In Search of the Lost Heirloom (3)
"[Your face looks so abyssal that even demons would want to be friends!]"
Orishin cackled. For the first time in a while, Kriel dipped his hand in holy water and grabbed Orishin's horn, shaking it vigorously.
"[Gah! My horn!]"
It was a reason that was utterly unconvincing, yet somehow inescapably true. Just as Kriel was feeling that familiar frustration, Alberik's indignant shout echoed through the air.
"No way! Don't you know FIFO? How can a junior graduate before his senior?!"
"Quiet down, young master!"
While Oipe approached Alberik's cell and bickered with him, Kriel bowed his head toward another elf.
"I have a request."
"Pardon?"
It was about the 'reward' that the elf had mentioned right after Kriel bowed his head moments ago. Since the Lir family had so insulted a knight's honor, it was only right that they bend over backward to accommodate him. What sort of reward would he demand? Some secret artifact treasured by the esteemed elf house? Having been right next to that troublemaker young master with only a wall between them, he might have heard about the heirloom. Tension rose in the low-ranking elf who would have to relay Kriel's demand up the chain.
"Could you make some rice in that friend's cell? He was awfully noisy last night about wanting rice."
"Rice?"
The knight nodded silently. Compared to the gravity of having his honor insulted, it was an absurdly light request. The elf blinked in confusion.
"Our family doesn't eat that crop much... Unless Lady Pand requested it, we wouldn't even procure─"
"Pand?"
It was a name Kriel had never heard before. This was his first time visiting the Lir estate, and he had no real connections in high society, so there was no way for him to have learned the name of some lofty figure from a fairy noble house.
I should've asked Armed.
Come to think of it, he did know one actual noble—not that he'd thought of her as such. To Kriel, Armed was a 'mage' far more than a noblewoman, so it hadn't crossed his mind when he left the Gabi estate.
As Kriel repeated the name, Oipe, who had been bickering with Alberik, approached and whispered.
"Niam."
"Ah... I'm so sorry..."
The elf called Niam bowed her head repeatedly. From her demeanor, Kriel sensed the vibe of a fresh-faced newbie in society. She was the first one sent to meet him at the Lir family's orders, and she seemed to have the lowest standing among the household members.
"Hey! No need to apologize! You just stated the facts!"
Alberik yelled from inside the cell.
"It's no big secret that Mom and I are the only ones in this house who like rice. Anyway, thanks for looking out for me. Let's grab a drink when I get out!"
Guided to the guest quarters by Niam and Oipe, Kriel received a brief explanation about Alberik and Pand along the way.
Pand, the wife of Nawiden Lir, was not an elf of the Empire. She was a purist elf who had lived in service to the World Tree. Her bloodline carried the thickest inheritance of the ancient fairies.
[Hey, that's wild. Do those World Tree elves even come outside? Did she fall head over heels for her husband at first sight or something?]
Orishin's whisper was aimed at Kriel. Tuon chided him.
[You vulgar curved blade. Think about the situation. There had to be a reason she left the World Tree.]
[The World Tree gardeners have no reason to go outside... uh...]
The Maou War. Orishin fell silent.
It was common knowledge that early in the Maou War, the World Tree had nearly burned to the ground. Kriel recalled the lore from Tirnanog RPG.
The 'heroes'—the players—didn't appear until the world was already engulfed in the flames of war. If you divided the Maou War into early, mid, and late phases, they showed up in the very final stretch of the late phase, as the world's last resort. The time from the heroes' arrival to the Maou's defeat was short. But from the war's outbreak to their arrival? Decades.
Tirnanog RPG wasn't the type to spoon-feed its lore.
Still, you could piece it together from item descriptions and boss cutscenes. The war lasted at least a decade—no, maybe close to a century. Or perhaps both were true. The abyss that shrouded the pits warped even time and space within them, like black holes. A second outside could be a minute inside.
The Maou War spanned the entire world of Tirnanog, with countless pits opening everywhere. Each pit's depth varied, so the time dilation ratios did too.
While Kriel pondered Tirnanog's history, Orishin was getting scolded by Tuon.
[Thoughtless words ignoring the scars of war. And you call yourself a spirit?!]
[Wait, hold on. It's a misunderstanding. I've been holed up in the mountains too long and I'm out of touch!]
[A spirit as ancient as you, using ignorance as an excuse? How cowardly! No wonder your sword bends so easily to compromise!]
[Hey, come on!]
Orishin felt wronged. If anyone was a pureblood abyss spawn, it was that demon sword. Why was he getting called out for not reading the room? Both swords had a sliver of social awareness, at least. Fortunately, their bickering was via thought waves.
Kriel let their squabbling wash over him and spoke up.
"I've heard that every plant in Tirnanog grows around the World Tree. Alberik's fondness for rice must come from that influence."
"Yes. The young master—er, young lord—was born during the war. While Elder Nawiden was at the front lines, the young lord stayed with Lady Pand."
