CHAPTER 139

  BEHIND THE SCENES

  In the late evening, he came back, not to his castle but to the dean’s quarters. Standing before the door, he tidied himself and knocked.

  “I’m home. Open it, gramps.”

  A pause, then the door groaned open as if it, too, had aged with the house. Warm manalight cut through the dim corridor. Rudolf stood there, smiling like a man who’d been waiting at a dock for a ship that might never return.

  “So, you finally crawled back.” His eyes flicked over Hans, amused. “Mr. Eighth Rank—”

  “Shhh.” Hans crossed the threshold in three strides, palm up like a blade. “Gramps, I’m already backstabbing enough people. You want to hang a banner over my head while you’re at it?”

  “Fine, fine, squeaky.” Rudolf snorted. “But you really should stop flinching at thunder. It gave you away so easily—”

  Hans stilled, a faint crease forming between his brows. “That’s all it took? Just me flinching a bit to blow my cover like poof?”

  “Oh please.” Rudolf leaned against the doorframe, his grin edged with something softer. “I raised you. Your father too. Every twitch of your face is burned into my skull. And I stopped questioning logic when it came to you Parvians a long time ago. Human to elf—no surprises.”

  Hans opened his mouth, some retort half-formed, but the creak of the back hallway cut him off. Sierra emerged slowly, drawn by his voice. Her face was lit with a happiness he hadn’t seen in a while.

  “Hey, Grandma—” His words strangled as she pulled him into an embrace that pressed the cold out of his chest.

  “Welcome home, my child,” she murmured against his shoulder.

  He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Yeah. It’s good to be home.”

  Her fingers moved through his disheveled hair as if reacquainting themselves. “So,” she said lightly, though her eyes were searching, “anything new happen to you, little one?”

  “Hmm…” He hesitated, thumb grazing the edge of his cloak. Then, as though surrendering to some inward weight, he said, “For what it’s worth, I found my full name. It’s not in human tongue. It’s… elvish. Hansellidore.”

  Sierra’s lips curved. “It sure sound like a prince’s name.”

  “You—like it?”

  “It’s yours,” she said simply, brushing dust from his cheek. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  He hugged her again, tighter. Her words dug deeper than she probably meant, rooting themselves somewhere he couldn’t name.

  There was a lot she wanted to ask, and Hans had his work cut out to make some realistic stories that were not based on Clandor. And after several hiccups and make believes. He convinced Sierra, who never once doubted him.

  She had always believed him; that, somehow, was the worst part he felt.

  They sat outside now, in the small yard behind the house. The fire pit hissed, its thin flames fending off the creeping winter. Rudolf hunched over his jug, eyes narrowed at the woodpile as though it, too, had deceived him.

  Sierra wasn’t there, not for this time at least.

  Maybe her absence gave some comfort to Hans. He cradled his mug, the cocoa’s steam rising in soft, ghostly threads. “I feel bad lying to her,” he muttered.

  “You should,” Rudolf said flatly. He poured another shot of alcohol, the liquid catching the firelight.

  Hans glanced back toward the door, but Rudolf cut him off with a low chuckle. “She won’t come out. Told her tonight was for ‘male bonding.’” His gaze hardened, pinning Hans. “I’ve got questions, squeaky. My amazing grandson.”

  Hans sipped slowly. “Shoot, Grandpa. I’ll tell you what I can.”

  Rudolf leaned closer, his voice dropping. “First. How can you turn into that—” he spat the word like a secret— “elf?”

  “I thought you stopped trying to make sense of Parvians.”

  “Oh, bite me. Squeaky, indulge an old man’s curiosity.”

  Hans smirked faintly. “Remember when the goddess took me? She… kinda. Made me that.”

  “So that’s how you screwed Reina over.” Rudolf whistled low. “Took her skills and the spirit too. Gods, boy, it was terrifying. What was it?”

  “Dunno, Gramps.” Hans stared at the sugar lump floating in his drink as if it might offer answers. “At first I thought I’d ruined everything when that thing threw me out of the Spirit World. But when I modified LightCloak into Wings… the flight felt natural. Like I’d been born with them, the familiarity was something else—and sometimes—” his voice thinned— “I began to feel Solunox’s presence.”

  Rudolf’s brow furrowed. “Solunox. They say its the end of the world.”

  Hans shook his head. “No. The beginning of a new one.”

  “Same difference, brat.” Rudolf drank deeply. “Your father took the crown at fifteen. You’re fifteen now. Politics and governance are vastly different from removing obstacles and annoying heads; it’s living among them.”

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  “There’s still time,” Hans said. “I’ve some answers to find before I even think of the Parvian crown.”

  “Do Eclipse have those answers—you seem to be pretty chummy with them lately.”

  Hans’s smirk sharpened. “In a heartbeat I’d throw them under the carriage.”

  “They’d do the same.”

  “I know.” Hans’s eyes glinted over the rim of his cup. “I just have to do it before them. Playing with fire is where I shine… Don’t you think, Grandpa?”

  Rudolf sighed, emptying the jug. “Most of the time you get burned, squeaky.” He shook the jug bottoms up. Not even a single drop remained inside it. Apparently, it was all he was allowed to drink. Sierra had tightened the leash for quite a while.

  Hans rose, stretching. “You’re henpecked, Grandpa.”

  “We’ll see when your time comes.” Rudolf stood too, recalling, “Not for long, though—Sierra got a call from your friends—”

  “Deli?” Hans asked too quickly.

  “I said friends. Not her.” Rudolf squinted.

  Hans grinned despite himself. “What did she say?”

  “Only to reach her back—” But Hans was already running inside.

  “Hey!” Rudolf followed, scowling. “You still haven’t told me how that sword of yours work or what Atelier stands for—”

  He stopped short. Sierra was standing there, her eyes like two cold coins.

