Leon glanced at Scarlett’s back as she and her retainers walked down the cold stone hallways of the Withersworth mansion’s underground cellars. The woman walked forward as if the master of this place, despite its real master being right beside Leon.

“You appear well-informed of the layout of my home, Baroness,” Lord Withersworth said as their group passed by a set of doors with signs next to them. They looked like storage rooms, some of them marked for furniture and the sort.

“I would say it is not as much me being well-informed as me ensuring I have the correct people by my side,” Scarlett replied. She gestured towards the white-haired person walking next to her. Fynn—a young man that Leon could only describe as ‘odd’—had his gaze fixed forward. “He is accustomed to detecting that which does not belong.”

The Lord didn’t seem to object, though he did send a look towards Fynn, letting out a short harrumph as the young man turned a corner and began moving down another corridor.

The Withersworth’s cellar network was surprisingly extensive for something that was built in a large, populated city. Just from how far they had already walked, Leon judged that it spanned at least the entire estate, maybe even a bit beyond. It was old as well.

He wasn’t sure what all the space was for, to begin with. His own family’s home back in Steepmond had a much smaller cellar area. One only needed so much storage.

As they continued forward, soon turning around yet another corner, Leon turned his eyes towards the man next to him. “Lord Withersworth. Could you tell me what exactly it is that we can expect here? I’d prefer as many details as possible regarding potential threats and the related circumstances, to be suitably prepared.”

The older man looked between him and Scarlett walking at the front. “Has Baroness Hartford not already told you what you need to know? She seems perhaps even more familiar with the specific circumstances than even I, though I would very much like to know how.”

Leon shook his head. “Unfortunately, she hasn’t seen fit to share much with me yet.”

He wasn’t sure if it was out of some petty sense of revenge or if she just enjoyed keeping him in the dark. Whatever the reason, he’d accept it for now. At least if it helped convince the woman to put the whole betrothal mess to a rest. If she took things too far though and tried to use him in other ways…

He wouldn’t stay still.

Not that he had seen signs of that yet. From the looks of it, Scarlett legitimately needed his help with whatever it was that troubled the Withersworths. He’d been curious about her underlying motives at first, but the previous meeting with Lord and Lady Withersworth had made things clear enough. She needed money. And she was willing to use a favor from him to get it.

Maybe she was also trying to create a connection with the Withersworths at the same time?

While the couple had retired from most high society matters, it wouldn’t surprise Leon if they still held some influence in certain parts. Lord Withersworth was the previous Lord Marshal, so it was possible Scarlett somehow wanted to use that to advance the position of her house. It’d take a lot more than that to achieve anything major, but it made sense considering her actions at the Elysian Proclamation.

Scarlett wasn’t satisfied with being a ‘mere’ baroness.

He had no idea exactly what was going through her head, but she was, without a doubt, up to something. That he was certain of. Her movements these last few months had been too strange. It bothered him that he couldn’t tell how much of it was part of some calculations of hers and how much was just because of pure arrogance.

“I don’t envy you,” Lord Withersworth spoke in a lower voice, peering ahead at Scarlett. “That one is difficult to handle.”

“You are not wrong,” Leon replied, looking back at him. “I will say, Lady Withersworth seemed like a headstrong woman as well, though.”

The man let out a huff. “I’m half-convinced that woman’s goal is simply to drive me to a premature death. That way, she can berate me even further for not fulfilling my duties. She is a beast unto herself, that wife of mine. Although I suppose that is why I married her to begin with.” His gaze turned cloudy for a moment, then he shook his head. ”But that is not what you originally asked. You were wondering about the mansion, were you not?”

“By mansion, I’m assuming you’re not talking about our current location? If that’s what our final destination is, then yes, I’d like to learn more about it. But first, I would like to know where we’re going right now.”

Lord Withersworth held up a hand, stroking the thin mustache above his lip. “I suppose there is no point in keeping mum if you are the one supposed to handle the matter in question. They are connected, in a way; the mansion and this place.” He gestured around them. “However, I’m uncertain why the Baroness would ever want to visit this place in particular. My family has had dozens of priests and mages examine it over the generations. None have succeeded in removing whatever foul magic that haunts it. They all agree that the cause is somewhere else, presumably inside the aforementioned mansion, and without dealing with the source, there is nothing we can do.”

“What kind of place is it, exactly?”

“It used to be a storage room, like all the others you see down here. Just so that you are aware, you do not want to enter the ones that are lacking signs. They are like that place, though not quite as forgiving.”

