The Forsaken Seal

The silence in the room was broken only by the faint hum of the exposed vault's mechanisms settling into place. Layron's heart was still racing from the series of revelations dumped on him all at once, but the tension in the air told him it was far from over.

The falcon—Falkren, the Skyseer—stood proudly on the circular table, his mechanical eye whirring as it adjusted, scanning the room, scanning Layron, and maybe even scanning whatever Zorthaal left lurking deep inside him. Layron didn't like the way that eye seemed to see too much.

Gramps stood at the edge of the vault, hand brushing over one of the weapons hanging on the wall—an old spear with a cracked shaft, the kind of relic that belonged in a museum. But Gramps wasn't admiring it. His eyes were distant, lost somewhere far behind the present.

It was Falkren who finally spoke, his voice smooth but layered with urgency.

[[ The reason I called you here is ....]]

[[House Vaelor has already begun their hunt. Their hounds are sniffing for any trace of Layron's scent.]]

Layron blinked. "Wait—who?"

Gramps exhaled sharply through his nose, as though the name alone was a weight pressing on his chest.

"My old student."

Layron's mouth opened, but no words came. He knew Gramps wasn't exactly friendly with most people, but the idea that Gramps had a student powerful enough to scare even him? That was something else entirely.

Falkren continued.

[[They won't waste time. House Vaelor doesn't 'investigate.' They execute. If they find even the faintest whisper of Layron's existence, they'll come with everything they have. Not to capture. To erase.]]

"Erase?" Layron's stomach twisted. "But why? I haven't done anything."

"That doesn't matter," Gramps muttered. "To them, you exist. That reason is enough."

Layron's fists clenched. "But they're Protectors, right? Shouldn't they—"

"They don't care," Gramps cut in, voice hard. "They're not what you think Protectors are. House Vaelor isn't about balance or justice—they're about control through fear. They believe any threat, no matter how small, should be wiped out before it can grow."

Layron swallowed, the weight of it sinking in. "So I'm the threat."

"You're the storm on the horizon," Gramps said quietly. "Even if you haven't rained yet."

Falkren's talons clicked against the metal table, his eye glinting.

[[There's more.]]

Gramps' expression darkened. "Of course there is."

[[There may already be someone inside your village working for them.]]

Layron felt his chest tighten. "What?!"

[[A spy. A traitor. We can't confirm it, but the signs are there. Money, fear, old debts—it doesn't matter why. All it takes is one whisper to the wrong ears, and House Vaelor will know exactly where to find him.]]

Layron's mind spun. Someone here? In the village? Selling him out?

Gramps' silence spoke louder than anything.

Gramps always had that air of suspicion about outsiders, but now—now it felt personal.

"They'll sell him out for a sack of coins," Gramps said bitterly. "Or just to get rid of something they don't understand."

Layron's mouth opened, but he didn't know what to say. Could it really be that easy to betray him? After everything his family had done for this village?

Falkren's voice sharpened.

[[If they do, boy—there won't be a fight. They'll burn this village to the ground before you even step outside.]]

Layron felt the ground tilt beneath him. "Then what do we do?"

Gramps was silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the room.

Then, quietly: "I'll go."

Layron's heart skipped a beat. "Go where?"

"To cut this off at the source."

Falkren's mechanical eye flickered with something close to concern.

[[That's a fool's gamble, Tensuke.]]

"You're too old for this crap!" Shion's voice broke in, the old man's cane thumping hard against the floor. "What, you think you're gonna stroll into House Vaelor like you're forty again and just talk them down?"

Gramps' voice was calm, but beneath it, there was a steel Layron rarely heard.

"No one knows how to fight him like I do."

Shion's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't argue. Falkren's eye flickered again, scanning Gramps up and down.

[[You're held together with rice wine and sheer spite, Tensuke. You really think those knees can outfight your own student?]]

Gramps' lip twitched. "My knees are fine."

[[We'll engrave that on your tombstone.]]

Shion snorted. "Hell, we'll carve it into the coffin if you even make it back in one piece."

Layron, still lost and knows that gramps could handle this easily in the storm of information, could only blurt out: "What about my training?"

Gramps looked at Falkren.

The falcon's wings shifted, feathers rustling.

[[Lucky you, boy. From now on, I'm your sensei.]]

Layron's face froze. "A bird. My sensei is a bird?? Hahahaha."

[[A bird who's smarter than you, sharper than your old man here, and has personally overseen the deaths of more enemies than you've had hot meals. So maybe shut your mouth and try learning something.]]

Layron groaned. "Oh fine sorry."

[[I'm not your babysitter, boy. But I'll teach you enough to make sure you're not a corpse before your next birthday.]]

Gramps laid a hand on Layron's head, ruffling his hair for the first time in years.

"11 days. That's all I need. You focus on learning from him. And when I come back—" his voice softened, "—I'll answer all your questions. All of them." "If — and only if — you complete your training, I'll answer every damn question you have. But if you fail, then the answers don't matter."

"Promise?" Layron asked, trying to mask the small crack in his voice.

Gramps' hand lingered. "Promise."

"But how should I handle Anya if she asks about you?" Layron asked with confusion in his face.

Layron's dialogue could have a frustrated but resigned vibe: "If you vanish for eleven days, she's gonna ask questions — a lot of them."

"Don't worry she will never know untill I reveals" Gramps replied.

Layron don't know what Gramps talking about, He processed his brain but still didn't know how he can manage Anya when Gramps won't be there for 11 days.

Gramps nodded his head watching Shion and he understood the assignment.

Shion stepped toward the far wall, pressing another hidden button. A second door creaked open, revealing a vault room lined with ancient weapons, chestplates, and gear. Layron's eyes widened at the sheer variety—some of it looked ceremonial, but others gleamed with tech woven into ancient steel.

Gramps approached the equipment, fingers brushing the hilts and straps like greeting old friends. With a faint pulse of light, each item shrunk down to the size of a coin, effortlessly pocketed into his belt.

Layron's jaw dropped. "What the hell—"

"Old tech," Gramps said simply. "You'll get there."

He turned back, eyes locking onto Layron one last time. "Stay alive."

Shion pulled the final lever, and somewhere deep underground, Layron heard the rush of water—the hidden passage to the ocean route, an escape tunnel.

Gramps stepped into the passage without hesitation. "Be good, boy."

"Gramps…"

Gramps gave him a rare smile. "I'll be back."

"He's kinder than me, so don't cry." Gramps laughs.

[[Kinder?! I'm gonna make this brat cry tears he didn't know he had.]] Falcon replied.

Then the door slid shut behind him.

Layron stood in silence, only Shion and Falkren beside him now.

The falcon's wings flared slightly.

[[Training starts tomorrow, kid.]]

Layron sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This is my life now, huh?"

[[It's gonna hurt. A lot.]] Falkren added cheerfully.

Shion grinned. "Don't die before the fun part."

Layron groaned.

---

Who is House Vaelor, and why do they fear Layron so much?

What kind of techniques does House Vaelor use, and how do they compare to Gramps' knowledge?

Who inside the village might be a traitor — and have they already sold information?

Why did Gramps delay telling Layron all this until now?

What makes Falkren — a talking falcon — so feared and respected even among Protectors?

What ancient secrets lie inside the Protector armory?

What exactly does Gramps mean when he says the answers only matter if Layron survives the training?