Chapter 77

The following day, Harold found himself with a few hours to spare before his evening departure for Brosche Village. He used the time to bring the two Stella Clan members into his room, seating them at a small round table with paper and pens.

Harold stood tall, looming over them with his arms crossed.

"I’m going to ask you a series of questions. Even if you can't speak, you can at least write, can't you?"

Neither of them reacted to his sharp, intimidating gaze, but Harold pressed on regardless.

"First, write your names."

To his surprise, they complied immediately, their pens scratching across the paper with fluid ease. It had been a mere whim, but it proved to be an effective measure.

They finished almost simultaneously. Harold leaned over to inspect the pages.

Lilium.

Ventus.

So those were their names—the girl and the young man. He prompted them for their ages next, revealing that Lilium was sixteen and Ventus was twenty-two.

However, that was where his success hit a wall.

What do you like? What are you thinking about right now? Do you want to be free and return to your old lives?

To these questions, their hands remained motionless. After a long silence, Harold shifted his approach.

"Height?"

The answers came instantly: Lilium, "151 cm"; Ventus, "178 cm."

"Dominant hand?"

Lilium, "Left"; Ventus, "Right."

"Do you have any memories from before Justus captured you?"

No response from either.

"What are your thoughts on Justus?"

Again, silence.

"Actual combat experience?"

Lilium, "None"; Ventus, "Yes."

"Can you use magic?"

Both wrote, "Yes."

"Family?"

Lilium, "Father, mother, sister"; Ventus, "Parents, grandmother."

"Is answering these questions a nuisance?"

No response.

Harold continued the interrogation, testing various topics to find the boundary between what they would and would not answer. A pattern eventually emerged: they would provide objective, factual data, but remained silent regarding anything involving subjectivity, personal opinion, or emotion. Whether it was because Justus had sealed their hearts or some other reason, they were incapable of sharing their "memories"—the very information Harold needed most.

It was likely a security measure implemented by Justus. If anything, it suggested that they possessed incredibly sensitive information, but for now, Harold had no way to extract it.

He decided to set the matter aside.

At the very least, he had learned their names. While he wasn't sure if treating them like individuals would have any positive effect, it made them easier for him to deal with, and that was enough of a win for now.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. It was an inn employee.

The worker handed over a letter addressed to "Mr. Lord," a black-haired, red-eyed guest. Harold took the letter, asking for a description of the messenger while keeping his voice low so the two in the room wouldn't overhear. The description didn't match El, meaning the information broker was using a proxy or a disguise.

Regardless of the messenger, the letter was definitely from El. Harold marveled at the man’s reach; his information network was as terrifying as ever.

He dismissed Lilium and Ventus before opening the envelope. The message was brief: everything was proceeding according to plan, and the strategy would be executed as discussed. El was likely already in position within the town.

When the sky finally dipped into a bruised twilight, Harold and his companions moved out, slipping into the growing shadows.

The trek from the town to Brosche Village took roughly five hours on foot. At their current pace, they would arrive in the dead of night. Though horses would have been faster and were easily available, Harold had opted for the trek to ensure the timeline remained consistent with the game. If they fled too quickly after the theft, Rainer might not catch up to them at Fog Valley as intended.

As the name implied, Fog Valley was a deep ravine perpetually choked with thick mist. In the original story, Rainer catches the thieves there, nearly reclaiming his sword before being blindsided by an accomplice. Why the thieves had lingered in such a place was never explained in the game, but "because it’s convenient for the protagonist" was a good enough excuse for Harold.

While the world didn't always bend to convenience on its own, it now had the ultimate behind-the-scenes coordinator: a man with perfect knowledge of the script.

Once they secured the sword, Harold planned to lead his team away at a moderate pace, making sure they were seen passing through the neighboring town. A trio in black robes was a distinctive enough image to leave a trail straight to Fog Valley.

I just have to loiter at the bottom of the valley for a bit, and Rainer and Colette should pop right up.

He spent the five-hour march simulating the coming events, occasionally brushing aside wandering monsters with a single strike. Finally, the wooden palisades of Brosche Village loomed in the dark. Unlike the Royal Capital, there were no guards posted at the gates.

The gate was barred, but that was a trivial obstacle. Harold took a short run-up and leaped, kicking off the side of the fence twice to propel himself over the four-meter-high barrier.

His eyes, well-accustomed to the dark, scanned the village interior. Finding no sign of life, he dropped soundlessly to the ground. Lilium and Ventus, however, remained on the other side. He wondered for a moment if they lacked the agility to follow, so he moved to the gate and quietly slid the bolt back. They entered without a word.

Justus had claimed their combat abilities were high, and they were certainly formidable in the game, so Harold assumed they just preferred the direct route. Regardless, he didn't have time to dwell on it.

It was midnight, and the moon was frequently obscured by drifting clouds. In this gloom, three figures dressed in black were practically invisible. The village was silent, the houses dark and the inhabitants deep in sleep.

Perfect.

Using the map he’d been provided and his own memories of the game's layout, Harold navigated the village. His mental "overhead view" made it easy to locate the Griffith home without delay.

They crouched in the shadows near the house, watching. Like the rest of the village, the lights were out.

Moving with swift, calculated caution, Harold bypassed the main house and headed for the detached storehouse. The legendary treasure, Gramglan, was waiting inside.

With a single, precise stroke of his blade, he sheared through the padlock and slipped inside. The internal layout was a mystery, and he didn't want to waste time fumbling around; if they were caught before finding the sword, the escape would turn into a headache.

