The Rise of The Shadow Knighthood

The warm glow of the morning sun bathed the cobblestone streets of Avalorne in a golden hue. The city bustled with life as workers hauled timber, masons laid stone, and farmers transported produce through newly built irrigation canals. The air smelled of fresh earth and sawdust, a testament to a city in the process of rebirth.

Through the clatter of hammers and the hum of the crowd, a single black carriage rolled down the main street. The crest of the Britalienne Empire glinted on its side, and the sight of it drew the attention of townsfolk. Whispers followed it like the trailing smoke of a fire.

Inside the carriage, Vergil sat with his back straight, his eyes scanning the newspaper in his hand. The headline at the top of the page read:

COUNT VAYNE ARRESTED FOR HUMAN TRAFFICKING AND ABUSE

Trial to be held before Empress Eliza II. Public Execution Expected.

Vergil's lips curled into a faint, fleeting smile. It was a small shift from his usual cold, stoic demeanor, but it did not go unnoticed.

Sitting across from him, Freya leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with interest. For a month now, she had followed this man — her master, her leader. She had seen his calm ruthlessness, his ability to navigate even the most dangerous situations with precision. But now, for the first time, she saw a glimpse of something else.

"You're smiling, doctor," Freya remarked, her wolf-like ears twitching playfully.

"Am I?" Vergil glanced at her with his usual calm gaze, his smile already gone.

"You are," Freya grinned, baring a fang. "It's rare to see you looking like a human being."

He set the paper aside, folding it neatly. His blue-sky eyes met hers, cold but not unkind. "Even the most ruthless assassin is still human." He glanced at the five young girls seated quietly next to Freya. "And even monsters have moments of mercy."

The five children sat close together, eyes darting around nervously. Their worn-out clothes and hollow eyes were evidence of the hardships they had faced in the orphanage. But today was different. Today, they were free.

Two of the girls, one with blonde hair and other sharp blue hair, clung to each other. Their eyes held something different — a quiet strength, a flicker of power that Vergil had noticed back at the orphanage.

The other three girls, older and more wary, sat in silence, too tired to trust the world yet. One of them had a scar running down her cheek, a permanent reminder of the cruelty she had faced. She glanced at Vergil but quickly looked away, her heart unsure if he was another predator or a savior.

"Where are we going, mister?" asked one of the twins, her voice quiet but curious.

"To a better place," Vergil replied. "A place where no one will hurt you again."

The carriage stopped in front of the newly built town square of Avalorne. Workers hauled stone blocks into place, craftsmen painted signs for shops, and engineers oversaw the progress of irrigation channels that cut through the center of the town. It wasn't much yet, but the foundation of something great had been laid.

Vergil stepped down from the carriage, his black cloak billowing behind him like a shadow unfurling in daylight. Freya followed, her sharp eyes scanning the area. She placed a hand on the head of one of the girls, guiding her down with care.

The children stepped onto the cobblestone street, their faces full of wonder. The city, while incomplete, was a vast world compared to the confines of the orphanage.

"We'll need clothes," Vergil said to Freya, already scanning the buildings nearby. His eyes landed on a quaint shop with mannequins dressed in fine, simple garments. "There."

They entered the shop, and a small bell jingled. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, smiled at them. But her eyes lingered on Vergil's dark cloak and the twin swords at his waist.

"Welcome," she said politely, but her tone was cautious. "How may I help you?"

"These children need clothes," Vergil said plainly, gesturing toward the girls. "Let them pick what they want."

The woman blinked in surprise. "Pick whatever they want?"

"Yes," Freya added, her golden eyes glinting. "Price is not an issue."

The shopkeeper hesitated but quickly nodded. "Of course. Children, come here, sweethearts. Let me help you."

At first, the girls moved slowly, unsure if this was some kind of trick. But Freya knelt beside them, her eyes filled with warmth. "Go on," she whispered. "Pick something nice. No one will hurt you."

One of the older girls, the one with the scar on her cheek, stepped forward first. She ran her fingers over the soft fabric of a blue dress. Her eyes widened, and she pulled it from the rack, holding it against herself.

"It's yours," Freya said softly.

The girl's eyes watered, and she clutched the dress close to her chest. Her small shoulders shook as quiet sobs escaped her lips. The others followed suit, picking dresses, tunics, and coats, their eyes alight with wonder and disbelief.

For a moment, Vergil simply watched. His arms were crossed, his face unreadable.

"Mercy…" Freya said softly, glancing at him. "You've given them something more than clothes, Master."

After their shopping trip, they returned to Vergil's mansion on the edge of Avalorne. The large stone estate was old but sturdy, a stronghold with high walls and steel-reinforced gates.

The five children were shown to a large room with soft beds and fresh linen. Freya helped them settle in, ensuring they were comfortable. By the time she returned downstairs, a large crate and a letter had been delivered by a messenger from the capital.

"This is from the Empress," Freya noted, her wolf-like ears twitching with curiosity.

Vergil crouched by the crate, his gloved hands carefully prying it open. Inside, a large pouch filled with gold coins sat atop velvet cloth. The sheer weight of the coins caused the crate's bottom to creak.

He lifted the pouch, feeling its weight. Freya's eyes widened slightly.

"That's a lot of gold," she muttered. "What's the letter say?"

Vergil unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the familiar handwriting of Empress Eliza II.

To Vergil Ragnaros,

I have sent you the first of many rewards for your service.

Captain Brentrand was thorough in his report of your mission.

Your strategy, precision, and execution were exemplary.

I am impressed.

This is only the beginning. I will call upon you again soon, and next time, the task will be far more difficult.

Be prepared.

- Empress Eliza II

Vergil folded the letter neatly and set it aside.

"Looks like the Empress is taking a keen interest in you, Doctor," Freya said, her grin sly. "Fame, wealth, and power. The usual rewards for assassins like us, huh?"

Vergil glanced at the gold, his expression unreadable. "Power, yes. Wealth, maybe." He looked at the ceiling, where the faint sounds of children's voices echoed down the hall. "But fame is a curse, not a reward."

Freya tilted her head, her grin fading slightly. "Then why keep doing it?"

Vergil's eyes shifted to her, cold as ever but tinged with something more. "Because there's more than one way to control the shadows. But they forget something, once shadow made oat there is no back from that oat."

Freya's eyes widened, her grin returning, this time sharper and more knowing.

"Then let's master the shadows together, Doctor."

He gave a small nod, his gaze shifting to the window. Beyond it, Avalorne's streets lay bathed in sunlight. Farmers worked, children played, and the townsfolk moved freely. But in the distance, beyond the safety of the town, the world was still a dangerous place.

Deep within the mansion's underground laboratory, the air was thick with the pungent, earthy scent of alchemical ingredients. Glass vials, metal cauldrons, and shelves lined with rare herbs surrounded a large stone table at the center of the room. Magical runes glowed faintly on the surface, pulsing with energy as Vergil hovered his hand over an open tome.

The ancient book floated in front of him, its pages turning with the force of his magic. Complex formulas, diagrams of plant roots, and notes on soil composition covered the pages. Vergil's blue-sky eyes scanned the information quickly, his mind piecing together what was needed.

"Soil too dry... low mineral retention... requires growth catalysts... perhaps a nitrogen stabilizer," he muttered to himself, his hands moving methodically.

He reached for a small flask of mana-infused water and poured it into a large crucible. His other hand glowed with faint blue energy as he conjured the next ingredient—a crystalline powder that shimmered like frost.

"This should stabilize the reaction."

The mixture fizzled, releasing a foul-smelling vapor that made even Vergil wince. "Tch. Perfect." He stirred the mixture with a long metal rod, watching as it thickened into a rich, dark green sludge.

After hours of precise adjustments, Vergil poured the final product into small clay containers, sealing each one with a wax seal bearing the sigil of the Brotherhood of Shadows. He wiped his hands on a cloth, then leaned back with a rare sigh of satisfaction.

"A fertilizer fit for the barren lands of Avalorne," he said to himself. "Efficient, potent, and simple enough for farmers to replicate."

Emerging from the basement, Vergil was met with the sharp twitch of Freya's nose. Her wolf-like ears flattened as she pinched her nose, taking a large step back.

"Doctor… you smell like a swamp," she groaned, fanning the air. "What is that?"

