Chapter 39: A Father's Hope
Kael followed the guard through the now-open gate. The path ahead was paved with smooth, pale stone, flanked by carefully pruned bushes and flowerbeds bursting with seasonal blooms. The scent of lavender lingered in the air. It felt too peaceful, almost detached from the rest of the town.
The mansion's walls were made of clean-cut sandstone, with wooden beams lining the exterior edges — a blend of noble elegance and rural simplicity. Windows were tall, the glass clean and slightly tinted. Nothing extravagant — just refined, quiet wealth.
The towering front doors creaked open as the guard pushed them in. Their dark mahogany frames were etched with gold filigree and ancient crests. Lanternlight spilled from within, casting a golden glow on the marble steps and the ornate crimson runner leading inside. Above, a chandelier of gilded crystal shimmered like starlight, catching every movement.
As they walked, Kael glanced around—landscapes, proud family portraits, and an old suit of armor displayed near the stairwell. One painting caught his eye: a woman with flowing purple hair and eyes to match, her expression serene yet distant. The strokes were confident, but something in the face felt just slightly off, like a memory retold too many times. He said nothing at first, until the silence started to itch.
"...So," Kael said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "this Albrecht... he's the head of the household?"
The guard glanced at him, then gave a small nod. "Yes. Albrecht Lysander. Used to be a trader, years ago. Built up a small merchant branch from nothing. It grew... slowly, but surely. These days, he keeps to himself. Lives here quietly—with his daughter."
Kael's gaze didn't shift, and for a moment, he said nothing. His expression unreadable, his steps steady. The silence stretched, just enough to feel like he was weighing something.
Then, quietly, he said, "And the Core... he needs it badly, doesn't he?"
The guard exhaled, like he'd been waiting for the question. "Yeah. I figured the guild briefed you."
Kael gave a slight nod. "They did."
Another pause. The corridor stretched ahead, bathed in soft afternoon light that poured through tall arched windows, casting elegant shadows along the polished walls. The air carried a faint trace of lavender again—subtle, lingering, like the breath of something regal and still.
"Truth is," the guard continued, his voice a bit lower now, "Master's been under a lot of strain lately. His wife passed away… three years ago. Illness."
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly—just a flicker—but he didn't speak.
"He's got only one family left now. His daughter." The guard's tone grew quieter. "But… she was cursed. A few days back."
Kael slowed his steps. He looked down for a second, then said in a hushed tone, "That's... unfortunate."
"You don't have to be sorry," the guard said quickly, maybe a bit awkwardly. "I'm the one saying it. I guess I just... needed to say something."
Neither spoke after that.
Their footsteps echoed faintly as they reached the end of the corridor. A towering door loomed before them—dark metal and obsidian wood fused seamlessly, etched with glowing runes and shifting arcane symbols. It pulsed faintly, as if alive, resonating with a quiet hum of power. Time and enchantments were woven into its surface.
The guard stepped forward and knocked twice—firm, but respectful.
"Master Albrecht," he called out. "He's here. With the magic stone."
A beat of silence passed before a voice responded, deep and calm. "Send him in."
The guard turned to Kael, giving him a subtle nod as he stepped aside and opened the door.
Kael said nothing. He took a breath—just a quiet one—and then stepped through the door.
The room wasn't cramped or cluttered. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, some reached by sliding ladders, their volumes thick with age and wisdom. Soft candlelight flickered from golden sconces, casting shifting shadows across a long, polished desk that stood like an island in the center of the room. There were several chairs—elegant, finely crafted, arranged in quiet conversation circles. One wall held a grand window, half-open, letting in the golden wash of afternoon light that spilled over a waiting tea set on the desk.
Behind the table sat a man in his late forties. Albrecht had sharp features and light gray hair pulled back loosely. His coat was unbuttoned, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing calloused hands and veins that told of past labor. His eyes were tired, but clear — pale blue with a certain calm weight behind them.
Kael stepped forward, took the pouch from his pocket, and placed it on the table. "From the guild," he said simply, his voice low. "The Aetherium Core… like you requested."
Albrecht rose from behind his desk, slowly, as if the weight of time itself pressed against his back. But he didn't rush to the pouch. Instead, he looked at Kael, long and searching, with eyes that bore the wear of many sleepless nights.
"You came quickly," he said at last, his voice rough with emotion. "Thank you."
He walked around the desk and gestured to the chairs beside it.
"You look tired. Sit. Would you like some tea?"
Kael paused, then shook his head. "...I'm alright, thanks."
Albrecht offered a faint smile, more out of courtesy than cheer. "Polite. You don't seem like a merchant's runner, though."
"I'm not," Kael said. "Just a low-key adventurer. Our party took the quest. So, I was the one sent to deliver it."
"I see…" Albrecht's eyes drifted briefly to Kael's worn leather armor and wooden sword. "Forgive me. I should've guessed from your clothes."
"Don't worry."
"Please," Albrecht said again, softer now. "Take a seat. If only for a while. You brought me a piece of hope—I won't let you leave like some passing courier."
Kael hesitated again, then nodded and took the seat offered. He glanced toward the pouch; the Aetherium Core cast gentle shadows across the table. Albrecht stepped forward and opened the pouch fully.
A soft light escaped the interior, like moonlight on a still lake. The Core pulsed faintly.
Albrecht stared at it, and something in his face shifted — a tremble in the jaw, a glint in the eyes that weren't entirely hope. More like fear. Desperate hope... the kind that had failed him too many times.
"…She's upstairs," Albrecht whispered. "Maybe this time… maybe it'll work."
