Chapter 9: The Lady in Black

It had been two days since the Duke confirmed who I was.

And now, under a warm sun and guided by Henry, we finally stepped beyond the mansion’s gates. Rias walked beside me, her arm gently resting on mine, while a quiet maid named Elna kept pace on her other side.

The streets of the fourth ring were buzzing with life. The sounds of haggling, music, and distant hammering all blended together into a kind of vibrant hum. Merchants called out from colorful stalls, kids darted through narrow alleyways, and carriages creaked by, pulled by horses with braided manes.

Rias tilted her head. “What does it look like out here?”

I smiled. “Busy. There’s color everywhere—banners hanging from rooftops, fruit piled high in baskets, even someone juggling knives. Everyone’s moving, talking, laughing… It’s like a festival that never ends.”

She nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. “It sounds alive.”

Henry, walking just ahead of us, glanced over his shoulder. “The fourth ring is the heart of daily life in Wolfhiem. You’ll find tradesmen, guild houses, schools, even small theaters. Not too fancy, not too poor. Just… honest.”

“You seem proud of it,” I said.

“I am,” he replied. “The first ring may house the Duke, but the fourth? This is where Dival’s soul breathes.”

We passed a bakery that filled the air with the smell of cinnamon and warm bread. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a young woman wielding fire magic to bake bread right in front of an audience. They applauded at how perfectly it turned out. It must have taken a long time to master.

“Henry,” I said, “is it normal for magic to be used so casually here?”

“In the outer rings, less so. But here in the fourth and fifth? It’s part of the trade. Enchanted tools, food, clothes—you name it, someone’s selling it.”

Rias chuckled. “Maybe I’ll find a cloak that will allow me to go invisible.”

Henry laughed. “I’ll see if Tom can make one.”

We finally stopped in front of a crooked old building wedged between two sleeker shops. Its wooden sign creaked on rusted chains, bearing faded letters that read: Tom’s Magical Wears. The walls were warped with age, moss clung to the shingles, and the door looked like it hadn’t been painted in decades.

“Are you sure this is the place?” I asked.

Henry smirked. “He may not believe in maintenance, but his enchantments are second to none.”

Elna knocked twice, and after a pause, the door creaked open on its own.

Inside, the air changed instantly. The scent of ink and old parchment filled my nose, and I felt the faint hum of magic in the air. Dozens of garments hung from floating racks—tunics with glowing cuffs, cloaks that shimmered like starlight, and boots that hovered inches above the ground.

Rias’s grip on my arm tightened slightly. “It’s buzzing in here… like a storm caught in glass.”

“That’s the enchantments,” I whispered. “There’s magic stitched into everything.”

At the far end of the room, hunched over a workbench, was an old man in a coat covered in glowing runes. His gray hair was wild, his brown eyes sharp despite the goggles resting atop his head. A strange pen spun between his fingers—though it glowed faintly, like a tiny lantern.

“You’re late,” he muttered without looking up. “I was told to expect two kids with cursed blood and a butler who talks too much.”

“Good to see you too, Tom,” Henry said dryly. “These are the Duke’s grandchildren—Arthur and Rias.”

“Rias, eh? You’ve got Penelope’s voice. Soft, but sharp around the edges,” Tom said. “And you—Arthur—stand like Orpheus, but your eyes are your mother’s. Hm.”

“You knew them?” I asked, surprised.

“I know anyone who’s ever needed enchanted pants in this city. Now hush and hold still.” He clicked his fingers, and a measuring tape flew from a drawer and wrapped around my shoulders.

I blinked. “Wait—how do you already know our sizes?”

“Magic, of course. But I need to record your shift sizes too. So… show me.”

I glanced at Henry, who nodded. Rias and I activated the shrinking spell the Duke had taught us—Illusion of Mortality—and in moments we were back to our true height, towering above the shop’s furniture. Tom’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t seem intimidated.

“Good. Now back down to your smaller selves.”

Once we’d shrunk again, he jotted down a few notes with that glowing pen and grinned.

“That’ll do. I’ll have a wardrobe for each of you by nightfall.”

“That fast?” I asked. “I used to make clothes for us in the mountains, and it took me forever just to stitch one shirt.”

Tom gave me a sly grin. “Trade secret.”

“But how does that pen work?” I asked, still watching the light from its tip.

