Chương 53: Book 1 Epilogue - Secrets of the Veil

"Hrngh…" Duncan was pushed forward, falling to his knees before the knights behind him unshackled the chains binding his wrists together. He lightly brushed the chafed skin for a moment, then knelt straight and bowed his head without looking around. He already knew where he was, and knew exactly what it looked like. He had memorized this place since his naming—the throne hall of First Crown.

Dozens of white pillars lined the hall, each one curved and sharp at the end before it touched the ceiling, polished until they shone beneath whatever light reached them. But those were not the only pillars. There were also the ones above the hall, protruding from a diagonal wall—no. They were not pillars… they were teeth. Forty teeth, with three chipped and two cracked from root to edge. Twenty-four along the lower jaw, then sixteen above them. The throne hall of the First Crown was a skull.

Duncan had been here numerous times, but awe still found him each time he entered. Perhaps even more so now that he stood there in chains. The skull of the Great Dragon Vaata, vanquished by the First King Aldwyn. And at the far end of the hall, atop a set of steps, was a throne. The throne was not large. Even some merchants had chairs grander than it. But what made this one special was that it had been carved from Vaata's horn, the hardest part of a dragon. Duncan knew all of this.

It had been history passed down to him by his knight masters. But history was history, and what mattered now was the man sitting on the throne. The king. Duncan could not see much of him. The light from the torches reached the bones, the gold lining them, and the old cracks in the dragon skull, but it seemed to stop before it fully touched the throne. Only the king's eyes were clear. Red, almost glowing in the dark.

"Lord Commander Duncan." Duncan lowered his head as a voice called to him, but it was not the king. He heard steps echo closer, and a young man walked from the side of the throne with one hand resting behind his back. He had hair black enough to make the shadows around him seem pale, red eyes bright beneath his brow, and skin just dark enough to turn gold beneath the light.

"Prince Orryn," Duncan said, keeping his head down even as blood dripped from his lips. His face was dirty, covered in mud and sweat from being kept in the dungeon for weeks. The prince smiled.

"You look terrible."

"I apologize."

"For what?" The prince stepped down once.

"For looking terrible?" Duncan did not answer.

"I have been reading the reports," the prince said. He sighed heavily, but the smile on his face did not vanish.

"I do not like doing it. We are supposed to have people doing it for us. But duty, I suppose. Now tell me, Lord Commander, why was this… Robert not executed?" Duncan closed his eyes.

"Duke Gawen Lorran intervened."

"Ah." The prince nodded.

"And a duke's word now outweighs the Crown's mandate?" Duncan remained silent.

"That was a question, Lord Commander." Prince Orryn's voice deepened, but the smile on his face remained as he sat down on the last step of the stairs. He tilted his head, trying to see Duncan's face.

"Are we now savages who create laws of our own?"

"No, Your Highness."

"No?" Duncan's palm lightly gripped the floor, then relaxed.

"A duke's word does not outweigh the Crown's mandate."

"And yet this Robert lives."

"Yes, Your Highness." Duncan slightly glanced up, and saw all the dried blood on the prince's boots.

"Are you loyal, Lord Commander?" Duncan lowered himself deeper.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"To whom?"

"The Crown."

"Not the duke?"

"The duke is a part of the Crown."

"And what about the boy?"

"I…" The prince's smile widened as soon as Duncan hesitated.

"There it is." Duncan lifted his head slightly.

"If Your Highness means Lord Enel, then no. My loyalty is to Aldwyn. The boy is of no consequence to us."

"How noble," Prince Orryn said.

"And how exhausting, hm?" The hall remained quiet after that. The prince only glanced back at his father before turning back to Duncan.

"Also, we did not send reinforcements to Widow's Hall," the prince said. Duncan's head snapped up.

"Your Highness?"

"Your request for reinforcements. We did not send any." Duncan stared at him.

"Widow's Wall needs it."

"Ah!" Prince Orryn raised a finger.

"You see, it truly did not. The battle already ended yesterday."

"It… did?"

