Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A Noble Banquet

They were not lying when they said anything brought in from beyond the fog was expensive, especially dead beasts, even those without cores. It took me a long time to disconnect from my own perspective and adopt theirs, to finally grasp why these monsters fetched such high prices.

Four diremaws weighed close to half a ton in total, and transporting them, already slain, would normally require multiple people, possibly multiple expeditions, and almost certainly result in casualties. That explained the steep cost, every time Chainrunners came back carrying kills from the fog, new names inevitably joined the lists of the dead. In District 98, we had a considerable advantage with the Dawnbreak Bow and its Arrow of Pure Light that could disperse the beasts, but not every district possessed such a priceless artifact.

Cairen D'Velmont seemed fixated on my casual statement that I could always return to the fog to hunt more. I noticed how he studied me—my cloak, even the way I spoke before settling on some silent conclusion.

"You should have dinner at our family's home tonight," he declared, his excitement evident. "We can use this diremaw meat for a grand feast. Allow me to show you what District 99 has to offer."

I hesitated, trying to focus on my original purpose. "Thanks, but there's no need. I only came for certain supplies."

Yet Cairen persisted, his polite smile unwavering. "I insist. We must celebrate your triumph over the beasts. You can tell us all about your battles in the fog."

Recalling Elina's teachings—how important it was to actually live and enjoy moments of rest—I decided one day would not derail my plans. I agreed and stepped into the carriage he had prepared. Immediately, I felt a jolt of surprise at how sluggish it moved, creeping along slower than an average walking pace.

During the journey, Cairen spoke almost nonstop about his family's achievements, how he became Captain of the Guard not long ago at age twenty-five—the youngest ever in District 99 and how many duels he had fought against other nobles or high-ranking families. He seemed proud of these noble rivalries, though I could not relate to battles fought for social standing.

Eventually, we arrived at the D'Velmont estate, which dwarfed anything I had seen in District 98, surpassing even the Blackthorn property in lavishness. A vast garden sprawled before us, a space I considered wasted because nothing edible was cultivated there. Just flowers, trimmed hedges, and elaborate decorative shrubs. A large section of the grounds seemed devoted solely to banquets and gatherings.

I mentioned my need for clothes, and Cairen immediately arranged for fine garments to be waiting for me in a particularly large guest room. They weren't exactly my size, but their quality was exceptional. After washing away the grime of travel, I placed my equipment to one side. But when I turned to examine the fresh clothes neatly laid out on the bed, I found my cloak lying on top of them, even though I was sure it had been somewhere else.

"Has Kara really driven me crazy?" I wondered, feeling a brief stir of alarm.

To ensure this hooded cloak didn't decide to murder me in my sleep or blow me into countless pieces, I wore it over my fine garments—which were clearly not designed for fighting. It was a rather strange sight, but I figured nobody would mind. After all, Chainrunners are known more for their... broken minds than for their good manners.

Since I arrived early in the day, I had time to kill before the planned feast that night. The D'Velmont staff bustled in the corridors and manicured gardens, rushing to organize a grand celebration on short notice. I suspected it would not be heavily attended, simply because they had so little time to invite guests. But that was none of my concern; I had not planned on feasting in the first place.

Instead, I headed outside with my daggers stashed beneath Hazeveil. The cloak shimmered slightly at its edges when sunlight caught the runes—a subtle glow that reminded me of the mana swirling through it. To appear somewhat official, I pinned my Chainrunner Apprentice badge to the cloak. Even if District 99 was nothing like 98, people would whisper the news soon enough.

The thing about wearing an Apprentice badge was how everyone recognized the choice. People saw that you were not some criminal coerced into the Chainrunners, but someone who looked at the fog and volunteered. Of course, some took that route purely for the pay or the remote chance of finding valuable artifacts, but such individuals were relatively few.

District 99, I noticed, had a layout reminiscent of District 98's structure: cramped residential zones toward the outskirts and increasingly opulent mansions, marketplaces, and administrative buildings near the center. My immediate goal was the marketplace, a place where I could buy all the materials I had come for.

