The Uninvited Guest

"Also how big is the training ground, Kaelan mentioned?" Leonardo says, his eyes wide as he took in the sheer size of the mansion.

"It's pretty big, it's further up the stairs, past the large door on the second floor," Elara interjected, her voice light but firm. She demonstrated with her hand, mimicking a small figure walking up an imaginary staircase before turning a corner.

"And the maids are probably at the training grounds too," Anna added, nodding in agreement.

"See? Real simple," Elara continued, her fingers still moving in the air as if tracing invisible paths. She sighed, letting her hand drop. "I wanted to nap, but we are gonna talk. But it's good too, I guess."

"Baths first," Anna reminded, her attention not straying toward Leonardo even once, as if he were an afterthought.

"Oh, right." Elara nodded, catching the hint and pulling at her own rumpled attire.

Leonardo stared at the parlor, standing in front of the entrance gate. Heavy, motorized curtains hung at the tall windows beside the entrance, their deep charcoal fabric engineered to perfectly block out daylight, operated seamlessly with a remote control or automated to adjust with the time of day.

Multiple large, low-profile sofas lined the spacious living room. Each sofa was flanked by minimalist side tables crafted from tempered glass and brushed steel, adding a sleek, futuristic touch.

A grand sliding glass door with frosted panels marked the lounge at the left side of the parlor, a few steps from the sofas, while a marble-clad column supported the upper floor seamlessly. Frosted glass orb chandeliers cast soft light on polished art vases and modern couches.

Every detail—marble textures, hidden lighting, blending tradition with futurism—exuded curated luxury.

"This place is enormous. It genuinely is huge… it's like Richard's house but four times over. It's like a palace," Leonardo muttered, flabbergasted, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. He spun around, marveling at the sheer scale of the room.

"If you think this is big, wait until you see the Marquis' estate," Elara said, her eyes gleaming as she gestured with her hands, stretching them as wide as she could. "I've only been there once, but it's… well, this huge."

Anna rolled her eyes and turned to Leonardo. "Go to the lounge. There's a few couches, nard. We'll be back soon." She waved dismissively, heading toward the stairs with Elara close behind.

"Bye!" Elara called, following Anna with a playful skip in her step.

Leonardo watched them ascend the stairs at the far end of the room, disappearing into a door next to the large one one the second floor. He walked over to a lounge area on the side of the room.

He chose the couch furthest back, near the door that led back outside, two chairs flanking it on the west and east sides.

The lounge was tastefully furnished but devoid of any particular grandeur beyond what he'd already seen.

Leonardo settled into the couch, its fabric creasing slightly under his weight, and glanced around idly. 

He stared at the walls. Each one was lined with paintings—snapshots of moments frozen in time.

In one, Henri held a cat-shaped mask, mid-chase after what looked like Elara, both of them spiraling down a narrow, winding staircase which also had paintings swirling around. 

Another showed Anna with her mother, the two seated stiffly on an oversized couch. 

Anna sat motionless. Her mother, strangely burned out—her face gone, her form little more than a scorched outline in familiar clothes—held a blade loosely in one hand. 

There were countless other paintings, some more abstract or ordinary, their meanings lost or unimportant. 

Then his eyes settled on one more—Elara holding a flower crown, her expression unreadable, while Anna stood beside her, laughing freely.

He adjusted his position, sinking deeper into the couch as his suit creased further against the fabric.

Leonardo's thoughts shifted abruptly. "Why didn't they pick Altan Karzaar, or whatever his name was again? He was strong. Really strong."

He leaned back, his head resting against the back of the couch as he pulled out his empty sheath, still attached securely at his side. 

"It's empty," he repeated, almost mockingly. His voice carried a note of disbelief as he echoed the words Altan had said. 

"Why even carry this thing then?" he mused, recalling the moment Astraea intervened with that blinding light. 

He laid his head back and slipped the sheath back in place. 

"I know how Rasvian energy works—that much is simple—but how it implements into skills…" He let out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm supposed to be the smart one. If Ronald were here, he'd be just as lost as I am right now." His voice trailed off into a resigned silence as he stared blankly at the high ceiling.

Restless, he started fidgeting, lifting his legs slightly before letting them drop again. He repeated the motion, his mind swirling with questions and uncertainties. "How well does my skill even work? Don't answer that, text," he said with a wry smile, glancing upward to the ceiling meeting the ornate foundation above. He stood abruptly, hopping off the couch in a swift, almost impulsive movement. He walked toward the other end of the lounge, away from the glass door, eyes scanning for anything sharp or useful. He lingered in the center of the lounge, his frustration and sadness blending into a seething anger.

That smug smile on his face—and Milah called him my biggest fan?

Just as Leonardo was about to sit down again, a large hologram burst to life at his feet, sending him stumbling backward into the east chair.

The sudden projection startled him. Its form flickered before settling into the shape of the same woman he'd seen before.

"Welcome to today's channel—brought to you by me, Riks Marcille!" the hologram announced with a cheerful lilt. Her image shimmered slightly, crisp but faintly translucent.

"Today, we're continuing our discussion on Rolls-Worth as a company—consider this a follow-up to yesterday's episode."