“This?” He held it up. “A Rune Quill. Holds mana crystals instead of ink. When I write with it, I’m weaving mana threads into the fabric. Each rune I write is a spell—a command. For example, if you wanted your cloak to burst into flames that don’t burn you? You’d write it exactly like that. ‘Clothes ignite on command. Harms everything but the wearer and the fabric.’ Direct, simple, and safe.”

“Anyone can do that?”

“If they can read and write in Old Ruinic. And if they’ve got a quill like this one. But most folks don’t bother. That’s where I come in.”

He turned to Henry. “I’ll need a few hours. Come back at sunset.”

“Understood,” Henry replied. “Come on, Arthur. Let’s explore a bit while we wait.”

The streets of the fourth ring felt even more alive now that we weren’t on a direct mission. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been until we stepped back into the flow of the city—watching people live, work, and barter like it was all they’d ever known.

Rias and Elna had wandered off to explore a nearby market. I gave her my pouch of coins, and she promised not to buy an entire bakery’s worth of sweets. I wasn’t sure if she was joking.

Henry and I strolled down the main avenue, our boots thudding softly against sun-warmed stone.

“Is it always this crowded?” I asked.

“Usually busier during festival weeks, but this is a normal day,” Henry replied. “The fourth ring is where you’ll find the best food, best tools, and most dangerous gossip.”

We passed a stall where a woman was selling candied firefruit. Henry bought two, handed me one, and bit into his with a satisfying crunch. It sparked gently in his mouth, harmless embers trailing from the bite like a trick candle.

“Currency in the city’s called Dracule, right?” I asked between cautious chews.

“Correct,” Henry said. “There are four types: bronze, silver, gold, and platinum. One hundred bronze makes a silver, one hundred silver makes a gold, and so on. Most common folk live on bronze. Anything past silver is luxury.”

I looked around. “So the people here, what would you call them? Middle class?”

“More or less. Skilled laborers, minor merchants, junior adventurers, and guild employees. The nobles mostly live in the third ring or the fifth ring.”

A blacksmith’s hammer rang in the distance. As we turned down a side street, I spotted an unfamiliar name engraved on a heavy metal sign above a stone-and-wood shop.

Kegpike Armory.

“Thammunri Kegpike,” Henry said with an approving nod. “Master smith. Dwarf. Bit of an attitude, but his weapons could cut clean through wyvern hide.”

“Let’s take a look,” I said, already stepping toward the open doors.

Inside, the shop was cooler than expected, lit by glowing mana lamps that gave off a gentle, pale blue light. Suits of armor stood like silent sentries, and swords hung in racks sorted by weight and material. The air smelled of polished metal, oil, and fire.

“Welcome,” called a friendly voice from behind a glass counter. A human man with slicked-back brown hair waved us over. “Name’s Tim. Looking for anything in particular?”

“Just browsing,” I said, moving slowly toward a display of gauntlets that shimmered with embedded gems.

“Everything’s hand-forged,” Tim added. “Most by the boss himself.”

As I walked toward the front window, something outside caught my eye.

A woman.

No—a vision.

She moved like shadow, her steps silent and smooth. Her dress was black but detailed, the fabric catching light just enough to shimmer like obsidian. Her hair was long and dark, and her face was framed by black makeup around her eyes, lips painted the color of night. Her irises looked like tiny galaxies, deep and endless.

The moment I saw her, something inside me shifted. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t fear. It was… inevitability. Like I’d just stepped into a story that had already begun without me.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

“Arthur?” Henry called behind me, but his voice sounded distant.

I stepped outside, pushing past a group of chatting merchants. The woman was already halfway down the street, blending into the crowd with impossible grace.

I followed.

She turned into an alley—thin and dark, framed by ivy-covered walls.

I turned the corner—

And she was there.

Standing in the center of the alley, waiting.

Her eyes met mine, and I froze. Every instinct told me to run. But something stronger—something quieter—held me in place.

“You’re a strange one,” she said. Her voice was soft but cut through the air like a bell. “Why are you following me?”

“I… I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Something told me I should.”

She smiled faintly, like I’d passed a test I didn’t know I was taking.

“I wasn’t expecting to be seen,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Seen by who?”

She tilted her head. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Then she vanished.

No sound. No light. Just—gone.

I stood there in stunned silence until Henry arrived, panting and red-faced.

“Arthur! What in Ikol’s breath are you doing? You just ran off!”

