Freshly Trapped

"So. What exactly did you want us to see?" WesLer asked as Annabelle and Yeager hopped onto the ground of frozen gravel. "Surely it's interesting enough to warrant jumping off a 60 meter wall behind a pond of deadly Eels."

Tak. Tak. Tak.

The sound of boots against frozen gravel seemed to rise in volume as Micelle walked around the tree that WesLer and the others had landed near. He didn't respond immediately, the knightly Recon specialist tapping a number of spots that didn't seem to have much value at first. A patch of missing bark, a few notches that didn't really appeae manmade, a number of burn marks. After a few moments of poking and prodding, Micelle rose back onto his feet and dusted his hands.

"You really are impatient. You should work on that." The Earth Knight smirked playfully, slapping the youth on the shoulder. "The adult is working. No need to rush things."

"As soon as I see an adult, I'll let you know." The young noble smoothly brushed Micelle's hand off. "Gonna answer my question?"

"Nope."

"Micelle." Annabelle gradually walked up to them, Yeager in tow. "What have you found? Surely it's interesting considering we jumped off a 60 meter wall instead of going around like civilized human beings."

Micelle glanced at Wesler, of whom returned the smirk from before.

"The princess raises a good point," the young Noble said, raising an eyebrow. "A shame I didn't think of such a question. What ARE we doing here Michael?"

Micelle let out a sigh before grinning. "This is where the flute user went after he landed."

"Flute user...." Annabelle seemed to hesitate for a second before moving to stand slightly behind WesLer. "What did you learn? You said before that you ascertained their general directions, right?"

"Yeah. Though, it'll be much easier to simply show you rather than explain all of it." Micelle turned around and strolled over to a section of ground he had intentionally avoided. "It's a bit scuffed but there's valuable information in it."

Bending down, the brown-haired knight tapped the ground with his index finger, his eyes glowing.

Just like before, there was a brief flash of light. Transparent beings sprouted into existence, building from the ground up, as if made from the Earth itself.

Unlike before, there were four entities.

All of them were dressed exactly the same, wrapped in scraps of clothing so dark, it could make midnight seem like a midday. The only differences that separated them from one another were the color of their masks and the emblems fixed onto the front breast of their outfits. Each emblem showcased a different colored moon with a weapon fixed in front of it. The color of those moons perfectly matched the color of the corresponding masks.

So, at the very least, the assailants had a sense of fashion.

<"Did you finish?"> The one in the white mask, with the symbol of the plain white moon on his chest, spoke up. His voice was heavily distorted and choppy, as if his vocals had gone through a blender. <"Everything went as it should've?">

Without a word of reply, the flute wielder nodded, setting down his barrel of Explosive Jelly.

<"Very well. Bear and Hyena will see to the arrangements.">

After saying that, the speaker in question stamped his foot onto the ground, leaving a decent indentation on the previously unmarked gravel. Once the small footprint was created, the four of them rode north from their position, clambering atop of their individual War Horses. They didn't speak a single word, not to themselves or each other, leaving much to be desired in terms of dialogue.

Gradually, the see-through beings faded back into the earth.

"So. They know about Glorious Hunting Days." WesLer frowned, touching his chin lightly. "That's a disturbing thought."

"I agree." Annabelle shook her head. "That's not something I find reassuring."

"Glorious Hunting Days?" Yeager asked, once again looking confuses.

"This idiots ability."

The heads of everyone turned immediately, shifiting towards the direction of the approaching individual. A hair of electric yellow followed by a small army of soldiers, the same soldiers that Annabelle had brought with her to Castle Oklaind.

"Ah. Ariont. You made it."

"Apologies for the wait My Lady." The new arrival gave a small bow. "It took a while to round up all of our subordinates. I hope I didn't miss too much."

"Only all of it-"

Smack!

"Ow." Micelle rubbed the back of his head. "Stick in the mud."

