A week passed.
The days settled into a quiet routine.
Every morning belonged to the library. Afternoons disappeared among shelves of books and unfamiliar Marian words. Evenings were spent wandering the city in search of work.
Nothing changed.
Every place asked the same question.
"Do you have a recommendation?"
Every time, his answer remained the same.
"No."
And every conversation ended there.
The celebration being prepared throughout House Korrandis became the only thing breaking the routine. Servants hurried through the halls carrying expensive wines, silver cutlery and crates of fresh ingredients. Whatever the occasion was, it seemed important enough to involve the entire estate.
Eldrin paid little attention to it.
Something else occupied his thoughts.
The questions had only grown heavier since arriving in Maria.
His family was gone.
House Novaryn had fallen.
Yet the Kingdom of Eldia...
...had done nothing.
No declaration of war.
No retaliation.
Not even a rumor of armies gathering at the border.
It made no sense.
Novaryn had served Eldia for generations.
His father had sworn his sword to the crown.
Then why had the kingdom remained silent?
And another question refused to leave him.
Why had his father ordered them toward Maria?
Toward the very kingdom that had invaded their homeland.
Not north.
Not west.
Not deeper into Eldia.
Maria.
Every time he replayed that final memory, the same confusion returned.
Why here?
Those answers had to exist somewhere.
Perhaps...
Inside the journals kept on the library’s third floor.
Master Rowan had once mentioned them almost casually.
Each month, the Duke recorded the estate’s important affairs in his own hand.
Today was the third of April.
Which meant the journal for March had already been completed.
If the fall of House Novaryn truly was the greatest news on the continent...
There was a chance.
Perhaps only a small one.
But a chance nonetheless.
That morning, the library was unusually quiet.
It always was during the first few hours after sunrise.
Visitors rarely arrived before midday, leaving Rowan alone to sort returned books while Eldrin worked downstairs.
Last night, Rowan had handed him a small silver card.
"I almost forgot."
"Give this to the butler tomorrow."
Eldrin had accepted it without another thought.
Now...
It rested quietly inside his pocket.
He knew exactly which door it opened.
He also knew he should have handed it over the moment he arrived.
Instead...
He looked toward the staircase leading to the third floor.
If he was caught, he would almost certainly lose his place in the estate.
Perhaps worse.
But if those journals contained even a fragment of the truth...
The risk was worth taking.
He slipped the key from his pocket and began climbing the stairs.
The staircase ended before a pair of dark wooden doors bound with black iron.
Unlike the rest of the library, there were no plaques, no labels, not even a handle.
Only a small crystal panel had been set into the wall beside the frame.
Eldrin reached into his pocket and withdrew the thin silver access card.
For a brief moment, he simply looked at it.
Master Rowan had trusted him without a second thought.
And here he was...
About to betray that trust.
"...I’ll put it back."
The quiet promise did little to ease his conscience.
He pressed the card against the crystal panel.
A faint blue light spread across its surface.
Access Granted.
A soft mechanical click echoed from within the door.
Eldrin glanced over his shoulder.
The library remained silent.
He pushed the door open just enough to slip through.
The moment he entered, he gently pulled it shut behind him.
Another click.
The lock engaged automatically.
Only then did he allow himself to look around.
The room was smaller than he had imagined.
It was an archive.
Tall cabinets lined the walls instead of shelves, each fitted with narrow drawers and locked compartments. Leather-bound journals occupied most of the space, arranged with almost obsessive precision. Every spine carried only two markings.
A year.
And a month.
Nothing else.
There were no titles.
Eldrin walked slowly between them, his fingertips brushing across the worn leather.
1748.
1759.
1763.
There were hundreds.
Then his eyes caught something different.
A single journal rested alone on a polished oak desk near the window.
It hadn’t been shelved yet.
March, 1776.
Eldrin stopped before the desk.
If the Duke truly recorded the estate’s affairs every month...
Then this would be the most recent account.
The one most likely to mention House Novaryn.
He rested a hand on the cover.
Then, taking one slow breath...
He opened it.
Eldrin turned the first page carefully.
The handwriting was elegant.
His eyes moved quickly across the opening paragraphs.
Most of it was routine.
Shipments of grain from the western provinces.
A dispute over taxes.
Preparations for the upcoming gathering at the estate.
Nothing.
He turned another page.
Then another.
His pace quickened.
Still nothing.
Just as disappointment began creeping in, a familiar name caught his eye.
...Eldia.
His hand stopped.
He leaned closer.
Today, His Majesty has summoned me to the royal palace regarding the ongoing negotiations with the Kingdom of Eldia.
Eldrin frowned.
Negotiations?
He continued reading.
King Arrakus appears eager to bring the matter to its conclusion. In return, he claims he can provide something House Korrandis and MARIA has sought for many years.
Eldrin read the sentence again.
Then a third time.
Something...
House Korrandis had sought for years?
His thoughts raced.
Peace?
No.
Peace alone wouldn’t be described that way.
Money?
House Korrandis hardly lacked wealth.
Then what...
He turned the page.
The next line had barely entered his vision—
A faint sound echoed somewhere beyond the door.
...
Footsteps.
Someone was climbing the staircase.
Eldrin froze.
The journal remained open beneath his hands.
Another step.
Closer.
Then another.
The sound stopped outside the room.
A soft electronic chime answered from the access panel.
Someone was scanning a card.
The lock clicked.
The door began to open.