Ancestor of All

"How did you even escape? I increased security, yet you managed to run away without anyone noticing," said Marquis Alaric Windwalker, his sharp gaze fixed on Edric, who stood before him with his head bowed in apology.

Just a few days ago, Edric had sworn not to run away again—only to break that promise and disappear once more. The last time, he had a valid excuse; his firstborn child had just been born. This time, however, if he didn't have a good reason, the marquis intended to impose a proper punishment. After all, this was his castle, not an inn where people could come and go as they pleased without so much as informing him.

The mere fact that Edric had promised not to leave and then gone behind his back to sneak away was already grounds for severe punishment. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have hesitated to deal out a fitting consequence—perhaps even death.

Keeping his head low, Edric muttered, "I don't remember anything. I just found myself in the middle of the forest and barely made it back."

Marquis Alaric leaned back in his chair, studying him carefully. "Is he telling the truth? Was he kidnapped? Or is this some kind of illness? Could he be lying?"

Edric certainly looked like someone who had been lost in the forest—his clothes were filthy, his boots caked in mud.

Clearing his throat, the marquis finally spoke. "Return to your room. I'll send for a doctor skilled enough to examine you."

If Edric was indeed sick, punishing him would be reckless. As for the possibility of kidnapping, Alaric would investigate that himself. But if it turned out that Edric had lied, the punishment would be severe—perhaps even locking him in a room for months.

Without another word, Edric turned and left as instructed.

...

Once he was gone, Marquis Alaric turned to his chief of staff. "Make sure at least one great knight watches over him at all times. I don't want another incident."

The chief of staff bowed and swiftly departed.

With Edric's situation momentarily settled, the marquis turned his focus back to a far graver concern—the Darkwinds.

The Windwalker army, once prepared to invade, was now in the process of retreat. In no more than two months, they were scheduled to return.

"We should improve our relationship with the Darkwinds!"

Marquis Alaric felt a headache coming on. The enmity between the Darkwind and Windwalker families had deteriorated to such an extent that he could hardly imagine anything capable of truly mending their relations.

"First things first, we need to disprove the false rumors that we massacred civilians," he thought.

The Windwalker army had been benevolent, doing everything possible to avoid harming the local population. It was Valdrin who, in a twisted scheme to tarnish the Windwalker name, had slaughtered his own people.

Determined to set the record straight, Alaric began drafting a letter to Kaelith, explaining that Valdrin was responsible for the atrocities. In the letter, he pledged one million silver as relief for the families who had suffered at Valdrin's hands.

Next, he penned a second letter—this one to Stephen Windwalker—ordering him to begin the retreat with the utmost care, ensuring minimal damage to the local population.

But that wasn't enough.

A third letter went to his treasurer, instructing him to gather three million silver as quickly as possible.

In yet another, he commanded that food and clothing be purchased with those funds and sent to the Darkwind territory to aid those who had suffered.

Alaric knew these efforts wouldn't completely redeem the Windwalker name, but at the very least, they might help douse the flames of resentment before they spread too far.

He understood Kaelith to some degree—the man was peaceful and deeply cared for his people. However, his concern for public opinion meant that if too many citizens blamed the Windwalkers for their suffering, there was a real chance he might be pressured into launching a war against them.

A war against a united Darkwind family was the last thing Alaric wanted. That was why he had to act swiftly to contain the situation.

After handing the letters to his deputy chief of staff for delivery, he returned to his desk, his mind already occupied with thoughts of the future.

...

A few days later.

"Pardon me, my lord, but this case is beyond my knowledge," said the elderly doctor, a man with a long white beard and pristine robes, bowing respectfully before Marquis Alaric Windwalker.

Alaric's sharp gaze remained fixed on him. "Be honest with me—do you think there's any credibility in what he claims? Is it truly possible that he sleepwalked all the way to the forest?"

The doctor hesitated before bowing again. "Please forgive me, my lord, but I truly do not know."

"Speak freely. Don't be afraid—your words will remain secret," Alaric assured him.

Edric was no ordinary young man—he was the Windwalker family's prodigy, a genius by all accounts. His mother, Countess Lyria Windwalker, was not only a noble but also a formidable Silver Knight. It was no surprise that the doctor hesitated, caught between duty and the risk of offending powerful figures.

For those serving noble families, even a single misplaced word could cost them their livelihood—or their life.

Taking a deep breath, the doctor finally spoke. "Esteemed Lord Windwalker, I have found no trace of any illness, mental or physical, in young master Edric. Thankfully, he is as healthy as a roaring dragon."

Dragons, though long gone from these lands, remained legendary across the Silver Flower Island. It was said that even a newborn dragon was as strong as a Great Knight.

Hearing the doctor's verdict, Alaric exhaled heavily. Days of investigation had yielded no signs of kidnapping, and now, even the doctor confirmed that Edric was in perfect health.

At this point, Alaric could no longer believe a single word of Edric's story. The boy had lied too many times, breaking his trust over and over. Most likely, his adventurous nature had simply gotten the better of him, and he had run off on his own.

But breaking promises—and then lying about it—was unforgivable.

"Thank you, doctor," the marquis said curtly.

With this, Alaric was now almost certain—Edric had deceived him without so much as flinching. And for that, there would be a fitting punishment.

...

Edric sat in a chair in the guest room of the house assigned to him, waiting for the inevitable arrival of the furious marquis.

Sure enough, within two minutes, Marquis Alaric entered, his expression dark and brooding.

"Why, Edric? Why did you do this to yourself? You've lost all credibility. I won't be able to trust you anymore," the marquis said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Lord Marquis," Edric replied, lowering his head, playing the role of an ashamed young man filled with regret.

"From now on, you're only allowed in three places—the library, the training grounds, and your room. A great knight will watch your every move." Alaric's tone grew firmer. "I don't know how you keep sneaking away, but hear me well—if it happens again, I'll be forced to throw you in prison. This is my castle, and its laws are clear—no one comes and goes without authorization."

Despite his anger, the marquis didn't impose a harsher punishment. He didn't want to stifle Edric's potential.

"Really, Marquis, I swear—I don't remember anything," Edric insisted.

But Alaric was done listening. Without another word, he turned and left.

...

Now alone in the guest room, Edric leaned back in his chair, his thoughts racing.

"I'll stay here until the time comes for me to fake my death."

He needed a new identity. If a Golden Knight suddenly appeared out of nowhere, it would be far too suspicious.

As for the "restrictions" imposed on him, Edric wasn't concerned in the slightest. No great knight could truly keep him in check. With his current power, he could slip away at night and return by morning without anyone noticing. He hadn't yet tested the city's magical formations, but he was at least 80% certain he could bypass them undetected.

"If I disappear without explanation, they'll search for me. That would draw too much attention. I have to make them believe I'm truly dead. Only then will they stop looking.

He would endure the marquis's watchful eyes for now—until he found the perfect way to stage his death.

"And with the entire Darkwind family in my hands, that shouldn't be too difficult," he thought with a smirk.