Treatise Of A Failed Knight-Chapter 280: Correspondence

’Oh, wow...’

I return to the Capital to find Klein hunched over a desk in one of the Royal Palace’s secure study rooms, surrounded by stacks of leather-bound journals and loose parchments.

His eyes are bloodshot, his hair disheveled, and there are dark circles under his eyes that suggest he hasn’t slept properly in days.

"Klein," I say, announcing my presence.

He jumps slightly, then relaxes when he sees it’s me.

"Javier! You’re back. How did the clue you were searching for go?"

"It failed," I admit immediately. "It led to a dead end. We’re going to have to rely on things from your end."

"Ah, I see..."

Klein’s face falls, but only for a moment. Then determination returns to his features.

"Well, thankfully, I haven’t been idle. Look at this." He gestures to the materials spread across the desk. "I presented your letter to the Royal Family, and they granted me access to everything they confiscated from Professor Alaric’s estate after his death. Journals, research notes, personal correspondence—everything."

I approach the desk, examining the documents. There are dozens of journals, some thick and heavily used, others thin notebooks filled with cramped handwriting.

Loose papers contain diagrams, symbols, and what appear to be mathematical formulas.

One particular thing that seems to be rather prevalent are ten circles that form rings within each other—from the largest to the smallest.

I believe I saw this once in the ritualistic circle underneath Uncle Damon’s residence.

Within that Alchemy laboratory.

The circles are all labelled with words, the smallest one at the epicenter having two letters, and the largest possessing eleven.

With each outer circle, new letters are added.

As for the words, they are strange.

I try my best to pronounce them, but they sound odd in my lips.

"Ig. Tur. Alik. Serid. Navuke. Xanzier. Gmaliopu. Qetzocatl. Yiaghdelir. Zemaludsivh."

Ten in total... all within the rings.

Their forms somewhat resemble the Layers of Existence if they were stripped down to two dimensional forms and simplified into a diagram.

’Ten... are there Ten Layers?’

In that case, are these the words used to describe them?

Ig... for Second.

Tur for Minute.

Alik for Hour.

Serid for Day.

Navuke for Week.

What next?

A Year... a Decade... a Century?!

All of this information overwhelms me for a moment, but these are solely speculative.

At least for now.

"This is excellent work, Klein. Have you found anything useful?"

His expression darkens.

"That’s the problem. I can’t read any of it."

"What?"

"It’s all encrypted," Klein explains, picking up one of the journals and showing me a page. "Look at this. The language—or rather, the cipher—is completely foreign to me. I’ve tried every decryption method I know, consulted with the Royal cryptographers, even brought in scholars who specialize in ancient languages. Nothing works."

I take the journal from him, studying the strange symbols and characters covering the pages.

They’re not random—there’s clearly structure and pattern to them. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

But Klein is right. Without the key, they might as well be meaningless scribbles.

"This is why the Royal Family still doesn’t have access to his research," Klein continues. "They’ve been sitting on these materials for years, unable to crack the code. They were hoping that someday they’d find someone who could, but..."

He trails off, shaking his head in frustration.

I flip through several more journals, finding the same encrypted text throughout. Alaric was thorough—every single document is encoded.

’Smart man,’ I think with a wry smile. ’He knew what he was researching was very volatile. He couldn’t allow his work to fall into any other hands.’

But now that precaution is working against us.

I set the journal down, mind racing through possibilities.

We need someone who can decrypt this.

Someone with expertise in codes, languages, and potentially the knowledge to understand Leviathan-related research.

Then it hits me.

—Regulus Heathcliff.

That young man—he helped me with the Founding Leviathan’s encrypted message.

Perhaps...

’Ah, but is that really wise?’ I ask myself with a scrunched expression.

No, is it even possible?

Regulus Heathcliff is a scholar from Dustinville, and right now he should already be in his Kingdom.

How can I reach him now?

The young man suspected me of being a Leviathan back then and he likely hasn’t changed his position.

It’s risky bringing such matters to him, to begin with.

Still...

’There’s no one else I know who possesses such academic brilliance while maintaining an obsessive interest in the paranormal.’

I still think back to my brief moments with him in the Randalorion University and they never fail to make me shiver—that young man is truly a genius.

’But how can I even reach him?’ I can’t help but wonder to myself.

Like I established, Regulus should have returned to his home kingdom in Dustinville by now.

He mentioned something about continuing his research there during our last conversation, plus he is also setting things up for my admission and arrival in the Kingdom.

But I don’t know his address.

I don’t even know if he’d be available or willing to assist.

And there’s another problem.

’If I send him these journals, I’ll be exposing Alaric’s research on Leviathans to him. That could confirm his suspicions about me. It could put me at risk.’

But what choice do I have?

We’ve hit a wall.

Every other lead has gone cold. Klein has exhausted conventional methods.

Plus... The Higher Divination failed.

This is our last option.

’I’ll have to take the risk,’ I decide. ’Seraphina’s life—and the lives of all the other missing people—are worth more than my secret.’

"I might know someone who can help," I tell Klein. "But there’s no guarantee. I’ll need some time to—"

A knock at the door interrupts me.

One of the palace servants enters, bowing respectfully.

"Lord Javier Aditi, a letter has arrived for you. The courier said it was urgent."

I take the envelope, noting the unfamiliar seal pressed into the wax. When I break it open and unfold the letter, I nearly laugh at the timing.

My goodness!

It’s from Regulus Heathcliff.

"Greetings Javier,

I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve been hearing troubling news from Randalorion—rumors of disappearances, paranormal incidents, and general unrest. Knowing your position and your involvement in... let us say, unusual matters, I felt compelled to reach out and ensure you are safe.

I’ve returned to my estate in Dustinville and have been continuing my research into the phenomena we discussed during our previous encounters. Should you need any assistance, scholarly or otherwise, please do not hesitate to contact me.

I’ve included my address below, along with details for express correspondence.

Stay vigilant, my friend. These are dangerous times.

Yours in curiosity,

Regulus Heathcliff."

Below his signature, he’s provided detailed directions to his estate and information about using express mail delivery services.

’This guy...’

The timing is almost too perfect.

Suspicious, even.

’Did he somehow know I would need him? Or is this simply coincidence?’ Either way, I can’t afford not to take this chance.

This is a golden opportunity!

"Klein, I need you to make copies of these journals and documents. Every single page. We’re sending them to an expert."

"Who?"

"Someone I met during our Academy Exchange in the Randalorion University. He is a scholar from Dustinville, and he was also the youngest participant in the exchange.

"A-ah... Regulus Heathcliff?"

"Yes! Him!" I smile with immense satisfaction and excitement. "He is a genius with expertise in cryptography and... related fields. If anyone can help us... It is him!"

"I see..."

I don’t expect Klein to understand, but I know just how special this young man is. I also know this could be our next path forward.

Thankfully, Klein doesn’t question further.

He simply nods and begins organizing the materials for copying.

Over the next several hours, we work with the palace scribes to create duplicates of every encrypted document.

It’s tedious work, but necessary.

I’m not about to send the originals through the mail, no matter how secure the delivery service claims to be.

Once the copies are complete, I draft a letter to Regulus.

"Dear Regulus,

Your timing is impeccable. I am indeed in need of your expertise.

I’ve come into possession of encrypted documents related to a matter of great importance. The cipher is beyond the capabilities of our local scholars. Given your background and interests, I believe you may be uniquely qualified to decrypt them.

I’m sending copies of these materials via express mail. I must warn you—the content may touch on subjects we’ve discussed before. Subjects of a... sensitive nature. I trust your discretion.

Time is of the essence. Lives are at stake.

Please respond as quickly as possible.

Javier."

I seal the letter along with the copied documents in a secure package and arrange for express mail delivery.

The service uses specially trained flying Magivores—swift creatures capable of covering vast distances in mere days rather than weeks.

If we are to calculate the distance from Dustinville to the Randalotrion Kingdom, even a month would be too insufficient.

A few months, perhaps.

Fortunately, with express delivery, my mail should arrive after a week.

Maybe two.

It’s expensive, but the Royal Family is footing the bill for this investigation, so I don’t need to concern myself.

As I watch the courier depart with the package, I can’t shake a sense of unease.

’I’m gambling everything on this,’ I think. ’If Regulus can’t decrypt the journals, or if he stumbles on dangerous information...’

I do not want the Royal Academy Incident to repeat itself.

But I push those thoughts aside.

Dwelling on worst-case scenarios won’t help anyone. I’m desperate, anyway.

"What do we do while we wait?" Klein asks.

"We continue investigating," I reply. "The journals are one avenue, but there might be others. We need to learn everything we can about Alaric himself. His connections, his habits, his relationships."

