Chapter 10: Identity

Ryland was a little taken aback by the absurdity of it all. Forging… what, his identity? The card he had received from the bank? Was it such a facile item that it could be easily forged? That seemed highly improbable, given the gravity with which everyone had been treating him upon immediately seeing it was a five-star card.

Forget being offended, Ryland actually found himself intrigued enough that he asked the Knight to enter.

Going by Viren’s reaction, she was clearly someone of significance, possibly on par with the nobles he had seen so far in the first-class carriage. Her appearance certainly professed the same. She was tall and well-built, dressed in shining scarlet armour with a large shield and sword at her back. Her posture, her movement, the sheen of her short hair, they all spoke of noble upbringing.

As she entered, Viren climbed down as well. He stood awkwardly for a moment, before bowing low to the woman and taking a seat not far from Ryland.

“Greetings, my lord,” she said, nodding at Viren and him, then closing the door behind her. “I apologize for the intrusion, but duty trumps discomfort, I’m afraid.”

Ryland pointed to the array of couches around them. “Have a seat, my lady. And I admit, I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have surmised that the duty of a member of a Knightly Conclave would be to interrogate random train passengers about their identity.”

She didn’t flush, but she had enough grace to duck her head in apology again. From the very first moment Ryland had heard her speak, he hadn’t gotten a sense of malignance from his accuser, quite unlike the overt hostility of the lord who had opposed his presence earlier. What had his name been? John? Kohn? All Ryland recalled was Viren’s clear animosity towards the fellow.

But this woman didn’t bear the same animosity. If anything, she gave off hints of discomfort just as she had stated, like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

Naturally, her face didn’t truly show it. A facet of proper noble upbringing was a stoic refusal to give away anything that could be used against them, and this included anything gleaned from facial expressions. So, aside from the hint of apology that she was already stating, the woman’s face was blank.

But Ryland had dealt with such cases enough to note what he needed to find. The slight tightening of the eyes, a thinning of the lips, the hint of stiffness on her shoulders, they all spoke of a strong recalcitrance to be in her current situation.

All that just made Ryland even more intrigued. Especially when she spoke next.

“Believe me, my lord,” she said. “My real duty is far from interrogating innocent passengers about their identity. And please, call me Ophelia.”

Viren performed another little choking sound, though not enough for it to be anything concerning. Just an expression of surprise. It seemed he hadn’t expected a noble Mage Knight to treat Ryland that way.

It was interesting, though. A noble clearly offering her first name, and to someone who had confessed to possessing no noble blood at all. It suggested she neither bore him ill will nor did she believe she was going to find anything culpable here. Certainly nothing actionable. And yet, she was insistent on following through.

“Ophelia,” Ryland said. “How exactly do you intend to verify my identity?”

She relaxed, if nearly imperceptibly so, in her seat. Now that the conversation had turned to business, she could proceed. “There are myriad ways one can prove one’s station.”

“I’m not certain I have a station. But regardless, what if these myriad ways aren’t enough in my case? How would these conditions even be verified or judged?”

“Please leave that to me, my lord.”

“Should I? Even though you aren’t the final arbiter of this… evaluation.”

Ophelia hesitated for a second before speaking. “Even so.”

Ryland nodded with a smile. So he had deduced correctly, then. Ophelia was essentially being made to do this. She had no wish to be here, saw nothing to be gained from continuing this farce, could possibly already tell innately that Ryland was, if not exactly a noble, then at least someone not to be trifled with. Mage Knights possessed keen senses, after all.

But at the same time, she couldn’t disobey her superior. Someone whose identity she was dutifully obscuring. As though it’d be difficult to determine.

“Please proceed, then,” Ryland said with a soft smile. “I believe we have several hours before we reach our destination. But do let me state this—the burden of this verification does not fall on me.”

Viren went very still. Judging by the further tightening of Ophelia’s eyes, she got what he meant too. The real issue would arrive if, at some point, she decided that he wasn’t who he said he was. In fact, even if they both parted amicably, it was perfectly possible that the Mage Knight’s superior would reject whatever evidence she presented and send her back.

What exactly would she do then?