The man gestured to an old wooden door that they passed by, missing a sign describing its contents.

“Roughly one hundred and fifty so years ago, the head of the house was a man known as Abelard Withersworth. Supposedly, he was a genius like no other when it came to the study of magical artisanship. It was never clear exactly what happened, but at some point, he went mad. Accounts say he started eating less, arguing with those close to him, and placing less of his attention on house matters and more on his magical artisanship. It became an obsession, one that he eventually took a step too far. In his insanity, he delved into topics that should never be touched by the hands of man. The results of his misdeeds still remain here and in the old mansion that used to be his home, located in the northern part of my fief, and it has haunted us ever since.”

Leon narrowed his eyes. “What did he ‘delve’ into?”

“I cannot know for certain,” Lord Withersworth said. “Much of the details surrounding the circumstances back then have, perhaps unsurprisingly, been lost to time. I do not even know if the things that inhabit this place are a result of it, but one of the few things we know that he did was to combine the teachings of necromancy with his own craft. In pursuit of what, exactly, is unclear.”

A scowl grew on Leon’s face.

Necromancy. A banned school of magic, separate from the other schools commonly practiced in the empire.

He had suspected necromancy would be involved, considering Scarlett had mentioned specters and revenants before. But naturally occurring ghosts and undead had also been a possibility.

“I find it difficult to believe something like this could have gone unnoticed by officials or the Followers of Ittar for so long,” he said.

Lord Withersworth’s expression turned darker. “To say it has gone unnoticed would be a lie. The Imperial Family were well aware of this when it originally happened, and I can only assume the same was true for the Followers. After Abelard’s death, his name was removed from both the Followers’ registers, the Imperial Register, and the Heraldic House Register. This could only have been allowed through the grace of the Imperial Family, as they forgave our house for his actions after we helped ensure he paid for his crimes.”

The man ran a hand through his thinning, silvery hair as he let out a low sigh.

“Yet after this, any ambitions we might ever have held to grow past being a simple barony were crushed there and then. It is only through diligence and hard work that we have reached the state we are in today, where I could atone for some of the shame brought upon our house by my ancestor’s foolish actions by dutifully serving His Majesty in one of the Empire’s offices of state.”

Leon considered the man’s words. “If the consequences of Abelard’s actions still remain today, what kind of effects do they have?”

“Hmm.” The man turned to look at him for a moment. “Are you aware of what House Withersworth’s prime export is, Sir Leon?”

“It’s Wilerion Wine, is it not? I recall my father often bringing it out for our family dinners.”

“Right enough, my boy.” Lord Withersworth nodded his head. “And do you know what the principal ingredient in Wilerion Wine is?”

“I don’t.”

“It is Wilerion Grapes,” the man said. “Named, of course, after Wilerion Valley, situated east of Ruofield Ridge and south of the Dominating Mountains. They are quite sweet, as far as grapes go, and serve as a great and varied product for our territory. Grapes usually do not grow in the soil this far north, so the land of the Wilerion Valley is really quite special. Unfortunately, however, it is also situated next to the forest where Abelard’s old home was made. This means we have to deal with the errant…outcast now and then.”

“Outcast?”

“Yes. The entire forest directly surrounding the mansion is overflowing with some sort of nefarious aura. It is always night, and the area is packed with undead and other cursed inhabitants that boggle the common mind. What nefarious deeds Abelard must have performed to create such a place, I cannot even imagine. Our only saving grace is that they largely remain near the mansion, so you are safe as long as you do not approach too near. However, on occasion, some of these inhabitants, outcasts, if you will, escape into the nearby lands and wreak havoc. Attempts have been made to deal with the problem directly, but entering the mansion has proved impossible without the keys that Abelard himself was recorded to have created.”

“It seems like you’ve done a decent enough job up till now,” Leon said. “As I understand it, the Withersworth house is one of the most prosperous baronies in the empire.”

“That is true.” There was a hint of pride in Lord Withersworth’s voice at the reply, though it quickly disappeared as his eyes moved over another unmarked door that they passed by. “We try to locate any outcasts before they cause too much damage, and always endeavour to ensure suitable reparations are made to those affected by any such incidents. As you might have heard, however, things have taken a turn for the worse during this last year.”

“How so?”

“More and more of that accursed mansion’s inhabitants are leaving the forest, entering our plantations and villages in Wilerion Valley. The majority appear to be ghosts of some kind, attacking people on sight and causing misgrowth in the areas where they linger. There have also been reports of sudden bouts of insanity among villagers; people attacking their friends and family without warning and acting out in delirious ways. Yet they remember none of it when—and if—they return to normal. The rates of these occurrences have increased at a frightening pace, especially these last few months. I fear what it might mean for the future of my territory.”