"Kara, can you handle the negotiations from now on? Tell me how much to pay? My last negotiation was rather… well… you saw it," I muttered in a low voice toward Kara. It was a habit I knew I should break while inside the wards since she could hear my thoughts. There was no need to speak out loud and anyone who saw me doing it might think I was crazy.

I had already left the D'Velmont family household, and a few passersby noticed me talking to the air. Thankfully, none of them seemed to find it strange. They saw my badge and probably just assumed I was another crazy Chainrunner.

[Kara]

[Yes. I believe I understand the economic system in place based on your memories. Please follow the amounts I suggest.]

Encouraged by her confirmation, I headed into the district's commercial area. First, I needed more containers for blood—simple enough to locate, and they cost me just seventy credits. Then I purchased some crafting materials: needles, scissors, and small equipment for repairs. That totaled one hundred and twenty credits.

Finally, it came time for clothing, something more practical than noble outfits. I did not want elaborate noble garments, merely practical shirts and pants that could endure travel. I also replaced the damaged equipment I had from the Blackthorn family, although I could not find anything in the shops to match that former quality. In the end, I settled on a decent set of leather armor and a sturdy belt.

When I tallied up everything, it amounted to about three hundred and forty credits. My new balance showed seventy-nine thousand six hundred and sixty—barely a dent in the fortune I had accidentally stumbled upon. Just one diremaw hunt, apparently, could support me for years here in the ward.

I almost laughed at the absurdity. I should have gone into the fog years ago, I thought. Then I remembered how difficult it had been to kill even two wounded diremaws back in my first hunt. I had needed traps, poison, and a lot of luck, and I still died in the end, though my long sleep resurrected me. For most people, there was no second chance. They ventured outside, found themselves hunted, and never returned.

That sobering realization weighed on me. I decided I would not exploit the people just because of my unique condition. The artifact mission loomed larger in my mind. Elina once told me that those who can do something to help have a responsibility to at least try. If I could roam the fog relatively freely, then I had a duty to gather the artifacts that might strengthen or save these districts.

Yes, I could live comfortably on what I already had, but I also had a promise to fulfill.

The burden settled heavily on my shoulders. I would not forget it. Nor would I ignore the thousands who lived under the threat of vanishing wards and relentless monsters. Because my ability to pass through the fog was more than luck, more than a quirk I could use for personal gain. It was an opportunity—maybe an obligation—to do something worthwhile.

Once my shopping spree was over, night had already fallen. I returned to the D'Velmont estate and found myself surprised by how many people were already there for the so-called feast. Almost everyone I saw wore noble attire or formal clothing, likely hailing from prominent families within District 99.

Dozens mingled in the large feasting area, visible through grand double doors that opened onto a vaulted hall. Some, however, gathered in the open garden just beyond, where glowing lanterns illuminated trimmed hedges and polished stone walkways. The soft murmur of conversations floated through the air, interspersed with occasional laughter. Watching these polished figures, I felt a twinge of awkwardness—like a stray beast treading among delicate flowers.

Rather than step straight into that throng, I decided to head to my guest room first. I wanted to store my newly acquired items and consider, for a moment, whether I should leave my cloak behind. Hazeveil had been my companion in the fog, a reliable piece of equipment, but it struck me as odd to wear it at a formal feast.

So I removed the cloak as I organized my belongings. Yet when I moved toward the door, it was there, draped neatly over the handle as if waiting. I stared at it in mild exasperation.

"You don't want to stay stuck in this room, do you?" I murmured under my breath, feeling foolish for talking to a piece of cloth. "I'm warning you, though. Tonight might be boring."

Of course, no reply came. I sighed and silently cursed Kara for making me suspect my own sanity. A moment later, I pulled Hazeveil on again, deciding I might as well wear it. After days in the fog with only Kara to talk to, I needed genuine human interaction for the sake of my own mind. If people thought it strange, they would just chalk it up to the eccentricities of a Chainrunner apprentice.

