The Useless Prince Is A Gangster
Chapter 126. Sir Serion

Chapter 126: 126. Sir Serion

In the interrogation room of the elf kingdom.

Seated on a plain wooden chair, Queen Aeryn Vaelaris sat regally while looking into Caerith, the tall slender elf across from her, with intense eyes that sparkled like precious gems.He was eating a simple meal of bread and stew when his pale hands trembled and his bony frame shook.

She saw the red, raw mark of a slave collar around his neck. Aeryn’s eyes lingered on it, her jaw tensing, a hint of rage visible beneath her composed exterior. Four elven guards stood like statues behind her.

Nine elves has returned who’s in the missing cases, and Caerith was once a proud councilor.

Aeryn’s heart raced, but her voice was steady, cutting through the quiet like a knife. "Caerith," she said, tone firm but urgent, "tell me what happened. How did you go missing?"

With sunken eyes that seemed to be staring at nothing, Caerith gazed at the table. He spoke in a tremulous whisper. "About four months ago... I was on my way to the archives. The streets were deserted, and it was late. He halted, battling the mental fog with twitching fingers and a furrowed brow.

"I noticed... someone." Someone on the other side of the street. Me and him alone. Something didn’t feel right. He weighed heavily on me, like a shadow pressing down on my spirit. I simply continued to walk without giving it much thought. Then. His hands trembled violently as his voice broke. "Nothing. It’s all black after that."

Aeryn leaned forward, violet eyes narrowing, voice sharp but controlled. "His face, do you remember it? Anything at all?"

He shook his head. "No... it’s gone. Like it was erased."

Aeryn cursed softly, frustration flashing in her eyes, but she pressed on, voice urgent yet calm. "Where were they keeping you? Were you enslaved for humans?"

Caerith’s face went ghostly pale as his body tensed. His breath caught as he was reminded of the prison: the cramped quarters, the blood stench, and the never-ending screams that plagued his dreams. His body trembled as if something invisible had frightened him, and sweat trickled down his brow. Lost in the nightmare, his eyes darted.

Aeryn’s brow furrowed, worry tightening her face. "Caerith!" she snapped, voice a command.

One guard rushed forward, gripping Caerith’s shoulders, shaking him gently. "Speak! What happened?"

Caerith gasped, voice a trembling whisper, barely heard, as if speaking would bring back the horrors. "It was... hell. No, worse than hell. A prison... endless darkness, screams that never stopped. They had everyone—humans, elves, dwarves. Every day, they took our blood, vial after vial, until we could barely stand. They dragged people away... to some place. They never came back. Only their screams echoed."

His grip on the table’s edge was tight, body shaking, his words painting a nightmare that tested Aeryn’s calm. "Our people... so many didn’t return. Their cries... I still hear them."

Aeryn’s heart twisted, violet eyes burning with anger and sadness, but she kept her voice steady, though it held quiet urgency. "How did you escape, Caerith? Who freed you?"

Caerith’s eyes widened, his voice steadied, awe mixing with his fear, like he was describing gods who entered the darkness. "A girl... she was a storm, a devil in mortal form. She killed every guard. Her presence... it was terrifying, like death itself walked with her."

He paused, trembling easing, respect overtaking fear. "And a man... even more fearsome. He fought for us, broke our chains, faced monsters no one could. They called him... the Ruler."

The air smelled of blood and rust in an unidentified location that appeared to be a prison, and the cold was as sharp as a living thing. The sharpest mind in the kingdom, royal investigator Serion Helcrast, was tethered to a groaning wooden chair.

Blood pooled on the floor as red streaks of blood ran over his ripped flesh from his battered body. He breathed in short gasps.

A hooded figure with a plain black mask covering his face stood across from him.

"I really did underestimate you, Sir Serion. It makes sense why they refer to you as the best in the kingdom. You almost got me."

He crouched, his masked face close to Serion’s, a glint in his eyes barely seen through narrow slits. "How did it feel, being betrayed?"

Serion lifted his head, blood trickling from a split lip, a smirk forming despite the pain. His voice was rough. "Gods, I should’ve known it was you from the start, Black Sheep. I was too slow."

The figure stood tall, tone cutting like a knife. "So, you finally pieced it together. Took you two weeks to sniff me out in the academy."

Serion’s chuckle was raw, taunting, his gray eyes shining with a hunter’s cunning. "You think I only found out you’re the Black Sheep? One of the cult’s pillars?" The figure froze, a flicker of shock breaking his calm, and Serion’s laugh grew, a low, mocking growl echoing off the walls.

Then his laughter stopped, face hardening, eyes like steel. "Tell me, Black Sheep, what’s your game at the academy?"

The figure tilted his head. "A last request, investigator?"

Serion’s smirk returned, fearless. "Maybe."

The figure sighed, crouching again, his masked eyes locking onto Serion’s with chilling focus. "We’re biding our time, waiting to reclaim what’s ours."

Serion’s gaze tightened, voice steady despite the blood loss. "And what’s that?"

"Two subjects," the figure said. "One for divine magic, one for vessel. We guard them, and soon, we’ll take them." Without warning, his hand flashed, a blade shining in the dim light. It cut across Serion’s throat in one brutal swipe, blood spraying in a red arc. Serion twitched, a gurgling gasp escaping as his body slumped, life draining onto the cold stone.

The figure stood, voice a dark murmur. "The time is coming."

Morning light filtered through heavy curtains as Leo lay across his bed in Caulem Manor the following day. Rest was a rare treat after the Pillar of Treachery’s hell, and he savored it while half-closing his red eyes. Nimbus purred softly as he lay on his stomach.

The silver chain around Leo’s neck was cool against his skin as his fingers languidly touched the ring. He kept thinking about Elynn’s remarks about Erin—her connection to him, and the prophecy. He wanted to dismiss it, to ignore the tug in his chest, but a silent pain concurred, a riddle he was unable to unravel. "Erin," he thought, "who are you?"

A sharp knock broke his thoughts. "Come in," he called, voice rough from sleep, nudging Nimbus off gently. The cat stretched lazily, sliding to the floor.

Liana, the head maid, stepped in, her warm smile tinged with respect. "Young Master Leo, the Duke requests your presence."

Leo sighed, ruffling his messy red hair as he stood. "Yeah, I’m coming," he muttered, tone gruff but kind for Liana. He walked through the manor’s shiny halls.

Pushing open the heavy oak door to the Duke’s office, he found Alric alone at his desk.

"Father," Leo said, stepping inside, voice casual. "What’s up?"

Alric pointed to a chair, tone calm but strained. "Sit, Leonhardt."

Leo crossed the room, sitting down, red eyes narrowing as he caught the shift in Alric’s mood. "They find Lysa’s family?" he asked, getting to the point.

Alric nodded, a faint smile breaking his stern face. "Yes. The Threx family has been located. We’ve sent an official invitation for them to visit the manor."

Leo’s shoulders relaxed, a spark of relief in his gaze. "Good."

But Alric’s face darkened, voice dropping, heavy with a seriousness that sharpened Leo’s senses. "There’s another matter," he said, leaning forward, gray eyes locking onto Leo’s with strong focus. "Sir Serion Helcrast has been confirmed dead."