"This boy… the Oathrunner. He changed the tide of the battlefield in less than an hour, or so the stories say. They even claim he fought a Great Spirit and won with but a scratch on him. Do you believe that, Lord Commander?" Duncan's breathing grew heavier, turning into a sigh of relief. The prince noticed, of course.

"Oh, were you afraid of him?"

"No."

"No?"

"I was afraid for him," Duncan said. The prince's eyes sharpened with interest, but the smile on his face remained. Duncan lowered his head again.

"I have never seen Aldwyn's future be so bright." For a moment, the prince only stared at him. Then he laughed softly.

"And yet you were going to execute his father?" Duncan closed his eyes once more.

"And there it is. The burden." The prince stood up, calmly walked forward, and crouched right in front of him.

"Poor Lord Commander Duncan. Always handed the impossible choices. It must weigh on you, hmn? To choose one wrath over another? It is quite weird, is it not? Especially for those who do not understand the sacredness of the law of The Crown." Duncan did not move.

"For what it is worth," the prince said, "you made the right choice. If His Majesty had not ordered punishment, I would have. And if the little barony had resisted… well. Widow's Hall would have made a good reminder. We let the little dukes have their little wars, but never break your oath to the Crown."

"Widow's Wall," Duncan whispered. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"Hm?"

"The barony is called Widow's Wall, Your Highness."

"Yes. That." The prince stood again, then placed one hand on Duncan's shoulder.

"How about this, Lord Commander? Fix your mistake." Duncan's eyes opened.

"Kill the father."

"But—" The prince's grip tightened, and Scripts started crawling across his hand.

"Are you more afraid of a sheltered, sniveling child than the Crown?" the prince asked, his voice still soft.

"If that is the trouble, I can make it easier for you." He lifted his other hand and pointed lazily toward the side of the hall, as if pointing toward some distant place beyond the walls of First Crown.

"Where is your home?" Prince Orryn said, the Scripts crawling from his palm to his fingers.

"Is it in this direction, Lord Commander?" Duncan gripped the floor tighter. He was about to open his mouth… when the king finally spoke.

"No." And that single word silenced the hall. The torches withered, and the very air disappeared from Duncan's lungs—no. Not just the air… …the Breath. Duncan's throat dried, and all the strength inside his body seemed to vanish. Even the prince dropped to one knee before he seemed to realize he had moved at all. Still, Prince Orryn lowered his head and smiled. The king did not rise from his throne. Only his red eyes moved, looking down at the Lord Commander.

"Lord Commander Duncan will serve another purpose," His Majesty said. The prince lowered his head further, but the smile on his face remained.

"As… as you command, Father."

"Duncan."

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"From now on…" the king whispered, "You are a Veilguard."

"I…" Duncan had no idea what that was. But the only thing he could truly do was lower his head and say,"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Oathrunner!"

"Oathrunner!"

"Sword of Enel!"

"Oath…" An entire day had passed since Widow's Wall's victory against the vemons of the Dark Forest, and their emotions were still as strong as they had been yesterday. Perhaps even stronger, now that they had all finally realized they were alive. Some cried. But most laughed, and a lot danced until they slipped and dragged others down with them. Mead and ale spilled from mugs, turning the drying ground into mud again.

Some soldiers and a few knights sat near the wall with blank eyes, staring at the field as if still waiting for another wave to come. Vemon corpses were dragged into piles outside the gate, and every few moments, someone would stab one again just to make sure it did not twitch. Lamb sat on a broken crate near the square, her body almost completely wrapped in bandages—but that did not stop her from bragging. Oh, not at all. They were around a fire, surrounded by several villagers.

"So, then this pig tried to crush me into the tree, right? It was the size of the lord's manor. Maybe bigger!"

"…But you said yesterday it was the size of a wagon?"

"Huh? Were you there?" Lamb turned her head.

"Tell them, Lady Mira." Mira had recovered a little. She sat nearby with a blanket over her shoulders and Robert at her side. She was pale, and there were dark veins still fading from one side of her neck where the roots had held her too tight and too long, but her eyes were open.