“Do you know what type of ghosts these are?”

Lord Withersworth shook his head. “I am afraid I do not. I have been in many talks with people more knowledgeable about the issue, but my expertise lies in other subjects. What I do know is that our previous measures have proved insufficient. It is difficult to properly deal with threats when they can appear from almost anywhere, and when they move in silent and erratic ways. The only permanent solution that has been proposed is, as I said before, dealing with whatever the source of everything is inside the mansion.”

Leon furrowed his brows. The ghosts mentioned could be of many different types. Most ghosts visible to the normal person were hostile to people, and auras of decay that could affect the local plant life weren’t unusual. The bouts of insanity suggested the involvement of specters, at least, which fit with what Scarlett had told him.

If he had a choice, he would have postponed any further action until they could speak with someone more informed about the specifics of this threat. Hopefully, they would get an opportunity to do that after they dealt with whatever was in this cellar and left for the mansion in Lord Withersworth’s territory that he spoke of.

“The unmarked rooms here.” Leon looked at another old door that was close by. “They’re also home to these ghosts, then?”

If the Withersworths truly had large groups of undead or ghosts hiding in their cellars it could be a threat to the entire city. The fact that something like that was allowed by those aware sounded strange. Even if they couldn’t figure out how to permanently deal with the issue, he would have expected barriers of some kind to be erected at the very least. But he couldn’t detect anything of the sort from these doors. There had been one at the entrance to the underground area, but would that be enough if something happened?

Lord Withersworth cleared his throat. “Not exactly, no. I’m not sure exactly what they are, but the things that are left here are more…docile, so to speak.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “They are…dolls.”

Leon blinked. “Dolls?”

“Yes. Dolls.”

“…You’ll have to elaborate.”

“I was coming to that, but I suppose it would be simpler to show you,” the man said as he looked forward at Scarlett, who had stopped in front of one door in particular. He walked up to stand next to her. “So you have found your destination then, Baroness?”

Scarlett gave a curt nod. “It would appear so.”

“I should warn you,” Lord Withersworth said. “What you might see on the other side of this door is not for the faint of heart. You also must not touch anything in there, so you can bring nothing outside. Do you still wish to enter?”

The woman eyed the man closely for several seconds. “Your warning is appreciated, but know that none of that will deter me.”

The older man met her gaze with a quiet stare. “Hmph. If you say so.”

Scarlett turned back to the door. “Fynn, if you would?”

The young man stepped up and placed a hand against the door. Then he pushed it open.

A surprised gasp left Allyssa—the blonde girl with protective goggles on her head—as their group walked inside.

What light that was present came from a magical lamp held aloft by Shin—the other Shielder hired by Scarlett—and illuminated rows of dusty old crates that were haphazardly spread out around the large room. Dark tarps covered other articles of furniture, mostly situated towards the back, with the legs of stools and tables visible in some places.

Nestled in between all of these items were the dolls Lord Withersworth had mentioned. There were dozens upon dozens of them, ranging in size from shin height to some that might even reach Leon’s waist. Their appearances differed wildly, some seeming to mimic a person with detailed dresses and hairstyles, as well as disturbingly accurate faces. Others were unsettling in how unlike people they were, with stiff, emotionless marble faces that held strange smiles or lacked features like the eyes or nose.

Most of the dolls were lying on the floor or leaning against the side of the various crates, their impassive faces turned towards the center of the room.

Leon’s hand went to the hilt of his sword attached to his belt. Normally, he would not pause even at a sight like this. Dolls were inanimate. Even if they could look strange, with their human-like appearances, they were nothing more but simple toys. At first glance, these dolls looked to be much like that, spread around the room like odd decorations. Yet his instincts told him that there was indeed something more to these dolls. That their dull eyes weren’t entirely empty. Coupled with Lord Withersworth’s warning, it was clear appearances were deceiving.

Another gasp left Allyssa, and the girl pointed to a section hidden between two crates in a nearby corner. The magical lamp turned to light the spot up.

A skeletal foot was sticking out from behind the crates.

“Is that a body?”

Leon's eyes narrowed. He searched across the rest of the room. Now that he was paying closer attention, he saw even more signs of what might be skeletons, hidden among the disorder and darkness of the dreary cellar room.

He turned to Lord Withersworth. “What’s the meaning of this?”

