Naro wanted him to do so and he was determined to find out why. He walked up the slope of the hill—the wind blew strongly despite it being the early morning—due mostly from the distant currents produced from the flapping of dragons’ wings.
He made the final step up to the windmill and walked towards it, appraising its old, war-torn structure. He had been here many times in his youth where he remembered admiring the black roses of the Black Rose Fields and playing with Rina, as well as Naro and a boy. A cthonican imp boy who had often snook to their kingdom with Naro from the Northern Lands which the cthonicans once ruled.
It was the first time Dante or Rina ever saw cthonicans. He could barely remember much about the boy—not even his name—but he did remember the day Tarien was attacked when the war suddenly happened. It was on that same day Naro had been caught in their kingdom and whisked off by royal soldiers—being spared only due to his incalculable magical power which the king deemed might have been useful. Naro never seemed to have protested the action, oddly enough, perhaps it was due to the fact that he grew up without a family. Who knew?
Dante sighed and sat on the hill and looked at the completely burned fields—covered in nothing but dark ashes which wafted through the air when a gust of wind blew. Such a waste, the King won’t be happy, he thought as he looked on.
His train of thought shifted elsewhere. He would never have thought that Galmaria being set ablaze could ignite the entire field—he didn’t have to—he knew better. It was the brown-cloaked figure’s doing. The one who had cast a terrifying spell. P erhaps another cthonican connected with Galmaria, he thought. It would not have been surprising, since cthonicans were known to murder their own in lieu of having one suffer—in their minds—a far worse fate of being killed by a human.
The sudden manifestation of a strong presence—too strong for his liking—behind Dante caused him to swivel around quickly to a crouching position. He drew his sword hastily, pointing its tip to the throat of the brown-cloaked being now standing before him.
The being grinned, displaying a set of white teeth with long canines. “Easy there, Captain.”
“N-Naro!?” Dante yelled, retracting his blade to his side.
“That looks like a nasty injury,” Naro replied, removing his hood and pointing at Dante’s right arm.
Dante stood and walked towards Naro and touched him lightly on the shoulder. “Y-you’re alive!”
Naro chuckled. “Indeed, I am.”
“How is it possible?! We saw you dead in the town square, by your own sword!” Dante looked at the hilt of Naro’s sword protruding from within his cloak.
“I apologize, Dante,” Naro said, looking across the charred fields. “I used a spell to clone myself and baited the Shadow Woman to it. That way, she would not have killed any innocent humans”—he shrugged—“she took the bait easily, having seemed to have known who I was and took great joy in my demise. I simply used the opportunity to fake my own death.”
“What?”—Dante shook his head—“why did… why would you do that? Fake your death, I mean.”
Naro turned to him and smiled. “I want to discover the truth behind everything, by faking my death I can more easily go about my investigations away from prying eyes.”
Dante stared at Naro for some time before speaking. “I see, but you had left the Royal Mage Knights for over a year. Why do this now?”
“I had been planning it for a while to be honest, but this seemed like the perfect opportunity,” Naro said. “Having witnesses from a well-known town as well as knights from the castle, was perfect.” He put a hand on the back of his neck and rubbed it vigorously. “The news of my death has already spread quite quickly from Tarien to abroad, as expected.”
“Everyone has been shocked by the news. Rina too, I will tell her—”
“No, please do not tell her. There is much I need to do and no one else can know of this. Iit is for the best.”
“What will you do now?”
“I will go to Cthonica. If I want to find certain truths, I believe I may do so there.”
Dante stared at Naro again. Had it been anyone else, he would have thought they had gone mad or sought a quick death—Instead, Dante nodded. “If there’s anyone who could venture there alone, it would be you,” he said. “Where did you go? After you faked your death?”
“I quickly went to the castle to leave something for you. It was safest left there.”
“Something for me? You wrote of the castle in your letter, about something I might be interested to know about.”
“Yes, it’s central to what made me decide to fake my death and venture to Cthonica,” Naro said, digging into his cloak and handing Dante a key. “Go to the castle’s eastern tower and take up the fifth floorboard from the old knight’s armor. You’ll find a chest hidden beneath, use this key to open it.”