"Tell them what?" Mira chuckled, resting her head on Robert's shoulder.

"About how I killed the pig!"

"I was not there."

"Lady Mira!"

"Oh, yes." Mira laughed harder.

"You did. You killed it in one strike." Lamb's grin widened. She looked at the people around her, making sure they had heard.

"You all heard that?"

"Yes. But can you tell us the story of how Lord Enel threw the boar—" Lamb turned to look at the person asking, and it was the same man from earlier.

"Can someone get this man out of here? Enel, tell them! You were there!" Everyone laughed at that. But Mira glanced at Enel, who had been sitting quietly beside Lamb since earlier. Across the square, Duke Gawen was speaking with Ulric and several workers near the broken gate. Gawen's cloak was ruined, and Ulric's face was still incredibly pale from all the screaming and running he had done the other day.

"…We just replaced this gate and plastered the walls," Ulric said.

"Well, it needs to be replaced again," Gawen answered.

"But if you wish to no longer support House Blackwood, the duchy could happily provide for it and any help they would need."

"I was under the impression that the duchy owes Widow's Wall many things, Your Grace. It would not be help coming from you, but a paying of debt."

"Tch… Fucking merchants." Robert, who could hear their conversation all the way from the fire, almost smiled. But Mira's hand shifted beneath the blanket, and he immediately looked at her.

"Is something the matter? Do you need to rest?"

"Robb. I have had worse injuries than this. I'm just… worried about Enel."

"Hm…" Robert glanced at Enel.

"We truly were not prepared, were we?"

"We tried our best."

"But…" Robert found his wife's hand beneath the blanket.

"Was it… enough?"

"Would… it have ever been?" And soon, hours passed, when the noise of the square had softened and Widow's Wall had finally begun to remember yesterday's exhaustion, Enel sat on the floor of his parents' room with his head resting against Mira's knee. Mira brushed his hair with much effort, the bristles bending and almost giving up with each stroke. She could see the mark on his collarbone beneath the loose shirt, but Mira did not say anything.

"Mother," Enel said, his eyes half closed.

"Hm?"

"How does one free a forest from the Veil?" Mira's hand stopped. For a moment, she did not answer.

"I… do not know," she said at last.

"If there was a way, then I believe it would have already been done."

"Oh."

"But I know you will not find the answer by staying in this room." Enel's eyes opened slightly.

"Then I… will have to leave on a journey again?"

"Perhaps. But not tonight."

"Hm."

"Not tomorrow, either."

"But perhaps after?" Mira resumed brushing his hair.

"Perhaps. Do you… still like going on adventures?"

"It… is not like the stories you told me, Mother."

"Hmn. But do you still like it?"

"... Yes. But everything seemed so simple in your stories."

"Hmn. That was our mistake. We should have told you what it was truly like out there before you left."

"No." Enel shook his head.

"It was my fault for leaving without saying anything."

"No. We should have prepared you even before. Of course, we should have known a naughty boy like you would sneak away." Mira pinched Enel's cheek, and his shoulder rose as the two of them laughed. But the room grew quiet after that, filled only with the sound of the brush moving through his hair. Enel looked toward the window, then down at his hands.

"Mother."

"Hm?"

"I saw something yesterday. My teeth…" Mira's hand stopped.

"They looked strange. I was fighting Blakwud when I saw them. They looked sharper. Longer." Enel turned his head slightly.

"But when I touched them, they were normal." Mira looked down at him, then looked away.

"Do you think I imagined it?" Enel asked.

"Perhaps," she said. Enel watched her face. He was tired enough that the edges of his vision blurred, but he was not so tired that he did not notice the way she held the brush a little tighter.

"Mother," he whispered.

"Am I truly Blessed?" Mira did not answer immediately. Then she set the brush down and placed her hand on his head.

"You are my son." Enel stared at her for a moment. Then he smiled faintly.

"I know I'm your son."

"Then there is your answer." Mira smiled, then tapped Enel's nose with her finger.

