The Drake Blood Tales

That evening, the three men exchanged stories, their conversation illuminated by the soft glow of the campfire.

The mage introduced himself. "I am Noblanc, a scout for the Mage Guild and an instructor for the Mage Society," he began, his tone respectful. "When I was a child, I only heard tales of the Drake Blood—stories of the Archduke who possessed power said to far surpass that of the Outer Gods. I thought it was nothing more than legend or folklore, something to comfort people in the dark times brought on by the Outer Gods' cultists."

Fallion, calm as ever, replied, "That Archduke was our father. But he left this world seven years ago."

Noblanc immediately stepped back, his expression shifting to one of regret. "Oh, I'm sorry. My deepest condolences."

Fordragon, ever the one to clarify, interjected with a grin. "No, no... Dad isn't dead. He literally went to another world to free Mom and us from a curse tied to him."

Noblanc's eyes widened slightly as he took in the revelation, but he nodded in understanding. "Ah, I see. Still, you've both grown into fine men. I'm sure he'd be very proud of you."

The twins exchanged brief smiles at the praise, a rare moment of comfort easing the tension of their lives.

Fallion turned to the mage and asked, "What brings you here, Sir Noblanc?"

For a moment, Noblanc hesitated, seemingly weighing his words. Finally, he admitted, "At my outpost, I sensed a massive mana presence. It was something far beyond the average paladin's—a level of mana that would typically belong to a chaplain paladin or a magister-level mage. I was shocked to find that the source was... you."

Fallion tilted his head slightly, sensing there was more Noblanc wasn't saying but choosing not to press for now. Instead, he replied, "Well, I suppose my brother and I just have a lot of mana thanks to our heritage."

Noblanc, however, shook his head. "I find that a bit strange, actually. Such refined mana control isn't simply gifted. I've encountered many daemons and cultists in my time. To wield mana with that level of precision, you must have trained relentlessly."

Fordragon turned toward Fallion, his eyes narrowing as a suspicion took root—one that Noblanc had just confirmed. His brother's prowess with magic had grown exponentially since they'd parted ways. In fact, it now clearly surpassed his own.

At the same time, this realization brought Fordragon an odd sense of relief. He had always trained rigorously, splitting his focus between magic and swordsmanship. But Fallion? Fallion had always been the one who seemed to enjoy life's simpler pleasures, rarely showing the same disciplined dedication.

Fallion noticed his brother's contemplative look and smirked. "Well, time is the only thing I have where I live. So I used it wisely instead of daydreaming or wandering around."

Noblanc observed the unspoken rivalry between the twins, smiling faintly. "It is truly an honor to meet you both. And I must thank you for saving the citizens of Whiteford. Your actions are nothing short of heroic."

Fordragon waved off the gratitude with a casual shrug. "No need for thanks. It's a pleasure to help others. Besides, we're citizens of Whiteford too—it's only natural to step in."

Fallion shot his brother a sarcastic look, one eyebrow raised, as if to say, Really? It was, after all, Fordragon's recklessness that had lured the cultists to Whiteford in the first place.

Fallion shifted the conversation to a more pressing matter. "That kid—the one who turned into a monster. What exactly are they?"

Fordragon crossed his arms, his expression turning serious. "I've only encountered a few like that before. They're called Inheritors. Usually, they're children sacrificed by cultists to appease their Outer Gods. In return, the Outer God sends one of its offspring to inhabit the child's body. They're not typically strong. In most cultist groups, they're just used as preachers or conduits for the Outer Gods' will."

Noblanc nodded grimly. "That's true. However, in more extreme cases, cultists perform mass sacrifices to create a monstrosity known as The Received One. These abominations are far more dangerous, following only the commands of the Inheritor. Even experienced paladins struggle against them—it's a battle many don't survive."

Fordragon added, "Yeah, I've faced one of those with my team before. We barely made it out alive."

Fallion fell silent, his mind consumed by dark thoughts. The implications weighed heavily on him. If an Outer God, spread so thin, could create creatures like the Received One, what kind of unimaginable horrors had their mother faced in her time? The thought made his chest tighten, but he quickly pushed it aside.

Breaking the silence, he said with calm resolve, "But don't worry. None of this will scare us, nor will it blind me to my duty if these monsters threaten a nearby settlement. We're daemons, after all. We can be just as monstrous as those cultists when the situation calls for it."

Fordragon grinned mischievously. "In your case, you might just turn uglier instead of more monstrous."

Fallion shot him an irritated glare. "At least I know alteration magic. I can manipulate my physique to gain an advantage in battle."

Fordragon snorted. "What? So you can grow two genitals?"

