousand times today," he quipped.

Markus paused briefly, his tone cutting but not unkind. "Not all of us are geniuses like you, Ron. If I want to keep up, maybe I'll need a million tries."

Ron smirked, the glint of jest in his eyes as he replied, "Good luck with that," his tone playfully mocking.

Their banter was interrupted by a messenger from the Familia Rugal council, personally overseen by Eramis Kael, Lord Aric's most trusted advisor. The young man bowed respectfully and handed Ron a sealed parchment bearing the insignia of Familia Rugal. Breaking the seal, Ron's playful expression hardened as his eyes scanned the contents.

The message carried Lord Aric's instructions: the Swordking's decree demanded unwavering loyalty to the Malice Bloom. Neither the Bladelords nor the broader estate could fully support their efforts concerning Malrik Veylshade. However, Lord Aric had entrusted Eramis Kael and the council with the discretion to spare resources for the investigation, so long as it didn't conflict with the decree. It was a subtle but meaningful act of defiance, prioritizing his sons without overtly opposing the Swordking.

As Ron lowered the parchment, disappointment flickered across his face. "The council will help where they can," he said solemnly, "but it's limited. Father's hands are tied."

Markus stepped closer, determination burning in his eyes. "What does that mean for us?"

Ron exhaled deeply, the weight of their circumstances pressing on him. "It means most of this will fall to us. If Kael and the council uncover something, great. If not…" He paused, glancing back toward the messenger. "Father's counting on us to figure this out."

Markus placed a firm hand on his brother's shoulder. "Then we'll do what needs to be done. With or without their help."

As the messenger departed, the shadow of Malrik Veylshade grew ever darker, but the bond between the brothers held steady against the encroaching storm.

Charting the Boundaries: Ron's Insight and Markus's Naivety

Within the quiet confines of Windmere, the duo found themselves in deep contemplation. Ron, seated at the weathered wooden table, unfolded a worn map of the land—the boundaries of the five faction territories clearly marked. With practiced precision, he began flagging areas where the sorrowfiends had been reported, the ink bleeding faintly into the parchment.

Across the room, Markus, still energized from his sword drills, wandered over. He leaned over Ron's shoulder, squinting at the map. "Are we seriously planning to travel the whole continent? Looks like you're only marking the five territories."

Ron sighed, shaking his head at his brother's naivety. "Markus, you really don't pay attention, do you? It's a taboo to go beyond the borders of these territories. The supreme heads of all factions agreed—it's forbidden by treaty."

Markus raised an eyebrow, visibly surprised. "Oh? Never knew that. Glad you told me."

Ron shot him a sideways glance, his tone both incredulous and teasing. "Didn't you study with me?"

Markus scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Ah, sorry. Wasn't paying attention. But seriously, thanks for telling me—I wouldn't want my head rolling on the ground for stepping outside the treaty's bounds."

Ron chuckled softly, his earlier exasperation melting into amusement. "Just stick with me, Markus. I'll make sure you keep your head right where it belongs."

The brothers shared a brief laugh, their lighthearted exchange momentarily lifting the weight of their impending decisions. But as Ron returned his focus to the map, the shadow of the sorrowfiends once again drew their attention, the uncharted path ahead heavy with uncertainty.

Connecting the Dots: Ron's Analysis and Markus's Curiosity

The table in front of Ron was a battlefield of scattered notes, hastily marked maps, and half-empty ink bottles. With a furrowed brow, he sorted through the mess, trying to make sense of it all. Markus leaned over, peeking at a piece of parchment Ron had just discarded.

"So," Markus began, "what do we have so far?"

Ron sighed, picking up a report. "A lot of useless scraps, for one. Take this: someone swears they saw a sorrowfiend lurking near a windmill. Apparently, it was... spinning the blades." He raised an eyebrow at Markus, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Sure, Markus, maybe the fiends are tired of spreading sorrow and just want to produce flour now."

Markus snorted, trying to keep a straight face. "Multitalented creatures, I guess."

"Then there's this one." Ron held up another sheet, his voice heavy with exasperation. "Reports of Malrik Veylshade riding a 'shadowy wolf' through a forest at midnight. Dramatic? Yes. Helpful? Not remotely."

