Gwayne stood by the window for a moment longer, only exhaling when he was sure the strange "My Little Pony" woman's presence had truly faded. Then, swiftly, he moved to close the window.
But just as the shutters were about to meet, a blur of movement shot up from below—followed by Amber's frantic shout: "Hey! Boss! I just saw a thief—BAM."
Gwayne: "..."
Moments later, the half-elf rogue, bruised and battered both in body and soul, finally stood safely inside. Clutching an ice pack to her forehead, Amber glared at him indignantly.
"That's not fair!" she howled. "You didn't even warn me!"
"I wasn't expecting someone to come flying through the window," Gwayne said with a raised brow. "Is walking through doors suddenly out of style tonight?"
"I'm a rogue!" Amber sputtered, outraged. "Going through doors would insult my professional standards! And I got punched by some mystery woman earlier, too! Shouldn't you be compensating my workplace injuries?! Or are all you nobles this stingy?!"
Gwayne glanced over her animated complaints, noting that despite her dramatic antics, the half-elf wasn't actually hurt—other than a bruised ego and a bruised forehead.
"I'll pay you when I actually have money," he said casually. "And besides, I'm your elder. That means you can trust me not to cheat you."
Amber's sharp ears twitched suspiciously. "You said it yourself! I've got a good memory, you know!"
Gwayne waved her off and turned back to the table, where five crystals lay neatly arranged.
There were four he had retrieved from the secret vault hidden in the study—and one new arrival: the crystal Melitta had handed him, supposedly entrusted to the Mithril Vault by the Gwayne Seawright of seven centuries past.
But troublingly, there was no memory in his mind to match it.
Worse, the other crystals—the ones he himself had pulled from the vault—were also mysteries. He knew the vault was there. He remembered placing something inside it. But the memories of what exactly had been stored were strangely... blank.
It was almost as if anything related to these objects had been deliberately erased.
Gwayne picked up the crystals, examining them closely. The one from Melitta was pristine—a spindle-shaped gem, cool and symmetrical, with a faint blue glow trapped deep inside. The others were broken shards, clearly fragments of a similar but once larger artifact.
When he tried to fit them together, he could piece together barely two-thirds of the original form.
"What are these?" Amber, predictably bored after standing still for five minutes, sidled up curiously. "They look like junk... All dull and cracked. Bet they aren't worth much."
"Good," Gwayne said without looking up. "If they did look valuable, I'd have to silence you just to keep you from trying to steal them."
Amber clutched her chest in mock horror. "Wow! Nobles really are ruthless!"
Gwayne finally gave her a sideways glance. "You seem to have a lot of opinions about nobles. What, did one of us run over your pet rabbit?"
"Nope!" Amber said with a grin. "But isn't it the sacred right of smallfolk to blame nobles for everything? Famine, plagues, rainy weather—always the nobles' fault!"
Gwayne snorted. "You don't sound like any peasant I've ever met. True peasants are too scared to badmouth their lords, even in whispers."
Amber beamed proudly. "That's because ordinary peasants can't shadow-step either!"
Gwayne shook his head and waved her off.
"Go fetch Rebecca for me," he said. "I need her here."
Amber squinted suspiciously at the crystals. "Wait a minute... You're calling the little lordling here now? Does that mean... these things are actually valuable?"
Gwayne raised an eyebrow. "And why would you think that?"
Amber began ticking off her points smugly: "Well, the atmosphere's all serious... You just met with a secret agent from the Mithril Vault... And now you're calling your heir to the study late at night. Come on, this has inheritance planning written all over it!"
Gwayne's forehead twitched.
"If you don't get moving, I'm going to stick you to the wall with a sword," he said darkly.
Amber made an exaggerated yelp and, with a whoosh of shadow, melted away into the darkness.
Finally, blessed peace.
Gwayne leaned against the table and steeled himself to confront the gnawing uncertainty within him.
Was his arrival in this world truly an accident? Had it simply been coincidence that the wandering soul of a lost astronaut found its way into this ancient hero's body?
Or was it something more?
Was Gwayne Seawright's "resurrection"... always meant to happen?
After all, the real Gwayne's body had remained perfectly preserved for seven centuries. A normal death did not end like that.
Had the hero somehow planned for his own eventual return?
Maybe he had. Maybe he'd wanted to be ready to rise again if disaster struck—the loss of his bloodline, the return of the Others, or both.
But if so, he certainly hadn't planned for a rogue soul from beyond the stars to hijack the operation.
Gwayne frowned, fingers unconsciously tracing letters across the table's dusty surface:
WHO AM I?
Gwayne Seawright. Born of Earth. Once a man lost in a distant world's catastrophe, now reborn here. His memories were whole. His mind was clear. He was still himself. And that was enough.
His thoughts were interrupted by hurried footsteps from beyond the study door. Amber's excitable voice drifted through the cracks:
"Hey, listen, little lady! Your ancestor's acting super weird tonight! First, he met some Vault agent, now he's calling you in here late at night... I'm telling you, it smells like inheritance talk!"
A pop and crackle of fire sounded—Rebecca, it seemed, had conjured a fireball in warning.
Amber's voice turned hurried:
"Of course, no rush! Totally not expecting payment right away! Just saying!"
The door creaked open.
Rebecca entered hesitantly, glancing nervously around—as if worried she'd find her venerable ancestor lying in bed, drafting his final will.
Gwayne rolled his eyes and waved Amber back to her "post."
"Guard the outside," he ordered. "If another uninvited guest shows up tonight, you can kiss your paycheck goodbye."
Amber sulked toward the window.
"You say that like you've ever paid me in the first place..."
Ignoring her muttering, Gwayne turned back to the table, swiftly gathering up the mysterious crystals and locking them away. Then he drew out the true prize: the platinum disc he had recovered from the hidden vault.
"You know," he said, addressing Rebecca, "Amber wasn't entirely wrong. I do have something important to pass on to you—but it's not an inheritance."
Rebecca looked curiously at the disc.
"What is it?"
"A key," Gwayne replied. "A key to—"
A sudden shout from above interrupted him.
"I caught another thief!!" Amber's voice rang out.
This time, Gwayne didn't hear the telltale crash of her being punched through the rooftop. That alone was enough to set alarm bells clanging in his mind.
Swiftly, Gwayne reached for his sword, motioning Rebecca to follow.
But before they could move, a swirling shadow formed in the middle of the room, and from it Amber emerged, triumphant, dragging an unconscious figure by the collar.
A young man, clad in dark leather armor, his hair black as night.
Gwayne stared down at the intruder sprawled at his feet.
He couldn't help but sigh.
Another visitor, huh? This night just keeps getting livelier...