"Don't make trouble." Ariont huffed before softening his expression. Placing a gentle hand on his brothers shoulder, the Knight shifted his look back towards Yeager. "Excuse him. He hasn't been housebroken yet."

"Did you finally make a joke?!" Micelle grinned. "I'm so proud of-"

SMACK!

"Glorious Hunting Days is a Recon Class ability. But you probably figured that out already." WesLer crossed his arms over his chest. "It belongs to Michael over here. To put it simply, it allows him to see into the past of recent events and play them back. Sort of like a Crystal Call."

"That sounds handy." Yeager tilted his head. "Those phantoms...they could speak and everything. It even had color."

"It's quite useful." Ariont nodded his head. "As long as there's a Trace belonging to the target, Micelle can follow the same path the subject in question takes."

Yeager didn't say anything, following along as best he could.

"There's a catch though." Annabelle chimed in, drawing the Air Knights attention. "Each Trace has a time limit on it. The weaker the Trace gets, the less information given. Additionally, if there's no Trace, there's no lead."

"Which is why you think these....people know about the Artifice?" Yeager connected the dots immediately. "Because there were no Traces or clues to be found anywhere?"

"Exactly," WesLer confirmed. "Moreover, the white mask. He stamped his foot on the ground. On this soil, a footprint is practically impossible. He made one intentionally. There was no real reason for doing so."

"What counts as a Trace?"

"Footprints. Fingerprints. Marks. Ripped clothing. Scents. So on and so forth."

"But even so, wouldn't they have to..."

"Yeah." WesLer walked over to Micelle and knelt down by the footprint. "They would have to know that we were coming. They would have to know that MICELLE was coming. They made preparations in advance and even purposefully left a trail for us to follow. Odds are, the information presented has also been carefully manipulated."

"You're implying that it's a trap," Annabelle concluded.

"I'm implying that chasing after them might be a risky move." WesLer rose onto his feet. "We're dealing with someone cunning and intelligent. Someone experienced, with full knowledge of Micelles ability and by extension, Arionts and possibly yours as well. Meanwhile, we know nothing of the cards they currently hold. In the battle of strength and knowledge-"

"Knowledge will always overcome strength." Annabelle waved off Weslers words, a frustrated look on her face. The last thing she wanted was to have the words of her old tutor shoved in her face. "So what, am I just supposed to turn tail and run?! My sister is out there!! I refuse to remain on the sidelines and twiddle my swords after finding out Alice is still alive!!"

WesLer let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I never said we should leave. Try not to rely solely on emotion princess."

"I think he means we should proceed with caution." Ariont glanced between the noble and the royal. "These individuals were able to lure us out to Oklaind and manipulated us into following their trail. Now that we're aware, we just have to watch our backs to the best of our abilities. We can't risk losing track of Princess Alice after all we went through searching for her, but we also shouldn't be rash."

Yeager didn't say a single thing during the entire exchange, merely watching from his position at the back of the group. As someone who had no stake in whether or not they should retreat, it wasn't in his best interest to voice a concern. In truth, it seemed more than a tad foolish to rush into a predicament where the enemy not only knew every card available but was also manipulating each and every turn. Micelle's ability, Annabelle's connection to Alice, leading the royal to the Castle, and even the groups desire to push forward despite it being a trap. The mastermind seemed to know each course of action before it even happened.

In simpler terms, they would be serving themselves to Bralter Wolves on a silver platter if they gave chase.

"Sir WesLer. We're here at your command." Richor made his presence known just as things were getting heated, leading the small army of RockLer Knights around the debris field. "I've also got some news."

"News?" The noble in question gave a confused look as he walked towards his subordinate.

"I was handed this by a woman." The bulky Knight held out a small sheet of paper. "She said to hand this over to you after you reached the tree."

"The tree?"