“There was a woman,” I said. “She walked by the armory. Dressed in all black. Eyes like stars. I followed her in here.”

Henry glanced around. “There’s no one here.”

“I saw her.”

“She talked to me.”

“Arthur,” Henry said gently, “I didn’t see anyone like that. And I’ve lived in this city my entire life. No noble dresses like that. And disappearing like mist? That’s not normal.”

I looked back toward the spot where she’d stood. “I didn’t imagine it.”

“I believe you,” he said. “But if she’s real, and magic’s involved… best we keep this between us for now.”

Henry and I walked back to the Kegpike Armory in silence.

Every few steps, I glanced over my shoulder—half expecting to see her again. But the alley was empty, and the city carried on like nothing had happened. Henry didn’t press further, though I could see the tension in his jaw.

Even as we walked away, I felt her eyes in the back of my mind. Like a mark had been left—one that wasn’t physical, but spiritual. A silent thread now tied to my fate.

Once inside the armory, the clang of hammering steel and the faint hum of enchantment crystals brought me back to reality.

Tim, the man behind the counter, raised a brow as we reentered. “Find what you were looking for?”

“Not exactly,” I muttered.

I wandered toward a rack of swords—some curved, some straight, all finely made. One caught my eye. A bastard sword with a blackened hilt wrapped in red leather. The grip felt natural when I lifted it, as if it had been waiting for me. The balance was perfect.

“Looking for something special?” came a deep, gravelly voice from the back of the shop.

A broad-shouldered dwarf with a beard like braided steel stepped out from behind a curtain. His apron was blackened with soot, and his arms bulged like tree trunks.

“I’m Thammunri Kegpike,” he said, giving a curt nod. “And you’ve got good taste, lad. That blade’s my design.”

I bowed my head slightly. “It’s a fine sword. Strong, balanced, elegant.”

“Rare for someone your age to know the difference,” he said. “You swing often?”

“Often enough. Been training since I could walk.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his beard. “You’re taller than a pine and built like a fortress. You break blades often?”

“Not exactly, its more like I can’t find the right size.”

He laughed. “Thought so.”

I hesitated, then asked, “Can I commission a weapon from you?”

Thammunri raised a brow. “Depends what you’re asking for.”

“I want a sword that can grow or shrink in size at will,” I said. “Nothing clunky—just something that adapts with me. Like if I grow using magic… the sword grows too.”

The dwarf blinked at me, then laughed heartily. “You’re not thinking small, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m serious,” I said.

“Oh, I can tell,” he replied, still chuckling. “Let me guess. You’ve got a spell to change your size, don’t you? Or something similar?”

I nodded. “Something like that.”

He looked intrigued now. “I’ve never made something like that before. But… it might be doable. You’d need an enchanted alloy, rune-engraved core, and maybe a collapsible frame. The real challenge is syncing the blade to your mana.”

Henry, who’d been quiet until now, stepped forward. “Money isn’t an issue. If you can make it, we’ll pay.”

Thammunri grunted. “Not gonna promise a miracle. But I’ll try. Give me a week. Maybe two. Might take a month. Depends how the forging goes.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “I’m willing to wait.”

He gestured toward the door. “I’ll draw up the design tonight. Leave your name at the counter. When it’s ready, you’ll be the first to know.”

As we turned to leave, Tim called out, “Come back anytime. Oh—and try not to run off into alleys, eh?”

I gave a faint smile, but didn’t answer.

We made our way back toward Tom’s Magical Wears. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting gold across the rooftops. The market bustled with early evening crowds—people laughing, children chasing one another, the aroma of meat skewers filling the air.

By the time we arrived at Tom’s, Rias and Elna were already waiting near the entrance.

Rias turned her head toward me. “Took you long enough. We’ve been here for ten minutes.”

“You missed out,” Rias added with a grin. “Elna and I found a stall selling sweetroot dumplings dipped in spiced honey. I bought six. Elna tried to stop me. She failed.”

“Please tell me you saved one,” I groaned.

“Absolutely not. You vanished. Consider it a tax.”

I smiled. “Got a little… sidetracked.”

“I can tell,” she said with a smirk. “You smell like metal and anxiety.”

Tom opened the door before we could knock. “Ah! My favorite siblings. Come, come, your new wardrobes await!”

