That's SIR Graleth, now.

Chapter 47: Langston Interrogation

March 31, 2025. Doras Dhagda, near Kilrain, Scotland.

Perspective: Robert MacCallum.

Morning light crept through my cottage window, gentle as a whisper, rousing me from sleep. Memories of Lilia's touch flooded my mind, her sultry smile from last night a vivid spark. Her warmth clung to my thoughts, a dance of starlight and hushed promises that quickened my pulse. I lingered in bed, blankets heavy, torn between her absence and the thrill of our shared moments. A flush warmed my neck, her playful gaze still vivid.

I sighed, gripping my pillow, then grinned at myself. Just a pillow, Robert. Get it together. I rose and dressed in clan garb: blue and green checkered breeches, a silver tunic with black laces, and a leather belt with an oak-etched silver buckle. The colors carried my ancient clan's echo, a thread through time's weave.

In the main room, a breakfast spread stopped me cold. Fresh bread, honey-glazed fruits, and steaming tea filled the air with warmth. A note in Lilia's flowing script lay beside it. My heart skipped as I read: My bold seeker, last night your fire lit the stars. Savor this meal, crafted for you. I've dashed to Kilrain for supplies, but my thoughts linger. Tiny hearts framed the words, her flirtation leaping off the page. I smirked, cheeks heating, and slipped the note into my pocket, a keepsake.

The bread's warmth and tea's earthy bite steadied me. I stepped outside, the morning air sharp with pine. Clansfolk hauled stones to a wall, runes glowing under their fingers as STEVE's voice barked orders. Their laughter rang, hands steady with purpose.

A shout from the training ground drew my gaze. Teenage apprentices, newly gifted with magic that morning, fumbled spells under Snow's guidance. Calum, a lanky lad in a tartan sash, thrust his hands forward, his Flame Spark flaring wild. Flames crackled, igniting a patch of grass. "Oi, Calum, ye'll torch the glen!" Fiona jabbed, her Gust puffing smoke. "Your spark's weaker than my gran's!" Calum shot back, grinning. System Alert: Spell Misfire - Flame Spark Overload. Snow twirled her staff, a Frost Wave: Rank 5 quenching the fire in a shimmer of mist. "Focus, you lot," she said, voice warm. I caught her eye, smiling at her ease. She rolled her eyes, amused, as the teens' banter flared anew.

Children ran past, chasing a kobold-crafted wooden frog that hopped with enchanted springs. A kobold perched on a crate, tail twitching, grinned at their delight. I crossed to the sparring area, where Graleth, Champion of the Stone-Skin Brutes, stood beside a new creation. Its crystalline form gleamed pale gold, smooth and veined with magical crystal. Flexible yet hard as stone, it moved with quiet grace.

A kobold sat atop its shoulders in a crimson saddle, a cheese wedge painted bold. The rat-man's legs dangled, a tiny knight on a giant. His beady eyes glinted, tail flicking as he gripped a steel-tipped lance. The saddle padded his seat, shielding the brute. I hid a laugh at the cheese emblem, its charm undeniable.

This Kobrute fused brute strength with kobold cunning. Graleth beckoned, his jagged grin wide. I approached, awe clear on my face. The brute's mind stayed simple, built for power, while the kobold brought strategy. Together, they were a force.

"Master Robert, meet our first Kobrute," Graleth rumbled, voice deep as thunder. "Kobold and brute, paired for strength and cunning."

I studied them, words catching. "Graleth, this is remarkable." The brute's crystals shimmered, its steps fluid. The kobold tugged the reins, easing the brute into a combat stance.

A bard's lap harp drifted from a nearby firepit, notes curling soft in the air. Clansfolk paused, faces calm, as the melody wove faith and magic. Graleth's pride shone as he touched the brute's shoulder. "The brute brings raw power. This one is stronger and faster with a hide tough against strikes. Crystals boost its strength and heal small wounds in battle."

The kobold squeaked, waving his lance. "I'm the brains! I guide, aim, strike!" He slung a shortbow from his back, grinning. "I shoot from here, guard big guy from magic or sneaky foes. Spot threats early."

I nodded, struck by the kobold's role. "So you're lookout, strategist, ranged support?"

The kobold puffed his chest. "Aye, m'lord! Kobold sees, brute crushes!" He smirked. "They never expect me up here."

I grinned, arms crossed. "Clever. Very clever."

