Bryce was surprised and dismayed to realise that he knew little about the city of Tharsis. There were a lot more secret alleyways and abandoned areas than he could ever imagine. And the people who did reside in the quiet, empty areas of the city were uninterested in the plights of others.

If the fact that Bryce had been dragged through the streets tied and gagged was any indication.

His captor did not even bother to hide once they reached a darkened, empty boulevard, where numerous abandoned mansions lined the streets. Clearly, he felt that no one was around to be witnesses.

It took all of Bryce's willpower to deny his instincts to fight back in some way. He could not afford to do anything reckless. Not with Falkner potentially in danger, held captive somewhere. Somewhere he hoped his own captor was taking him.

After a few long, tense minutes, Bryce's captor finally pulled him toward a rough looking abandoned mansion. He caught the glimpse of a name etched in steel upon the gate. The name Adalbern meant nothing to him, however.

After he was dragged inside the building, the interior much like the outside, Bryce was promptly led up a flight of stairs to the second floor. Where he was equally swiftly pushed toward an open door to his left.

Where he was unceremoniously thrown to the floor, somewhere about the centre of the room. And because of his bindings, he was unable to soften the fall. He bit into his gag, somewhat thankful that he had not hit his head.

"Bryce!"

Bryce rolled onto his side and his gaze inexplicably collided with that of Falkner's. He appeared the same as he had in that photo; arms pulled behind his back, tied there with coarse rope, and was sat in a chair.

Thankfully, he appeared unharmed.

His masked captor leaned down and removed his gag, allowing Bryce to take in a fresh breath of air. "Are you ok?" he immediately asked Falkner.

The redhead nodded his head, but his face held an expression of guilt. "Yeah. So far."

So far, indeed.

Bryce managed to push himself into a sitting position, where he found himself positioned in front of a small podium that took up about the quarter of the room. Where a chair was situated. Where a man with ashen grey hair and piercing dark eyes stared down at him.

That man acted as if he sat upon a throne; one elbow on the armrest as he rested his chin in that hand. The other hand rested upon the other armrest, idly tapping his fingers in an impatient manner.

He was going to be one conceited pile of shit, wasn't he?

"He's the one?" the man asked, his gaze toward the masked man.

"Yes, Lord Denzil," he replied with a rather mocking bow. "He is the very image of the Naseer's image."

He was a lord? Oh, he was definitely going to be one hell of an egotistical asshole.

"That is what you said last time, Talon," Denzil retorted, his eyes narrowing. "You had better be right this time."

The masked asshole, apparently named Talon, raised his hands in front of him in a defensive, pacifying manner. He did not say anything. Just backed up, allowing for Denzil to turn his gaze toward Bryce.

And he stared at him, nothing but contempt in his piercing gaze. Bryce had not a clue who the hell the guy was. Never seen him before in his life. So, he had no idea why he seemed to stare at him with unadulterated hatred.

From the earlier conversation, it might be possible that he had mistaken Bryce for someone else.

Still did not stop him from glaring back.

Denzil's eyes somehow narrowed further. Probably silently furious that Bryce would dare not to cower before him or something. His fault. Should have gone after another guy if he wanted someone submissive.

"Where's the necklace?" Denzil asked gruffly as his gaze snapped to the left.

Bryce followed his gaze and was inwardly surprised to note that there was someone else in the room. Someone with short white hair and sharp blue eyes. He moved away from the windows as he reached into his runemaster robe and promptly pulled out a necklace. With that same shield pendant.

Huh. That guy might be that...Naseer person Talon mentioned.

What was so important about that damn necklace?

With Naseer approaching him from the left, Talon abruptly stepped toward him also. He snared him by his upper arm and promptly hauled him to his feet. He was dragged closer to the podium, to stand directly in front of Denzil. Talon kept a firm grip on his arm as Naseer stepped upon the podium and to lift the necklace up over his head, letting it drop around his neck.