Kriel's intellect, long neglected in favor of his noble knightly duties, stirred. From the elves' demeanor, it was easy to guess that Lady Pand's current condition wasn't good. He recalled Alberik's prison chatter: that filial fire about how the elders might ignore him but his mother would see him, and his whining for hot white rice. It might not be the empty ravings of a spoiled brat, but a bitter longing for his mother.
Is some of Alberik's playboy antics a way to avoid dealing with his mother's absence?
As he psychoanalyzed the delinquent young master locked in his cell, they reached the end of the tour. For the third time, Kriel was shown into a Lir family reception room. The first had been the waiting room for Niam. The second, the trapped room leading to the prison. This one was markedly more luxurious than the previous two—an elven luxury, not human. A door woven from intertwined branches without a single trace of tools, blending nature and artifice. Strangely, the branches formed specific patterns. Likely the result of the elves' innate affinity for nature.
Niam and Oipe opened the double doors. Beyond stood a single elderly elf man with a wizened face.
"Welcome. Sir Kriel. I am Nawiden Lir, representing the Lir family this time."
A figure of advanced age and deep wisdom. Nawiden held two positions ripe for authority, yet his tone held no coercion. There were two reasons. First, he had prepared for death and let go of attachments like authority. Among the elders who prized dignity and honor above all, he had been the first to volunteer as the apology delegation leader. Second, the Lir family had already insulted Kriel's honor. Abyss suspicions? To a knight who fought the abyss, there was no greater insult. It wouldn't be strange if he demanded the heads of Niam, who had misjudged him, or the others who skipped proper verification.
After a brief introduction, Nawiden bowed deeply in apology.
"Elves may live long lives, but time does not always breed wisdom. The name of Lir has soiled your honor, so I can only offer my sincerest regrets. We cannot undo what has happened, nor replace honor with gold. Yet apologies must be sincere. Whatever you desire, name it. The family will do everything in its power."
Uh.
Kriel was taken aback. The man wasn't just any elf—he was an elf grandfather. A bow from someone who looked and actually was old enough to be his elder hit hard for a scholar-knight from a land of Eastern propriety.
"Please, withdraw your words. I know it was a misunderstanding without malice, not something requiring compensation."
Kriel helped the old man straighten up for the sake of his back, then sat at the table and explained why he'd come to the Lir estate in the first place.
"Spirit corruption? Might I meet that spirit in person?"
[Behold my entrance!]
Orishin burst forth from his horn-sword form. Nawiden observed carefully. Indeed, it carried an extraordinary history.
"Nothing else you need?"
"This spirit is my companion. I've come only to fulfill a companion's wish—wealth and gain have no place here."
Nawiden nodded. A remarkably upright knight. Outwardly, he even evoked memories of the abyss legion commanders he'd fought in his youth, but a spirit called him companion. Spirits saw the heart, not the face—his character was proven.
"Then we'll do our utmost to cleanse Lord Orishin's taint. We'll have to open the family vault."
Kriel followed Nawiden downward. The Lir estate adhered faithfully to ancient fairy architecture, spanning the interiors and exteriors of massive trees. Living spaces were high up where sunlight poured in, while underground near the roots held shelters and storehouses against invasions. The place Kriel was led to was one such storehouse—the vault, treated with utmost security. Especially since the delinquent young master's recent mishap, the guards were tighter.
Lir family elf mages blocked the vault entrance.
"Elder Nawiden. What brings you?"
"By unanimous family council decision, to aid Sir Kriel and his companion by releasing a heirloom. Open the door."
Nawiden's writ bore the Lir family's magic seal. The guards checked it twice before stepping aside.
As they walked the dimly lit vault passage, Orishin quietly asked.
[Heirloom? The one we heard about in the underground prison?]
But it was a secluded place from the start, and as an elf, Nawiden missed no sound, however small.
"Mm. Yes. You've met Alberik?"
Orishin floundered, having badmouthed the son in front of his father. Kriel stepped in.
"He was my prison neighbor. We were both bored and shared many stories. He didn't seem the type to recklessly sell family treasures outside."
"Mm. I don't believe my son stole the heirloom to sell, either. Unless it was to store liquor in it and drink..."
"Liquor?"
"The heirloom Alberik took is called the Chalice of Truth. Water in it sheds illusions to reveal truth, imbued with purification. ...Our ancestors supposedly used it as a drinking cup long ago."
Was alcoholism a family tradition in this ancient fairy house? As Kriel reevaluated his image of elven nobility, Nawiden pressed deeper into the vault without pause.
"It's right there. Though deep underground, ancient fairy architecture ensures light always reaches that pedestal—sunlight by day, moonlight by night. The light-infused chalice reflects it back into the water─"
Nawiden couldn't finish. A pedestal glowed with soft, mystical light. Atop it sat the silver Chalice of Truth. The moment it entered Kriel's sight, he strode forward and smashed it to pieces.