The group erupted into laughter, the tension dissolving under the absurdity of the comment. They continued to share jokes and stories until the morning light broke over the horizon.

As the dawn rose, Fallion and Fordragon bid farewell to Noblanc, parting ways with their new ally to continue their journey.

Noblanc handed Fallion a pendant. "Take this," he said. "If you ever need information or assistance, visit the Mage Society branch. Give this to the administration, and they will help you with whatever you need."

Fallion accepted the pendant, studying it closely. Strange words were inscribed on it:

'Archive'

'Protect'

'Whiteford'

Curious, Fallion turned to Fordragon. "What does this mean?"

Fordragon furrowed his brow. "I'm not sure, but I've heard rumors about something called the Archive Knights—or the Archive Order. It's said to be a secret organization dedicated to protecting Whiteford Kingdom from the shadows. But that's all I know."

As the brothers arrived at the mansion, the servants greeted them warmly.

"So, Fordragon, you're staying a couple more nights, right?" Fallion asked as they dismounted.

Fordragon shrugged. "I guess just until tomorrow. I still have some jobs to handle."

The twins went their separate ways, retreating to their rooms to rest until the afternoon.

Later, as Fordragon wandered through the house, he noticed a stack of books on Fallion's desk. Curious, he began flipping through them. He soon realized that most of them were their mother's diaries.

He sat down and started reading carefully. The entries detailed their mother's early life—her childhood long before she met Arch Duke Drake Blood. Fordragon absorbed the stories of her expeditions, her time as a paladin, and finally, her decision to leave the Paladins and marry the Arch Duke.

As he read, Fordragon's admiration for his father grew. He could now understand how much his father had sacrificed to protect the Whiteford Kingdom from cultists and the threat of the Outer Gods.

In the eyes of many, Arch Duke Drake Blood's power alone would rival the Outer Gods. Yet, in the eyes of Katherine Sherwood, the Arch Duke was a broken man, a soul scarred by regret. He had been tricked, and something had been taken from him when he had no chance to defend himself. Katherine saw a man drowning in fear of his past, and yet, still trying to atone for whatever he had done.

Katherine had known the Arch Duke since she was eleven. One fateful night, when her village was attacked by cultists and monsters, the Arch Duke appeared as swiftly as a shadow. He wiped out every threat before disappearing into the darkness.

On one occasion, Katherine managed to catch the Arch Duke in action. When they finally came face to face, she was startled by his daemonic appearance—a tall man with short black hair and a pair of antlers protruding from his head. Yet, despite his formidable appearance, she did not feel fear.

The Arch Duke, noticing her gaze, gently spoke. "Little girl, this is no place for you. Go back home. Your family will be worried."

Katherine, ever confident, replied, "I'm already an adult, you know. I'm going to be a paladin soon."

The Arch Duke chuckled softly, a deep, amused laugh. "Hahaha, well then, young paladin, you should head back. I'm just an innocent daemon. Please, don't purify me."

Katherine smiled, clearly pleased by his response. "Fine, but if anything happens, you'll have to report to the nearby guards."

The Arch Duke's face softened as he took in her cheerful nature. "Well then, young paladin, I take my leave. You should head back too. The guards may start looking for you."

Fordragon read this entry in his mother's diary, his thoughts drifting to that moment in Katherine's past. As he closed the book, he heard a voice behind him.

"Yo. You have a moment? There's something I wanted to show you," Fallion said, standing in the doorway.

Fordragon followed Fallion down into the basement, where a custom-made armor stood waiting. The set, sleek and well-crafted, even had a cape attached to it. Fallion gestured for his brother to try it on.

When Fordragon hesitated, Fallion explained, "It's custom-made. It's not much, but it has several enchantments to ensure your survival—especially the cape." He paused, then added, "But before you leave, we're having a family portrait."

Fordragon scowled, clearly displeased. "Portrait? Really?"

Fallion smirked. "Yeah, I know you hate standing still for hours, but it's important."

Fordragon reluctantly agreed.

Later, the two sat on a bench in the garden. The silence was heavy, as if both knew this moment could be the last for a while.

Fallion broke the silence first, his voice soft. "So, you're leaving again?"

Fordragon sighed. "Yeah..." He hesitated, looking away. "You know I could use your help, right? A lot of people need you."

Fallion shook his head. "No, Fordragon. I'm staying. There's no need for me to throw myself into unnecessary conflict."

Fordragon studied his brother's face, sensing something was troubling him, but Fallion kept it hidden. After a moment, Fordragon didn't press the matter further. He knew Fallion's silence spoke volumes.

With a heavy heart, Fordragon took his leave, knowing that the bond they shared would be stretched thin once again. But neither of them knew that a tragedy was about to strike—one that would change everything.

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