"Maybe he's starting a petting zoo," Markus offered with a shrug.

Ron shot him a look but smirked despite himself. "And this—my favorite—apparently one of the Luminaries was spotted 'acting strange.' No other details. Just 'strange.' What am I supposed to do with that? Did they trip over their robe? Forget their line in a speech?"

Markus laughed lightly but noticed Ron's mood shift as he tossed the papers aside. "Okay, jokes aside, what do we actually know?" Markus asked, his tone softening.

Ron straightened, his demeanor becoming serious as he pointed to the map on the table. "This is where we focus. All the scattered nonsense doesn't matter if we can't connect the dots. But we do have three key leads."

He marked the first point on the map with his quill. "First, Malrik Veylshade. Everything points to him being one of the three beings spreading the sorrowfiends. He's dangerous, and he's in this up to his neck."

The next mark came quickly. "Second, the Luminaries. Their involvement isn't confirmed, but there's enough suspicion around them that we can't ignore it. Whether they're aiding Malrik or working for their own ends, they're tied into this somehow."

Finally, Ron gestured to the wide swaths of territory marked in ink. "And third, the areas affected. Most of the sorrowfiend attacks are concentrated in lands belonging to the Bladelords and the Divinants. A few smaller territories have been hit, but those two seem to be the primary targets."

Markus nodded, his earlier amusement giving way to thoughtful contemplation. "Why Bladelords and Divinants? What do they have in common?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't know yet. But until we figure that out, it's like chasing shadows. All we can do is focus on these three leads and see where they take us."

The brothers stared at the map in silence for a moment, the gravity of their task settling over them like a stormcloud. The nonsense reports were a distraction, but beneath the clutter lay a thread of truth—one they had to follow before it was too late.

Charting the Map: Ron's Recitation of the Five Factions

Ron spread the map across the table once again, his finger tracing the well-worn lines that divided the five faction territories. With practiced precision, he began to recite the divisions, a weight of familiarity in his tone.

"To the west, we have the Warriors' stronghold," Ron began, tapping the edge of the map where rugged mountains bordered sprawling plains. "Their lands are harsh, just like them. Strength and resilience define everything there."

His finger moved eastward, pointing to the heart of the map. "This is the Luminaries' mainland. Think of it as the cradle of intellect and mystical power. They control the flow of knowledge and influence far beyond their borders."

Shifting south, he indicated the lower regions of the map. "Here's the Elementalists' domain, where the elements themselves obey their will. They've tamed deserts and jungles alike, creating a land as volatile as their craft."

Ron paused as his hand moved to the north, where the lines blurred into unclaimed spaces. "The north is... complicated. It's a mixed territory—fragments of influence from all factions. Three of the great powers hold sway here: the Warriors, the Luminaries, and the Elementalists. It's chaotic, but also a battleground for control."

Markus tilted his head. "And the other two factions? You're leaving something out."

Ron nodded, a glimmer of respect in his voice. "The Nomad Healers and the Eclipseborn. They don't have territories—never needed them. They're Divinants, and their role in world decisions is absolute. No matter where they roam, their authority is recognized. They're not outsiders; they're equal to the factions with lands of their own."

Markus frowned, leaning over the map. "That's because of the treaty, right? The agreement between the supreme heads?"

"Exactly," Ron confirmed, his expression firm. "It's part of the treaty. The Nomad Healers and Eclipseborn may not claim land, but their wisdom and judgment shape the course of this world as much as any territory-bound faction. It's why they're so important—and why no one dares undermine them."

The brothers studied the map in silence for a moment, the weight of the factions' histories and politics settling over them. The boundaries, while clear on parchment, hinted at the deeper complexities and fragile balance that defined their world.

Urgency of the Malice Bloom: Ron's Resolve

Ron leaned heavily against the table, his gaze fixed on the map but his thoughts racing beyond its borders. "The Malice Bloom—" he murmured, his voice tense. "The Swordking hasn't given a date, but the Bloom is coming. We can't ignore it. If it arrives before we solve this, everything will spiral out of control."