The three men then proceeded to stare at him with expectant gazes. Which, Bryce would admit to himself, was quite intimidating, so he glanced down at the necklace. Only to find that the gemstone within the pendant flicker with an unexpected light before becoming fully illuminated.

What the hell?

"Finally," Denzil muttered as he pushed himself out of his chair, revealing his surprisingly tall stature. "You are one of those wretched Adalberns."

Adalbern? That was the name etched upon the front entrance, wasn't it?

"What the fuck is this thing supposed to be?" Bryce could not help but snap. He did not know what the hell was going on, but he knew he did not like any of it one bit. "Who the fuck is Adalbern and what does any of this bullshit have to do with me?

"Hold your tongue," Naseer sneered in response.

"No. Let him know," Denzil unexpectedly ordered. "It doesn't surprise me that a Adalbern doesn't know."

Naseer glanced over toward Denzil, seemingly startled by the demand. His gaze soon flickered back to Bryce; contempt ever present. He pressed his lips together, clearly not happy. He soon uttered a disgruntled murmur under his breath in defeat.

"Very well," he stated. "I'll keep it simple."

Good. The only considerate thing they had done.

"Adalbern was once a prominent family of Tharsis. Perhaps the most prominent at the time. What was less known, however, was that the Adalbern family was given the task of protecting a vault filled with tomes and treasures. The vault was sealed with magical sigils. And only the heir of the Adalbern can open the vault."

Ok, he got all of that. Nice piece of history. But that did not explain why he was involved.

"However, about eighty years ago, that prominent family endured a public scandal. During a ceremony that heralded in the family's new heir, of a young woman called Jenella, the necklace failed to activate, and the vault would not open."

"And it wouldn't open because she wasn't her father's daughter," Falkner suddenly piped up.

Naseer snapped his head in Falkner's direction. Even Denzil turned a truly volatile glare toward the redhead. But surprisingly, neither man said anything to refute him. They were angry, true. But momentarily shocked into silence.

"...Unfortunately, that is true," Naseer grumbled. "It appeared that Jenella's mother had an affair early on in her marriage. A mistake. One that haunted her for fifteen years."

"A mistake?" Falkner repeated incredulously. "That fact that she lied to her family's faces for fifteen years means nothing to you, does it?"

Denzil did not respond. But Bryce saw him tighten his hands into tight fists by his sides. Bryce did not know how Falkner knew all of that, but his words were getting under the guy's skin.

"I saw the ripped-up journal pages," Falkner revealed, somewhat answering Bryce's unasked question. "The ones you tried to destroy. She was well aware that her daughter was not her husband's. What, not fond of something that could make you question your motives?"

"They are nothing but lies," Denzil spat out.

"Doesn't surprise me that someone who spent a majority of her life lying would continue to lie."

Fletcher was surprisingly quite antagonistic. He was usually such a jovial guy. Whatever he learnt about Adalbern and Denzil, it seriously pissed him off.

Denzil launched off the podium suddenly, landing directly in front of Falkner. The guy then lifted his leg and kicked Falkner in the stomach, too quickly for the redhead to react. The force of the kick knocked both Falkner and the chair backwards, both crashing to the ground.

That was obviously an attempt to silence him!

Bryce immediately turned, jerking forward in an attempt to reach Falkner, only to be pulled back by a strong grip on his arm. "Falkner!"

Falkner rolled onto his side and curled his legs slightly toward his chest as he coughed, winded by the kick. "I'm fine," he uttered, and peered through one eye toward Denzil defiantly. "Liars only know violence when questioned."

"That girl was my grandmother," Denzil revealed suddenly.

...So, revenge against the family, huh? Still not answering his main question, though.

Denzil continued, his voice gravelly with barely supressed anger, "She had her entire life ruined because of a simple mistake. That Adalbern family abandoned her without remorse. She was left to spend the rest of her life enduring the scorn of not just the Adalbern family, but all of society. All for what? Because of some noble toff could not accept his wife's apology!"

Bryce found himself bristling. "A child shouldn't have to pay for their parents' decisions, but literally none of this has anything to do with me."

