Chapter 61 - Thessapoter

  Fey’s eyes snapped open to the soft coos of Ollie — who was… an owl

  In his opinion, she worked far better than any of those new, overpriced alarm clocks… and cost him a lot less.

  He groaned, pushing himself upright in his tiny oak-wood one-bedroom. Ollie cooed again, louder this time, puffing his feathers in impatience.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know I’m late,” Fey muttered, sprinting across the room. “You don’t have to remind me.”

  He yanked open his cupboard and pulled out his work clothes:

  a high-collared suit, an annoyingly expensive vest, puffy white cuffs that flowed dramatically down his arms, and tight trousers that clung to his legs like glue. Very fashionable. Very uncomfortable.

  He tied his brown hair back with a blue rope, standard, mandatory, and apparently “traditional.”

  This was the average Thessapoter working outfit.

  Ridiculous, but required.

  Ollie bobbed his head in what Fey decided to interpret as approval.

  Fey gave a mock bow.

  “I’m glad you like it, your highness.”

  The owl hooted louder, flapping his wings indignantly.

  Fey laughed, grabbing his satchel.

  “I’m heading to work now,” he called out as he opened the door. “Stay safe, and feel free to open the cage whenever you want.”

  Ollie hooted one last time — sounding very much like a farewell.

  And Fey stepped out into the morning.

  He moved down the narrow hallway, weaving through the different families who shared the same block. He bowed to each group as he passed, exchanging quick greetings.

  By the time he exited the building, the sun was already high — catching on the polished wood beams and cobblestone pathways that made up his district.

  Thessapoter’s residential blocks were an odd mix of old-world charm and strict civic cleanliness: wooden frames, stone bases, color-coded shutters, everything tidy enough to show the city took pride in itself.

  He slipped into the crowd.

  All around him, people pushed through the busy streets — a chaotic parade of the city’s usual morning mix. Huge, broad-shouldered adventurers walked by with axes slung casually across their backs, the metal humming faintly with energy.

  Others carried staffs etched with runes to help focus their blessings, or wore belts full of relics Fey didn’t want to know the function of. Cloaked travelers drifted between them like shadows, swords bumping against their hips.

  Between these wandering dangers were the citizens dressed like him — men in formal suits with high collars and stiff cuffs, women in tailored dresses with layered hems and crisp white sleeves.

  These workers, his coworkers, rushed alongside adventurers, shoving clipboards and forms into their hands, nagging them about permits, travel taxes, and abberation-sighting reports. Some adventurers listened with mild curiosity. Others shoved past the nagging officials, muttering curses under their breath.

  This was his home.

  One of the biggest hubs for travelers, merchants, and adventurers across the continent.

  And Fey’s job was to manage it.

  Or at least… try to.

  And right now?

  He was so, so, so late.

  He jumped into the carriage and told the driver, slightly breathless, to head straight for the Central Travel bureau.

  The driver nodded once.

  The horse neighed, stamping against the cobblestones before the carriage lurched forward, wheels clattering as they hit stray stones.

  Fey leaned toward the window, pulling the curtain aside.

  Sunlight caught in his brown hair, glinting off the strands as the city blurred past. The streets were busy—busier than usual. Crowds pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, adventurers shouting, merchants bargaining, travelers arguing over permits.

  But with the aberration sightings… it made sense.

  And with the events that happened in Solvara three months ago, the tension in the air had only grown thicker.

  Aberrations spreading, mythical creatures appearing far outside their territories, and the recent disaster at the Academy—

  The whole continent felt like it was trembling.

  Off-balance.

  Unsettled in a way Fey had never seen before.

  He eventually stepped off the carriage, bowing again and thanking the driver before handing over the fare—one silver coin.

  Then he turned to face the massive building that served as the headquarters.

  It shared Thessapoter’s usual architectural style—polished wood frames, pale stone columns—but everything was scaled up. Higher, broader, cleaner. The official sigil hung above the entrance: a torch burning over crossed roads.

  He pushed open the double doors, expecting the usual calm reception.

  Instead—

  Chaos.

  The entire lobby was in complete disarray.

  bureau members clutched papers so tightly their knuckles whitened, yet sheets still tore free and fluttered through the air. People were shouting across desks, others barking orders that immediately got swallowed by the noise. A bell near the main counter rang nonstop, each chime sharper than the last.

  Fey froze.

  What the gods was going on?

  For a second he just stood there.

  Before he could get his bearings, a young attendant marched straight toward him.