Markus stepped closer, his brow furrowing as he studied the marked territories. "But without a timeline, how do we plan? How do we prioritize?"

Ron exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. "That's exactly the problem. The Swordking's decree makes the Bloom the priority, but the sorrowfiends don't wait for schedules—they spread. And Malrik Veylshade? He's out there, playing his part in all this. If we don't act now, the Bloom might overshadow everything else, and then we'll lose any chance of solving this."

Markus placed a firm hand on Ron's shoulder, grounding him. "We'll figure it out. Malrik, the Luminaries, the territories—all of it. You're right, though. We don't have time to sit and hope the council connects the dots."

Ron nodded, his resolve hardening. "The council will do what they can, but we need to start moving. Even if we can't solve the whole puzzle, we have to make progress. The Bloom's arrival could change everything—not just for the factions but for the world."

Markus straightened, his twin swords gleaming faintly in the torchlight. "Then let's focus on what we know. Malrik, the Luminaries, the targeted territories—we start there."

Ron tightened his grip on the map, his determination unwavering. "Agreed. The Bloom is coming, but until it does, we fight back. For the factions, for the estate, for our family."

The Next Step: Havenford and the Pursuit of Answers

Ron rolled up the map with careful precision, his resolve unshaken. "Havenford it is, then," he said. "If we're going to crack this case, we need to start getting direct answers—and Lola Madr, the Divinant, might hold the key."

Markus adjusted the grip on his twin swords, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "What do we even ask her? Divinants don't just hand over secrets like candy."

"We ask her about the sorrowfiends," Ron replied decisively, his voice sharpening. "And about Malrik Veylshade—his movements, his intentions, anything she knows. Divinants don't operate blindly. If there's a connection, she might have seen it, or she might know someone who has."

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Markus tilted his head, thinking. "And the information brokers? You really think they'll have anything worthwhile?"

Ron shrugged, his tone pragmatic. "If Lola Madr doesn't give us what we need, the brokers might. Havenford isn't short on contacts—it's chaotic, but it's where whispers turn into stories. Malrik, the Luminaries, the attacks—they might know where the threads meet. We just have to be willing to pay their price."

Markus smirked, his confidence returning. "Then let's get moving. Havenford's waiting, and if there's one thing I know, it's that time isn't on our side."

Meeting Lola Madr: Faelyn Riversong's Revelation

The streets of Havenford hummed with quiet activity as Ron and Markus arrived at the dwelling of Elder Eldric Vahn, a stately figure who bore the wisdom of ages in his gentle demeanor. The elder greeted them warmly, his hands clasped in a gesture of respect. Ron acknowledged him with a slight bow.

"Thank you for your message, Elder Vahn," Ron said, his tone courteous but purposeful. "We greatly appreciate your efforts in reaching us."

Eldric Vahn inclined his head, his expression calm and knowing. "It was my duty, young master. And I trust your journey here was uneventful?"

Ron nodded, exchanging brief pleasantries before his tone grew more resolute. "We're here to speak with Lola Madr, the Divinant. I understand she is under your care."

Eldric gestured toward the inner rooms of his dwelling. "Indeed, she is. Lola has been expecting you. Come—allow me to guide you to her."

Leading them through a corridor adorned with relics and symbols of wisdom, Eldric brought them to a serene chamber bathed in soft light. There stood Lola Madr, her presence as commanding as it was elegant. With graceful precision, she curtsied to Ron, her expression marked by composure and respect.

"I was informed of your arrival by Elder Vahn," Lola said, her voice smooth and steady. "I trust you seek answers. Tell me—what troubles you?"

Ron stepped forward, his tone measured but urgent. "Lola Madr, we seek knowledge of Malrik Veylshade and the sorrowfiends. Their spread is worsening, and we must understand the connections before it's too late."

Lola studied him closely, her gaze sharp and contemplative. "You ask much, young master. Yet the answers you seek may not all be mine to give. Still, I shall share what I can."

Ron nodded slightly, choosing his next words with care. "I'm aware of that, Divinant. I just wish to share some of the information we've gathered—it might help, and perhaps you'll have some insights."

Lola's brows lifted, intrigued. "Very well, share what you will."

Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, Ron began to outline their findings. He spoke of Malrik Veylshade, the growing menace tied to the sorrowfiends, and the suspected involvement of the Luminaries. He detailed the patterns of attacks—territories belonging to Bladelords and Divinants—and the strange gaps in the reports they'd received.

As Ron spoke, Lola listened intently. Though impressed by his analysis, her curiosity deepened when she realized how little he was actually revealing. Ron had chosen to share only fragments of their findings, withholding anything he deemed irrelevant, foolish, or sensitive. His guarded nature was apparent in the way he carefully structured his words.

"Your deductions are fascinating, Ron," Lola said finally, her tone thoughtful. "Though I sense you are holding much back. Do you distrust me?"

Ron's gaze remained steady. "It's not distrust, Divinant. It's caution. Information is powerful, but it can also be dangerous. I'd rather be selective than risk sharing something that leads us astray."

Lola inclined her head slightly, a faint smile touching her lips. "A wise approach, though your restraint limits what I might offer in return. Still, I see why you carry this weight—you tread carefully in uncertain waters."

Markus leaned in, whispering lightly to Ron, "Well, at least you spared her the nonsense about the windmill and the wolf."

Ron shot him a brief look, though his lips twitched with amusement. Returning his focus to Lola, he added, "So, Divinant—based on what I've shared, do you have any insights? Anything we might have missed?"

At this, Lola stood gracefully, her expression growing more serious. "Hmm... allow me to reintroduce myself." She curtsied once again, her poise flawless yet her words carrying a deeper resonance. "My real name is Faelyn Riversong. I am a pilgrim under the covenant of Elementalist Lady Faera, a Divinant Mystic. My travels took me to historical sites tied to the God of Elements and altars sacred to the Elementalist faction."

Ron's brows furrowed slightly, intrigued but wary of where her story would lead.

Faelyn continued, her voice steady despite the weight of her memories. "Two years ago, my path brought me to the eastern territories, dominated by the Luminaries. I was not alone—I traveled with five companions, all pilgrims like myself. We were visiting these sites when we were branded heretics by the Luminaries. They claimed the world no longer needed knowledge of the old and declared our acts worthy of punishment."

She paused, her expression tightening as her gaze drifted into the distance. "We fought back, as they insulted not just our pilgrimage, but the covenant itself. It was a battle we could not win. They killed my comrades, one by one, until only I remained. I survived, but not without scars. I seek revenge—not against all Luminaries, for I know not all are wicked, but against those who took everything from me."

Markus exchanged a glance with Ron as Faelyn's tone grew darker. "I followed their traces, tracking them as they moved in secrecy. Eventually, I found one of their strongholds. There, I saw three men enter—a group of Luminaries awaiting them. Two of the men wore masks, but the third... he led them, speaking with authority as the others listened."

Ron leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. "And the masked ones? Did they notice you?"

Faelyn nodded solemnly. "They did. At least, I thought they did. Their glances lingered on me, but they seemed to ignore my presence. I hurried away, intending to seek aid from other Elementalist covenant members. But before I could reach safety, I was knocked out. When I woke, I was bound, tied up in darkness."

Her gaze locked onto Ron, her voice trembling just slightly. "A man stood before me, his face etched into my memory. He whispered, 'You will be a good host.' Then, I felt it—a terrible energy planted deep within me. It amplified every ounce of rage, every desire for vengeance against those Luminaries who killed my comrades."

Faelyn fell silent, her breathing steady but her emotions raw. The room seemed to grow colder as her story settled over them like a stormcloud.

The Revelation and Ron's Caution

The room remained heavy with tension as Ron slowly withdrew a parchment from his satchel, revealing the sketch of Malrik Veylshade. He carefully unfolded it and held it out toward Faelyn Riversong, his eyes watching her closely for a reaction.

"Is this the person you mentioned?" Ron asked, his tone steady yet laced with anticipation.

Faelyn's gaze locked onto the image, her expression shifting in an instant. Her breath quickened, and her fists clenched as fury lit her eyes like smoldering embers. "That's him," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "Malrik Veylshade. The man who cursed me with this terrible energy."

Markus glanced at Ron, his brows raised in astonishment, while Ron leaned forward, his tone lifting with excitement. "Where was the last place you saw him?" he pressed, sensing the importance of her revelation.

Faelyn took a moment to compose herself, her voice steady despite the venom beneath it. "I can take you there. Let me join your group."

Ron's enthusiasm dimmed for a moment as he sat back, pondering her offer. His thoughts raced—her knowledge was invaluable, but her motives carried weight, and he could not afford unnecessary risks. Finally, Ron looked back at Faelyn, his voice firm but measured. "Before we decide anything, I'd like to ask you something. What was the reason you hid your real name?"

Faelyn exhaled softly, her expression tinged with a fragile honesty. "Just like you, I no longer trust anyone. After everything I've been through, I don't even know if I can come back to the person I used to be. Revenge is all I cling to now—it's what keeps me moving forward. But Elder Eldric Vahn convinced me that you are someone worth trusting."

Ron paused, her words catching him off guard. A faint smile touched his lips as he murmured to himself, "So Elder Vahn thinks highly of me? I'm glad to hear that."

His curiosity grew as he fixed Faelyn with a thoughtful gaze. "Do you trust the elder?" he asked cautiously.

Faelyn hesitated, her expression deepening in thought. Then, with quiet resolve, she replied, "He has an Elementalist Divinant on his side—not just that, he has access to crucial information. While I was in his care, he shared something with me. He mentioned a young investigator working with him—someone trying to unravel the mystery of the sorrowfiends."

She paused and leaned slightly toward Ron. "You're also a Divinant, Ron, and backed by one of the strongest Bladelords. When I learned that, I knew I had to join you. We share a common enemy. You might not understand now, but my knowledge and drive will benefit your mission."

Ron's gaze hardened, his voice carefully measured as he responded. "Our mission is dangerous, Faelyn. That much is true. We are warriors, yes—but we're not seeking revenge. Your personal vendetta against the Luminaries who wronged you is not beneficial to us. What we need is clarity, focus, and trust. If you can give us that, then perhaps we can discuss moving forward."

Faelyn's emotions simmered beneath her composed exterior, and the room hung with a lingering air of uncertainty. The weight of their interaction pressed on Ron as he awaited her response, knowing that every ally—and every risk—could alter the course of their mission.

The Decision: Faelyn's Dilemma

Ron turned to Markus, his expression unreadable. "Excuse us, Faelyn," he said, his tone polite but firm. "I need to discuss this with my friend." Without waiting for a response, he gestured for Markus to follow him outside the room.

As soon as they stepped into the corridor, Markus leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. Before Ron could speak, Markus broke the silence. "If I were her, I'd probably do the same thing," he began, his voice thoughtful. "I get it—losing everything, clinging to revenge. But she seems dangerous, Ron. If we ride along with her vendetta, it could derail everything we're working toward."

Ron raised an eyebrow, waiting for Markus to continue.

Markus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We're investigators, not avengers. If we start raising swords against the Luminaries, it'll cause trouble—big trouble. The Luminaries aren't just some random faction. If word gets out that we're fighting them, it could jeopardize our investigation and even spark conflict with the Warrior faction. And you know how fragile things are between the factions already."

He paused, studying Ron's face. "But I know you, Ron. You've already made up your mind, haven't you?" Markus smirked, his tone shifting to something lighter. "Fine. Whatever you decide, I'll follow you—even to the ends of the earth." He added the last part with a joking grin.

Ron couldn't help but smile at Markus's loyalty. "She's a survivor of possession, Markus. I might learn something from her."

Markus blinked, then threw his hands up in mock exasperation. "What? I was trying to give you some valiant, heartfelt advice, and all you're thinking about is that?" He groaned, rubbing his temples before letting out a resigned sigh. "Alright, you win. But at least give me a better reason why she should join us."

Ron's smile widened. "Of course. She's a Divinant, Markus. She has knowledge from her travels as a pilgrim, and she can lead us directly to Malrik. Once we reach him, we'll part ways with her. We won't involve ourselves in her revenge after that. Sounds good?"

Markus hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But I'm holding you to that."

