chapter 22.2

The long night had passed, but Alcard's mind remained restless, consumed by the ghosts of his past and the looming shadows of what lay ahead. He had tried to drown himself in the monotony of daily routines—training new recruits, leading border patrols, sharpening his weapons—but no matter what he did, unease clung to him like an unshakable specter. When a messenger arrived at dawn, summoning him to Oldman's office, he knew this meeting would not be a simple one.

Without hesitation, Alcard made his way through the dim corridors of the central headquarter. The air inside felt heavier than usual, as if carrying the weight of the unspoken words waiting to be unleashed. As soon as he stepped through the door, Oldman's voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"I've made my decision," he said, his tone resolute, leaving no room for argument. It was the voice of a leader who had already come to terms with an unavoidable choice. "It's time for you to return to Jovalian."

Alcard's stride halted abruptly. His crimson eyes locked onto Oldman's, his expression shifting from neutrality to rigid tension in an instant. Shock, defiance, and a flicker of suppressed rage flashed across his face.

"What?" His voice was quieter than usual, but the pressure behind the word was undeniable. "That's impossible."

Oldman remained seated, his gaze unwavering as he met Alcard's glare. He had anticipated this reaction. "I know this isn't easy," he said, his tone softening just slightly. "But we have no choice. If The Veil has infiltrated this war, we need to know their plans before it's too late."

Alcard didn't answer immediately, his fists clenching at his sides. He had spent years trying to erase the scars left by that cursed land—the kingdom that had destroyed him. And now, Oldman was asking him to return to the very place that had turned his life into a nightmare.

"We've long maintained our neutrality regarding the civil war in Jovalian," Oldman continued, keeping his voice steady. "Until now, we've only taken contracts concerning monster extermination, nothing more. But this is no longer about two power-hungry princes fighting for the throne. If The Veil succeeds in controlling that kingdom, they will gain a foothold strong enough to threaten all of Middle Earth."

Alcard exhaled slowly, attempting to calm the storm raging within him. "So you want me to infiltrate the war?" he asked at last, his voice carrying a weight that wasn't there before. "To find out what they're planning?"

Oldman nodded firmly. "Yes. This isn't just another mission, Alcard. The information you bring back could be the key to stopping what's coming."

For a long moment, silence hung between them. Alcard studied Oldman, weighing the situation. He knew Oldman wouldn't make this request unless it was absolutely necessary. And deep down, he recognized the bitter truth—if he refused, there was no one else who could do it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice cold and certain. "Fine. I'll go to Jovalian. But don't expect me to forgive anything that happened there."

Oldman didn't respond immediately, only holding his gaze with an understanding look. "I'm not asking you to forgive," he said at last. "I'm asking you to do what must be done so that we can survive."

Alcard said nothing more. He turned on his heel and left the office, his footsteps echoing down the narrow hallway. Several outcasts passing by shot him curious glances, sensing the heavy aura surrounding him, but no one dared to speak. They knew that when Alcard bore such an expression, something serious was unfolding.

He made his way to the stables, where his black warhorse awaited him. As he tightened the saddle straps, memories began to creep into his mind—memories of a place he had long abandoned. The grand halls of Jovalian, once his home, now only existed as a twisted echo of betrayal and bloodshed. He recalled the false accusations that had led to his exile, the night he was branded a traitor, and the screams of his family as they were condemned to die.

"That cursed kingdom…" he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with venom as he yanked the reins with unnecessary force.

Without looking back, he mounted his horse and rode out of The Wall's gates. The cold morning wind whipped against his face as he urged his steed eastward, toward the kingdom he had sworn never to return to—the kingdom that had taken everything from him.

Above him, the sky was overcast, as if mirroring the storm within his soul. Alcard did not know what awaited him in Jovalian, but one thing was certain: he would not return as the same man who had left it.