"Hm." His eyes drifted closed.

"Then… I suppose it is enough." Mira continued to stroke his hair with her fingers until his breathing slowed. His head grew heavier against her lap, and soon, Enel of House Blackwood, Oathrunner, Hero of the West Camp, marked by a Great Spirit, fell asleep like the child he still was. Mira did not move for a while. Only when she was certain he was asleep did her hand rise to her collar. She slowly pulled the fabric aside, revealing two old crescent scars near the place where her neck met her shoulder. Small scars.

A child's bite, perhaps. Mira looked down at her sleeping son, then gently leaned over him and wrapped both arms around his head, holding him close enough that his hair covered her hands. She closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. Then she kissed the top of her son's head and buried her face in his hair. Outside the room, Robert stood by the door. He had not meant to listen, not truly. He had only returned and stopped when he heard Enel's voice.

But now, as Mira held their son, Robert lowered his eyes and quietly stepped away. He walked down the hall alone. The manor was still damaged from years of neglect and the attack, but it was recovering. He continued to walk, listening to the faint sounds outside. Several servants bowed to him, and he was still not used to them walking around the hallways. Still, he greeted them with a smile, then told all of them to rest. He continued walking, then stopped before an old painting of Widow's Wall.

It showed the barony as it had once been, with the Old Wall still standing and the Dark Forest far beyond it. The colors had faded, and the frame was cracked. Most people who walked by did not even give it a second glance. Robert reached to the side and pressed one brick into the wall. Something clicked, and one side of the painting shifted outward. Robert looked across the hall, then lightly pushed the frame open, revealing a narrow passage behind it.

He took one candle from the wall and stepped through, and the frame closed behind him without a sound. The ceiling was covered in webs, and the steps were worn out. He descended slowly, one hand trailing along the stone. The air grew colder with each step, and by the time he reached the bottom, the sounds of Widow's Wall had vanished completely. And the passage… ended in a normal storage room. It was plain. Just barrels, broken chairs, old tools, and shelves filled with things no one had needed in years.

Robert ignored all of them. He crossed the room to the far shelf and pulled the iron hook hidden behind it. The shelf moved, and like the frame above, it opened. Everything seemed normal for Robert, but when light spilled through the widening crack, Robert froze. For thirteen years, the only light that should have existed here was the candle he brought. And so, he rushed inside. The chamber was vast. Perhaps the space was even larger than the manor above it.

And at its center rested the thing that had fallen from the sky all those years ago. It was not stone, not metal, not truly anything Aldwyn had a name for. Its surface was smooth in some places and jagged in others, dark as night until the light moved beneath it. Lines glowed across its body, pale and blue-white, crawling through seams Robert had not seen open in more than a decade. And on its side was the hole that Enel had opened when he burst from the inside, only wide enough for him to crawl back then.

But he had seen all of this before a thousand times. What he had not seen, however, was the light gathered above it.

"What… is that?" Robert stopped at the edge of the chamber, the candle shaking in his hand. The light… it formed a deer. Or perhaps only the shape of one, with antlers branching from its head. But the lines were too clean and too sharp, straighter than arrows and too still to be smoke. The deer turned silently in place, and beneath it, symbols moved. Robert could not read them. He was sure they were not any language of Aldwyn, nor were they Scripts.

They shifted beneath the pale deer, appearing and disappearing faster than his eyes could follow. The light reflected in Robert's eyes. For thirteen years, the thing from the sky had slept beneath his home. But now… … now it was awake.

"Please," Robert whispered.

"Not yet." Book 1 - The First Oath - FIN Book 2 - Secrets of the Veil - Next And sorry, I have to do this because of the recent issues: if you are reading this in Google Books, Amazon, Kindle, etc. Please do know that the story, as of August 8, 2026, is available for free and only advanced/early access chapters are paid and supported by my patrons. If you enjoyed the story and are reading it elsewhere, please do know you can support me or read ahead on my patreon, https: //www. patreon. com/ manwithtwomoles