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The dead grass on both sides of the road bent under a cold wind. Old grave stones watched from the hillside like crooked teeth, and the broken shrine above the middle terrace stood under the gray sky with three cracked pillars pointing upward.
Lucard watched from the ruined shrine.
He crouched behind a broken stone wall, with his cloak pulled close around his body. Blood Concealment covered him tightly. His breathing was slow. His heartbeat was slow. His presence was almost nothing. From here, he could see the stone platform below, the hidden trap under the ash, Robi standing near the middle, Celia standing a few steps behind him, and the Marovain guards spread around the terrace.
Robi looked calm.
He wore his black and silver coat, and his fake hand was uncovered. The metal fingers moved once in a while, opening and closing slowly as if he was testing each joint. He did not carry a staff. That did not mean he was unarmed. A Fifth Circle battle mage from House Marovain did not need to carry all weapons in open view.
Celia stood to his right.
She wore a dark travel dress and a silver cloak. Her thin sword hung at her waist, but her real weapon was the silver mana moving quietly around her fingertips. She had placed two small barrier stones behind the Marovain line and three hidden warning marks near the side paths. Lucard had noticed them earlier. They were not bad. Not brilliant, but not stupid. She had talent and a careful mind.
That was useful.
The first carriage stopped at the lower edge of the terrace.
Baron Ravencroft stepped out first.
He looked around the hill with a stiff face. This was his land, but he did not look comfortable here. Black Barrow Hill belonged to House Ravencroft in name, yet some places owned themselves more than any noble family could. This hill was one of them. The death mana under the stones moved like an old sleeper turning in its grave.
Adrian came out next with two guards helping him. His face was pale, and his steps were weak. His hand kept touching his chest, where Lucard’s blood spell still held his life like a thin thread around the heart. He looked smaller than before. A day ago, he had been the proud son of House Ravencroft. Now he looked like a man who had learned that pride did not stop pain.
Tina followed him.
Her cheeks were still swollen, though the color had faded a little. She did not look as arrogant as before. She kept glancing at the road, the guards, the stones, and the shadows near the ruined shrine. Dorian’s death had taught her fear, but it had not taught her wisdom. There was still hatred in her eyes when she looked at Celia and Robi. It was weaker now, but it was still alive.
Then Lord Garran Velkhur stepped out.
The air changed.
Even from the ruined shrine, Lucard felt the man’s mana press against the hill. It was not released fully, but it was there, heavy and hot under the skin. Garran’s red cloak moved in the wind. His gray streaked hair was tied back, and his eyes burned like coals that refused to become ash. He looked at Robi first, not at the place, not at the guards, and not at the hidden formation under his feet.
Hatred made men look at faces before traps.
Behind Garran came six Velkhur guards and two fire mages. Their armor had red edges, and their faces were serious. These men were not like the guards Dorian brought for pride. These men were older, steadier, and more dangerous. One of the fire mages carried a short staff with a red crystal at the top. The other had flame marks tattooed across his hands.
Lucard’s eyes moved over all of them.
He counted threats.
Garran was the main danger. The two fire mages were his support. The Velkhur guards were strong enough to hold the sides but not important if the old men began fighting seriously. Ravencroft guards stayed back, closer to Adrian and Tina. That meant Baron Ravencroft still cared more about protecting his son than helping Garran win.
That was also useful.
Robi smiled when Garran walked onto the terrace.
"Garran Velkhur," Robi said. "You look older."
Garran’s eyes narrowed. "And you still look like a merchant who survived because death did not want to count your coins."
Robi lifted his metal hand and looked at it. "Death took a hand. I charged it interest."
Celia did not move, but Lucard saw her mouth tighten slightly. Robi and Garran had not even started the real matter, and they were already throwing old knives with words.
Garran walked closer. He stopped several steps away from Robi.
"Do not smile at me, Robi."
"Should I cry? I did not know this was a funeral."
Ravencroft’s face changed. Tina’s eyes flashed with anger. Adrian looked at Garran, expecting him to explode.
Garran’s hand twitched, but he controlled himself.
"My grandson is dead."
Robi nodded. "Yes. I heard that tragedy was very loud."
"He died in front of your shop."
"He attacked in front of my shop."
"He was a Velkhur."
"He was still not allowed to burn Marovain property because his family name was warm."
The air became hotter.
Celia stepped half a step forward, but Robi raised his metal hand slightly to stop her.
Garran’s voice dropped. "You always did have a mouth, one handed fox."
Robi smiled. "And you always mistook volume for victory."
Baron Ravencroft quickly stepped in before Garran’s anger broke too soon. "Lord Robi, Lord Garran, please. We came here for an explanation, not a duel."
Robi turned his eyes to Ravencroft.
"A baron invited me to my own chosen meeting and now tells me what it is for. Your courage grows quickly when you stand near a Velkhur cloak."
Ravencroft lowered his head. "I only wish to settle the matter."