Chapter 14: Threads in the Dark (3)

It had only been a few days since the elf walked out of Vengir's house, cloaked in poise and riddles. Since then, life had returned to an easy rhythm.

Elara cooked a little more than usual, perhaps trying to anchor us back to normalcy. Vengir, for all his grumbling, spent more time than he'd admit just watching the printing press work. Mal… well, Mal barely slept.

He always had that distant look now, like his thoughts were never quite in the room. And Fein? He disappeared some nights without saying where.

I didn't ask. We all had our secrets.

I spent my time organizing flyers, fixing the press, watching the ink stain the paper with Ryuu's face over and over. I told myself it was worth it. That every copy brought me closer to finding him.

Then the letter came.

It was hand-delivered by a courier dressed in crisp navy and silver, the House of Eloras emblem etched on his shoulder. He didn't say much. Just bowed and handed me the scroll, tied with a thin ribbon and sealed with a wax crest.

I broke it carefully.

Miss Ryazania,You are cordially invited to House Eloras for private discussion and demonstration of your invention. Lord Valsen Eloras extends his gratitude and hospitality. Your presence, along with Master Vengir, is requested on the eve of this coming week. Dinner and accommodations provided.-House Eloras

I read it twice. Then again.

"What does it say?" Vengir asked from across the room, wiping grease off his hands.

"They want to see the press," I said slowly. "At their manor. Dinner. Private demonstration."

Vengir's eyes narrowed. "And they want me there too, huh?"

I nodded.

He grunted. "Well. At least they're polite about it."

Elara leaned in, curious. "You think it's safe?"

"No," Vengir and I said at the same time.

Then I added, "But it's important. This press… it might be the only way to find Ryuu. if they help spread the flyers through their network."

Vengir interrupted, "Just don't hand it over to them. Not fully."

"I won't," I promised.

But even as I said it, I felt the weight of the invitation in my hands. The seal. The tone. It wasn't just a dinner.

It was the beginning of something.

The system flickered in my head.

[Invitation logged]

[Noteworthy individual: Valsen Eloras]

[Recommendation: Proceed with caution]

I tightened my grip on the scroll.

"Guess we're going to dinner," I muttered.

Vengir chuckled under his breath and stood up. "Then I better find a shirt without a burn hole in it."

The forge buzzed behind us, the press still ticking softly. Another flyer slid into the basket.

Ryuu's face.

A reminder of why I was doing this.

Of what I was willing to risk.

_______

The evening air in Eldenforve had turned crisp by the time we reached the carriage sent by House Eloras.

It was sleek, dark, and too quiet, the kind of ride that whispered wealth in every polished corner.

Vengir grumbled about nobles being too dramatic as he stepped inside, brushing soot from his sleeves. I smoothed down my coat, trying not to fidget as I took my seat beside him.

Inside, everything smelled faintly of lavender and aged parchment. Even the seats were too soft, like they didn't want you to leave once you'd settled.

As we rolled through the city, I caught glimpses of people pausing to look. Not at the carriage, at us. Like they knew where we were headed. What we were carrying.

"Don't act nervous," Vengir muttered beside me. "They'll smell it."

"I'm not nervous," I lied.

The system flickered again.

[Arrival to House Eloras estimated in 3 minutes]

[Pulse scans: 48 life signatures detected within estate range]

[Security Level: Moderate]

[Primary Objective: Maintain control of intellectual property]

I blinked the text away.

Vengir raised an eyebrow at my silence but didn't press. Outside the window, the outer walls of House Eloras came into view, smooth ivory stone draped in deep violet banners with gold trim.

The symbol of their house, an open book beneath a star, hung above the gate like it was watching us.

The gates opened before we even stopped.

Two elven attendants greeted us the moment the door clicked open.

"Miss Ryazania, Master Vengir," one said with a graceful bow. "Lord Eloras is expecting you. Please follow us."

We stepped into the manor.

It was everything you'd expect from a noble estate: gleaming marble floors, tall windows draped in velvet, halls lined with enchanted lanterns that adjusted their glow as we passed. But what struck me most was the quiet.

It wasn't lifeless. It was rehearsed. Perfect. The kind of silence that only comes from control.

Elros Darethiel was waiting at the far end of the hall. He wore a layered robe in soft golds and silvers, and the same polite smile he had the day he bailed us out.

"Welcome," he said, gesturing toward a side chamber. "I've had a room prepared for the demonstration. And afterward, dinner. If you'll follow me."

