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Chapter 12 - Faith is for the Naive
🕑 Added 2025-12-21 21:28:14 +0000 UTCFranz sat at his desk, elbows pressed against the surface and fingers digging into his hairline. The ledgers and correspondence that normally kept his attention lay forgotten, scattered across the desk.
It's too unbelievable.
The phrase had been cycling through his mind for hours. His hands trembled slightly as he lowered them, staring at the ink stains on his fingertips from where he'd gripped his pen too tightly.
Suddenly appearing inside the mountain barrier, with no signs of a forced entry. Using the void flame with more proficiency than anyone I've seen before. Overpowering Mother, and at such a young age. And then, taking Felicia as his apprentice after learning she was a direct descendant of Artorias' little sister.
It fit all too well. Even his behavior and urge not to be discovered made sense.
But it's too unbelievable. The messiah, the hero of legend... Did he really return, just like that?
Franz wasn't a religious man, like those fanatics in the church, but he knew Artorias was a real historical figure. One who sacrificed himself for the continent of Javos, selflessly.
And now, the teacher of my daughter? Is it possible?
Franz stood from his chair, not sure how much time had passed. The moon hung bright in the black sky, casting its pale light across the sleeping city.
How long have I been sitting here?
Time seemed to vanish when your worldview was crumbling. But midnight was perfect for what needed to be done. If he was going to investigate this properly, it had to be done with the utmost caution. If Daniel really was who Franz suspected, and he didn't want to be discovered...
Franz dared not go against the will of Artorias Grifantes.
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Two hours later, Franz stood on the exact spot where he had met 'Daniel' for the first time. At the spot where his last wife had loved to sit and look out at the city. A bitter place for him.
Felicia didn’t even remember the early days, when he had joined them here to watch the city. At some point, for some damned reason, he had simply stopped joining them.
After a few heavy sighs, he started searching the area, hoping something would reveal itself.
It wasn't easy in the late night, but the light spell built into his index made it manageable. And after half an hour of searching through the grass, a hundred steps further up the mountain, he found it.
A hole. Large enough for a person to slip through, carved clean through solid rock. The grass straws were cut perfectly in line with the hole, which meant it must have been made recently. By a void flame, if his guess was correct.
If he was right about all of this—and God help him, he was growing more certain by the moment—the chamber inside the mountain would be empty. The chamber where the most pivotal battle in recorded history had taken place. Where one man had sealed away an immortal evil at the cost of his own life.
The cardinal in the city would throttle Franz with his bare hands if he could see him now, about to tread on such hallowed ground. But Franz had to know. Had to be absolutely certain.
Forgive me, he thought as he stepped inside, though he wasn't sure if the prayer was directed at the sleeping city below, the heavens above, or whatever might be waiting in the depths ahead.
After a hundred or so steps, he arrived. A massive chamber opened before him, easily a hundred feet across and twice that high, filled with purple crystals. Precisely like the books had said.
Despite not being a religious man, Franz felt a profound sense of reverence wash over him. He was the first person to set foot here in centuries, at the stage of the most important battle in history. Or one of them, at least.
The seal that changed everything was carved into the ground, impossibly complex and powerful. Circles within circles, symbols layered upon symbols, all woven together in patterns that only their creator could understand.
But the seal was dark. Completely void of mana. Inactive.
It's broken. Or completed. Or both.
Near the center of the chamber, almost lost in the shadows despite his light, lay a heap of bones. Human bones, but warped into unfamiliar and twisted shapes. Some were fused together, while others had grown cancerous protrusions that looked more like coral than calcium.
Bones belonging to the immortal Corrupted One. A young girl, according to the legends, so talented in the arts of healing magic that it grew too fast for her to control. Until finally, the spirit consumed her mind. Corrupted her soul.
She became immortal, able to regenerate any damage. But over the centuries inside the seal, she was eventually drained of mana and unable to keep herself alive.
It was a grim warning to anyone who dared to contract the spirits unless they had the power to control them. And the reason so many branches of magic had been sealed away from the public.
But there was no trace of the hero. No second set of remains, no ceremonial burial, nothing to indicate that Artorias Grifantes had died in this place.
Like he had escaped, after a millennium of imprisonment.
The truth hit Franz with such force that his knees buckled. He fell to the stone floor, the impact sending jolts of pain through his legs, but he barely noticed.
The doubt vanished—and with it, the final layer of protection his mind had left.
Franz threw back his head and laughed.
Deep, rolling laughter that echoed off the crystal walls, beyond his control. He sounded crazed, and maybe he was. Maybe anyone would be, faced with proof that myth could turn into reality and walk among the mundane.
It's him, Franz thought between gasps of laughter. It's really him.
Artorias Grifantes walked among them once again.
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Daniel awoke to the sound of someone hammering on his door. His eyes opened to unfamiliar ceiling beams, and for a disorienting moment, he couldn't remember where he was. But his memory quickly returned.
The trio had traveled back to the hotel he had used the night before, and no one seemed to mind—especially since he covered the cost for both rooms. Elizabeth had insisted on sleeping in Felicia’s room, all the while eyeing Daniel suspiciously.
