The dry sound of clashing wooden swords still echoed through the training room when the door slammed open more forcefully than usual, interrupting the intense rhythm of the fight and creating an abrupt break in that almost hypnotic flow of attack and defense. Damon instinctively took a half-step back, lowering his blade just enough to avoid looking careless, while Ingrivid maintained his firm stance for a second longer before also relaxing slightly, both turning their gazes in the same direction almost simultaneously.

Morgana stood in the doorway, still dressed in more formal attire than the setting demanded, which in itself was an indication that this was no simple casual visit. Her eyes scanned the two with a silent intensity, as if she were assessing more than just what she saw physically, and her breathing, though controlled, carried a slight trace of urgency that didn’t match the normally calculated posture she displayed.

Damon was the first to break the silence, twirling the wooden sword in his hand before resting it lightly on his shoulder, his body still slightly warmed from the recent training as he analyzed her expression with heightened attention.

“What happened?” he asked bluntly, his voice more serious than moments before, indicating that he had already realized this was no trivial matter.

Morgana didn’t answer immediately, taking a few steps into the room before crossing her arms, as if mentally organizing the information she needed to convey, and when she finally spoke, her voice was lower, more controlled, but still heavy.

“We need to talk,” she said.

Damon didn’t hesitate to nod, the slight smile that had previously graced his face disappearing completely as he straightened his posture, the change in attitude almost instantaneous.

“Then let’s talk,” he replied.

Morgana then glanced briefly at Ingrivid, who still held his wooden sword firmly, as if he hadn’t quite decided if the training was truly over. “You’re coming too,” Morgana said bluntly.

Ingrivid didn’t question it, only nodded once, lowering his weapon and placing it back in its holster before moving towards the exit, following the two without hesitation.

The walk back inside the mansion was silent, but not uncomfortable—there was a clear tension in the air, something none of the three seemed willing to break with unnecessary words. Footsteps echoed softly through the corridors, mingling with the distant sounds of servants performing their usual tasks, creating an unsettling contrast between the normalcy of the surroundings and the gravity of what was about to be discussed.

Upon reaching the main room, Morgana was the first to sit down, choosing one of the armchairs near the central table, while Damon occupied the sofa opposite her with a more relaxed movement, though his eyes remained alert. Ingrivid stood for a few seconds before deciding to position himself beside her, maintaining his usual guard posture, even in a private setting.

Morgana brought her hand to her face for a brief moment, lightly rubbing her temple as if dealing with a weariness that went beyond the physical, and then let out a controlled sigh before finally speaking.

“Damon… you need to go back to Mirath,” she said directly.

The silence that followed was short, but heavy.

Damon tilted his head slightly, analyzing her more closely, clearly surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation.

“Go back?” he repeated, with slight disbelief. “What happened?”

Morgana crossed her hands in her lap, her fingers intertwining with a slight visible tension.

“I received information from some of my infiltrators who are still inside the Duke’s mansion,” she began, her voice firm, but lower than before. “And they all said the same thing.”

Damon remained silent, encouraging her to continue.

“My stepmother is… different,” Morgana finished, choosing her word carefully.

Damon let out a small sigh through his nose, leaning back slightly on the sofa while running a hand over his chin, clearly processing the information.

“This isn’t exactly news,” he commented, immediately remembering what he had witnessed the previous night.

“Not like that,” Morgana retorted. “They said her behavior is more… erratic. More aggressive. And that some internal decisions are being made without any attempt at disguise.”

Ingrivid looked away slightly, absorbing the information without interrupting.

Damon was silent for a few seconds before speaking again.

“So you want me to go to Mirath and ask for help,” he said, more as a statement than a question.

Morgana nodded.

“We need support,” she replied. “Political… and perhaps more than that.”

Damon closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if mentally calculating the implications of this, and then let out a long sigh.

“This will take time,” he said, opening his eyes again. “Even if I leave immediately, the travel time… is not something we have plenty of right now.”

Morgana pursed her lips slightly, clearly aware of this, but without offering an immediate alternative.

“So what do you suggest?” she asked.

Damon tilted his head slightly to the side, thinking for a few seconds before answering.

“Carrier pigeon,” he said. “A direct message. Faster than going in person.”

Morgana shook her head almost immediately.

“The chances of interception are enormous,” she replied. “If my stepmother is already operating at that level, she’s probably already monitoring any kind of external communication.”

Silence fell over the room again, this time heavier, more laden with uncertainty.

Then Ingrivid spoke.