"Growth," Vergil replied plainly, lifting a clay container in his hand. "This is the remedy for Avalorne's soil. Fertilizer to enrich the fields and increase crop yield."

Freya raised an eyebrow, still covering her nose. "If that's the smell of growth, I'd rather it stay underground."

Vergil smirked as he walked past her, his black cloak trailing behind him. "Good things aren't always pleasant, Freya."

They left the mansion and made their way toward a nearby farmstead at the edge of Avalorne. The farm was modest, but the signs of hardship were clear. The fields were dry, and the withering crops bent low like defeated soldiers.

A farmer in his late forties, Old Man Harvin, was tending to a broken wooden fence when he noticed Vergil's approach. His eyes widened in surprise, and he hurried to meet them.

"M-Master Vergil!" Harvin stammered, bowing low. "What brings you all the way here?"

"To give you this." Vergil handed the clay container to Harvin, who looked at it with confusion.

"What is it?" Harvin sniffed the air and immediately recoiled. "Ugh! It smells awful."

"That awful smell will save your fields," Vergil replied bluntly. "This is a fertilizer designed specifically for Avalorne's soil. It will restore nutrients, increase moisture retention, and promote healthy growth."

Harvin's eyes lit up with hope. "F-Fertilizer, you say? But... such things are expensive."

"Not this one." Vergil crouched to meet Harvin at eye level. "I'm not just giving you the fertilizer. I'm giving you the method to make it yourself." He tapped his temple. "Follow the instructions I've written. You won't need to rely on anyone else to sustain your crops."

Harvin's lips quivered as he glanced at the clay container. "Truly? This... this could save my farm."

"It will," Vergil stated, his tone absolute. "Spread it over your fields tonight. By sunrise, you'll see the difference."

Tears welled up in Harvin's eyes, and he knelt on the ground. "Thank you, Master Vergil. I'll never forget this kindness."

Vergil stood, his cold eyes softening just slightly. "Kindness has nothing to do with it. If Avalorne grows strong, so do I."

Later that evening, Vergil sat by the window of the mansion after cleaning the lab, watching as lanterns flickered across Avalorne. The sounds of construction echoed in the distance. The foundations of homes and shops were slowly rising, and in time, Avalorne would be a city worth defending.

From the kitchen, the faint scent of something cooking filled the air. Laughter and small voices could be heard—the five girls were cooking dinner with Freya, their soft giggles filling the once-silent mansion with warmth.

Vergil glanced toward the kitchen and saw Freya rolling dough with two of the older girls while the other two measured flour with childlike precision. The scarred girl sat quietly, watching them, but her eyes showed a flicker of something Vergil knew well — caution slowly turning to trust.

"They'll be fine," Vergil muttered to himself, leaning back in his chair. For once, he allowed himself to close his eyes.

The night was quiet. The only sounds were the distant calls of crickets and the soft breathing of the children as they slept. But in the open courtyard of the mansion, two figures faced each other beneath the pale light of the moon.

Vergil and Freya stood ready.

Their blades were drawn — Vergil with his European-style sword, and Freya with a pair of short, curved daggers. No words were needed. Their eyes locked, and the dance of combat began.

Freya moved first, vanishing from sight with a blur of speed. Her daggers came from below, aiming for Vergil's ribs. But his sword was already there, meeting her blades with a deafening clang. Sparks flashed like fireflies in the night.

"Faster, Freya," Vergil chided as he pivoted behind her. "You're moving like a pup."

"Don't mock me!" Freya snarled, spinning low, her foot sweeping toward Vergil's leg.

He leapt over it, twisting mid-air to bring his sword down. Freya crossed her daggers, blocking the strike, but the force sent her skidding backward. Her golden eyes burned with determination, and she dashed forward, her movements faster, sharper.

Their strikes blurred, steel meeting steel. Their movements were so fast that to an ordinary person, they would appear as little more than flashes of silver in the night.

Then, Vergil stopped. He raised a hand, signaling for Freya to do the same.

"We have a guest," Vergil said softly, his blue eyes glancing toward the edge of the courtyard.

There, hiding behind the wooden frame of the doorway, was the blue-haired girl from earlier. Her small hands gripped the edge of the doorframe, her eyes wide with amazement.