Stepping out into the corridor, I followed the low hum of voices. Servants bustled back and forth with trays of sparkling drinks, while more guests arrived at the front doors. To my astonishment, the crowd was far larger than I had expected for such short notice.

I felt out of place immediately, aware of countless gazes flitting in my direction. Snippets of hushed conversation drifted past:

"I saw it with my own eyes! He slew those monsters right in front of the ward with a sword as bright as daylight."

"A sword? No, I heard he used a massive axe, bigger than a grown man."

"There was no axe! I was out there in the fog with him. He took them down with a lance."

I quickly realized how wildly the rumors had grown. District 99 was indeed no different from District 98 in that regard—people loved spinning dramatic stories about the fog. By now, they must have crafted half a dozen different versions, each more fanciful than the last. At least they seemed blissfully unaware that I was just a child. Or perhaps they simply couldn't imagine a child hunting diremaws alone. Nevertheless, I felt more curious looks turning my way.

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"Is that him?" I caught from one side, accompanied by a gesture in my direction.

"I thought he'd be taller…"

"It's just a kid."

"The Chainrunners in District 98 must be desperate, sending children into the fog."

Their voices pricked at me. For a fleeting moment, I almost wished they were actual beasts so everything could be settled by claws and teeth. Fighting felt straightforward—no second-guessing, just the clarity of life and death, the purity in killing and consuming your enemies. Then my mind recoiled from that thought. Pure? Where had that notion come from?

I corrected myself even in thought. There was nothing pure about killing. But I could not deny that physical conflict was simpler. In a world of polite feasts and whispered gossip, I did not even know my objective. All I truly wanted was to enjoy a peaceful night and talk to normal people.

I sighed, thinking how much I missed Meris, even the silent Tarin would be better company

Just then, as if the world had heard my longing, someone approached. She looked around my age, maybe a bit older, carrying herself with a poised, graceful bearing. Her long auburn hair was braided with delicate ribbons. Green eyes, wide and inquisitive, shone with a hint of curiosity that reminded me a little of Cairen D'Velmont's gaze. She wore a finely tailored dress, clearly belonging to a noble, and on her chest glittered the same crest I had noticed before—a rapier crossed by a key.

She executed a polite bow, the folds of her dress falling around her like rippling water. "Greetings, Omen Blackthorn. I am Selene D'Velmont. My cousin spoke a great deal about you. May I have the pleasure of your company?"

"Yes, of course," I blurted. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Attempting to mimic her elegance, I attempted a courtly bow like the butler had once shown me, only to stumble awkwardly. It came out a clumsy half-gesture.

She merely smiled, appearing unconcerned by my ineptitude. We walked together, and I noticed too late that I had no emblem of the Blackthorn family on display—just my Chainrunner Apprentice badge pinned to Hazeveil.

As we moved away from the bustling foyer, she asked politely, "Are you enjoying your stay here in District 99?"

"It's been… productive," I replied. "I managed to get all my supplies, so I'm planning to leave tomorrow."

"Leave?" she echoed, guiding me toward the open-air garden. Lanterns hung from slender poles, illuminating vibrant flowers and ornamental shrubs. "Where are you headed? District 100?"

"Indeed, although that's just another brief stop," I said with a small nod.

Her brow furrowed. "Beyond District 100? There's nothing there, unless… Oh, do you mean the lower districts?"

"Yes." I kept my voice calm. "I'm on a Chainrunner mission, searching for lost artifacts. I hope to find one that could solve the hunger problem."

She paused, and I could sense a subtle shift in her posture as though the gravity of my words surprised her. But then she smiled reassuringly. We strolled among flowerbeds where the sweet scent of night-blooming blossoms mingled with the distant aroma of roasted meats from the feast. Whispered conversations continued to ripple from the hall, carrying exaggerated accounts of my supposed feats in the fog.

Noticing how I tensed at those half-heard rumors, Selene leaned in slightly. "Pay them no mind. People here rarely have anything more exciting to talk about. News of someone bringing in multiple diremaws on their own inevitably grows more dramatic with each retelling. Everyone wants to add their own spark."

She wasn't wrong. In District 98, at least, we had official newsletters printed by the council to inform citizens of real events. It didn't stop rumors entirely, but it gave them less space to flourish.

"I don't mind," I said, shrugging. "It just wasn't such a grand battle, that's all. I ambushed the diremaws, and it ended faster than I expected. Also easier than I expected"

Her eyes flashed with amusement. "Hunting monsters in the fog… multiple beasts, alone, and it felt easy? Now I understand why my cousin finds you fascinating."

I could hear the subtle teasing in her tone. Unsure of our exact destination, I realized we had been looping around the garden's pathways—a typical noble pastime, perhaps. I didn't want to appear rude, so I followed, matching her unhurried pace.

A faint breeze stirred the lanterns, causing shadows to dance across the lawn. From somewhere close by, the strains of a small string ensemble drifted through the air, mixing with the hushed chatter of guests. In the flickering light, Selene's auburn braid glowed like burnished copper, and I saw how effortlessly she navigated this social world. I, on the other hand, felt like an interloper, a creature of the fog who was only pretending to fit in.

Yet, for the moment, that was fine. I had wanted human interaction, and Selene D'Velmont was providing it—even if it left me uncertain whether I belonged.

"I think we should join my cousin at the table now," Selene said, her voice soft yet confident as she guided me toward a grand banquet area. "From the Chainrunners I've met so far, you are quite an oddity, even among them. Besides, I don't believe I've ever seen a Chainrunner apprentice sent alone into the fog. Was there a reason why they sent you by yourself?"

"Yes, actually," I replied quietly. "I asked to go."

She stopped for a moment, looking genuinely surprised. "You did? So you aren't afraid of the fog after all. That part of the rumors is correct. It must be tough being a Blackthorn if everyone expects you to explore the fog at such a young age."

She spoke as though she were an adult herself, even though she seemed only a little older than me. "You sound much older," I remarked. "Aren't we around the same age?"

Selene let out a light chuckle. "Yes, probably," she admitted. "I'm actually fourteen." A glimmer of amusement danced in her eyes, but I couldn't read it fully. "Being in my family… let's just say we have our responsibilities."

Remembering Tarin, I recognized that these noble families revolved around power dynamics, each person bound to fulfill duties from birth, leaving them little room for personal choice. She must have assumed I went into the fog for a similar reason, merely following the Blackthorn lineage like Tarin. If only she knew I'd been adopted quite recently. Still, I understood what she meant. Tarin had displayed the same mindset: living according to whatever the family decided.

"Yes, I understand," I said, nodding slightly. "But you can also do whatever you want in the end. At least, that's what I believe. You have free will."

For a brief second, Selene looked taken aback, as if that concept were unfamiliar. Then her gaze dropped, and her expression shifted just as we neared a long, ornate table. "Free will," she repeated under her breath, "belongs to those on the outskirts. We don't have such luxuries at the center. The sooner you learn that, the easier things will be. Trust me—I speak from experience."

Before I could question her further, her cousin, Cairen D'Velmont, strode up in high spirits, apparently noticing us. He wore a large grin, clearly having missed the low-voiced comment Selene had uttered.

"Omen," he exclaimed, "my honored guest! Come, join us at the table. This feast is dedicated to you. We want to hear about your battles."

He handed me a glass filled with a deep red liquid. I swirled it, then sniffed cautiously. "I don't think I'm allowed to drink wine," I said, eyeing Cairen doubtfully.

Cairen's smile faltered slightly. Another man nearby—broad-shouldered and imposing—broke into laughter. Once he stopped, he spoke in a booming voice, "So, you're old enough to face deadly monsters in the fog, but not old enough for a cup of wine? That's the Blackthorn sense of danger for you."

His brown hair was cropped short, and he wore a meticulously trimmed beard. A massive two-handed hammer rested against a chair behind him, clearly an artifact. I had seen sketches of it during advanced classes: Earthbreaker, a renowned weapon. Its owner, Varek Stormhewn, was no less than the Captain of the Chainrunners in District 99.