He stayed still after that. His voice had cracked by the end of the sentence, and as he looked away, tears began to fall—quiet, unannounced.
Kael sat in silence. The air was still. Heavy. The room felt colder than before, as if the walls were listening.
Albrecht wiped his face with the back of his hand, but more tears came anyway. "I'm sorry. I—sorry, I'm just… saying too much."
Kael shook his head. "No, it's okay. You can talk."
Albrecht gave a broken chuckle. "You know… I once had hope. I really did." His voice trembled, not from weakness, but from something heavier — worn down over time. He looked at the floor, eyes distant. "Three years ago, my wife… she got sick. Really sick. The kind where the healers just look at you with those eyes. The ones that don't have answers. Just… silence."
Kael didn't speak. He didn't move. He just watched, the air between them thick and still.
"I didn't have money then," Albrecht continued, voice cracking at the edges. "Not even enough to hope properly. We sold the house. The furniture. The ring I gave her when we were young and stupid and believed the world would be kind. Still wasn't enough."
His hands opened and closed slowly in his lap, like they were remembering the things they could no longer hold.
"She died in my arms. And she was the one saying sorry." He blinked hard, swallowing against something he couldn't quite keep down. "Saying sorry to me."
Kael looked away, his jaw tense, fingers curling into a quiet fist.
"I hated myself," Albrecht whispered. "For not being enough. For not saving her. I made a promise — that if anyone I loved ever needed me again… I'd have the strength. The means. I wouldn't fail."
He raised his head, eyes red, hollowed out and raw. "Now I do. I have the money. All of it. More than I ever dreamed. But…"
He trailed off. A moment passed before he finished, barely audible. "Now it's my daughter."
Kael's gaze sharpened. "She's… cursed?"
Albrecht nodded. "The healers say so. They don't know the source, don't know who'd do such a thing. It just… happened. One day she was laughing, running through the garden with a stick in her hand, pretending it was a sword. She'd draw pictures of herself slaying monsters, saving villages."
He tried to smile, but it faltered. "She said she wanted to be an adventurer when she grew up. Kept telling me she'd go on quests and bring home treasures. Not for herself. For me. So I'd never have to worry again."
Kael's eyes flickered. "…She sounds brave."
"She was everything." Albrecht's voice broke, and he pressed a knuckle to his lips. "She used to line up her dolls and give them little 'adventures tests.' You had to pass the 'hero's exam' before joining her party. She even made me one of them. I still remember—she gave me the title of 'Shield Knight.' Said I had to protect the whole team." He gave a shaky breath. "And now she doesn't speak. Doesn't blink. Just stares ahead, like she's stuck somewhere far away. Somewhere I can't follow."
Kael bowed his head. "I'm sorry."
"No," Albrecht murmured. "Don't be. I'm her father. It should've been me. I was supposed to protect her."
Silence stretched long between them.
Then, softly: "But the priest said there's a ritual. Risky. Old magic. But with this core…" He gestured to the small satchel on the table. "There's a chance. Just a sliver of one. And that's enough for me."
Kael's eyes followed the satchel. He said nothing, only listened.
"I don't care about the price," Albrecht said, his voice hoarse. "I'd give it all again. A thousand times. For her to run in the garden again. To hold a stick and call it a sword."
He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "I just want her to live. To smile. Even if I'm not there to see it."
Kael let out a breath, slow and quiet, like the weight of those words pressed on his own chest. "You really loved them."
"I still do." Albrecht's voice was little more than a whisper. "That's the curse I live with."
There was a pause.
Then Kael's tone softened. "She's lucky to have you."
Albrecht didn't answer at first. He just looked up, eyes glossy, as if trying to catch a sound that no longer echoed — his daughter's laugh, maybe.
Finally, he nodded, just once.
"…My daughter," he said after a beat, voice shaky again, "she still wants to become an adventurer."
Kael blinked. "Even now?"
"She can't speak, but… she draws." Albrecht managed the faintest smile. "Barely moves her hand, but… sometimes, we hold a pencil together. And she still draws swords. Castles. Herself with a cape, and me watching from a tower window." His lips trembled again. "She still dreams. Somehow."
Kael's voice came quiet, reverent. "That's a beautiful dream."
Albrecht nodded slowly, collecting himself.
"Well, I must've bored you with my silly story" he said, gently wiping his eyes again. "I'll prepare the payment. You'll need to report back to the guild, right?"
"Yes," Kael said. "They'll want confirmation."
Albrecht crossed the room, footsteps heavy, and opened a drawer. He returned with a sealed envelope and a pouch of coin. He held them out with both hands, as if offering something far more precious.
"This should cover it. And… thank you. For even listening."
Kael took the items slowly, gaze lingering on the envelope before meeting Albrecht's eyes again.
"…Can I see her?"
Albrecht froze. "You… want to meet her?"
"If it's alright."
Albrecht blinked, caught off guard by the request. Then he smiled — small, fragile, but real.
"Yes. Of course. I think she'd like that."
He turned toward the door and called out gently, "Darian? Escort our guest to Arienne's room, please."
The guard stepped in — the same one from before. Stern, quiet. But now there was a softness in his posture, a recognition of the moment.
"Yes, Master."
Albrecht turned back to Kael. "She'd be happy to know someone brought her hope. Especially an adventurer."
Kael stood slowly, adjusting the satchel and pouch at his side.
"…I'll just say hello," he murmured.
Albrecht gave him a nod, full of quiet gratitude.
"She could use a friend. Even just for a moment."
---
(Chapter Ended)