Chapter 2: The Two Youths

At the city gate, the officer watched as Veylin galloped toward them, leaping to his feet and shouting loudly to his men, “Quick, clear the passage! The young master is coming through here.”

The previously idle soldiers snapped to attention, swiftly herding the waiting townsfolk and merchants aside, leaving the western gate unimpeded.

Like the wind, Veylin rode his horse into the city.

Once the young master had entered, the officer instructed his men to resume their inspection and collection of taxes, before reclining once more on his chair to bask in the sun.

Upon entering Silverglow City, Veylin quickly got his bearings and set off for his destination—the Department of Public Security in the western district.

Soon, an imposing and dignified building appeared before him. One of the guards at the entrance stepped forward to take the reins of Veylin’s mount, leading it to a nearby open space and providing it with fine fodder to restore its strength.

Veylin paid this no mind and strode straight into the department, instructing someone to summon Chief Inspector Beck.

Moments later, a burly man clad in half-plate armor—a low-ranking Silver warrior—emerged from within. He saluted Veylin, who was only a mid-rank Bronze, and said, “Young master Veylin, what are your orders?”

“Beck, I’ve come to the city to handle a matter, and I need to borrow a squad of your constables.”

Veylin wasted no words, stating his purpose directly.

Upon hearing this, Chief Beck immediately called over a warrior and instructed, “Find Captain Ackman of the sixth squad, have him muster his men and assemble in the courtyard.”

“Yes, sir.” The warrior saluted by striking his chest and hurried off.

A few minutes later, a squad of fifteen armored warriors assembled in the courtyard.

One middle-aged man, whose strength was nearly equal to Veylin’s, stepped forward and saluted Chief Beck.

“Sir, Captain Ackman of the sixth squad reporting.”

“Ackman, you’ll accompany young master Veylin on his business.”

“Yes, sir.” Ackman turned to Veylin, his tone respectful. “At your command, young master Veylin.”

Veylin sized up this battle-hardened veteran with satisfaction, nodded, then took his leave of Chief Beck. With fifteen professional constables in tow, he headed to a street in the western district, preparing to conduct a crackdown on the local underworld—and perhaps secure some private gain for himself.

…

Inside a modest house in Silverglow’s western district, several local gang members were making a deal with two strange figures clad in black robes.

“The goods you wanted are in the sack.” The gang leader motioned for his men to open the sack, revealing two youths within—one with a head of golden hair, the other silver.

The two black-robed figures exchanged glances. One stepped forward to inspect the goods. Satisfied, the other tossed a cloth bag onto the floor. The unmistakable clink of gold coins rang out.

A gang underling hurried forward, picked up the bag, and respectfully handed it to his boss.

“The deal is done. Now let’s all—”

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a handsome black-haired man charged in, short sword in hand, shouting, “There’s a traitor—no, everyone! Drop your weapons! Don’t move!”

Both parties, caught in the act, reached for their weapons, ready for a fight.

But upon seeing Ackman follow close behind, the gang leader’s face drained of color. “It’s the constables! Run!” he screamed.

Without hesitation, the gang leader dove through a window to escape.

A blood-curdling scream rang out from outside, paralyzing three of the gang members with terror. Their faces went pale; they dropped their weapons, clutched their heads, and fell to the floor.

It had been their boss’s scream. Clearly, he was no more.

The two black-robed men stepped back, drawing their swords, prepared to resist to the end.

Seeing this, Veylin signaled Ackman not to intervene—he would handle them himself.

Gripping his short sword, he used the cramped space to his advantage and dispatched both men in short order.

Ackman, watching from the side, was impressed by Veylin’s clean, efficient technique. “Well done, young master Veylin.”

“You flatter me,” Veylin replied, flicking the blood from his blade before sheathing it. He then approached one of the corpses and removed the masks from the two black-robed men.

Who were these people, shrouded in such secrecy?

Ackman, curiosity piqued, stepped forward as well. Upon seeing the black clover mark on the men’s foreheads, his expression changed drastically.

“Young master Veylin, these two are connected to a significant matter. May we take custody of the bodies?”

“Do as you please. I only want this.” Veylin moved to the sack and examined the two beautiful youths inside, confirming that they matched his information. Unexpectedly, both bore the slave’s mark on their foreheads.

Without wasting further time, Veylin picked up the two youths and left.

At the door, the constables watched him carrying the handsome boys and began to gossip.

“I bet young master Veylin came all this way just for those twin boys.”

“Seems likely. I’ve heard some nobles—”

Ackman emerged and silenced them with a sharp rebuke. “Enough chatter. Take these men back.”

Those about to engage in further speculation closed their mouths and got to work.

On the other side, Veylin placed the two youths on his horse, mounted, and was just about to leave when Ackman approached with a bag of coins.

“Young master Veylin, these are the coins we seized. Would you—”

“Split them among yourselves. I don’t need them. Consider it a reward for your hard work.”

“Thank you, young master Veylin,” the constables replied, their excitement plain.

Upon returning to Windsor Castle, Veylin saw to his horse, then carried the two youths back to his own chambers. Along the way, the servants stared in amazement, but dared not gossip—discussing the affairs of the master was a sure path to ruin.

Inside his room, Veylin placed the two youths on the bed. When they showed no sign of waking after a while, he left, intending to visit Elder Miller for guidance on new ventures.

After a lengthy walk, Veylin reached the entrance to the underground fortress, surrendered his weapons to the guards, and, after a search, was permitted below.

The dim tunnel walls bore engravings commemorating members of the Ex family who had made outstanding contributions.

The Ex family, with a legacy spanning seven centuries, currently boasted five earls, seventeen viscounts, and thirty-three barons.

Hierarchy was paramount, and Veylin’s branch was the main line of the family; the other four earls represented cadet branches, together forming the mighty Ex family.

All these glories were owed to the founding family code, which drove the Ex family to ever greater achievements.

Within the Kingdom of Ilya, the Ex family’s influence at the earl level was unmatched, even surpassing some marquess-level houses.

But not yet having achieved an eight-century legacy, they could not ascend to the rank of marquess family within the kingdom.

Of course, should a legendary figure arise among them, the Ex family would bypass this restriction and become a ducal house.

After descending a kilometer-long staircase, Veylin arrived at a bright archive room. He approached the dozing elder within, quietly and patiently waiting for him to awaken.