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"In fact, we just told Sir Lucion about the Blackfire Treasure," Sir Grantham added.
"Sorry, Sir, I'm so sorry," Dorian, the adopted son, suddenly looked very embarrassed.
"You've just lost the person closest to you," Ian said, his voice softening with understanding. "I truly sympathize with you, and any gaffes or doubts you've shown are forgiven."
"Thank you for your understanding, Sir," Dorian replied, still looking ashamed.
"However, if you truly want to avenge your adoptive father, you need to sit down now and cooperate with me to uncover the truth of what happened."
"The truth," Dorian repeated, his thoughts racing. "You mentioned before that this room belongs to a knight of the Grafson family. He's the murderer, isn't he?"
"The Grafson family from Seagull Town in the Vale. Can you think of any connection between your adoptive father and them?" Ian asked.
Dorian paused for a moment, thinking, before shaking his head. "No."
"Then this clue doesn't bring us any conclusions for now. The murderer may have been a sworn knight who once served the Grafson family but later broke his oath and became a mercenary, taking the family's equipment with him. It's also possible that a mercenary bought or captured a set of heraldic armor, which isn't unusual. Most knights wouldn't use swords from other families, but armor is different—though expensive, it doesn't necessarily mean anything."
"I was rash to ask. I'll tell you everything you need to know," Dorian said, looking ashamed.
Ian nodded with satisfaction. "Now, let's get to the important questions: Why did Black Falcon come to this inn yesterday?"
"He didn't say. My adoptive father was always strong in his decisions. When he gave orders, we rarely asked why," Dorian explained.
"So, you don't know who he came here to meet?"
"No idea," Dorian replied.
"He stayed in a room by himself last night. Is that unusual for him?"
"No, it's not like him. Although my adoptive father was firm in his decisions, he had no airs in life. He usually ate and lived with everyone. I was confused when he asked for a single room yesterday," Dorian said, lost in thought.
"You didn't ask him about it?"
"I wouldn't dare, sir," Dorian replied.
"Did he come to the large room where you were sleeping to wake anyone up before he went to meet the murderer last night at midnight?"
"No, Pierre sleeps very lightly." Dorian pointed to a young man standing behind him, around fifteen years old, about the same age as him. "If my adoptive father had come, Pierre would definitely have woken up."
"In other words, even though Black Falcon brought all of you to the inn, he still chose to go alone to meet the murderer? But he clearly didn't trust the murderer. He put on his armor before setting off," Ian pressed.
"That's his favorite and best set of armor," Dorian agreed, nodding.
"So, their meeting was either a secret, or they were going to discuss something secret—a secret that Black Falcon didn't want anyone in the mercenary group to know. But maybe he planned to tell you, since you're his adopted son, right?"
"He treated me like his own, but he didn't tell me any secrets!" Dorian insisted.
"Think carefully," Ian urged.
Dorian took a large gulp of Summer Red, then leaned back, his mind racing. After a long pause, his expression shifted to one of clear anxiety. This anxiety lingered for a while. He suddenly clenched his fists, slamming them onto the table as he stood up. He shook his head vigorously, his mind unable to make sense of it all.
"I don't know, I can't remember anything. Maybe my adoptive father did say something, but I didn't take it to heart," Dorian said, his voice trembling. He started crying, his grief spilling over. "I deserve to die. I can't remember! Ah!" He let out a loud, raw roar, as if trying to release the frustration and helplessness building inside him.
"Crying can help release bad emotions, but blindly blaming yourself won't solve anything," Ian said, trying to suppress his own frustration. "Your adoptive father has died at the hands of the enemy. You are no longer the young eagle sheltered under his wings. You need to become a new Black Falcon yourself." Ian's voice softened, though there was a firmness beneath it. He was trying to be a good mentor, despite the tension.
"The new Black Falcon?" Dorian looked up, his face streaked with tears. "But my adoptive father's mercenary group has been taken over. I have many friends in the group, but most of them were loyal to my adoptive father. If we're being honest, my influence in the group is barely third at most. I can't compete with 'Lame' or Sir Harrison."
"But you can avenge your adoptive father. That's the first step," Ian said. "You don't need to be a knight to do that, just someone who's willing to fight for justice."
"But I can't even remember the secrets my adoptive father told me!" Dorian's frustration returned.
"I'll help you with that," Ian said. "All you need to do is tell me everything you know, and I'll figure out the rest."
"I know? Are you talking about the Blackfire Treasure? Is that your goal? Is it still the Blackfire Treasure?" Dorian asked, his tone skeptical.
Ian's mind raced. Why was this kid so sharp? It wasn't easy to fool him. "Would you believe me if I said no?" Ian asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dorian shook his head, clearly unconvinced.
"Then, if I wanted the Blackfire Treasure, would you still ask me to help avenge your adoptive father?" Ian pressed, trying to gauge Dorian's reaction.
Dorian hesitated for a moment, then nodded reluctantly.
"Then why are you so caught up in something that's irrelevant?" Ian continued. "Black Falcon's murder is most likely tied to the secret of the Blackfire Treasure. Since he's already dead, and he never sought the treasure for himself, what harm is there in letting me pursue it? You don't want the people who killed your adoptive father to succeed, do you?"
"You're really frank," Dorian muttered, still uneasy. "Sorry, Sir, I've been too narrow-minded. As long as you can help me get revenge, I'll tell you everything I know. I don't even know where to start. What do you already know?"
"Basically nothing," Ian shrugged. "So you'll have to tell me everything."
Dorian thought for a moment before speaking again. "I guess I should start from the beginning, and you can ask questions when you think something's important."
"That works," Ian nodded, fully engaged now.
"Well," Dorian began, "the first people to fight against the ghost bandits in White Wall City were actually us."
Ian raised an eyebrow, glancing at Grantham. He remembered Grantham had said the first person to discover the bandit group was Sir Wilder Grey, the leader of the local landed knights. But Grantham just shook his head slightly, indicating that Dorian was on a different track. He didn't know what Dorian was referring to.
"We didn't know about the bandits back then," Dorian continued, oblivious to Ian's silent exchange with Grantham. "That was four months ago, when a traveling caravan arrived at Sir Harrison's castle." He paused to explain, "That's the headquarters of our mercenary group, about 15 leagues northeast of White Wall City ruins, close to the King's Road."
Ian nodded to himself. So, Sir Harrison would be referred to as 'Sir Landlord' now. He mentally adjusted, taking in the details.