The man shot a look at the remains Allyssa had pointed out. “These are what is left of the people who visited here before and made the mistake of touching any of the items here. A similar fate would befall you if you did the same.”

Leon pulled his sword out of its sheath, inspecting the nearby dolls as he stepped closer to the body.

“Sir Leon.” Scarlett’s voice rang out from behind him.

He stopped, turning to look at her.

“Surely you do not intend on touching that body, after the Lord’s words just now?” she asked. “I will remind you that, while you may be strong enough to fend off any threat to your person, you are not the only one here.”

He frowned. “I wasn’t going to touch it. Just examine if I could tell the cause.”

“Is that much not already evident?” Scarlett sent him a questioning look, then gestured to the dolls around the room. “I would hope you are not blind to the truth in front of you merely because it does not appear possible at first glance.”

He eyed her for a moment. He could tell the dolls were probably responsible as much as she could; however, he wanted to know how they did it. But it was true that the people with him right now weren’t his fellow knights. He would need to pay more attention to their safety until he had a good grasp of their abilities.

He kept his sword unsheathed, lowering it to his side as he stepped back over to the others.

Scarlett turned around and began moving down a thin aisle that was open between the dolls and all of the crates, cutting deeper into the room. The rest of them followed, with Leon near the back and Lord Withersworth after him. Behind Scarlett, her retainers were careful not to accidentally touch anything as they moved, though the lady with the curly hair and klert in her hand often stopped to examine some of the dolls.

“You know,” the woman said from in front of Leon as she bent over to inspect a doll that was leaning against the leg of a half-covered chair. “I’ve always wondered what sort of person would get excited about dolls, of all things. I imagined it’d be some old noble in a mansion somewhere, with just the right level of cuckoo-ness and wealth to buy an army of the things whenever he wished. It doesn’t seem like I was too far off with that guess, but I never knew they would be so creepy. Just look at this little cutie.” She rested her klert over her knees as she stared into the doll’s eyes. It had a white marble face with a small child’s dress on. “You can tell that it’s just itching to jump at me and slit my youthful, dainty little throat to shreds.”

Leon reached out to grab the woman’s hand as it moved to touch the doll.

She looked up at him, her amethyst eyes holding a slight smile. “Easy there, tall-lanky-and-handsome. I know better than to touch. I was just going to give it a bit of amusement.”

He released her hand with a scowl. What was that supposed to mean? What was this woman thinking? “How can you be certain whatever you were intending to do won’t have the same effect?”

She stood up, wiping away some dust from her legs. “I can just tell. Besides, the ol’ Baroness over there would have said if we had to be extra careful.”

Leon’s eyes went over to Scarlett. How did that make any sense? What had Scarlett done to earn that kind of trust? “Surely you don’t agree with this, Scarlett?”

“I trust the judgement of Miss Hale, if that is what you are asking.” The woman turned back to look at them for a moment, then shifted her attention to Rosa. “That being said, perhaps it is best if you do not try to purposefully antagonize everything that you see, Miss Hale.”

”It’s not antagonizing,” the woman replied. “I just felt bad for it, that’s all. Felt that, considering my gruesome death was out of the picture, the least I could do was let it have some fun. Maybe imagine what it’d be like if it could murderize me, you know? But you’re the boss. From now on, I’ll aim to be nothing but heartlessness and coldness personified, by your command!”

Scarlett seemed to dismiss the woman’s words with little thought and turned around to continue forward again.

“I can’t believe we’re talking about dolls as if they’re cold-blooded murderers,” Allyssa said. The girl shook her head as she looked at the doll in question for a moment before she started following Scarlett again.

“…But…” she spoke again soon after, looking back over her shoulder at Rosa. “If they’re actually…you know…alive…, and the ones that killed all these people, then they’re monsters, aren’t they? Why would you feel bad for it?”

The woman shrugged. “Even monsters can be sad. And I don’t think being one means you don’t deserve pity. Isn’t their very nature a tragedy?”

“But they kill people. Isn’t that just disrespectful to their victims?” Allyssa shivered. “And just look at how creepy they are. I don’t understand how you can be so calm about it.”

“I guess I’ve seen worse.”

That made Allyssa pause, and the conversation died down.

Leon studied Rosa for a while as they proceeded forward. Perhaps he had misjudged her. The way she talked didn’t sound like someone ignorant of the dangers around her. Just someone that wasn’t afraid of them. Or good at hiding that fear.

And her words about monsters…

There was a truth to it that he couldn’t deny.