Graleth pointed to the brute. "It smashes barriers, uproots trees, swings boulders like pebbles. Crystal arms hit hard, and its hide stops most blades."

The kobold tugged the reins, and the brute stomped, shaking the earth with a shockwave. "Stomp breaks their lines!" the kobold mimed a smash. "Then brute goes bam!"

"And your tricks?" I asked the kobold.

He bared sharp teeth. "Poison arrows, fire arrows, sleep darts! I watch brute's blind spots. If things go bad, I hop off and fight close!"

Graleth nodded. "Brute's toughness and kobold's wit. Together, they're unmatched."

I touched the brute's hide, feeling flaws in its crystal, uneven mana flow. I focused, using Essence Refinement: Rank 7, and sensed the energy shift. The kobold peered down, eyes bright. "Wanna name us, m'lord? Kobrutes need names, aye?"

I smiled at his spunk. "What are your names now?"

"I'm Cheesebit!" he said, patting the cheese-painted saddle. "Brute's got no name."

"Cheesebit and," I paused, meeting the brute's steady gaze. "Goldstone. Cheesebit and Goldstone, first Kobrute unit."

Cheesebit squeaked, thumping his chest. "A fine name, m'lord!"

Graleth's nod was firm. "They'll lead future units. This design is strong. We can replicate it."

I held back my Sovereign Namer skill for the Kobrute. Its unity was solid, and my power suited armies, enhancing cohesion. Graleth, though, deserved more. As brute leader, he needed my magic's full weight to grow and anchor Doras Dhagda.

I faced Graleth, a spark rising. "Graleth, you've stood firm, led with strength, guarded this sanctum with honor. You deserve a title to match."

Graleth tilted his head, golden eyes narrow. "Title? What's that, Master Robert?"

I grinned, hand on his massive arm. "You're more than Graleth. I name you Sir Graleth, Knight of the Sanctum. You'll lead your kin with purpose, not just strength."

My words unleashed Sovereign Namer: Rank 3, magic surging through us. Graleth's form stiffened, crystals blazing with light. Brutes nearby murmured as the glow smoothed his edges, sharpening mana flow. Crystal formations sprouted from his shoulders, gleaming like gems. His eyes burned, a crystalline sword appeared, its edge alive with magic. A stone-and-crystal mantle formed across his chest, marking him a warrior king.

Sir Graleth flexed his hands, testing new dexterity. "Master Robert, I feel stronger. A power I don't know."

I chuckled, arms crossed. "You're a knight now, Graleth. You lead, protect, heal your kin. That sword shows your rank."

He lifted the blade, light dancing on its surface. "I can shape stone, mend crystal, heal my kin."

"Exactly," I said. "You're a leader, protector, builder. What your kin need."

Sir Graleth knelt, his frame lowering with grace. "I swear to serve you, Master Robert, and the sanctum, with all my strength."

He rose, steady as a hill. Nearby, Hamish's voice carried from a market stall, haggling over iron tools with a jest that sparked laughs. His broadsword rested nearby, propped against a crate. The naming power thrilled me, its pull strong. I could shape kobolds into warriors, brutes into knights. Yet naming Graleth drained me, my legs shaky. Naming shards like STEVE or DAVE might break me, their vast minds too great.

Doras Dhagda's growth weighed on me. A governor was needed for my absences, as a hunt called. I sought rare powers, lost runes, allies to strengthen our roots. The sanctums were a calling to me.

"Moira?" I called, voice soft. "You've been quiet."

Her reply warmed my mind, calm but tired. "You've given me as much work as I've given you, Vessel. My focus splits among new mages with the spark. Their questions, their thanks, need me, for you."

Her voice held loss, a faint ache. "These clansfolk descend from those I guarded in Albion. Their honor, their heart, echo a lost home. Their survival ties to yours. I must guard both."

I nodded, feeling her burden. "I'm not jealous, Moira. Tend to what you must. But is there a mission for the sanctum, for Doras Dhagda? I itch to hunt, test our skills, find something rare."

She paused, then spoke, thoughtful. "You're ready to move. An echo stirs west, in the wilds. A forgotten shrine, its magic troubled. I can guide you, if you wish."

My mind race with eagerness. "A shrine? Lost magic? That's our path. Let's prepare."

Moira's smile shone in my mind, approving. "Prepare, Vessel. This may be more than it seems."

No more urging was needed. Whatever lay beyond Doras Dhagda's walls, I'd meet it head-on. It was time to hunt.