As the second day dawned, I woke up early, prepared myself carefully, and packed my gear, ready to head out. I walked with steady steps toward our meeting point, where the cart that would take us to the beginning of our new mission awaited: guarding Valis Raymond.
When I arrived, I found that Knox, Marcus, the cloaked man in blue, the bald man, the gangster-like man, and the masked figure had already reached the waiting spot. The atmosphere was quiet, but a subtle tension crept through the air.
As time passed, I noticed that Luxian, the naturally confident man who seemed born to lead, was absent. So was the boyish-looking one. I waited long minutes that felt like hours until finally, we saw them arrive. Luxian walked with his usual firm stride, his face focused and serious, followed by the youthful-looking man who seemed to carry a deep secret.
Once we had all gathered, the employer stepped forward with a stern face and said in a clear, commanding voice:
"Now that everyone is here, get on the cart. We depart for the castle."
One by one, we boarded the modest wooden cart, sitting in a silence heavy with anticipation and worry, as if everyone was still trying to process what awaited us in that towering fortress.
The silence was thick, so I decided to break the tension by asking for their names, hoping to ease the weight of the moment.
The bald man spoke first, his voice deep, shaped by years of experience:
"My name is Tyros."
The gangster-like man followed, his tone half-grinning but tinged with frustration:
"I'm Zairos."
The youthful one answered with cheerful energy:
"And I'm Cairo."
After a moment, the masked man spoke quietly but clearly:
"My name is Serion."
Once names had been exchanged, the conversation started to flow more naturally. The cautious glances turned into light comments, and we even shared a few silly stories, including one I initiated:
"What do you guys think? Where did mayonnaise originate?"
Zairos chuckled:
"Heh, definitely Spain."
Tyros cut in confidently:
"Don't be ridiculous. It's from Italy."
Luxian added seriously:
"You're both wrong. It's from Argentina."
Cairo calmly chimed in:
"I didn't expect you all to be so clueless. It's from my country — the United States."
Then Serion added:
"Maybe it's Korea."
After a lengthy (and increasingly absurd) debate, Knox finally interrupted:
"The origin of mayonnaise is unknown. There are several theories."
With that, the discussion ended. Everyone fell silent, seemingly accepting his statement as final.
---
After about an hour of quiet travel, the cart finally stopped at the base of a hill, atop which stood the grand castle. As we stepped off one by one, my breath caught at the sight before us. A majestic castle that seemed pulled from legends stood tall, its stone walls like towering battlements embracing the sky. It was encircled by huge defensive walls and watchtowers that pierced the horizon.
The stone was a dark gray that shimmered subtly in the sunlight, and the giant oak doors were reinforced with iron studs, radiating strength and resilience. Standing at the threshold, we were all captivated by the majestic view — as though we were about to enter a new era, one filled with secrets and trials.
The employer strode toward the main gate with firm steps. We followed closely behind, alert and cautious. He knocked several times on the heavy wooden door, the echoes reverberating across the courtyard.
Moments passed like eternity, until finally the door creaked open, revealing an old man with a flowing white beard and a face etched with time. His sharp eyes scanned us, and he asked in a low but firm voice:
"What is the password?"
The employer answered confidently without hesitation:
"Fish with legs."
The old man gave a faint nod and opened the door wide, allowing us to enter — as though that strange phrase had unlocked a different world.
We stepped into a vast inner courtyard, its polished stone floor reflecting daylight in a gentle glow. Tall walls surrounded the yard, adorned with decorative murals and banners of various emblems. At the center stood an ancient stone fountain, its clear water bubbling gently in the stillness.
Stained-glass windows caught the sun, painting colorful reflections across the ground. Wooden doors on either side led to rooms and corridors that hinted at a hidden world of activity and mystery within the fortress.
We paused to take in the scene. Valis Raymond's castle was not just a fortress — it was a living, breathing relic of history and secrets.
...
After a moment of tense silence, a man stepped out from a side door. He wore elegant noble attire, and his appearance immediately drew attention: bright red hair like ruby under sunlight, and a poised stance that radiated authority. He approached and addressed the employer with a voice full of confidence:
"So, you've finally arrived, Andrew."
The employer responded without surprise:
"Let's get to the point, noble Valis."
Valis offered a small smirk, glancing at us:
"Still as impatient as the rumors say."
The employer remained silent.
Valis continued, his tone now calmer and more serious:
"Very well. Let's head inside the castle first. I'll explain everything afterward."
We followed Valis, the employer, and the old man deeper inside. The castle welcomed us with its ancient, noble air.
It had three levels, built from thick stone that retained a coolness despite the warm day. We passed through intertwined hallways until we stood before twin staircases leading to the second floor. The first floor held several medium-sized rooms, some unused, others lightly furnished.
The second floor was more refined and spacious, containing luxurious rooms with high-quality furniture — a clear sign of importance.
I had yet to see the third floor or hear much about it, which only added to the castle's mystique.
As we walked the corridors, the old man spoke in a clear, quiet voice:
"This castle is not just a fortress. It is the stronghold of Lord Valis. You must know every corner of it, and guard him with great caution. There is no room for failure — enemies lurk all around."
He led us into the first room on the first floor — an ordinary space, clean and tidy, likely for rest or casual meetings.
We moved to the second and third rooms, which seemed to be storage and work areas. They were plain and utilitarian.
Then we climbed to the second floor, which held five rooms.
The first was large and lavishly decorated, clearly a master bedroom. Light poured in through wide windows, and the carefully chosen colors gave a sense of both comfort and authority.
The old man said:
"This is Lord Valis's room. Memorize it well. This is the center of his life and residence."
We continued to the second room, which was a fully equipped kitchen with fine cookware and stone stoves.
The third room was a maintenance area, filled with tools and heavy equipment for weapon repair.
The fourth room surprised me: it was designed for girls, with delicate furniture and soft colors. It made me wonder — does Lord Valis have a daughter? Are we also protecting her?
Finally, we entered the fifth room, a massive storeroom packed with crates and supplies — everything needed for prolonged survival.
This tour made one thing very clear: this castle was not ordinary, and the mission we had accepted was heavier than we could have imagined.