Without a sound, WesLer retrieved the scrap of parchment, fingers handling it as gently as possible, as if it would break at the tiniest hint of force. Golden hues skimmed the surface, taking in everything that was written over its thin surface. Little by little, WesLer's face morphed from one of confusion into one of surprise. It was almost as if he had seen a ghost with how baffled he looked.

Once finished, the youth quickly crumpled the piece of paper and, placed it into his pocket.

"Is everything-"

Before Yeager could properly ask, WesLer hopped onto the extra War Horse Richor had brought with him. "We're following that Trace!! All hands ready to move!! Golden Lion House. Sound off!!"

HOO-RAH!!

The war cry echoing from the squad of RockLer Knights reverberated through the area, cheers following directly after. Yeager could sense the increase in morale as WesLer lead the men in the general direction that the Traces had been traveling before their dispersal. Annabelle and company could only watch as they rode into the distance, slowly but steadily.

"I guess he changed his mind?" Micelle seemed slightly confused, but he merely shrugged. "Wonder what was on that note."

"Doesn't matter." Annabelle clambered onto her own horse, one which had been brought to her after Arionts initial arrival. "Ariont. Micelle. Fall in. We're riding after those Traces. If there's a trap, we'll force our way through and take Alice back by force."

"You think we can finish this in four hours or less?" Micelle seemed genuinely curious as he too threw himself onto his horse.

"Im not going to that mixer Micelle," Ariont said as he followed his brothers actions.

"Anyone ever tell you you're boring?" Micelle gave his twin a side eye stare as the small army of Litezo Knights began a slow and steady jog after WesLer and his entourage. "It doesn't cost anything to go out and have a social life."

"It also doesn't cost anything to be recluse and lonely."

"So you plan on being recluse and lonely?"

Ariont frowned. "No, I was just making a point."

"The point that you're gonna-"

"ENOUGH!!" Annabelle glanced back, an annoyed look In her eyes. "Another word and both of you will be cleaning the stables for the next three moons!!"

"See what you did?!" Ariont whispered. "Refrain from your childish antics!!"

"Sir, what did you read on that paper? If it's no trouble asking." Richor ushered his War Horse forward until it was positioned next to Weslers. "It seemed to have shaken you up. I don't think I've ever seen you act on emotion."

"I suppose not." WesLer smiled, one filled with nostalgia. "That side of me was buried years ago. Or at least, so I thought. We all have our moments I suppose."

"And this was yours?"

Silence. The only sound was that of hooves repeatedly grinding against the thick dirt. It was only after about five minutes or so that the young noble finally spoke up again.

"Tell me Richor. What do you know of the incident 2 years ago?"

"You mean the Litezo Assassination?"

"Yeah." WesLer gave a small nod.

Richor thought for a second. "A kid planned to assassinate the prince and princess of the Kingdom. He built a friendship and stabbed them in the back out of jealousy."

"That kids name was Itobake Granz." WesLer smiled once again. "He was probably the best strategist on this Continent. Maybe the world. He was a member of the Royal Class and even became a teacher in his second Year. A feat no Crestless could ever achieve."

"He was a Crestless?!" Richors voice faltered for a second, filled with disbelief. "Forgive me sir, but are you perhaps joking?"

"Not at all." WesLer laughed softly. "He had no magic. No Crest. Just effort and intelligence. He made it into the Royal Class with just that. Nothing else."

"What does that have to do with the note though?"

"Hes the one who wrote the note." The noble didn't even phrase it with a smidgen of doubt, belief in every fiber of his words. "There's only one man who can do the things we're up against. One man who can manipulate events as he likes. The one man I'll always have an unfaltering respect for. Itobake Granz."

"But didn't he perish in the Dungeon?"

"If Alice survived it, then so did he."

Richor eventually just let it go, finding it hard to swallow something so farfetched due to his own worldview. "So, what did the note say?"

"I will change this world. This I swear. I put together a group that can meet the ends to which I seek. This society will fall and a new one will rise."

"We are CrestFallen, the bringers of the Truth."