“I can send a familiar.”

The sentence was simple.

Direct.

But enough to completely break the rhythm of the conversation.

Damon turned his face slowly toward her, one eyebrow arching almost automatically.

Morgana did the same.

“You have a familiar?” they both asked, almost simultaneously.

Ingrivid maintained a neutral expression, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

“I have,” she replied naturally.

Damon let out a small, incredulous laugh, leaning slightly forward.

“Since when?” he asked.

“Forever,” she replied simply.

Morgana tilted her head slightly, observing her more attentively now.

“You never mentioned it,” she said.

Ingrivid shrugged slightly.

“There was no need.”

Damon let out an amused sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Of course there wasn’t,” he murmured.

Morgana then leaned slightly forward, her interest now clearly piqued.

“You said you come from a family of beast tamers…?” she asked.

Ingrivid nodded.

“Yes. It’s an ancient tradition. Everyone in my family has some kind of bond with a specific creature.” Damon and Morgana exchanged a quick glance, a mixture of curiosity and slight surprise passing between them.

“And you… never thought it relevant to mention this?” Damon asked, with a slight smile.

“Not until now,” she replied, without changing her tone.

There was a short pause.

And then, almost in unison—

“Can you show me?”

Ingrivid didn’t answer immediately.

For a brief moment, she simply closed her eyes, as if shifting her focus from something external to something much deeper, more silent. Her breathing slowed almost imperceptibly, and the surrounding environment seemed to follow this rhythm, as if even the air respected that moment.

Damon tilted his head slightly, observing with renewed interest.

Morgana, on the other hand, kept her eyes fixed on her, analyzing every detail.

Then—

Ingrivid slowly raised her right hand.

Her fingers spread in the air, not randomly, but precisely, as if touching something invisible.

For a second, nothing happened.

And then the air… distorted.

It wasn’t explosive or dramatic. It was subtle. Like a gentle ripple on the surface of the water, expanding from the point where her hand was.

A soft, almost ethereal sound echoed in the air.

And, in the next instant—

She appeared.

An eagle.

Large. Imposing. The feathers in deep shades of brown and gold reflected the ambient light with a soft glow, while its eyes—attentive, penetrating—analyzed the surrounding space with an intelligence far beyond that of an ordinary animal.

Its wings opened briefly, creating a draft that caused some curtains in the background to move slightly before elegantly retracting.

Without haste.

Without hesitation.

The creature landed directly on Ingrivid’s shoulder, settling in naturally, as if that had always been its place.

The silence in the room became… different.

Deeper.

More meaningful.

“This is Valerie,” said Ingrivid, with his usual calm, as if he were presenting something perfectly ordinary.

Damon blinked once.

Then again.

And then a small smile appeared on his lips.

“Of course it is,” he murmured, clearly impressed, but trying not to show it too much.

Morgana, on the other hand, didn’t hide her interest.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, analyzing the creature with strategic attention.

“She can fly at super-speed,” Ingrivid continued, bringing her hand to the base of the eagle’s neck and gently running her fingers through its feathers, a gesture that was met with a slight nod from the creature.

The connection between the two was… evident.

It wasn’t just obedience.

It was a bond.

Trust.

Damon crossed his arms slowly, still observing.

“Super-speed how fast?” he asked, now more interested than before.

Ingrivid didn’t hesitate.

“Fast enough to cross the duchy before any ordinary messenger has even left the territory.”

Damon’s smile widened slightly.

“Now we’re speaking the same language.”

Morgana leaned slightly forward, her gaze fixed on the eagle.

“Can she be tracked?” she asked directly.

Valerie turned her head slightly toward her, as if she understood the question.

Ingrivid answered without looking away.

“Not easily,” she said. “She doesn’t fly like a regular bird. And she doesn’t follow predictable routes.”

Damon chuckled softly through his nose.

“I like that.”

Morgana nodded slowly, already connecting the dots.

“Then we have our solution.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms again, but now there was something different in her expression.

Direction.

Plan.

“We need to prepare a message,” she continued. “Direct. No unnecessary details. Something that won’t compromise everything if, for some reason, it’s intercepted.”

Damon nodded.

“Code,” he said. “References that only those on Mirath will understand.”

Morgana looked at him.

“You write it.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Me?”

“You know best who will receive it.”

Damon sighed slightly, but didn’t argue. “Just right.”

Ingrivid remained silent, merely observing as Valerie slightly adjusted her wings, her eyes still alert, as if she were ready to leave at any moment.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep