Chapter 20: Silverweynn

[ ] = Doruuk thoughts

At that moment, I receive a message from the system. The luminous display pulses gently in my field of vision, almost begging for my attention.

[I'll look at it later. I have more important matters to attend to right now.]

The silence in the guild hall is so heavy I could cut it with a blade. Dozens of eyes are fixed on me, some wide with amazement, others narrowed with suspicion. I feel the weight of their gazes on my skin as if they were hands touching me.

Lillia's father advances toward me with measured steps, each movement elegant and regal. His face is marked by the wrinkles of experience, but his eyes shine with a gratitude I have rarely seen directed at me.

"Thank you, thank you for saving my daughter," he says in a deep voice that echoes through the hall. "I am Solmir Silverweynn, head of the Silverweynn family. And beside me is my friend Krogar the Unchained, father of Frenya the Unchained."

[So Frenya's surname is "the Unchained." Interesting.]

[The Unchained and the Silverweynns are friends. Even in the game "Shadowveil: Chronicles of Orvhalis," their names are mentioned for the great deeds they accomplished together.]

[I skipped this part quickly when it seemed boring to me, so I don't know much about them. A mistake that could cost me dearly.]

I cross my arms over my chest, maintaining an impassive expression as I respond: "Don't thank me. I do nothing without seeing my part in it. Everything I did was because of my selfishness, I did it for my own good and nothing else."

My words fall heavily in the hall like stones in a pond, creating waves of discomfort among those present. I see some exchanging puzzled glances.

Frenya shakes her head. "Never mind him," she interjects in a tone that oscillates between irritation and amusement. "He talks like that, he can't speak normally. Every time he opens his mouth, he has to let out only cold words and nothing else."

Her comment draws a smile from some of those present, slightly easing the tension.

Solmir looks at me with eyes that seem to penetrate beyond my facade. "Nevertheless, he saved you," he says, addressing the others before returning his attention to me. "Therefore, sir, I ask you to come with me because I want to be of service to you, and I want everyone to know who you are."

His invitation sounds like a trap to my suspicious ears. I clear my throat, the sound as grating as my subsequent words.

"I don't want fame, sir. It's enough if you fill my stomach and my pocket, and I'll be fine." My voice is flat, devoid of emotion, as if I were discussing the weather and not my reward for saving lives.

A thunderous laugh fills the air. It's Krogar, his massive figure trembling with amusement. "I like this boy, hahahah!" he exclaims, beating a hand on his chest. His laughter is contagious, and I see even Solmir hint at a smile.

After that, Solmir leads the way and invites me to follow him. As I walk, I feel the gazes of the guild people still fixed on me with surprise and awe. Their expressions are a mixture of fear, respect, and curiosity. Each step I take on the shiny stone floor resonates in the silence.

At one point, my gaze falls on the guild secretary who looks at me with an enigmatic smile, as if she knows something I ignore. Her intelligent eyes follow me as I advance, and a shiver runs down my spine.

I can't stand this attention. I stop abruptly, forcing Solmir to stop as well. I call the nobleman and tell him in a decisive tone: "I don't want people looking at me. Give me something to cover myself."

Solmir nods understandingly and gestures to a servant, who quickly brings a large, heavy blanket. I drape it around myself, hiding my face and figure from prying eyes. The fabric is surprisingly soft against my skin, scented with lavender and sandalwood.

"I also ask the guild people to keep to themselves everything they've seen," I add, my voice slightly muffled by the cloth. "Nothing must leave this place."

Solmir straightens up, assuming a solemn air. The light filtering through the high windows illuminates his silver hair, giving him an perfect aura.

"I, Solmir Silverweynn, as head of the Silverweynn family, promise you that no one will know what happened here, and I will do everything to prevent any information regarding you, Doruuk Velor, from getting out. So rest assured that nothing will happen."

"Good," I simply respond, though a thousand doubts stir within me. How much can a nobleman's word be worth in this world?

We exit the guild, and I am struck by the dazzling sunlight and the murmur of the crowd outside. Through the thin fabric of the blanket, I see the faces of people watching curiously. The survivors of the event walk with their heads held high, still shaken but proud to be alive. Lillia and Frenya walk proudly beside their fathers, with the confident air of those who have faced danger and emerged victorious.

I, covered by the blanket, follow at a distance, a silent shadow in the wake of luminous figures.

[There's a great reason behind this action. "Shadowveil: Chronicles of Orvhalis" is a very strategic game, here every move counts and can change everything. I know nothing about this world, nothing! I don't know if I'm unique or if there's someone else like me. And then I don't know what intentions people here have, so it's better that I stay as hidden as possible, without drawing attention to myself.]

In front of an imposing building, several luxurious carriages stop, with horses of gleaming coats and golden trappings. A servant approaches me, bowing slightly.

"Sir, please get in here," he says, indicating one of the carriages.

I climb into the indicated carriage, noting the fine details of the interior: seats upholstered in crimson velvet, solid silver handles, silk curtains embroidered with floral motifs. Inside, there are only the servant and I, a young man with an impassive face but vigilant eyes.

The carriage begins to move with a slight jolt. I look out the window and see a long line of people staring at us and talking animatedly. I catch fragments of conversations about the possible successor of the Silverweynn family and about the reputation of barbarians improving in the eyes of the people, as they were previously seen only as muscular ignorants.

But some also talk about the mysterious cloaked figure, wondering who I might be. Their voices become increasingly distant as the carriage accelerates, leaving the city behind and taking a road that winds among verdant hills.

During the journey, total silence reigns, interrupted only by the sound of the horses' hooves and the creaking of the wheels on the ground. The landscape outside gradually changes: houses thin out, giving way to vast cultivated fields and then to forests of tall trees with silver leaves that sparkle under the sun.