Vengir glanced sideways at me.

I gave a slight nod.

We were here now. No turning back.

—

The room they led us to had a table in the center, cleared and clean, with delicate tools laid out around it like instruments before a performance.

The printing press had been carried here in pieces, already reassembled with care by House Eloras's staff. It sat silent, waiting.

I stepped forward and checked the levers, the plate alignment, the ink drum. Everything was exactly how I'd left it.

Elros Darethiel watched quietly from the side. "May we begin?"

I loaded a blank scroll, set the block for Ryuu's portrait, and turned the crank.

The machine hummed softly, like it recognized the room wasn't home, but it would still perform.

A clean sheet slid out seconds later.

Elros Darethiel took it with reverence, holding it up to the lantern-light. "Extraordinary," he breathed. "So precise… and consistent."

His eyes flicked to me. "How long did it take you to build it?"

"A few days," I replied. "And even longer to make it work right."

He set the paper down gently. "This could change communication across the continent. Imagine… entire archives replicated in days. Art, law, philosophy… preserved and distributed."

His voice had the cadence of a dreamer. But dreamers, I'd learned, were often the most dangerous people in power.

"I imagine you didn't come here just for compliments," Vengir said, stepping up beside me.

"Of course not," Elros Darethiel said with a small chuckle. "But it's not theft I want. It's partnership."

He turned to me. "You mentioned a contract. Use rights in exchange for royalties. I believe those terms are fair. Draft the document, and we'll review it with our legal scholars."

I reached into my satchel and produced the contract I had prepared the night before. My handwriting was clean, structured. I'd outlined everything, every replication, every clause, every contingency.

Elros Darethiel  took it with interest, reading it over while a scribe stepped into the room with a fresh scroll and quill.

"Very well," he said finally. "This will be the beginning of something grand, Miss Ryazania."

His tone was warm, but the air around him still felt… measured.

The system's voice echoed in my mind again:

[Contract exchange initiated]

[Security protocols active]

[Emotional fluctuations: Stable]

I took a breath.

If this really worked, if House Eloras honored their end, my flyers could reach cities beyond Eldenforve. Villages tucked in canyons. Even Valdria.

Someone, somewhere, would recognize Ryuu.

Valsen turned to the door. "Shall we move to dinner? There's still much to discuss."

I nodded, casting one last glance at the printing press.

It had done its job.

Now it was time for mine.

______

Dinner was served in a long vaulted hall lit by glass orbs suspended midair.

They pulsed faintly, responding to sound and presence, changing color with the cadence of voices. Magic, subtle and refined.

The table itself could've seated thirty, but only four places were set one for me, one for Vengir, one for Elros Darethiel, and one left suspiciously unclaimed.

The food was elegant. Too elegant. Leaves folded like art, sauces drizzled in patterns, and silverware so polished I could see my eyes on them.

I picked at the roasted root dish in front of me, unsure how much of this was diplomacy and how much was surveillance.

Elros Darethiel sat across from me, polite, sipping his wine with the ease of someone raised to make even silence sound graceful.

"Your invention," he said as the plates were being cleared, "it's already drawing attention. Word spreads fast in political circles. You'll be receiving offers soon, not just from nobles, but guildmasters, librarians, even foreign embassies."

I began to wonder, is this how those mega corporations were built? Through a patented product or innovation? Either way, I'm not building an empire or a mega corporation. This isn't even my invention. It's Johannes Gutenberg's, created to make books widely accessible and affordable for the public.

Vengir grunted. "They'll come sniffing soon as the ink dries."

I glanced at him, then back to Elros Darethiel. "I'm not here to sell an empire. Just to find my cousin."

Elros Darethiel tilted his head. "And if finding him meant you had to work with the empire?"

I didn't answer.

The system did.

[Caution: Language suggests leverage or coercion]

[Observation: High political intent detected]

I ignored it.

"I'll work with whoever helps me get closer to him," I said. "That's the truth."

There was a long pause.

Then Elros Daretheil smiled. "A fair answer."

He rose from his seat, signaling the end of the meal. "I'll have my people prepare the first printing supply routes. You'll receive your share for each deployment, as agreed. For now, rest. Enjoy the manor tonight. Tomorrow, if you're willing, I'd like to introduce you to a few contacts."

Vengir stood with a slight scowl. "You're playing a deeper game than you let on, Eloras."

Elros Darethiel turned slightly. "Aren't we all?"

Later that night, I stood by a wide arched window overlooking the manor gardens. Moonlight danced over the hedge mazes and fountains like silver ink.