The storehouse was small and cluttered. Harold produced a small lamp from within his robe, casting a dim light over the stacks of crates and tools. He focused on the more organized shelves, assuming a family heirloom wouldn't be tossed into a random pile of junk.

Fifteen minutes later, he found it. Tucked away behind a row of pots and some old gauntlets was a rectangular iron box, over a meter long. He unlatched the clasp. Inside lay the unmistakable form of the Gramglan.

The box had a wide leather shoulder strap, making it easy to carry. Harold handed it to Ventus.

"Wait here," Harold whispered to the two automata. He stepped outside, pretending to scout the perimeter, but instead picked up a heavy pebble and hurled it through a small window pane. The glass shattered with a loud, jarring crash. He felt a twinge of guilt, but a "perfect" theft would have ruined the plot.

The high-pitched ring of breaking glass tore through the silence of the night. Within moments, the Griffith household would be wide awake. Harold ducked back into the storehouse and addressed his subordinates with a tone of forced irritation.

"Trouble. I don't know how, but we've been spotted."

Their expressions didn't change. Right, of course they didn't, he thought. He cracked the door open. Olbel and Leona—Rainer’s parents—were already outside, weapons drawn, scanning the darkness with the practiced eyes of veteran adventurers.

They were closing in on the storehouse. Harold turned to the two automata and gave his final orders.

"Burst out on my signal. There are two skilled fighters out there; handle them. But do not kill them. That would make the aftermath a nightmare. Just hurt them enough to stop them from following us. If reinforcements arrive, the same applies. Understood?"

They gave a slight nod.

Harold focused his senses. His ability to detect presence had grown significantly; he could feel the couple approaching through the walls. As soon as Olbel and Leona were within a meter of the door, Harold swept his left arm forward.

Lilium and Ventus exploded out of the building.

It was a textbook ambush, but Olbel and Leona were seasoned pros. They parried the initial strike and immediately transitioned into a counter-offensive. For a moment, it looked like they might actually seize the initiative.

"Who are you?!" Olbel demanded. "What were you doing in our storehouse?"

Silence was his only answer.

"Playing the quiet type, huh?" Leona growled. "Fine. I’ll beat a confession out of you!"

Lilium squared off against Leona, her two willow leaf blades weaving through the air in a blur of silver. Despite her small stature, her agility and sheer volume of attacks allowed her to match Leona's fierce pressure.

Meanwhile, Ventus struggled. Though he had the reach with his long spear and superior raw strength, Olbel’s combat experience was vastly superior. Olbel managed to close the distance, crowding Ventus and eventually breaking his guard with a calculated opening.

Just as the balance was about to break, a dull glint of steel streaked toward Olbel. He dodged by a hair's breadth as a willow leaf blade thudded into the dirt where his head had been a second ago.

Lilium, the thrower, lunged toward Olbel to retrieve her weapon. Leona moved to intercept her from behind, but Lilium leaped high into the air. It was a coordinated distraction. Ventus, having regained his stance, put every ounce of his strength into a massive, horizontal sweep of his spear.

The attack hit with the force of a localized hurricane. Olbel, realizing he couldn't dodge in time, threw up his sword to block. The sheer momentum of the heavy spear shattered the guard. The shaft slammed into Olbel’s side, sending his muscular frame flying several meters.

"Gah!"

"Olbel!" Leona screamed, her focus snapping toward her fallen husband for a fraction of a second.

Lilium did not hesitate.

She snatched her blade from the ground and stayed low, practically crawling beneath the wake of Ventus's follow-up swing as she charged Leona. It was a reckless, high-speed maneuver that would have seen her killed by her own partner's spear if she had flinched for even a moment.

By the time the "gale" passed, Lilium was already upon her.

Leona tried to react, but she was too slow. Lilium knocked the weapon from her hand and delivered a shallow but precise slash to her left leg.

"Agh!"

Leona dropped to one knee, gritting her teeth against the pain. Olbel lay nearby, gasping for breath and unable to rise. Neither wound was fatal, but they were effectively neutralized. They wouldn't be doing any chasing tonight.

Perfect execution, Harold thought. Justus hadn't been exaggerating about their utility.

Then, with impeccable timing, the star of the show arrived.

"Deryaaaaa!"

It was a decent surprise attack, but the battle cry completely ruined the stealth element. You shouldn't shout during an ambush, kid, Harold critiqued from the shadows.

Even so, the strike was sharper than Harold expected. The blade caught the edge of Ventus's robe, tearing the fabric. As the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, the silver light revealed Ventus’s face for all to see.

Rainer stared, burning the image into his memory.

"Get back, Rainer!" Leona shouted. She knew from the brief exchange that her son was no match for these two.

But Rainer Griffith wasn't the type to run.

"I can't just stand by while you and Dad are hurt!"

"It’s just a scratch! Get out of here!"

"No way!"

He had the pride, the conviction, and the resolve of a hero. The only thing he lacked was strength—and the experience he needed to gain that strength began tonight. This was the moment he would set out on the path to becoming the hero who would save the world.

For a fan of Brave Hearts, this was the ultimate scene. Hidden in the shadows, Harold felt a genuine thrill of excitement.

But he couldn't stay to watch forever.

While the Griffiths were distracted by the two "thieves," Harold slipped out of the storehouse and vanished into the night. Recognizing Rainer as reinforcement, Lilium and Ventus followed his lead, retreating into the woods without engaging further.

As he looked back one last time, Harold saw the bewildered, frustrated look on Rainer’s face. In that moment, the boy already looked every bit the protagonist he was destined to be.