***

Calden Castle, South Cairn.

The Athawall Vale

"Are you leaving?" asked Mark Frederick.

That morning, Mark came to Beatrice's chamber after a long night of conversation with wine, the red wine Beatrice had been craving.

Her craving had been completely satisfied. The wine in South Cairn was much better than Plum Doux in Telmarath.

Now, Beatrice seemed to be fully prepared. She packed her clothes, loaded her belongings, and placed the iron bow behind her.

"Yes. It was pretty fun last night," Beatrice replied, smiling happily.

Seeing Beatrice's happy expression relieved Mark. The woman was about to leave Calden Castle to return to her village before she went to the land promised by King Richard.

"Frederick's soldiers can escort you to Hillfar. Riding in a horse-drawn carriage is much faster than walking, right?" Mark asked.

Beatrice was grateful to have a friend like Mark. She did not refuse Mark's suggestion and thanked the House of Frederick's leader.

"Thank you for your generosity, Lord Mark," she agreed.

After all the things were packed, Beatrice walked alongside Mark to get downstairs to the halls of Calden Castle.

The doors of Calden Castle opened. Mark and Beatrice, who had arrived at the hall, gasped as the armoured soldier walked quickly towards them.

Mark squinted, curious about the soldier's arrival to see him, "What?"

"The Raven from Amberwood has arrived, Lord Frederick," the soldier replied sternly.

He knelt down with both hands stretched forward, displaying a paper scroll with a tin stamp shaped like a tree.

Beatrice became curious. She stood silently beside Mark, who began to unroll the letter.

There was a handwritten Latin greeting from the Amberwood small-town leader, Viscount Godric Engel.

"Lady Grace Engel is dead," replied Mark.

"Lady Grace?" asked Beatrice.

"She was my childhood friend. House Frederick and Viscount Engel were good friends," replied Mark.

The woman beside Mark nodded a few times; she didn't really understand the relations between nobles other than those of the baron class.

Grace Engel's death must have been a painful blow to Mark, especially when the man had been best friends with Grace since he was a child.

"What caused her death?" asked Beatrice.

Mark unrolled the letter again, reading the details of Grace's death. Mark's eyes gasped; Godric Engel's explanation was clear.

"The Waterside village led by Baron Simon Bert was destroyed and burned in one night. 8000 villagers were burnt to death," Mark added.

"Waterside is a village close to the mythological border. Could it be caused by demons?" asked Beatrice, squinting her eyes.

"To destroy and kill the entire village in one night, it would take a powerful power equal to an Archmage," Mark replied.

"But who did it exactly? Is there a demon stronger than Jommon?" Beatrice was puzzled because the number of deaths was massive in a large village. A human couldn't destroy the village alone in one night.

Mark remained silent, then burned the letter from Godric Engel with the magic ability above his palm.

In order to know everything that had happened there, Mark needed to go to Amberwood to confirm it.

"It looks like I have to go to Amberwood. After all, Amberwood is still under the rule of House Frederick," Mark explained.

"I'll come with you," Beatrice replied. Mark couldn't refuse.

Mark's eyes flicked forward, ordering the armoured soldier kneeling obediently before him to stand up, "Get the lads to saddle their horses."

The soldier nodded, lifting a leg to leave the halls of Calden Castle. Mark and Beatrice started walking together again, heading towards the hall door until they reached the front yard of Calden Castle.

The ten cavalrymen of the House of Frederick were ready, as were Mark and Beatrice. Stephanie looked out from the room's balcony and saw Mark sitting on his horse.

"Where are you going?" asked Stephanie.

Mark looked up, looking intently at his mother, "Amberwood. Lady Grace is dead."

"What? How did she die?" asked Stephanie.

"I'll look into it," Mark replied.

After saying goodbye, the cavalcade of cavalry quickly left Calden Castle, passing through the town's main street until it reached outside the gates of South Cairn.

The distance from Calden Castle to Amberwood was about a thirty-minute ride. Mark and Beatrice were confident they could get to the town quickly to get more information about the destruction of Waterside.

The letter was sent to the House of Frederick and all the Viscounts and Barons within the Athawall Vale —a province-like territory ruled by the House of Frederick.

They all mourned the death of the First Lady Viscount Godric Engel. The Viscounts and Barons never expected death to come early to Grace Engel.

Her beauty, elegance, and ingenuity in managing a town were much appreciated by the Viscounts and Barons of Athawall Vale; even the House of Frederick admitted Grace's capabilities.

However, it was a shame that Grace had to die horribly at the hands of Avery, who had been possessed by Jommon's evil soul. They would never have expected Grace's death to be caused by the Sacred Knight, who is revered throughout Lancaster.

After half an hour of riding fast towards Amberwood, Mark could see a Amber tree standing tall in the town, the landmark of Amberwood.

The flag of the House of Frederick was spotted as far as the eye could see by the soldiers guarding the town. Two soldiers opened the gate and invited the ruling House of Athawall Vale representatives to enter.

The arrival of Mark Frederick with the house of Frederick's proud flag amazed the townspeople. Along the town streets, people bowed their heads to salute Mark.

Arriving at the Amberwood Manor House, Mark was immediately greeted by a thin man wearing a noble shirt without a coat. The two embraced tightly, having not seen each other for a while.

"I'm glad you've come to this place, Lord Mark," Godric expressed.

"Thank you. May I see her?" asked Mark.

Godric took a deep breath, reaching back. They walked together out the front door of the manor house to get to the hall, where Grace's beautiful body lay prepared for cremation.

Beatrice chose to wait outside, her eyes looking to the south, where a group of people were being treated.

Filled with curiosity, the woman walked up to the group, most of them suffering from burns. Beatrice guessed they were the survivors of the Waterside Tragedy.

"What happened?" she asked.

One of the injured villagers stood up, bowing his head to salute Beatrice, "A young man went on a wild rampage and burned down the entire village. Children and women died violently; the soldiers could not defeat him."

"Is he from the demon race?" asked Beatrice.

The middle-aged man before Beatrice shook his head. He had caught a glimpse of the person's appearance but couldn't figure out his identity. "He's human, around 25, with black hair and both eyes looking pitch black."

Beatrice widened her eyes. Not many people have jet-black hair. Somehow, her mind always went to Avery, "Is he wielding a sword? A big sword with a blue-white blade?"

The middle-aged man shook his head; he was sure the young man had destroyed Waterside with magic. "No. He destroyed the village with magic."

"Hmm. I'll have to look at the place in person."