In his time as a knight, he had faced many different kinds of threats. Both towards the empire and its citizens. Most were beasts and savage monsters. Openly hostile towards anything human, moving out of instinct and lacking intelligence to assess or truly understand their actions. Then there were those dangers that were intelligent but outright evil, like the few demonic presences he had encountered in his career. True monsters that only wished to inflict suffering on all that they could.

However, there were other categories. Some were monsters only by slim definition, more so forced by nature or circumstances to stand in opposition to humanity or the empire, but not necessarily as instinctual or primitive as animals were. Beings that, in any other situation, might have been considered harmless or even able to coexist with people. Beings with an intelligence or demeanor not necessarily at odds with what humans were.

The Ancient Dragon that ravaged the land southwest of Autumnwell seven years ago was probably considered a monster by most. As were many of the other dragons that made their homes across the world. Yet, it most likely wasn’t as clear-cut as that.

Leon had helped drive away and severely injure an adolescent dragon the year before, after it had injured many of the merchants and travelers on the roads near Chillburg. It had been called a monster by many of the residents, and their joy at seeing members of the Shields Guild work together with the Imperial Solar Knights had been a sight to behold.

Yet dragons didn’t act without reason.

The issue was only ever investigated more thoroughly after the dragon had been driven away. Its territory had been encroached upon by a suit of mercenary poachers, who had erroneously thought they could find the legendary dragon eggs in its nest. The people responsible had been charged with the damage and deaths brought about by their actions, but by then, it was too late. Both the dead people and the dragon could be said to be victims of that situation.

But that didn’t mean Leon would have acted any differently, even had he known all the details from the start. The reality of the world was that some things would always be in opposition, and the only response one could have was to prioritize between them.

Eventually, their group—with Scarlett at the front—reached an open space that was surrounded by crates and dolls spread out in a half-circle. At the far end stood a large rectangular shape, taller and wider than Leon, and hidden beneath a dusty black canvas.

Scarlett gestured at it, and Fynn walked up to remove the sheet. Next to Leon, he heard how Lord Withersworth was about to let out a shout in protest as a cloud of dust flew away from the object.

Leon’s eyes scanned their surroundings, keeping watch on the dolls and the other dark spaces in the room. There wasn’t any movement.

“W-What…?” Lord Withersworth’s voice trailed off.

A wooden door frame now stood in front of Scarlett, isolated from any wall. It had two keyholes above and beneath a spot where it looked like a door handle might have once been.

A large frown had appeared on Lord Withersworth’s face. “…From what I have read, this action of yours just now should have brought about all of our deaths, Baroness.”

“And yet it has not.” Scarlett looked back at him. “Ah, but do not mistake this for your knowledge being faulty. This is simply an exception to the rule. It would still be unwise to touch anything else down here.” She held out a hand towards the man. “You brought the item I spoke of, did you not?”

He sent a confused look between the door and the surrounding dolls. Finally, he shook his head and pulled out something from inside his clothes. It was a round door knob, made of polished clear bronze. “Ahem, yes, of course. I had always wondered what this was for, but I did not know its purpose was for something within my own home.”

He stepped forward and handed it over to Scarlett. She took it and put it in the door. Then she pulled out the two keys she had shown during their meeting earlier.

Lord Withersworth stared at the keys as if he had just had a realization. “W-Wait just a moment! The keys as well? Dagnabbit all! Are you saying the keys are not for that accursed mansion, but for this door?! This is not at all what the records said!”

Scarlett placed both keys into their respective keyholes before turning them at the same time. A soft click sounded out from the door. “I do not see why they cannot be for both. It is common to have more than one way of exiting and entering one’s home, no?”

It opened with a creak, revealing a curtain of pure blackness.

Leon narrowed his eyes.

So it was a portal of some kind.

He stared at Scarlett. Not even Lord Withersworth seemed aware of its existence, so how did she know?

“This is where we will be parting ways, Lord Withersworth,” she said, looking back at the older man. “Unless you wish to accompany us inside Abelard’s mansion?”

The man’s eyes widened at that. He looked between Scarlett and the dark curtain within the door. Understanding seemed to dawn on him. “I see. So that is how it is.”

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “No, I do not think I will be joining you, Baroness. I am far too old and inexperienced with these matters to be of much aid, and it appears you are more well-informed than me besides. I am afraid I would only hold you young folks back.”

“Very well.” Scarlett seemed to have expected as much. “Then I suggest you begin making your way back now, before you are left here on your lonesome.”

She turned to the others. “As for the rest of you, I hope you are prepared for what comes next.”