You've Returned, Young Master
The shortcut was less a path than a scar.
The moment we left the main road, the stones under the horses' hooves changed. The well-packed dirt vanished almost at once, giving way to a narrow gravel track that cut across the mountain's flank, alternating with stretches of frozen earth.
Winter trees lined both sides, stripped of every last twig, their black limbs clawing at the sky. The wind that knifed between them made the chill of the main road feel mild by comparison.
One of the knights behind us muttered a low curse. Saddle leather creaked every time a horse slipped, and several of those attending the Imperial Princess made no secret of trying to slow the pace.
I did not look back.
"Don't watch the hooves of the horse ahead. Watch the shadows of the stones beside you."
Silence fell behind me for a moment. One knight repeated the words as if he could not believe them.
"The shadows, my lord?"
"Yes. Wet stone is black. Dry stone is gray. Step only on the gray."
A few paces later, the sound of hooves behind us settled into a steadier rhythm.
The Lady spoke from my right.
"You seem to have ridden roads like this often."
"In winter, I can say that with confidence."
"…Why?"
I looked ahead for a moment. At the edge of the wind rolling down the ridge, I caught the faint scent of beasts and, farther still, a dark dampness being pushed toward us.
"Because the main roads were cut off more often than not."
"Because of the magical beasts?"
"Beasts, avalanches. Sometimes they simply collapsed from pure neglect."
The answer was indifferent. After hearing it, the knight who had been riding up to ask about the road asked nothing more.
That was how most people learned the truth of life beyond the capital. Not because someone explained it, but because they suffered it themselves.
The sun was already nearly gone. Once we crossed a single ridge, the western sky flushed blood-red and then darkened almost at once. The wind grew colder still, and the horses' breath thickened into denser plumes.
The path narrowed, yet our pace began to quicken. Familiar roads are always like that. Hell to a stranger, the fastest passage to those who know them.
At some point the Imperial Princess stopped asking me the way. She simply matched her horse's speed a short distance away and watched me. The gaze was not a burden. Strangely, I felt less tired here than I had in the capital.
Here, at least, I knew what to look for and where to look first. That single fact let me breathe a little easier.
When we reached the first valley below the ridge, I raised a hand. The column halted. The lead knight started forward, but the Imperial Princess spoke first.
"What is it this time?"
I lowered my head and studied the valley floor. A black film lay across the thinly frozen water.
"Keep the horses away from the water's edge."
The Lady asked at once.
"…Contamination?"
"It seems so."
The Imperial Princess shortened her grip on the reins.
"We'll go around."
I shook my head.
"We don't have the time."
I dismounted immediately. One of the knights cried out in alarm.
"Lord Elverhart!"
I stepped down onto the frozen rocks at the valley's edge. I did not use the bandaged hand. Instead I drew the dagger at my left hip with my free hand and scraped the thin ice once.
Crack.
The black film beneath the ice rippled like a wave. I lifted the blade tip and sniffed. Far damper and fouler than the Record Bureau scent I had known in the Imperial Palace. It felt like the byproduct that seeps out after a barrier crack opens.
"Recent."
When I looked up and spoke, the Imperial Princess narrowed her eyes.
"How recent?"
"Half a day… perhaps less."
The Lady said quietly,
"So it wasn't waiting for us."
"Apparently not."
I climbed back up, shaking the blade clean.
"Whatever it was has already passed ahead of us."
The Imperial Princess asked,
"Then can we cross?"
"One horse at a time, spaced out. Don't step in the middle. Follow the line of rocks on the right."
The words had barely left my mouth before I swung back into the saddle. Showing the way with my body was faster than explaining it. The horse pricked its ears for a moment, then moved when I drew the reins.
I picked only the frozen rock and gravel, skirting the black-filmed water's edge by the thinnest of margins. A few steps. A few more. The blackness beneath the water heaved once, hard, but never rose.
When I reached the far side, the Lady crossed second. Her horse followed without a single fault. The Imperial Princess came after without hesitation. The knights remained tense to the last, yet every one of them crossed safely.
By the time we left the valley and began climbing the next ridge, night had fully fallen. Yet the northeastern sky remained strangely bright even in the dark.
The moment I saw it, I urged my horse faster. The Imperial Princess called from behind.
"Lord Elverhart."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"I see it."
I did not answer. There was no need.
The instant we crested the final rise, Elverhart's main stronghold lay spread below us.
At this hour the stronghold should have been dark. A few scattered lamps in the outer villages and manor windows, a thin silver veil rising from the barrier stones to hang faintly against the sky.