It was a fair reaction from her perspective, so he didn’t fault her for it. He had basically kidnapped the young girl, however willing she had been.
The knocking continued, relentless and precise. Daniel groaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes.
Way too early, he thought, squinting at the light filtering through the window. The sun had barely reached the horizon.
“Who is it?” he yelled drowsily.
The response was muffled by the thick wooden door, but unmistakably female. "Elizabeth. I'd like to speak with you."
Of course you would. Daniel rubbed at his face, feeling the scratch of stubble against his palms. Wasn't she supposed to leave for the mansion?
"Is it fine if I stay in bed?" he asked, already knowing he wasn't going to like whatever conversation was about to unfold.
“Yes.”
“Then come on in.”
The door was locked, but a casual flick of Daniel's wrist sent mana trickling through the mechanism. The heavy bolt slid back with a soft click, and Elizabeth strode into the room.
She paused just inside the doorway, clearly expecting to find him standing behind the door. Instead, her gaze swept the room until it found him still sprawled across the wide bed, propped up on one elbow with his hair sticking up at odd angles.
"I thought you were headed back to the mansion first?" Daniel said, settling back against his pillow.
"I've already been." Her tone was sharp and businesslike. "I don't need much sleep."
"That makes one of us," he muttered, stifling a yawn.
Elizabeth stood perfectly straight, hands clasped in front of her like a soldier at attention. The morning light from the window caught the silver threads in her hair, highlighting the lines of worry etched around her eyes.
"What are your intentions with Felicia?"
Daniel blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then he smiled, appreciating her directness.
"I'm planning to make her the greatest mage that ever lived," he said, meeting her gaze steadily. "Giving her my full support in matters of magic and leveling."
Elizabeth's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes—disappointment, perhaps, or frustration. "Be serious."
"I am serious," he said, injecting a note of playful honesty into his voice. "You see, I'm actually Artorias Grifantes, and I took her under my wing after learning that we were related, albeit distantly."
The silence that followed was deafening. Elizabeth's face could have been carved from stone for all the emotion it showed, but Daniel caught the subtle tightening around her eyes.
"Fine," she said finally. "If you refuse to tell me the truth, I'll just have to advise her not to trust you."
"You do that," he said easily, shifting to sit up properly against the headboard. "But then she'll ask you why I confronted her grandmother for her sake, what I have to gain from taking her under my wing, and how I could fool her into thinking I can see everything around me."
He paused, gently extending his mana to catch a hidden detail, to make his point. "Like the knife you're hiding in your sleeve."
Elizabeth went very still. The kind of stillness that spoke of years of training, of someone who knew how to fight and wasn't afraid to do so if necessary. Then the fight went out of her, along with a heavy sigh.
“...Give me a real answer. Please.”
The 'please' did it. Daniel could hear the weight behind it. She cared deeply about Felicia's welfare and was terrified of making the wrong choice. He'd been having fun with the verbal sparring, but this wasn't a game.
"She's talented," he said simply.
“In what way?”
“Magic. She never told you she was practising in secret?”
“...I haven’t been around much.”
There was pain in that admission, expertly concealed. It wouldn’t surprise him if that were the doing of some other family member, wanting to keep Felicia isolated.
"Well, she is, genuinely," Daniel continued. "And I also felt bad for her. How do you think she looked after being told she was to be sent away for some political marriage?"
Elizabeth's hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I don’t even want to imagine.”
"Instead of suspecting me," he said gently, "think of where she would be without me."
Daniel could practically see Elizabeth's mind working through the scenarios—Felicia trapped in a loveless marriage, crushed beneath the weight of political necessity, and her spirit slowly being extinguished by years of loneliness.
Her perfect mask began to crack under emotions. Tiny quivers in her lips, and eyes turning more glossy with every blink. “Yes. You’re right... I’m sorry.”
Daniel shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m glad she’s had someone like you around. But we’re on the same team.”
Elizabeth studied his face for a long moment, as if searching for some hint of deception or ulterior motive. “Who are you really, then?”
"Daniel Hansen," he said simply. "Writer, mostly."
She nodded. "That sounds more honest."
It was. As honest as he could get.
"Well," Elizabeth said, straightening back into her businesslike demeanor. "I'll help Felicia get started with the day, then. Is there any particular style of clothing you'd like her to wear?"
"No, not really," Daniel replied, appreciating her thoroughness. "But it might get damaged, so not her favorite."
“Noted. She will be ready in… an hour, then.”
Still way earlier than he would prefer. He had a sneaking suspicion sleeping in wouldn’t be an option with this woman around.
But that’s better than getting up after twelve every day, I suppose.
“Great. See you then.”
Elizabeth turned to leave, then paused at the door. For a moment, Daniel thought she might say something else. Instead, she simply nodded once and stepped back into the hallway, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Daniel lay back down, staring up at the ceiling beams as the sound of Elizabeth's footsteps faded down the corridor. The conversation had gone better than expected, all things considered.
An hour to prepare, Daniel thought, closing his eyes and trying to steal a few more minutes of rest. I hope I can give her the training she deserves. Otherwise, I might need to fight an old maid.