Leonardo stayed seated, trying to steady his breath. "It spawned right from my feet..." he muttered, more to himself than to anyone. "Rasvian energy isn't the only thing I don't understand." He got up, circling the hologram and inspecting it from every angle. 

"It looks the same from every side," he noted aloud, half-expecting a change. "I would've thought it used Agnite or some other material, but now... I really don't know."

The hologram continued its broadcast, unaffected by his musing. "The latest device, or better, invention, from Rolls-Worth, Enigmasphere, is truly groundbreaking," the woman continued, a touch of pride in her voice. 

"It deserves a spot in the highest peaks of the Grand Bibliotheca—though maybe not all the details of its creation," she added with a light laugh.

"Nothing was funny there," Leonardo grumbled, settling back into the couch with a skeptical look.

He watched as the woman shifted slightly, making room as if for another presence.

Then, another figure emerged: a man in an exquisitely tailored suit, a dark, richly embroidered coat with gold accents hugged his broad shoulders. Perfectly cut trousers and a high-collared shirt with intricate lace trimmings peeked out from underneath.

"You all may know me as the Assistant Manager of Rolls-Worth," the man declared, his voice carrying the suave confidence only someone of his stature could muster without faltering.

Leonardo's eyes sharpened. "Today's discussion revolves around the growing influence of Rasvian-powered technology, with a focus on Rolls-Worth's latest line."

Leonardo leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the man. "So this is the Assistant Manager text... you told me to go there for draws, right?"

[Yes]

As if answering his unspoken question, the hologram woman turned to Valtieri with a knowing smile. "Valtieri, what can you tell us about the recent advances in Rasvian-based tech?"

Valtieri adjusted his glasses with a practiced motion, a sly smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

"It's all about creating something that not only serves a purpose but also challenges our understanding of Rasvian energy's potential. Enigmasphere's device is the first of its kind—a true masterpiece of our Realm. As we all know, Rasvian energy is the fundamental. It is the smallest yet most intricately strongest force, smaller than atoms even, which makes it embody everything."

Leonardo's gaze narrowed further. "A device? What kind of device?"

"To put it simply, we aim higher. A basic multi-dimensional tool isn't enough for a company of Rolls-Worth's caliber. We don't settle—we push forward. In the last cycle, we saw a surplus of Artisans, and with that comes possibility. Possibility that could reshape what we know of Barren Wounds—those dead zones where life refuses to take root. We don't just create artifacts. We're working toward something greater: tools that don't just function, but heal. Counters to the wounds themselves." He glanced out, as if seeing the audience, and continued.

"I can see most of you are shaking, glancing at your holograms, perhaps in disbelief. Well, even that, too, will change," he said, each word dragging out as though the conversation bored him. His tone was dismissive, almost languid. He stabilized his glasses with a quick, irritated motion.

A murmur rolled through the crowd—unseen by Leonardo, but implied by the shifting tension. Then, a woman stepped forward, her voice sharp and laced with doubt. 

"Ahem. Closing the Barren Wounds? That's a bold claim. How certain are you of such a drastic advancement? And—why now? As far as records show, there haven't been any confirmed encounters with Barren Wounds anywhere in Ghent."

Valtieri paused, letting the silence linger a moment too long. His gaze swept over the unseen audience as if sizing them up. 

"Teleportation is a reality, that's one step. No longer will we be stopped by the archaic ideas surrounding the use of Rasvian energy. Skills will be done with for a better standard of living. This is no pipe dream—it's within our grasp." He stepped forward, his coily hair bouncing slightly. His brown eyes locked onto the crowd with an unshakable intensity. 

"But let me tell you something: Rolls-Worth is genuine in its intentions. We are the vanguard of a new age. And remember, election days are approaching. You should know who to vote for—"

His words cut off abruptly as the hologram began to flicker. His image warped and faded until it vanished entirely.

The woman's voice filled the sudden quiet, breaking the awkward pause. 

"Ah, seems like a technical issue, folks. Let's move on to the next agenda. Up next, the 21st Districts. As many of you know, the Below Sky District is set to hold its election in a month and a half—just one of several scheduled across the year. This year is packed to the brim with activities and opportunities for you to engage and make your voices heard. So stay tuned, have fun, and we'll see you tomorrow! Holo-Tel out."

The woman's voice faded, and the hologram blinked off, leaving only the quiet hum of anticipation in the room.

Leonardo, seated near the back, leaned forward with a thoughtful expression. 

"Wounds," he trailed off, lost in his thoughts, the puzzle pieces of information refusing to fit together.

His brow furrowed as he tried to piece it all out, when suddenly, Anna strode confidently into the lounge.

"Leonardo, you good?" Anna called out.

Leonardo glanced up, snapping out of his reverie. "I guess so," he replied, but his tone was distracted. 

His mind was still half-occupied with the implications of what he'd just heard. 

Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, Elara appeared beside Anna, her blonde hair swaying gently as she joined the conversation.

"I know I am," Elara added with a bright smile, her enthusiasm palpable. 

She radiated a kind of infectious energy that lightened the room, even if only for a moment.

Leonardo eyed the two of them, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

He let out a faint chuckle before muttering under his breath, "Are you two really sisters?" It was half a joke, but there was a genuine curiosity there, sparked by the contrasting yet complementary ways they carried themselves.