Denzil snapped his eyes, blazing with hatred, in his direction. "You are a spawn of that wretched family."

That was highly debatable and meant shit.

"If that great-grandmother of yours actually cared about her family, she wouldn't have had an affair in the first place!" Bryce retorted. "I hate assholes like you who do fucking backflips to excuse the actions of another, while putting all the blame on someone else. Your grandmother didn't deserve the gossip and abuse she received, and it isn't her fault her mother had an affair. But neither is the Adalberns. It's entirely that woman's fault, and she deserved to suffer the consequences of her numerous betrayals."

Before Bryce could continue his rant, Denzil was directly in front of him. And his hands were around his throat. A light gasp escaped Bryce's lips, and his eyes clamped shut out of reflex.

"If Adalberns had any integrity, they would not have turned against my grandmother and her mother."

So, they were expected to accept someone who had been unfaithful and untruthful for fifteen years? Typical.

Bryce peeled open an eye to peer at Denzil. His vision was starting to blur, his lungs burning, begging for air. He...did not know much longer he could last...

But he could see the utter hatred in Denzil's eyes. He had the expression of a madman.

"Denzil, stop!" Naseer grabbed a hold of Denzil's arm. "He needs to be unharmed!"

Denzil did not respond to Naseer. The grip he had around Bryce's throat would not lessen. And Bryce's vision began to grey out. Darkness creeping in from the corners, narrowing his vision.

Then, the grip around his throat disappeared and Bryce fell to the floor. First on his knees before crashing down onto his side. He coughed and spluttered loudly, desperately trying to get air back to his lungs.

"Lock them here," Denzil ordered with a growl. "We need to prepare the vault."

Bryce's throat continued to burn, but he mustered up the strength to peel open his eye again. His vision was still blurry, but nowhere near as bad as before. He watched as Denzil stalk out of the room, obviously still seething, with Naseer scrambling behind him.

Yeah, the guy was definitely a haughty, better-than-thou asshole.

Talon did not move to follow, though. Instead, he stalked over to Falkner, prompting the redhead to tense. The guy leaned down, to sickeningly trail a fingertip along Falkner's thigh, down his leg and toward his boot. The touch made Falkner flinch, which was understandable. But before he could attempt to scoot away, Talon reached into the inside of his boot and then pulled out a knife.

"Before I go; I'll take this," the masked man stated, a smirk readable in his tone as he idly tossed the knife in the air and caught it again. "Snipers are this land's survivalist, after all."

Damn it. That knife could have been a lot of help.

"I wouldn't bother struggling too much," Talon stated as he turned on his heel and strolled out of the room. "Those bindings were made with landsknechts in mind."

The slamming of the door soon followed, along with it a telling click. A lock. From the outside. What was not heard, however, was footsteps walking away. Talon was clearly still standing outside.

"Bryce, are you ok?" Falkner asked softly as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the floor. "Can you breathe properly? I think I have another bottle of medica on me."

Would not surprise him but best keep it a secret for the time being. With how volatile Denzil was, they might need it in the future.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Bryce immediately replied as he forced himself to sit up as well. "You all right?"

Falkner nodded his head as he idly tugged at the bindings around his wrists. "I'm sorry about this. I got a little too nosy."

"Don't worry about it," Bryce dismissed. "They were after me specifically, right? They'd just find another way to get to me. How did you get here?"

"I recognised the pendant as this mansion's family crest."

Bryce blinked. "Seriously? You do have sharp eyes." He had that thing in his possession for, what, five seconds?

"Kinda necessary for a sniper," Falkner answered with a slight shrug. His gaze flickered over toward the door, and a frown appeared on his lips. "That detective. He's that nightseeker you fought, Talon."

That was a surprise. "You're kidding?"

"Afraid not." Falkner turned back to him, a look of unease on his face. "What are we going to do?"

"...I'm not sure," was all Bryce would utter.

One thing he was sure about, however; Varuna was going to be pissed.