Realm Lord
Chapter 81: Restoration

Chapter 81: Restoration

With the immediate threat of their injuries addressed, Arthur and Aziel finally had a chance to take in their surroundings properly. They were standing in what appeared to be a bedroom—and a rather spacious one at that. Four neatly made beds were arranged against the walls, each with a small trunk at its foot. A door stood perpetually ajar at the far end of the room, revealing glimpses of white tile and metal fixtures that suggested a bathroom beyond. Arthur noticed with tactical appreciation that the door was wedged open with what looked like a piece of broken stone pillar—clearly an attempt to prevent it from closing and potentially shifting them to another part of the castle.

Soft light emanated from multiple candles and lanterns around the room. The air here felt different too—cleaner, with none of the musty decay that permeated the rest of the castle.

Arthur rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms above his head, marveling at the absence of pain. His muscles still carried the memory of fatigue, but the sharp agonies that had been his constant companions were blessedly absent. Beside him, Aziel was performing his own series of experimental stretches, bending his previously mangled foot at the ankle with an expression of amazed disbelief.

Across from them, Lara and her team had visibly relaxed their guard. Their weapons were no longer drawn—Jonas’s massive shield which seemed to be a soul weapon has disappeared, As well as the two long daggers Lara carried, Kay’s warhammer leaned against the wall and Jake’s energy bow had dissipated entirely. The four explorers maintained a professional distance, but the immediate tension of potential combat had dissolved.

Lara stood with her arms crossed, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she observed their obvious relief.

"I’m sure you guys are beat and starved," she said, her voice carrying a note of genuine sympathy now, "but I have a few more questions."

Arthur paused mid-stretch, lowering his arms to meet her gaze directly. "What is it?" The wariness in his voice wasn’t entirely gone—trust came slowly to him, especially in this realm where death lurked around every corner.

Lara’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied them both, her gaze methodically scanning from their disheveled hair to their battered clothes. "Where are all your supplies? No food? No water? No backpack?" Her tone suggested she found this almost more puzzling than their presence in the castle itself. "Do you guys have weapons? And lastly..." Her eyes lingered on the ragged tears in Arthur’s sleeve, the frayed edges of Aziel’s pants, "your clothes seem to be hanging on by threads."

Arthur stared at her with genuine confusion. Had they missed some crucial orientation? Some basic preparation that every chosen was supposed to undergo?

"You should know the academy does not outfit anybody with supplies," he replied slowly, "so why would we have any?"

Lara maintained her intent stare, her expression suggesting she was trying to solve a particularly vexing puzzle. "Well, yes... however, you both must be rather skilled in some capacity to have survived this long." Her eyes narrowed further. "Were neither of you offered any sponsors?"

Arthur’s confusion gave way to understanding, followed quickly by a burst of bitter laughter.

Sponsorship was a well-known practice among the chosen. Those who showed exceptional promise during their training at the academy would often attract the attention of established guilds. These organizations would provide newly chosen with supplies, equipment, and enchanted weapons for their first expedition into the realms—in exchange for a commitment to join the guild upon their return. It was a system that benefited both parties: the guilds secured talented recruits, while the chosen received resources that dramatically improved their survival odds.

"No," Arthur admitted, his laughter tapering off into a rueful smile. "I was not sponsored... I didn’t exactly exude ’potential’ in my days at the academy."

The admission carried no self-pity, just a matter-of-fact acknowledgment of his standing among his peers. He’d been below average at best, he’d made peace with that reality long ago.

Then, a realization struck him, and he whipped his head toward Aziel with sudden intensity. "Hey, I get why I’m not sponsored, but you were one of the best in class and the son of a pathfinder, so where the hell are all your supplies?"

Aziel, caught off guard by the direct question, looked like a deer in headlights for a brief moment before his expression settled into his usual carefree demeanor. He shrugged with infuriating nonchalance. "Yeah, a bunch of guilds offered to sponsor me, but I wanted a challenge, so I said no."

Arthur was rendered momentarily speechless, his jaw slack with disbelief. After a beat, he brought his palm to his face in exasperation. ’Wanted a challenge, he says... I can’t with this guy.’

Lara’s laugh cut through the tension—a genuine sound of amusement rather than the professional chuckle she’d offered earlier. "You really are stupid..." she said, shaking her head at Aziel’s cavalier attitude toward his own survival.

Her gaze shifted back to Arthur, and her expression sobered. "But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t bring anything yourself," she pressed. "Your parents didn’t buy you supplies? Even food or extra clothes?"

The question hit Arthur like a physical blow. His expression flattened, and he cast his eyes downward, suddenly finding the intricate patterns in the stone floor intensely interesting. "My parents are gone," he said quietly, the words falling heavily in the silent room. "And I didn’t have the money for any really useful supplies."

A weighted silence descended upon the group. The four explorers exchanged glances, something unspoken passing between them at this revelation.

’I also was kind of resigned to my fate, fully expecting to die,’ Arthur thought, though he kept this darker reflection to himself. ’But she doesn’t need to hear that part...’

His mind drifted to his fallen friend, the wound still fresh despite everything else they’d endured since. ’Thinking about it that way, why didn’t Luke have any supplies? He had a family, didn’t he? Maybe like me, he found it pointless. He was also pretty positive he wouldn’t survive...’

Arthur forcibly cut off that line of thinking, unwilling to spiral down that grim road of memory. When he looked up, he found Lara watching him with an expression that had softened considerably, her professional distance giving way to something more human—a recognition of shared hardship, perhaps.

"I’m sorry," she said simply, the words carrying a weight of genuine empathy.

Arthur shook his head, deliberately lightening his expression and pushing away the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud his mind. There would be time for grief later—if they survived long enough to afford such luxury.

Before the conversation could drift further into melancholy, Jonas stepped forward. The big man’s heavy footfalls broke the silence, and his soft smile was incongruously gentle on his weathered face.

"Enough with the questions, Lara," he rumbled, his deep voice carrying easily through the chamber. "These boys look like they’re gonna keel over from hunger any minute now..." His knowing eyes flicked between Arthur and Aziel’s gaunt features. "And I doubt they’ve eaten much more than monster meat recently, so how about we feed them before we continue your interrogation?"

Lara rolled her eyes, arms still crossed in mild protest, but she didn’t contradict her companion.

Arthur and Aziel, however, had ceased paying attention to the team’s dynamics. Their focus had narrowed to a single word that Jonas had casually dropped into the conversation—a word that now commanded their complete attention.

"Did you say food?" they asked in perfect unison, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Involuntarily, their mouths began to water, and Arthur felt a hollow ache in his stomach that seemed to awaken at the mere mention of proper sustenance.

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