The next morning, silence lingered at the Wolfwood residence. The companions still slept soundly, but Andras withdrew alone into one of the rooms. He locked the door carefully, then drew forth his prize: the mysterious book he had stolen from the Royal High Mage's chamber during the chaos of the previous night.
"At last, the secret magical tome is in my hands," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "What ancient spells might it contain?"
He stroked the cover cautiously, then examined the lock. The book was protected by magical runes—a code no mage had broken in centuries. Yet suddenly, Andras recognized the pattern.
"Hmm… this is a rune code. I know this sequence! It's the same lock Eli used on her candy box. On the Sky Island I cracked that code, stealing a chocolate from her box every day."
The realization struck him like lightning.
"As I suspected… this book belonged to Eli!"
With swift motions he broke the lock and eagerly flipped through the pages. But what he found was nothing like what he had expected.
"This isn't a spellbook…" he whispered in shock. "It's Eli's diary, from when she was part of the Hero's Party!"
Andras's face darkened, then he laughed bitterly.
"This can't be! Where are the ancient spells?! I worked so hard for nothing!!!"
Then suddenly he smiled, his eyes flashing playfully.
"Or rather… the Princess's reaction alone made it worth it. Hahaha!"
Within the pages lay not ancient sorcery, but personal stories, secrets, and memories—testimonies of a lost era. Andras realized that though he had not found what he sought, he held in his hands a treasure perhaps greater than any spell: the truth of the past.
In Master Florian's chamber, the three Wolf Mages gathered once more. Pastries scented the table, and the air still carried the mood of the previous night. Florian leaned forward impatiently, his eyes gleaming with hunger.
"Well? Did you examine the seal of the magical book? Can you break it?" he asked, his voice vibrating with hope and excitement.
Andras answered calmly, placing the book upon the table.
"I already broke it. It was a rune lock—an ancient dwarven code."
Noelle smiled approvingly.
"As expected of the Young Wolf!"
Florian trembled as he leaned closer.
"And what ancient spells have we gained possession of?"
Andras sighed, then replied with a bitter smile.
"We've been tricked. It's not a spellbook at all—it's the diary of Elisabeth, the Hero Mage from a thousand years ago."
Florian's eyes widened.
"You're joking with me?! Show me that book!"
Noelle leaned in curiously.
"What did Elisabeth write in her diary?"
Andras flipped through the pages, then answered gravely.
"Elisabeth was in love with the Hero of that era. The diary is filled with love letters and poems. Nearly every page laments that the Hero had a secret affair with the Princess of the time. He constantly rejected Elisabeth, preferring to dally with the Princess instead."
Noelle clapped her hands together in outrage.
"Poor Elisabeth. That Hero must have been a real bastard! What was his name?"
"Robin Greenwood," Andras replied. "He was also the founder of House Greenwood. How ironic that of the four great noble houses, it was Greenwood's bloodline that died out. Floralys bore no child from the last living Greenwood noble."
Noelle nodded thoughtfully.
"And for more than a century now, the wood elf lady has ruled House Greenwood. Perhaps that was the punishment for that foolish Hero."
Florian slammed the table angrily.
"Who cares about the Greenwoods! What about the ancient magic?! Curse it! I finally obtained this magical book… and our entire plan was for nothing."
Andras shrugged, his eyes flashing playfully.
"Well, at least we had fun."
Florian suddenly burst into laughter.
"Indeed! I wonder what face Albert made when he realized the book was gone? Hahaha!"
The laughter of the three mages filled the chamber, as though despite their failure they had still won a victory: not ancient spells, but the secrets of a lost age—treasures that might hold greater power than any magic.
Several days had passed since the scandalous events of the ball, yet all the efforts of the Royal Knights proved fruitless. The Magical Masked Thief, Liverpool, left no trace in the capital. The King placed a bounty upon his head: 500 gold, dead or alive. From that moment, Liverpool became the most wanted criminal in the Kingdom, his name whispered with both fear and curiosity in marketplaces and taverns alike.
In the southeastern slums, a few Royal Knights were combing through the narrow alleys. The air reeked of stench and smoke, while stray dogs and starving children huddled among the crumbling walls of the houses. Eventually, they reached the slums' lone tavern, its rusty signboard bearing the name: Ironclaw Inn.
"I didn't even know there was a tavern in the slums," remarked one knight, eyeing the building suspiciously.
"It's not like we ever come here," his companion replied with a shrug.
"Ironclaw Inn?" the first knight read aloud.
"Ironclaw… isn't that the Wolfwoods' hound?" the other asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Maybe they named it that way to scare off bandits," the first suggested.
"Ha! These wretches couldn't defend themselves any other way," the second knight laughed mockingly. "Hahaha!"
Their coarse laughter echoed through the narrow streets, but behind the tavern's door lurked dark secrets. The slum dwellers knew well: those who entered here might not leave the same way.
The door of the Ironclaw Inn creaked open as four Royal Knights stepped into the slums' lone tavern. The patrons inside fell silent at once, mugs frozen mid‑air, every eye fixed tensely on the figures in shining armor.
Bella, the innkeeper, stood behind the counter with her arms crossed, her eyes flashing mockery.
"Well, well! Never before have knights come to our part of town. What happened, did the city run out of beer? I've got some, but I doubt it suits your refined tastes, sirs."
One knight stepped forward, his voice ringing hard.
"We're not here for your lousy beer. We're hunting a criminal. His name is Liverpool. There's a bounty on his head. Do you know anything?"
Bella laughed, though the sound was more bitter than merry.
"You're looking for Liverpool? That masked fool?"
"You've seen him?" the knight pressed sharply.
"Of course I have. He lodged here a few days ago," Bella replied, then gestured for them to follow.
She led them upstairs to one of the empty rooms. The knights immediately began to search.
"Aha! There's a pair of panties! Must be the Princess's!" one shouted, triumphantly holding up the garment.
"There's a letter under the pillow!" another called.
"What does it say?" demanded the leading knight.
The letter was read aloud:
"I have obtained the Princess's panties. The Emperor will pay a great deal of gold for them. Why the Emperor wants the Princess's panties, I cannot know. Nor do I care. If I deliver them to him, we'll never have to worry about money again. – Liverpool."
The knights' faces darkened.
"So the scoundrel truly was here! Speak, innkeeper—what did this Liverpool look like?"
Bella shrugged.
"A bald elf, blind in one eye."
"An elf? And what else do you know of him?" they pressed.
"He always played with fire. I'd say he was a Fire Mage," Bella answered.
"So, a fire‑mage elf… Did he say anything about where he came from?" the knight asked.
Bella leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"When he was drunk, he boasted that he came from the Empire, and that he worked for the Emperor himself. He said nothing more about himself."