Over the following days, Klein and I interview everyone who knew the deceased professor.

We speak with his former colleagues at the Royal Academy. They describe Alaric as brilliant but strange—a man who kept to himself, rarely socialized, and seemed perpetually distracted by his mysterious research.

"He was obsessed," one professor tells us. "Always muttering to himself, scribbling in those journals of his. We tried to engage him in normal academic discourse, but he had no interest. Only his own work mattered."

We interview his parents—elderly now, still grieving their son’s death decades later.

"He was such a sweet boy," his mother says, tears in her eyes. "But after that incident at the Academy... after the fire... he changed. Became withdrawn. Paranoid, almost. He would lock himself in his study for days at a time."

"Did he mention any friends or associates outside the Academy?" I ask gently. "Anyone he might have corresponded with?"

This could link us to the Enlightened Witnesses of Truth.

Unfortunately—

She shakes her head. "No one. He was so alone. We worried about him, but he insisted his work was too important to interrupt."

Every interview paints the same picture: Alaric was antisocial, disturbed, completely consumed by his research.

If he had contact with the Enlightened Witnesses of Truth or any other external group, he hid it exceptionally well.

Days pass with no breakthrough.

Finally, I request an audience with King Claudius himself.

The King receives me in his private study, looking older than I remember. The weight of recent events has clearly taken its toll.

"Lord Javier," he greets me. "I hear you’ve been investigating Professor Alaric. May I ask why?"

"I believe there may be a connection between his research and the current disappearances. I’m trying to understand if he had a connection with the Cult at any point in his research. It’s the only clue we have right now."

"I understand..." Claudius nods slowly. "Alaric... even now he is yet to remain obsolete in my life. The Royal Academy Incident was one thing, but... even decades before then, that tragedy..."

"The fires?" I ask solemnly.

"Yes. My own sister was among the students who died in the building that night."

Uncle Damon had told me about his past with Alaric, as well as his first encounter with the Leviathan, Zarius.

Needless to say, I already knew all of this before now.

But I let him continue.

"Back then, we certainly felt something was odd with him, but the fact that the Leviathan didn’t kill him made us worried of what would happen if we took actions against him."

"My Uncle was also spared, yet that didn’t stop you from taking action against him. He even lost his scholarship." I smile wryly.

King Claudius sighs and shakes his head.

"That was out of my hands. The ignorant nobles made that choice to gain a scapegoat. After losing the Princess, our Royal Family was wounded and tried to avoid losses. We could not endure such political conflict over a single individual from a Mid Rank Knight Household."

"Plus, if the Leviathan did have plans for the spared boys, and the Nobles interfered with their actions, then they would suffer the brunt of the Leviathan’s wrath. Isn’t that another reason your family didn’t interfere?" I retort with a wider smile, causing the King to chuckle bitterly.

"Your insights are truly admirable. You are correct."

I shrug casually.

Rather than focusing on the King’s compliments, something else has drawn my attention.

"Tell me more about that burning building."

"The building where it happened, huh? Well, it was one of the oldest structures in the outskirts of the Academy grounds. Dating back centuries. It was popularized as haunted. After the incident, after we learned a Leviathan was involved, we sealed it off. Left it abandoned."

"You never investigated it further?" I ask.

"We were afraid to," the King admits. "Leviathans are beyond our understanding. We thought it best to leave well enough alone. To disturb that place might invite further catastrophe."

An idea begins to form in my mind.

"Your Majesty, I would like permission to examine that building."

Claudius looks at me sharply.

"Why? What do you hope to find there after all these years?"

"I’m not sure," I answer honestly. "But if Zarius—the Leviathan involved—was there for a reason, then perhaps that location itself is significant. Perhaps there’s something there that drew him."

It might have something to do with the errand he was running for that Leaper.

At the very least, it is worth looking into.

"Hmmm..." The King considers this for a long moment.

I know he will accept any of my requests.

All of this is simply formality.

"Very well," he finally says. "You have my goodwill and encouragement. You were the one who slew Zarius, so there is none more fitting than you to investigate the place where it all began."

I smile and nod at him.

"Exactly."

******

"So this is the place..."

The abandoned building stands at the edge of the Academy City, surrounded by overgrown vegetation and warning signs.

It’s a three-story structure, its stone walls blackened by fire and time. Windows are boarded up, and the door is secured with multiple locks and chains.

’The place where it all began.’