It was not like that now.
Half the outer stronghold lay drowned in darkness. Entire districts had gone black. And behind the central manor, above the place where the barrier core should have stood, a long black fissure slashed across the sky.
A living crack.
My breath stopped.
The Lady spoke first.
"That is…"
The Imperial Princess could not finish either. Wind rose from below, climbing the ridge. The reek of burning and a coppery tang like blood. Thick enough to taste even from this distance.
I turned my horse's head downward without a word.
Then, from the guard post below the ridge, three torches rose at once.
"Who goes there!"
The voice was sharp and exhausted. I lifted my head.
"Open the gate. Rion Elverhart."
Silence. A moment later a shadow on the post raised a torch high. Then someone shouted as if the words were tearing free of his throat.
"The Young Master has returned—!!"
Young Master.
It had been a long time since I last heard the title. The moment it fell, the post below erupted. The rattle of bolts, running feet, voices rising all at once in raw excitement.
The Imperial Princess and the Lady watched the scene in silence. In the capital I had always stood inside someone else's space. Here it was different. Even if it was collapsing, this was my land.
When the post gate opened, a lean middle-aged man came running out. Gray hair roughly tied back, coat half-thrown on. His face was gaunt, but the light in his eyes was alive.
"…Young Master."
He stopped in front of my horse and looked up at me as if he could not believe it.
"You really… have returned."
I dismounted.
"Kyle."
At the name, the man's throat worked hard once. Kyle Bertin, butler of House Elverhart. The man who had watched over the manor since I was a child. He moved at once to offer formal greeting, but I spoke first.
"How far has it fallen?"
Kyle's face hardened for an instant.
"The main house still holds. But the eastern outer line has gone dark twice, and this evening even the inner barrier core shook."
"Father?"
"He is in the barrier chamber beneath the main house."
I showed no expression, yet Kyle paused very briefly. It was clear the situation was nearing its worst.
Behind me the Imperial Princess rode slowly down. Only then did Kyle look past me; the moment he recognized the imperial crest, his face went whiter still. After seeing the Lady he nearly lost the power of speech.
I said shortly,
"Explanations later. Escort them inside first."
Kyle bowed hastily.
"Yes, Young Master. I shall prepare at once."
Young Master.
This time the title did not feel strangely unfamiliar.
Once we passed through the post gate, the air of the stronghold grew sharper still. People were running. Some stopped the moment they saw us; others called my name with faces on the verge of tears.
"Lord Rion has come!"
"It's the Young Master!"
"He really has returned—!"
The voices spread in an instant. I heard them and did not stop walking. If I stopped, I felt I would choke.
The Imperial Princess and the Lady stayed a step behind even in that atmosphere. Both wore the faces of people who understood that this place moved by an order entirely different from the palace.
On the path leading to the main house, Kyle spoke very low.
"Young Master."
I answered while walking, eyes forward.
"Speak."
"Before you returned… I sent letters twice."
My heart sank for a moment.
"I never received them."
"I thought as much."
He spoke as if clenching his teeth.
"They seemed to have been cut off in the middle."
I asked nothing more. There was no point now in counting how many letters had been stopped. What mattered was only that a hand had already reached this far.
When we reached the steps before the main house, another heavy vibration rolled from within.
Thoom.
A sound like the ground beneath us groaning. Not wind—stone, strained past endurance.
The Lady said quietly,
"The barrier core."
The Imperial Princess finished it in a single word.
"Below."
I answered no further and stepped into the main house.
The corridor was dark. Candles burned, but unevenly; some flames trembled though there was no wind. The portraits on the walls, the old furniture, the red carpet on the stairs, the cool scent of stone—all of it was familiar. So familiar it felt sharper still.
And at the foot of the stairs, before the iron door leading down to the underground barrier chamber, I stopped.
The light seeping through the crack beneath the door was black and murky. I drew a very slow breath.
Behind me Kyle's voice trembled low.
"Young Master… inside are the Viscount, two barrier aides, and—"
Before he finished, something struck hard against the far side of the iron door.
Bang!
And right after it, a voice I knew too well—and had never wanted to hear again—leaked through.
"Do not open that door!"
Father.
I set my hand on the latch. The wound beneath the bandage throbbed hot. If I opened this door now, I would see for certain how far the thing that began in the capital had spread.
And the man I had been before I returned would, most likely, end completely here.
I tightened my grip on the door.
"I am opening it."