She had woken up to go to the bathroom but had been drawn by the sound of clashing steel. Now, she stared at them, her eyes filled with awe and curiosity.

Freya sighed, twirling her daggers once before sheathing them at her waist. "Caught us, huh?" she said, offering the girl a grin. "Shouldn't you be in bed, pup?"

The girl jolted, realizing she'd been seen, and quickly ran back to her room. Her soft footsteps echoed down the hall.

"Looks like we've got an audience now," Freya remarked, brushing the dirt off her coat. "Think she'll tell the others?"

Vergil shook his head, his gaze lingering on the spot where the girl had been. "No. She's too curious."

He stared at the doorway for a moment longer. "She reminds me of you," he added, his tone thoughtful.

Freya blinked, tilting her head. "Me?"

"Yes." Vergil walked past her, his sword resting on his shoulder. "A pup that wanders too far into the shadows."

Freya's eyes narrowed, but then she smiled. "Tch. I turned out fine, didn't I?"

Vergil didn't respond, but for the briefest moment, he allowed himself to smile again.

"Yes, you did."

The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the large dining hall windows of the mansion. Vergil, wearing a simple black shirt with rolled-up sleeves, stood by the kitchen counter, meticulously plating dishes. The aroma of roasted meat, warm bread, and fresh herbs filled the air, enticing the sleepy occupants of the house to gather at the table.

The five adopted children, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, sat eagerly at the long dining table. Freya leaned against the wall, her golden wolf-like eyes watching Vergil work with faint amusement.

"Didn't know you could cook like this, doctor," Freya teased, her tail swaying behind her.

"I learned from necessity," Vergil replied calmly, setting a platter of seared meat and vegetables on the table. "No assassin worth his blade should rely on others for survival."

But amidst the lively atmosphere, one child sat quietly, her purple-blue hair shimmering as the light hit it. Her name was Mina, one of the two youngest twins. Her violet eyes darted between bites, occasionally glancing at Vergil. Then, as if finding her moment, she put down her fork.

"Doctor Vergil," Mina's voice rang with a hint of curiosity. "What were you and aunt Freya doing last night?"

The room fell silent. The clattering of utensils stopped as all the children turned their eyes to Mina, then slowly to Vergil. Even Freya raised an eyebrow, looking at Vergil with mild amusement.

Vergil's eyes narrowed slightly but then softened. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "So you saw us, huh?" he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Yes!" Mina said, her eyes wide with excitement. "You were moving so fast! It was like you were... like you were fighting shadows!"

Vergil chuckled, his rare laughter catching everyone off guard. "That's because we were." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Aunt Freya and I train every night to protect Avalorne and, by extension, the Britalienne Empire."

The children's eyes gleamed with wonder.

"But why do it at night?" asked one of the older girls, her eyes filled with genuine curiosity.

"To avoid disturbing anyone," Vergil explained, his tone patient and clear. "During the day, there are tasks to complete and people to manage. But at night, the world is silent. It's in that silence that we sharpen our blades."

His eyes glanced toward Freya. "Besides, training under the cover of darkness prepares you for real battle. You never know what enemy might come crawling from the shadows."

Freya's grin widened, and she raised a cup of tea in mock salute. "He's right, pups. The shadows are where the real hunters live."

Vergil turned his gaze back to the children. "Which is why you'll see us train often. But don't worry," he added, his expression softening slightly. "You won't have to walk the same path we do."

The children nodded, their gazes filled with admiration.

After breakfast, Vergil and Freya led the children into the heart of Avalorne. The village was bustling with the noise of construction. Wooden scaffolding and stone frameworks rose where new homes, markets, and workshops were being built. The sound of saws, hammers, and the grunts of laborers filled the air.

Vergil carried a stack of parchment scrolls under his arm, each one containing the detailed instructions for crafting his newly developed fertilizer. The group stopped at each farmstead, handing copies of the formula to the farmers.

"This is a gift from Avalorne," Vergil said to each of them. "Use it well, but share it with no one outside of this land."

The farmers nodded, their eyes filled with respect and gratitude. They knew the value of a secret like this. Word of Avalorne's fertile lands would spread, but as long as only they knew the method, their position in the empire would be secure.

By midday, Vergil gathered Avalorne's workers — builders, stonemasons, and foremen — in front of the new housing district. A large chest of gold coins sat before them, its lid open to reveal the sparkling gold inside.

"Your work is complete," Vergil announced, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You've built Avalorne's foundations, and you've done so ahead of schedule. For that, I offer you this."

He pulled out several pouches of gold coins, handing them to the foremen and laborers.

"Your contracts are paid in full, and for your diligence, you each receive a bonus of five gold coins."

Shouts of joy echoed as workers cheered, clapping each other on the back. The workers bowed deeply to Vergil, their gratitude undeniable.

"You've built something greater than stone and wood," Vergil said, his gaze sharp and commanding. "You've built a future. Remember that."

Back at the mansion, after dinner, Vergil and Freya once again prepared for their nightly training session. The children had gone to bed, and silence once again claimed the night.

Their blades met in rapid, relentless exchanges. The sound of metal clashing echoed in the courtyard as their movements became faster and more refined. Unlike their previous training sessions, Freya was now matching Vergil blow for blow. Her agility, precision, and awareness had all improved.

Freya grinned as her daggers deflected Vergil's heavy sword strike. "You're holding back, Master."

"No, you've just finally caught up," Vergil admitted, his eyes sharp with pride.

Their battle intensified, but this time, Vergil could feel it — they were being watched.

He didn't even need to turn his head. He could sense the five sets of eyes gazing from the second-floor balcony. The faint outlines of their faces could be seen in the darkness.

"We're being observed again," Freya whispered with a smirk, her wolf-like ears twitching.

Vergil sighed. "They never learn, do they?"

He raised a hand, signaling the end of their training. "Come down," he called out to the children. "All of you."

There was a brief moment of silence, then the five children stepped out from their hiding spot, their faces a mix of nervousness and guilt. Mina, of course, was at the front.

"We just… wanted to see," she muttered, fidgeting with the hem of her nightgown.

Vergil stared at them, his eyes cold but not unkind. "Curiosity isn't a crime," he said, his voice calm but firm. "But understand this — what you saw tonight is the path of killers and hunters. It is not a path you need to follow."

The children lowered their heads, but Mina raised hers defiantly. Her violet eyes stared into Vergil's without fear.

"I want to be strong like you." Her voice was small but filled with determination. "If I'm strong, no one can hurt me."

Silence lingered for a moment.

Vergil knelt, meeting her gaze at eye level. His blue-sky eyes bore into her soul with the weight of a thousand battles.

"Strength without purpose is destruction," he said softly. "If you want to be strong, you must have a reason worth fighting for."

Mina's gaze faltered but didn't break. Her lips tightened into a firm line.

Vergil smiled faintly. "Then I'll test that resolve one day. Until then, sleep. The shadows will still be here tomorrow."

The children nodded, returning to their rooms. Freya glanced at Vergil, her grin more mischievous than usual.

"Looks like you've got some wolves in your den, doctor."

"Wolves or pups, time will tell," Vergil muttered. "But I'll be ready either way."

The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the tall, arched windows of Vergil's study, its golden rays stretching across the cold stone floor. The faint chirping of birds outside blended with the rustle of parchment as Vergil flipped through a stack of reports. His sharp blue-sky eyes scanned each line with surgical precision, analyzing every update on Avalorne's development.

Shelves lined with tomes and scrolls framed the room, while the faint aroma of ink, leather, and steel lingered in the air. On his desk lay a leather-bound journal, its pages filled with hand-drawn maps, encrypted notes, and observations on local flora and fauna. Beside it, his custom magical sniper rifle rested within reach — never too far, never out of sight.

A rhythmic flutter of wings echoed from the open window.

Vergil's gaze shifted, his eyes locking onto a pure white pigeon as it swooped gracefully through the window. The bird's wings beat with quiet purpose as it perched on the edge of his desk, tilting its head at him. Tied to its leg was a small, crimson-sealed letter.

His eyes narrowed as he immediately recognized the seal — the sigil of Empress Eliza II, a golden rose pierced by a dagger. Without hesitation, he untied the message from the bird's leg, his fingers moving with practiced ease.