We stepped inside and found several outfits neatly arranged on mannequins, each shimmering faintly with magical runes along the cuffs, hems, and collars. Tunics, cloaks, belts—all enchanted, custom-fit to our sizes, big and small.

“These clothes will adjust the moment you cast your ‘Illusion of Mortality’ spell,” Tom explained, tugging on a sleeve to demonstrate the stretch and contraction enchantments. “Thanks to the runes, no seams will tear. I’ve even added weather-resistance to the cloaks and reinforced stitching in the boots.”

I ran a hand along one of the cloaks. “You made all this in a day?”

“Please,” Tom scoffed. “I made half of it before you even walked in earlier.”

“You’re incredible,” Rias said sincerely.

Tom winked. “I know.”

We thanked him and gathered our things. As we left the shop, the sun dipped past the rooftops, bathing the city in amber light.

Henry glanced back at us with a raised brow. “Ready to return?”

“Yeah,” I said, gripping the bag of enchanted clothes.

“Good. Because the Duke mentioned someone is waiting for you both back at the mansion.”

“Who?” I asked.

“He didn’t say,” Henry replied. “Just that it’s urgent.”

Rias and I exchanged a glance.

The Lady in Black still lingered in the back of my mind.

And now… someone else was waiting for us.

Another mystery.

Another step forward.

The carriage ride back to the Duke’s estate was quiet.

I sat beside Rias, her fingers brushing the new clothes in her lap. She hadn’t stopped smiling since we left Tom’s shop—Elna carrying most of her bags. I could still hear her giggling about a “feather-lined cloak” she claimed felt better than our wolves’ fur.

Henry sat across from us, legs crossed, reading over a sealed letter. Probably from the Duke. His brow was furrowed slightly, and the streetlights flickering through the windows made his face seem older than usual.

I stared out at the passing buildings of the fourth ring, slowly giving way to the richer, quieter Fifth ring. The people were fewer here. The noise faded. Trees lined the stone streets. The sun was barely still over the horizon as the last bit of sunlight shone.

Still, that strange feeling from earlier clung to me like smoke. I couldn’t shake her eyes—the endless night within them—or the weight they left on my chest. Even now, I couldn’t say what I felt. Only that I’d seen something no one else could.

“Arthur,” Rias said softly, nudging my hand. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Just thinking,” I replied.

“About her?”

I didn’t answer.

She leaned in a little. “I heard the way you spoke when we met back at the shop. You sounded… unsettled.”

“I don’t know what I saw,” I said. “But she wasn’t normal. She vanished. Not like a spell. Like she was never there.”

Rias frowned. “Did she say anything?”

“Only that I’d find out who she was soon enough.” I paused. “And that she didn’t expect anyone to see her.”

We rode in silence for a while longer.

Eventually, Henry cleared his throat and folded the letter. “When we arrive, please head straight to the great hall. The Duke is expecting you—and the guest has already arrived.”

“Did the letter say who it is?” I asked.

“No.” He looked me over. “But the Duke didn’t seem worried—just… urgent.”

The gates of the mansion came into view. Lanterns lined the path to the front steps. A few house guards nodded as we passed, and a stablehand came to take the carriage.

Henry stepped out first and offered a hand to Rias, who accepted gracefully. Elna followed close behind.

As I stepped down onto the stone, I spotted something odd.

A second carriage—sleek, black, and unmarked—sat near the entrance. It wasn’t one of the Duke’s.

Whoever had come… didn’t want to be known.

We were escorted inside by a pair of servants, who led us past the evening bustle of the estate into the quieter wing that housed the great hall. Massive portraits of Fenrir ancestors loomed from the walls. Rias couldn’t see them, but her head turned slightly every time we passed one, as if she could feel the weight of their gazes.

Henry stopped at the tall double doors. “You may enter,” he said, pulling them open.

The hall was dimly lit—only a few chandeliers overhead, casting long shadows on the marble floor. At the far end, seated beside the fireplace in a high-backed chair, was the Duke himself.

And standing beside him was a tall, hooded figure.

As we approached, the Duke stood, his hands clasped behind his back. “Arthur. Rias. Welcome home.”

Rias bowed her head slightly. “Thank you, Grandfather.”

I mirrored her. “You wanted to see us?”

“Yes,” the Duke said, eyes narrowing toward the cloaked man. “You have a visitor. One I trust dearly—though few others would dare to.”

The man stepped forward, lowering his hood.