My sword rested against the window frame, humming faintly, as if restless.

I pressed my hand to the cold glass.

[New data link established]

[External broadcasts detected across five cities]

[Portrait distribution: 1287 flyers]

[Recognition Probability: 3.42% and rising]

My breath caught.

"Ryuu…" I whispered.

A flicker of memory rose, his laugh, his grin.

that time he carved our initials into the side of a training dummy and got scolded for it.

"Where are you?"

The sword pulsed once.

I turned toward the bed, uncertain if I could sleep.

Not because of fear.

Because of what might come next.

______

Meanwhile… miles away, in the underbelly of another city, beneath a ruined chapel swallowed by time and dust…

A cloaked figure stepped into a dim chamber lit by a pulsing blue flame. He knelt before a wide arcane mirror, its surface rippling like disturbed water.

In the reflection, the faint image of Ryazania's face stared back.

The man smiled.

"Found you."

_______

A cellar beneath the merchant quarter - cold stone walls, hushed whispers, and the scent of old smoke

Garret Halven leaned against a pillar, arms folded, his expression unreadable. Elros Darethiel stood a few paces away, carefully examining a rolled flyer pulled from his sleeve, a copy of Ryuu's portrait, crisp, clean, flawless.

"She printed hundreds of these," Elros said, voice thoughtful. "Identical in detail. Flawless duplication."

Garret scoffed. "So she has a press. You dragged me out here for a glorified scribe's toy?"

Elros's gaze flicked to him, calm and deliberate. "Don't be short-sighted. The girl built it with salvaged materials from a dwarven labyrinth. Moonsteel. Clockroot. Crystaphite. And she brought them out alive."

Garret's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

"This isn't just about paper," Elros continued. "It's what it represents. Methodical precision. Technical design well beyond her age. Strategic thinking. She's either an engineering prodigy... or something more."

Garret's smirk returned, bitter and knowing. "You think she's an Otherworlder."

Elros didn't deny it. "Her knowledge, her invention, it doesn't align with any schooling system in the continent. And you said it yourself…"

"She's a dark energy user," Garret confirmed, straightening. "Faint, but it's there. Masked well. Most wouldn't notice. But I would. I'm a Warglock. Trained to feel the edge of shadow even when it's hidden behind silk."

Elros nodded, eyes glinting. "And yet no records of her. No noble family. No guild allegiance. And now she's got half the northern ring watching her every move-"

Garret cut in. "Your press deal went through?"

"She agreed to limited rights," Elros said, smiling faintly. "Use without ownership. House Eloras gets access. She gets royalties."

"Hah," Garret snorted. "She thinks she's clever."

"She is," Elros said. "And clever people either rise fast… or burn fast."

Garret stepped toward the light, his voice low and sharp. "If she's an Otherworlder, and if she's using dark energy, Ivoria will come for her."

"That's why I need you watching her," Elros replied. "She's important. And we're not the only ones who know it."

Garret looked away, muttering, "That sword of hers… it hums. Responds like it's alive."

Elros raised a brow. "Another artifact?"

"Maybe more."

Silence lingered between them, thick as the fog rolling in from the outer spires.

"Keep close," Garret said at last, his voice low. "If she slips, if she reveals anything that ties her to the Otherworlders or to the Ivorian threat, I want to know."

Elros's gaze sharpened. Cold. Calculated. "And what happens when she stops slipping and starts fighting?"

He turned, descending the stone steps, his robes whispering across polished marble.

"Then we pray someone else is standing between her and the Empire," he muttered.

Garret didn't move. He remained in the darkened corridor, one gloved hand tapping lightly against the hilt of the hidden blade beneath his coat. A rhythm of thought. Of caution.

He didn't trust Elros. He didn't care for noble interests or cultural advancements.

He certainly didn't care about printing presses or scroll-fed revolutions.

But Ryazania…

She wasn't just another girl with a clever machine.

She was something worse.

Or something necessary.

Garret turned to leave.

"Thank you for your time," he said over his shoulder. "But I'll be taking my leave now."

Elros raised a brow. "Leaving so soon? Just when things are getting interesting?"

"Someone has to know."

Elros stepped forward slightly. "Know what?"

Garret paused at the threshold. His tone was quiet but resolute.

"That the Otherworlder may have already crossed the border."

"And where exactly are you headed?"

He looked back one last time, then answered with a faint, humorless smile.

"My home. The Ivorian Empire."