“.”

  Sally was in her laboratory, focused on what seemed to be the creation of several potions.

  The air was heavy with a metallic smell and burnt herbs, and she sighed again and again without even realizing it.

  Mark, who was not too far away, lifted his gaze, setting aside the strange, circular object he had been working on, and watched her. He was wearing a pair of glasses that looked more designed to rest the eyes than to see with any real precision.

  “That’s the tenth time you’ve sighed in half a day. If you were going to be like this, you could have at least gone with the brats as far as the Ministry of Magic,” he said while looking at her.

  “No. If I had gone with them, I would’ve done everything to keep following them all the way to the camp,” Sally replied, shaking her head as she added another ingredient to the steaming cauldron. Instantly, it released sparks of an intense reddish color.

  Mark watched her and rolled his eyes.

  “I really don’t understand this whole family thing,” he said without looking at her, before returning to the object he was working on, jotting down quick notes in a notebook right beside him.

  “Mm? Don’t you have a family?” Sally asked, looking at him with mild surprise.

  “Why the surprise?” Mark replied, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, when I first met you, you were…”

  “Handsome, cool, mysteriously interesting,” Mark said with a confident smile.

  “Spoiled,” Sally corrected with a small smile, instantly breaking Mark’s self-assured expression. “I would’ve thought you were an only child, very spoiled at that. And honestly, it wasn’t a great first impression,” she added.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Mark looked away, clearly annoyed. He stayed silent for a moment, then lifted his gaze again toward Sally, who was pouring the potion with a large ladle into small glass vials.

  “Well… actually, as you already know, every heir of Merlin has a contract with the knights, to work alongside them and protect the people,” he began in a more serious tone, removing his glasses. “But working with the knights didn’t mean working directly at their side.”

  Mark paused briefly, as if unsure whether to continue.

  “And that’s why there are no mages with them today. Before that, the heirs of Merlin were another order. Separate. And proud. Maybe too proud,” he explained, his expression turning colder.

  Sally looked at him with faint interest.

  “If it was another order… where are the others?” she asked.

  Mark watched her for a moment before answering.

  “Dead,” he said, and for an instant his voice lost its sarcasm. “My parents, along with them,” he added.

  “Ah… I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Sally said, a hint of guilt in her voice.

  “It was a long time ago. Even now, I can’t really remember their faces,” Mark replied with a somewhat forced smile. “Anyway, old Alaric took custody of me for as long as I can remember. He’s not a very loving or family-oriented person, so… there were some failures there. But don’t get me wrong, he’s a great man. He made sure I had everything, including my education. Although his work didn’t allow him to spend much time with us. That’s why I pushed myself so hard, even going to university at such a young age. And when the time came to take on my duties, he sent me here. Even though I would’ve liked to work alongside him, he didn’t want that,” he added, his expression turning complicated.

  “Alaric is…?” Sally asked, slightly confused.

  “Mm? Didn’t they tell you about the three elders? Sir Vincent Cavendish, Guardian of the Veil; Dame Elara Ravenshield, Guardian of the Realm; and Sir Alaric Wyndam, Guardian of the Crown. They’re the three elders, and also the strongest knights of the order. Real monsters with human bodies,” Mark explained with a half-smile.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Ah, right. Gema explained it to me. They’re knights with the highest noble titles within the order,” Sally said, nodding as she remembered.

  “Well, yeah, that too. But Alaric could be much more; he acts as trainer to the heirs of the crown and is the royal guard who protects the king and queen. And besides, he’s—”

  “Hi, Sally. Are the healing potions ready? There was a small problem during training,” Arthur suddenly said, entering the laboratory in a hurry.

  he looked barely like a teenager, even though he was already over twenty. A young body, a friendly, handsome face, and a short stature.

  “This guy’s grandfather,” Mark said, pointing at him.

  Arthur looked at Mark with mild confusion, while Sally watched Arthur with faint surprise.

  “What’s up, Alaric, you old grump?” Vincent said immediately, smiling. “As always, you look like a vampire,” he added.