  And Before Fey could even greet her, she grabbed him by the arm and began dragging him across the chaotic lobby.

  “—Wait, hey! Anne, slow down!”

  “There’s a huge problem, Sir Fey,” she said flatly over her shoulder.

  Fey scratched his cheek, glancing around at the flying papers and frantic clerks.

  “Yeah… I couldn’t tell.”

  Anne didn’t respond. She just tightened her grip and kept dragging him.

  “Could you at least tell me what’s going on?” he tried again, stumbling after her.

  “I don’t know the full details myself, sir,” she said. “We’re going to speak with the boss about it.”

  At that, Fey dug his heels in, hands shooting up in front of him in alarm.

  “Wait—what? Is it that big of a deal? Do I really have to meet with… her?”

  Anne gave him a look of pure, unfiltered disgust from several inches below.

  She'd been doing that more lately.

  “Hey! Don’t look at me like that!”

  She didn’t say a word.

  “Fine… gods, let’s go.”

  ***

  Eventually, they made it to the boss’s quarters.

  Fey raised his hand toward the door, ready to knock—

  then hesitated.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Anne let out a sharp tsk, shoved his hand aside, and opened the door herself.

  A mug flew past Fey’s face the instant the door cracked open.

  It shattered against the wall behind him, hot coffee splattering across the floor and narrowly missing his vest.

  “E—EKK!” Fey screeched, stumbling backward. “Don’t you know how much this cost—”

  He cut himself off, clamping one hands over his mouth and coughing into them before hastily bowing.

  Sweat slid down his temples.

  Why did she always throw things?

  “Good afternoon, Lady Aldwynne,” he said, his voice tight.

  At first, there was silence.

  Fey dared to lift his head a fraction from his bow, just enough to see what the boss was doing.

  She sat at her desk, dressed in the same white cuffs as the other attendants—

  except her vest was black, fitted, sharp against her frame.

  Her hair, a faint cool blue, was tied into a long braid that fell past her waist… practically to her knees. It swayed slightly as she shifted, catching the light like strands of polished glass.

  Her eyes—

  gods, her eyes.

  A deep, tired brown, heavy-lidded, unmoving.

  But they had that familiar weight to them.

  Fey shivered violently and snapped his gaze back to the floor, bow deepening.

  He did not want to test that stare today.

  Aldwynne tall figure rose slowly, sighing as she pressed a hand to her temple.

  Her eyes looked even deader than usual — which was impressive.

  “First it was the failure at the Fell Fields, which are now spreading dangerously close to populated areas,” she muttered.

  “Next, the increase in both aberration and mythical creature swarms.”

  “Then, a few months later, whatever the gods happened during the Solvara pacification.”

  “And then the Academy incident.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “And now this…”

  Her gaze flicked to Fey like a dagger.

  “When was the last time we had an unregistered trial activation, Fey?”

  Fey paused.

  An Unregistered trial activation?

  The last one he could remember was... ‘no that wasnt even in my lifetime’

  “I’m sorry,” she said slowly, her voice turning cold, “did you not hear me?”

  Fey blinked, sweat forming at his temple.

  “I—I mean, I heard you,” he said weakly. “I’m just… not really sure what you’re talking about—”

  She slammed her hand onto the table.

  and the table snapped cleanly in half.

  Fey stumbled back with a squeak.

  “W-wait—c-calm down, Aldwynne—”

  He held his hands out in surrender.

  “I literally just clocked in! I don’t know what’s happening!”

  “Is that so?” she said, stepping toward him.

  Before he could blink, she was right in front of him, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off the floor.

  Fey flailed uselessly.

  He shot a pleading look at Anne.

  Anne looked… pleased.

  She even nodded in approval.

  Fey shoulders sagged.

  Aldwynne spoke through clenched teeth:

  "Last night—three months to the day since Solvara fell— a trial was activated west of here."

  Fey froze.

  West of here.

  Three months after Solvara.

  A trial.

  There was only one place…

  “Don’t tell me…” he whispered.

  Aldwynne dropped him without warning.

  He hit the floor with a thud.

  She sat back down on her seat

  At the edge of the broken table, resting her elbows on her knees amid the splinters.

  “Yes,” she said flatly. “For some reason, last night an unregistered party activated a trial within Solvara’s borders.”

  “The Sol Garden Hills, to be exact.”

  Fey’s hands shook as he pushed himself upright.

  “T-that shouldn’t be possible. The entire area was closed off after the incident. All survivors have been accounted for. It— it shouldn’t be possible.”