After about an hour, the carriage slows down and finally stops. The servant opens the door and invites me to get out. Once outside, I am literally breathless.

Before me stands a villa so majestic it seems to have come out of a dream. The main building is immaculate white with intense red details, topped by a roof of tiles as blue as the summer sky. Enormous solid gold pillars support the entrance portico, capturing and reflecting sunlight in a thousand dazzling glares.

The villa is surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens: geometric hedges of brilliant green, flowerbeds of vivid colors arranged in complex patterns, white marble fountains from which water flows creating miniature rainbows. Statues of mythological creatures and illustrious ancestors are strategically placed along paths paved with precious stones.

Every component of the property seems to have been selected not only for its intrinsic value but also for how it harmonizes with the rest, creating an ensemble that conveys power, wealth, and a refined taste that transcends epochs.

I am shocked at that sight, unable to completely hide my amazement despite the blanket that envelops me.

Solmir calls me, beckoning with his hand adorned with precious rings. "Come, please."

We walk toward the entrance of the villa. I discover that, to celebrate Lillia's return, her father has organized a banquet for his family and Frenya's, both surprisingly vast. Hundreds of servants move frantically in all directions, some carrying silver trays laden with food and drinks, others arranging floral decorations or polishing already gleaming objects.

[It's like observing a royal family, though I can't imagine what a real royal family looks like if nobles already live in these conditions.]

We stop before the imposing entrance door of the villa. It's so large that three men could pass through side by side without difficulty. It's made of dark, polished wood, probably from an ancient, enchanted forest, with inlays that tell stories of battles and triumphs. The handles are of pure silver, crafted in the shape of lion heads with ruby eyes.

The servants open the giant door, and although I am behind the Silverweynn family, I can see beyond them. If the exterior was impressive, the interior is simply breathtaking. The white marble floor is so polished it looks like a frozen lake, reflecting the dozens of crystal chandeliers hanging from the very high ceiling. The walls are covered with tapestries narrating the heroic deeds of ancestors, interspersed with mirrors in gold frames and paintings by famous masters.

I see that some people are waiting in the atrium. Lillia, spotting an elegant woman in the center, runs toward her exclaiming: "Mom!"

The woman, who has the same eyes as Lillia but with a wisdom that only years can confer, embraces her strongly, the relief evident on her delicate face. Around them gather other family members, some with the distinctive traits of the Silverweynns, others with the characteristic robustness of the Unchained.

The atmosphere is warm and festive, full of laughter and animated conversations. Yet, gradually, the volume of voices diminishes as attention shifts to the blanket-wrapped figure that is me.

I feel curious gazes settling on me, the unspoken questions floating in the air: who is this mysterious person? Why does he hide his face? What is his role in all this story?

Before anyone can formulate these questions aloud, Solmir intervenes with a suave voice: "Our guest must be tired after today's events. We will show him the room we have prepared especially for him."

He gestures to a servant, who approaches me with a respectful bow. "Follow me, sir," he says in a deferential tone.

The servant guides me through corridors adorned with works of art and ancient relics, each step we take on the polished marble resounding like a musical note. We climb a spiral staircase of white stone, whose steps seem suspended in the air, supported only by a central column inlaid with floral motifs in gold.

We finally reach a door of light wood with silver handles. The servant opens it and steps aside. "Please, sir, do come in. This room is specially decorated for you, make yourself comfortable."

I enter the room and look around, still keeping the blanket over me. It's a spacious and bright space, with high windows overlooking the rear gardens of the property. The canopy bed in the center is large enough to comfortably accommodate three people, with cream-colored silk sheets and a quilt embroidered with gold threads. A pink marble fireplace occupies one wall, ready to be lit at the first hint of cold. Fine wood furniture, carved with superhuman mastery, is tastefully arranged around the room: a desk with paper and pen for writing, a bookcase full of leather-bound tomes, comfortable armchairs near the fireplace.

"Thank you," I say to the servant, finally letting the blanket fall now that we are alone. "But may I ask you something?"

"Yes, sir, please do," he responds, keeping his eyes respectfully lowered.

"Well then, how long have you been working here?"

"Sir, for about seven years," he replies with a slight inclination of his head.

[Good, he's a young man who hasn't been working here too long. It shows on his face too.]

"Ok, can you tell me something about the Silverweynn family, to help me know them better?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

The servant stiffens imperceptibly. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't tell you anything. I don't have permission."

I nod, not surprised by the answer. "Ah, it's nothing. You may go, don't worry."

"Thank you, sir," he says with another bow before leaving, silently closing the door behind him.

Left alone, I let myself fall onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. The room is more luxurious than anything I've ever seen in my real life. The ceiling above me is painted with scenes of starry skies and mythological creatures dancing among the clouds.

[But what do I do from now on?]

I get up and approach the window, observing the sunset that tinges the gardens below with red and gold. In the distance, beyond the boundaries of the property, stretch verdant hills and, even further away, bluish mountains that stand out against the horizon.

[I don't want to stay here too long.]

A bird with iridescent feathers lands on the outside windowsill, observes me with curious eyes, then flies away toward freedom.

[Even knowing it's a nice place...]

The room, however luxurious, suddenly seems like a golden prison to me. The apparent kindness of the Silverweynns could hide darker motives.

[I must get out as soon as possible.]

Determination makes its way inside me as I watch the sun disappear beyond the mountains, leaving the sky streaked with purple and indigo. Whatever happens, I will not allow anyone to use me as a pawn in a game I still don't fully understand.

Chapter-End.