Dante looked at the key and put it within his cloak. “I have so many questions right now.”
“I understand, but you have also had a tiring night. It is best you rest for a while. The King will surely have much more for you to do.”
“Speaking of the King,” Dante pointed across to the fields, “he won’t be happy about this.”
“Hups! My mistake, I had rushed to the Black Rose Fields and removed the bodies of our fallen comrades. I saw the Shadow Woman fleeing from afar and thought to annihilate her”—he put a hand on Dante’s shoulder—“do not worry. Tell the King I did it. I will accept the blame.”
Dante chortled and rubbed his own hair. “Well… it kind of was you who did it actually—”
“A-are those treats I smell?” Naro asked, pointing at the sack bag Dante carried.
“Oh yes, just as you asked. What a sense of smell you werecats have.”
“Hahaha, my nose is special even amongst werecats!” Naro took the bag eagerly and looked inside. “Delicious! You are a great man Sir Legothe.”
“Haha, I do what I can.”
“Well I shall be off now, but I will be in touch”—he furrowed his brows—“Dante, together I believe we can change the tide of this war. For the better.”
Dante watched as Naro walked away then cleared his throat. “Wait, Naro.”
Naro turned around, nibbling on one of the cakes. “Yes?”
“Do you remember talking about love at the inn?”
Naro nodded and grinned. “That I do remember, what of it?”
“Umm… have you ever loved someone who was very different from yourself?”
Naro grinned. “Can’t say that I have. After all, I haven’t had much time for the escapades of love as a mage knight,” when Dante said nothing he continued. “You know, if you really love someone truly, and they feel the same, then nothing should prevent it. There is no magic greater than love, now is there?”
“How right you are.”
Naro took a great stretch and yawned. “It’s daytime so I soon have to be asleep, going back to the castle now?”
“Not yet, I need to take care of one thing first.
“Alright then, whatever it is, let your heart guide you,” Naro said before winking knowingly. He then smiled and turned around, leaving as quickly as he had appeared.
Dante wasted no time in heading in the other direction, pacing down the hill and across the dark fields. He tried not to think too much about what Naro had said about the war and secret at the castle. It was indeed a lot to take in, however, something else loomed on the forefront of his consciousness.
He made it to the large, white manor overlooking the now decimated Eastern Black Rose Fields and knocked on the door. After a few moments, it opened. Dante looked at the short, servant girl who stood before him and smiled warmly.
“Hello there, is the Viscountess in?”
“Oh, Sir Legothe! Y-yes she is. Shall I fetch her to come here?”
He was surprised by the answer. “No need. I would like to come in and see her myself.”
“Yes, ummm, certainly. Right this way,” she replied. Leading him inside th
e manor which was filled with expensive decor and ornamentation from all over the world. Magically inviting trinkets were on display here and there—as well eccentric oddities with unusual appearances, many of which Dante could not discern.
He was not surprised however, as the Viscount was known to be an avid collector of all sorts of bizarre and antique odds and ends. Upon the walls were various ‘trophies’ of the rare game the Viscount hunted for sport; a chimera, dragonlin, gargon and others—their heads prominently displayed upon lacquered gold plates. Dante was disgusted by it all—he never understood those who killed for sport, as he felt all innocent life was sacred.
He followed the girl to the bottom of a stairwell and watched her walk up the stairs leading to the bedrooms.
She suddenly turned to him. “Sir Legothe, I heard of your hard-fought battle and victory over the Shadow Woman.”
Dante nodded. “Ah… yes, did you hear from the Viscountess?”
“Yes, I would like to thank you for that. My… father was killed by her,” she said, looking down. “I hate the cthonicans. They have taken so much from us—I-I wish I could do something… I wish I had the power to kill every last one of them!”
Dante could feel her angst reverberating strongly. He had come across a seemingly countless number of people who felt the same way across several towns and villages in the kingdom. So much hurt. So much pain. He vowed to end it all. “I am sorry for your loss, Zinnia,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “I promise you that I will do everything within my power to