  “And the only trial there is… Sol’s, right?”

  Fey let out a strained laugh.

  “No one’s stupid enough to start a celestial’s trial. Are you sure the readings are correct?”

  Aldwynne leveled a stare at him.

  “Are you saying I’m lying?”

  Fey shook his head violently, turning to Anne for backup.

  “Of course not! I’m just saying your story is— you know— just a little hard to believe—”

  “Well,” Aldwynne said, “whether you believe it or not is irrelevant. It’s happening.”

  Fey threw his hands up.

  “Look—if the entire company is losing its mind over a rumor about a trial starting in an abandoned zone, then I’d better get back to work. There are actually real things that need—”

  He didn’t finish.

  A sharp whistle—and her spear, always hovering nearby, suddenly darted toward his face.

  Fey froze.

  Sweat immediately dripped down his forehead.

  “O-okay! I get it,” he squeaked.

  The spear dropped to the floor with a clang, missing his toes by a hair.

  Fey whimpered.

  Aldwynne rubbed her temples, her braid slipping forward over her shoulder.

  “Anne,” she said quietly. “Come here.”

  The short attendant hurried over at once. Aldwynne handed her a neatly packed bundle of papers, edges perfectly aligned.

  “Give the full report to Fey.”

  Anne accepted the papers with a bright, diligent spark in her eyes—

  then her expression dimmed the instant she turned and handed them to Fey.

  He exhaled sharply.

  But as he flipped through the pages, everything inside him went cold.

  A trial activation.

  At night.

  Dozens of Hollow-rank aberrations responding to it.

  His breathing quickened.

  Why were aberrations attracted to a trial?

  And why so many?

  Hollows were the weakest rank — but even then, dozens of them?

  You needed at least a team of Blessed to handle that.

  And before the activation—

  three individuals were assumed to be present.

  Fey’s voice shook.

  Only three?

  “This… this isn’t possible.”

  Aldwynne sighed heavily, her tired brown eyes half-lidded.

  “You’ve said that twice now,” she murmured. “Regardless of possibility, Fey, it happened.”

  Her tone held no room for argument.

  She turned away, pacing slowly, the faint scent of bitter coffee still hanging in the air from the mug she had thrown earlier.

  “Do you remember the report the Prince sent us after Solvara’s fall?”

  “Uh… which prince—?”

  Aldwynne stopped mid-step and turned her sharp features towards him.

  “The only one who submitted a report,” she said. “Arthur. Of Varghelm.”

  “Oh.” Fey shuddered. Just the kid’s name was enough to tighten something in his chest.

  Why were princes so terrifying these days?

  “Right. I remember now,” he said. “What about it?”

  Aldwynne leaned against the broken remains of her table, the sharp wooden edges grazing her gloves.

  “In his report, he mentioned failing to kill the princess and the king. Both went missing.”

  She tapped the stack of ruined documents beside her. “But what concerned him most wasn’t the royals.”

  Her gaze flicked to Fey.

  “He spoke about a knight. Black hair. Unimaginable skill with the blade… and yet… no blessing.”

  Fey’s brow furrowed.

  “Right, I remember that part. But—”

  “Four individuals from Arthur’s report were never located,” Aldwynne cut in.

  “The king. The princess. The knight he described. And… for reasons beyond me… a maid.”

  Fey blinked, confusion mixing with unease.

  “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

  Aldwynne straightened.

  “I’m saying that if last night’s activation is truly coming from Solvara’s borders, then we may be dealing with three survivors whose home we helped destroy.”

  She took a slow breath, her voice quiet but sharp as a blade.

  “And they may very well want to destroy ours.”

  Cold crawled up Fey’s spine.

  “A celestial trial is nothing small,” Aldwynne continued. “Do you understand what kind of power comes from that?”

  Fey swallowed.

  “Gods will be watching,” she said. “Hundreds—maybe thousands. If they survive… and if even one of those three emerges with a celestial blessing… assuming they don’t already have one—”

  She exhaled, long and weary.

  “Those devils… they will not hide. They will not forget. And they will not forgive us.”

  The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier, the distant noise of the chaos muffling into a dull rumble.

  Fey whispered, “So… what happens now?”

  Aldwynne’s eyes went distant.

  “If I’m right…”

  Her voice dropped.

  “We are going to see far more Solvara-level disasters in the years ahead.”

  She looked Fey right in the eye and gave him a smile, one that didnt reach her eyes

  “So prepare yourself, Fey… we’re in for many more sleepless nights.”

  Fey shivered.