Cairen glanced at me apologetically. "Don't mind him, Omen. He can be a brute sometimes." There was an undercurrent of tension between them, laced with a certain camaraderie.

I shook my head, trying to seem at ease. "No offense taken. It's an honor to meet another Chainrunner Captain."

With that, I offered a bow, slightly improved from the clumsy efforts I'd made earlier.

"Good to meet you too," Varek said, grinning broadly. "Last time I saw your mother a few months back, she spoke highly of your wandering the fog in search of lost artifacts and said you died with honor. She'll be pleased to hear you're alive."

A pang of realization hit me. If nearly a year had passed, they must have written me off as dead. Even though she was only my adoptive mother, I felt a touch of warmth at the thought that she'd been concerned. Lirien had treated me like family, in her own way—albeit a way shaped by someone who didn't fully understand familial bonds.

The conversation flowed around me. Nobody required me to describe my battles in detail; Cairen and Varek had plenty of stories of their own. Cairen boasted of duels fought among nobles, while Varek spoke more sparingly, yet every tale from him carried weight: beasts he had faced in the fog, near escapes, victories that left marks on his hammer. The gathered nobles drank in these stories with evident excitement, though I suspected many accounts were embellished.

As I listened, Kara quietly analyzed Varek's mana signature, finding traces similar to Lirien's. Perhaps that strange drug or consumable artifact was common among Chainrunner Captains, granting them some measure of Tier 2 strength. The thought flickered through my mind.

Meanwhile, Selene sat across from me at the long dining table, her eyes occasionally drifting to me. Her presence was more pleasant than the rest, but I still couldn't tell if her warmth was genuine or simply honed politeness. Everything about her seemed carefully practiced, from the tilt of her head to the faint smile she wore.

Then Cairen, seated to my left, suddenly asked, "Omen, what do you think of my cousin Selene?" The question sliced through the surrounding chatter, making more than a few heads turn.

I blinked, startled by the directness. "She's… nice," I managed. Vague, but truthful.

"Of course she's nice," Cairen said with a casual laugh, "and very pretty too, isn't she?"

Selene's cheeks colored at the remark, and I sensed some unspoken undercurrent passing between them—something about politics, or family alliances, maybe. I couldn't quite unravel it, so I simply nodded. "Yes, she's pretty."

It felt as though something deeper lingered beneath his question, some meaning just beyond my understanding. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't grasp why my opinion of Selene mattered to him. In the end, I abandoned the effort.

The conversation moved on, and the rest of the feast felt almost ordinary. I didn't fully explain how I'd slain the diremaws, but I did clarify that the fog itself had not hunted me relentlessly, as it usually did for humans. The crowd murmured about the rumors of my message concerning a destroyed district, but none seemed shocked.

Varek made it clear he found the idea of a "fog that doesn't hunt humans" implausible, suspecting I had only escaped detection by chance or had used unspoken advantages. His main disbelief centered on how I managed to ambush creatures in the dense haze; to him, that sounded impossible.

I chose not to mention Kara's guidance or the deeper corruption bound to me. I lacked a specific reason—perhaps just caution. It felt wisest to keep such things private.

What truly surprised me that night was seeing how the four diremaws I had brought could feed so many people, even though the cooks used only a portion of the meat. Back in District 98, beasts had always been considered a rare boon if one managed to kill them in the fog and drag them back. But it struck me: the fog contained an endless supply of these creatures. If I could hunt them safely, how many people might I feed?

Visions of enormous beasts roamed my thoughts. Could a single giant monster sustain an entire district for weeks? My mind spiraled over these possibilities, distracting me from the conversations swirling around. I realized, with a strange pang, that the resources we lacked might well exist in the fog, if only we were strong enough, or lucky enough, to claim them.

As music and laughter echoed in the great hall, I found myself half-lost in those reflections, hardly tasting the meals set before me. Much as I yearned for normal conversation and the simple pleasures of a feast, the truth was I would always be the odd one out.