The two returned to the room, where Faelyn was waiting. The moment they entered, she dropped to her knees, her hands pressed to the ground in a gesture of submission. "Let me join you," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I will dedicate my life to you and your quest. I will even leave the covenants and join your faction. I will be your servant—your slave, if you wish."

Her voice softened, and she added shyly, "I can even be your wife, if that is what you desire." Her cheeks flushed as she glanced up at Ron, her beautiful face framed by tears that threatened to spill.

Markus's jaw dropped, his expression a mix of shock and awkwardness. He shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how to react.

Faelyn continued, her voice steadying. "I will sign a contract—Divinant to Divinant. I will serve you. A contract is something only an Elementalist can create, binding with one rule: if the rule is broken, the Elementalist dies."

Ron, who had already decided to let her join before reentering the room, found himself surprised by the intensity of her offer. Still, he kept his composure. "Fine," he said, his tone calm but firm. "I accept the contract. But no, I don't need you to be my wife."

He glanced at Markus, who was still gaping, before continuing. "The contract will be witnessed by Elder Vahn and his Elementalist Divinant ally. The terms are simple: you will assist us in our investigation as an official part of my team under House Rugal. You will not seek revenge. You will abide by the rules of our faction, and if we encounter the Luminaries you wish to kill, you will let me and my family handle it—especially Malrik. It is for me and our faction to decide."

Faelyn hesitated, her resolve wavering. The terms struck at the core of her being—revenge was what fueled her, what kept her moving forward. To give that up felt like losing the last piece of herself. She looked at Ron, her emotions swirling, but said nothing.

Ron noticed her hesitation and added, "You have one day to think it over. We leave tomorrow at noon—with or without you."

Faelyn lowered her gaze, her thoughts a storm of conflict. Revenge was all she had left, and Ron's terms seemed to deny her that. Yet she couldn't ignore the opportunity he presented—a chance to confront Malrik, even if it wasn't on her terms. She needed time, but time was a luxury she didn't have.

As the morning light crept into the room, Faelyn sat alone, her mind racing. The decision loomed over her, and the weight of it threatened to crush her. For now, the brothers prepared for their departure, leaving Faelyn to wrestle with the choice that could change everything.

The Contract: Faelyn Joins the Team

Markus leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression thoughtful yet tinged with concern. "So, if she accepts, what will you do? What were you thinking, Ron? You're seriously doing this for her?" He paused, studying Ron's face. "I know you, Ron. You're doing this to liberate her from her vengeance, aren't you?"

Ron sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I guess I can't hide anything from you. You got me spot on." His gaze turned distant, his voice softening. "She's young, Markus. Promising. She has a whole world ahead of her. Seeing someone gifted like her ruin her future for revenge... it's sad. It's a waste."

He straightened, his tone growing firmer. "But let's be honest. After everything we've learned—the sorrowfiends, the Luminaries, and Malrik—we're bound to cross paths with them. And when that day comes, there's a chance it'll end in blood. If we meet the ones she seeks vengeance against, it'll be my blade that cuts them down."

Ron's voice dropped, his resolve sharpening like steel. "I made that decision long ago, Markus. When I saw those parentless children, the wives who lost their husbands, the people whose dreams were shattered by the sorrowfiends... I promised myself I'd kill the ones responsible. All of them."

Markus swallowed hard, a flicker of unease crossing his face. But he nodded, his loyalty unwavering. "Alright," he said with a sigh. "We're in this together. I'll cut them down with you—that's my promise as your blade."

Ron glanced at him, grateful but unwilling to show it. Instead, he simply nodded, his focus shifting back to the task at hand.

As noon approached, the brothers prepared their belongings, ready to depart. The tension in the air was palpable as they waited for Faelyn's decision. Just as they were about to leave, a knock came at the door. Elder Vahn entered, his expression calm but carrying a hint of satisfaction.

"Ron," the elder said, "come with me. Faelyn is with Silvia, my Divinant ally. She's ready to bind the contract with you."

Ron blinked, momentarily stunned. "What? Really? For real?" He quickly gathered himself, a surge of optimism replacing his earlier apprehension.