  “What sword? And why were you discussing that cursed name?” Her voice was low, but it carried a weight that made Hans straighten.

  “Nothing.” Hans’s tone was too casual. “Gramps just asked, and I know a lot of things. That’s all.”

  “Child,” Sierra said, “you must never speak that word lightly.”

  Her warning only deepened the silence. Hans’s and Rudolf’s curiosity flared in tandem.

  Hans said carefully, “Granny… you can’t expect me to stay quiet when you’re this serious.”

  All Hans knew about them was the human clan who had done some sin against humanity, and Dietrich was one of them—making every Parvian a descendant. Including her.

  Dietrich just wouldn’t tell him. So Sierra’s turning expression was a great thing for him.

  “I don’t know much either,” Sierra admitted at last, her gaze distant. “But the annals of Indu call them the Evil Forgers. They made god-slaying weapons, artefacts of enslavement. Then—one day—they vanished. No war. No graves. Just gone. Xandor may be hunting the same truth. The Ring of Chaos is a prime example of their work.”

  “Didn’t Father forge it?” Hans asked.

  “He did.” Her face darkened. “But from the lost scripts of that clan. He was cursed with knowledge. He even found a way for his mana-less son to wield nature itself.”

  She reached out, awkward now—he was as tall as she was—and patted his head. “We missed your birthday this year.”

  “I’m not a kid anymore, Granny. But can I borrow your communication orb? The one Arat gave me only calls him for some reason. Gee… this is pathetic. Only I don’t have a communication orb.”

  “Ask your guardian.” Rudolf muttered.

  “You’re my guardian.”

  “You’re far richer than us, Hans. The Prince of Parv. We’re just the deans of Concordia.”

  “Just the deans—wow. Are you hearing yourself, you miser, geezer?”

  And like every time a knuckle came to hit his head, he playfully dodged, snatching the orb from Sierra’s hands. “Not gonna happen, gramps.” He teased and ran towards his room.

  “Hmm… what was her pattern?” With a few hits and misses, he finally connected with her. “Hey Winters, what’s going on—”

  “You moron” a shout came from another side. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were not in Parv—I came to the joint whatever-this-is hoping you’d be here.”

  “Because,” Hans said flatly, “you didn’t ask.”

  “After breaking apart in front of me, you just vanished! The least you could do is inform me somehow. You have no idea how—pissed I’m right now.”

  “Gee—and I was excited. Want me to call you tomorrow? After you’ve cooled down.”

  “Don’t you dare disconnect.”

  Oh. I feel evil making her dance on my tone— I like this.

  Hans mused inside, responding, “Well, it would’ve not happened if Arat just gave me a regular comm-orb. You know it’s not something someone can buy just because they have money—”

  “One will reach you by tomorrow.” She cut him off. “But really, you okay? You don’t seem so hot the last time we met—I’ll try to come back as soon as I can—”

  “It’s fine, Deli. I’m fine.”

  “You sure— you are not in some deep waters.”

  “Well, I usually am, but I can swim through this, probably.” Hans let the latter part be silent. “Fighting alongside Parv will do you good. Focus on the joint exercise or whatever they are saying it. ”

  “Of course.” Her usual sharpness returned. “If not me, who else is going to save your Parvian ass?”

  “Yeah, yeah, Winters.”

  “Hey,” Chris grabbed the orb with a grin. “ I want to talk too—Buddy, did you see the Convention?”

  “Yeah. I was there. You didn’t disappoint, Chris—”

  “Forget me, did you see Theodred? Man, those duels were something—the last one turned dark, but he can copy any move once he sees it. Sorry he copied your father’s from me.”

  “No worry, Chris.” Hans thought almost an apology, “no, I can’t copy once I see it, man, it’s just I needed a justification to use Sirius Strike. You were just the perfect recipe to use, my friend.”

  A sudden thought hit him, and he frantically said, “You two just make sure not to be in the front lines. Cornered Eclipse is more dangerous.”

  Chris had doubted, but it turned true. He confirmed, “So you know—”

  “Of course, Arat is running my circus. It’s about time I get involved in the Parvian politics.”

  "Yeah, we are about to be graduates. We must grow up now.”

  “So,” Hans stretched, “you guys will make it to the graduation test, right?

  “Yes.” Delimira snatched back the orb.

  The trivial chatter spun around him, but time slipped away, cruel and quick. “Alright. Don’t get hurt. Come back in one piece.” He said.

  “I should be saying that to you.” Delimira replied sharply yet mischievously. “You too, don’t cause trouble and don’t be reckless.”

  “That’s kind of my middle name. But I’ll try.”

  “Stay alive, Parvart.”

  The orb’s glow faded, and Chris leaned back with a smirk. “You know he’s using you, right? A communication orb? Really?”

  “Who? Hans? He’s a million years from being that clever.” Delimira chuckled. “If I don’t want to be used, no one gets in.”

  Chris sighed. “You’ve turned into a sucker, Deli. Before Hans knows the power he holds over you, get your head straight—or he’ll rob you blind.”

  Outside, the world twisted toward chaos. Clandor and Parv’s joint surgical strike was poised—Parv’s infiltration expertise weaving through shadows and Clandor’s stealth precision waiting to strike. The Crows, burning with vengeance over Martys’s death at Eclipse’s hands, collectively targeted Eclipse in search of theodred.

  Reina had given full independence to them over her former disciple matters.

  Even the new Elven Federation leaders were looking the other way. Another war, they too didn’t want that. If handing over the foreign allies gave them assurance so be it.

  For once, everything was moving the way Hans wanted. But beneath it all, a slow, gnawing unease settled in his gut. Something was coming. Something bad. And he couldn’t shake the feeling it was already too late.