  At the desk, a man who had been seriously working through papers and documents paused, his gloved hand still holding a file as he heard Vincent’s voice. Then he lifted his gaze, weariness tightly restrained.

  “Vincent, it is basic mutual respect to knock before entering someone else’s office,” he said, setting the folder aside and fixing him with a sharp stare.

  He was a mature man, at least in his fifties. Blond hair streaked with gray created a striking contrast, giving it an almost platinum tone, though not as gray as Vincent’s. His face was stern, his bearing dignified. He was far leaner than Vincent, yet he radiated an uncomfortable aura of power, the kind that made it clear he was not someone to joke with. Or provoke.

  And, like Vincent, he bore a similar scar, burn-like in shape, running along the left side of his face.

  His clothing was truly fitting for a noble, though strikingly white, accented with blue details.

  “Yeah, yeah. Are you ready? Nicolas Flamel should be arriving any moment now,” Vincent said, giving it little importance.

  Alaric frowned at Vincent’s blunt manner of speaking, but said nothing. He rose from his seat and walked to one corner of the office, where he picked up a sword resting there, still sheathed.

  “Hey, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Vincent said with a half-smile.

  “Yes. And because we trusted them, we’re marked for life now,” Alaric replied, running his fingers over the scar on his face. Almost reflexively, Vincent touched his own as well.

  “Touché,” Vincent said with a smile. “But if it happened again, I’d do it all over,” he added calmly. “Though I don’t think Elara would agree to it again,” he finished, amused.

  Alaric stared at him for a moment before looking away, though he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that they were in sync.

  They left the office together, the contrast between their clothing becoming immediately apparent. Vincent dressed more casually, while Alaric looked almost excessively ornate.

  “I can’t help feeling that your grandchildren really take after you. Especially that brat, Mark, with his over-the-top outfits,” Vincent said, amused.

  Alaric glanced at him sideways, as if reluctant to speak, but still parted his lips slightly.

  “How are they?” he asked.

  “I suppose they’re doing fairly well. They stopped being those emotionless robots you sent me,” Vincent replied humorously. “I honestly don’t know how you manage to raise robots… and then have them pretend to be people,” he added mockingly.

  Alaric shot him a hostile look and picked up his pace.

  “They probably like me a lot more than they like the two of you. Even Elara’s granddaughter is at my base, while you two were abandoned without a second thought,” Vincent added, as if deliberately pouring more fuel on the fire.

  Vincent and Alaric entered Gringotts Bank directly. Vincent approached one of the goblins seated behind a desk, who, as always, wore a sour expression at the sight of humans.

  “I’m Vincent Cavendish. I’ve rented a meeting room,” he said calmly, observing the creature with mild interest.

  The goblin looked at him for a moment, then turned away and called over another goblin who had been waiting in a corner. He said nothing, as if speaking itself were a waste of energy.

  Vincent and Alaric followed the second goblin, who nodded to them.

  “The others arrived before you. They’re with our chief. He will act as the neutral party,” the goblin explained in a calm tone as he guided them through the bank’s inner corridors.

  Vincent nodded, and the goblin opened the door.

  Dumbledore was there, seated, and beside him another elderly man whom Sally, had she been present, might have vaguely recognized as the man she had seen years ago at the aquarium, the one who spoke with her children. He sat patiently, as though waiting were no inconvenience at all, wearing a calm smile.

  In front of them stood a goblin who radiated a subtly dangerous presence, enough to immediately draw the attention of both elderly men. His armor and the sword hanging at his waist spoke for themselves. With a single glance, one could feel that he was a truly powerful warrior. And he was.

  It was Einjard, one of Percy’s masters.

  Einjard observed them in silence for a second.

  “You’re late,” he said with mild irritation in his voice, staring at them. He then glanced briefly at the sword hanging at Alaric’s waist before snorting with faint disdain. “Sit down and let’s get this meeting over with. I have a lot of things to do,” he added.

  Alaric raised an eyebrow slightly. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to speak to him that way. Vincent, on the other hand, found it amusing, and a flicker of his fighting instinct briefly surfaced, though he quickly reined it in.