To Vergil Ragnaros,

Urgent news has reached me. Godfrey Montclair, a merchant of critical importance to the Empire, has been kidnapped alongside his wife and child. The location of their last sighting is a forested area near Avalorne, a known haunt for bandits.

This is no random attack. My informants believe there is involvement from within Montclair's own family. Whether it is from his bloodline or his wife's relatives, I leave that for you to uncover.

The safety of Godfrey Montclair is paramount. His influence will be essential in establishing a strong foundation for the Adventure Guild branch in Avalorne, which I know you are keen to support. This operation must be swift, silent, and without failure.

I have dispatched three squads under Captain Lucia to assist you. They are competent, but as you and I both know, competence alone is not enough. I expect you to take charge. Ensure the hostages are secured safely. If possible, take the leader of the bandits alive. I want information.

This mission will not be the last of its kind. Consider it a test. Show me what Avalorne's shadow can do.

-Eliza II, Empress of the Britalienne Empire

"Urgency," he muttered, noting the shade of red on the wax seal. His fingers pressed against it, breaking the emblem cleanly. The parchment unfurled with a crisp snap, and his eyes darted across the contents.

A familiar voice echoed behind him.

"Message from the Empress?" asked Freya, her tone calm but curious. Her wolf-like ears twitched as she leaned against the doorframe, her amber eyes watching him closely. Dressed in her usual hunter's tunic and fitted leather pants, her posture was relaxed, but her gaze was sharp.

"More than that," Vergil replied, still reading the letter. His eyes scanned it twice, his sharp gaze picking apart every word, every implication. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

Freya approached, her steps soft and measured like a stalking predator. "Bad news?"

Vergil's eyes glowed cold as frost. "A kidnapping. Not just any kidnapping. Godfrey Montclair, one of the Empire's key merchants, and his family."

Freya frowned, stepping closer. "Hostages? That complicates things." Her eyes scanned the parchment from over his shoulder.

Vergil's tone remained steady but firm. "It gets worse. The Empress suspects it's an inside job. Someone in Godfrey's family — either his blood relatives or his in-laws — may have conspired with the bandits."

"Greed and betrayal. Classic." Freya scoffed, her tail flicking in irritation. She read further, noting one particular line that made her eyes narrow. "Wait. Three squads under Captain Lucia?"

Vergil nodded. "Yes. Reinforcements. But if I know Empress Eliza, she doesn't send me letters just to delegate work. She expects me to lead them and is also a test."

Freya leaned forward, scanning the letter once more.

Freya exhaled deeply, her eyes locked onto the line mentioning the "test." "It's always a test with her."

Vergil's expression remained unreadable. "A test is just another word for opportunity." He folded the letter, tucking it into his cloak. His gaze shifted toward his weapons laid out on the rack by the wall. "I assume you're ready to move?"

"Always," Freya replied with a grin, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Nothing like hunting bandits before breakfast."

Vergil left the study and walked down the long corridor, his footsteps light yet purposeful. The five children were already gathered at the breakfast table, their small hands clutching spoons as they enjoyed their morning porridge. Their sleepy eyes brightened when they saw Vergil enter.

Mina, the observant one, caught his gaze immediately. Her purple-blue hair shimmered in the morning light as she tilted her head, watching him closely. "Are you going somewhere, Master?"

Vergil stepped closer, his gaze firm but kind. "Yes, I have urgent business." He looked over the children, ensuring each one was safe. His voice was calm but resolute. "None of you are to leave the mansion today. Stay close to each other, and listen to the guards. Captain Lucia's soldiers will be nearby."

Mina raised her hand like she was in class. "Are you going to fight bad guys?"

Vergil's face softened into a rare smile. "Yes, but only because it's necessary."

Another girl, a small one named Lyra, raised her spoon like a sword. "Get them, Master Vergil! Make them pay!"

Freya chuckled, leaning on the doorframe. "I think she's ready to be a knight."

Vergil crouched, ruffling Lyra's hair gently. "Knights don't shout before a fight, Lyra. They act with purpose." He stood, his gaze scanning all of them once more. "Take care of each other while I'm gone."

"We will!" they chimed in unison.