“My first query is about your presence in the world, my lord,” Ophelia said, bullishly forging onwards despite the potential future complications. “Are your parents still alive? What of your grandparents or siblings? Any children? Or spouses? What about the location of permanent residence?”

Ryland let her finish before slowly shaking his head. “I never married, and all my loved ones have long since perished during the Realmbreaker Wars.”

Ophelia’s eye twitched. “My lord… you said they died in the Realmbreaker Wars?”

“Indeed.”

“The war that ended multiple centuries ago?”

“Quite.”

Ophelia took a second to absorb that information. Viren just nodded sympathetically.

It wasn’t unheard of for mages to live long. Ryland knew there were at least a handful from that era who were still alive and active, spread out all over the Accorded Realms. Even more ancient mages still existed out there, rare and dwindling in number though they were.

“My lord,” Ophelia said. “My next question is if you have records from the Realmbreaker Wars we could use to corroborate your existence. Any distinguished services you’ve performed, any major battle rolls bearing your name, maybe your designation in the military contingent you were a part of. Things of that nature.”

“Hmm.” Ryland thought for a moment, curiously intrigued that she had surmised his participation in the wars. “It has been a while. Are you certain such records even exist anymore? I could state my designation but what if the military outfit has been restructured entirely?”

“Then the battle rolls?” she asked, somewhat desperately.

“Hmm, let me think. I was present at the Battles of Divest, Twin Craters, Gildharbour, the First and Second Sieges of Arcoryx, and the Battle of Sundermount too. Just the few I recall off the top of my head.”

“Sundermount?” Ophelia shook her head. “My lord, no one came out alive from that battle. Save for the Calamity that battle resulted in.”

Ryland arched an eyebrow. What an astute summary of the battle. “Well, I’m certainly here. And I daresay my name should be on the battle roll as well, provided it’s been preserved all this while. Search for the name Marionys Ryland.”

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“It should be, yes.” She sighed, clearly struggling against the urge to squirm in her seat. “Though, while that might prove your existence, my lord, it alone won’t prove your station. What happened after the wars? Were you elevated to lordship? Did you gain an estate, or any other honours? I merely require something I can trace with certainty.”

“Ah, yes, I received a handful of several. All across Vyrd, in fact.”

Ophelia stared. “Then why didn’t we start with that?”

“You failed to ask.”

“I—” The Mage Knight visibly reconstructed her increasingly expressive face into a mask of neutrality again. “Yes, you’re correct, my lord. My mistake.”

Ryland shook his head. “No harm, no foul.”

“Right…” Ophelia cleared her throat. “Anyway—”

“My lady, if I may.” Viren looked embarrassed to be interjecting like that, but he also appeared very impatient, fidgeting where he sat right at the edge. He faced Ryland with an almost exasperated look. “Sir, why aren’t you telling the Mage Knight that you literally have the Sacred Blade of House Faldor?”

Somewhat unexpectedly, Ophelia visibly jolted at Viren’s words. “What?”

Viren just kept his eyebrows raised quizzically at Ryland.

“Well,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t prove I have it at the moment.”

“You proved you had the Goddess’s Tears!”

“Goddess’s Tears?” Ophelia said with faint disbelief.

“Well, you see,” Ryland clarified. “I kept the Goddess’s Tears stored in my personal inventory Realm. Needless to say, I have easy access to it, so retrieving the Tears was no issue. The Sacred Blade, however, got stored in my old, immortalized bank account. I have no idea whatsoever where the contents of those have been stored.”

Admittedly, they ought to be moved into Stackhurst Bank’s purview, though he doubted they’d have everything in less than a day. Maybe not even in a whole week.

But the point was that, with the Central Bank’s closure, Ryland hadn’t asked about the nitty-gritty detail of where exactly the immortalized accounts’ contents were physically stored. He wasn’t certain he’d have received an answer even if he had asked. It was a matter of security, after all.

“Inventory Realm…” Ophelia muttered, clearly stuck on an earlier bit of Ryland’s explanation.

“That’s still enough, though, right?” Viren said. “You can verify with Stackhurst Bank.”

He didn’t say it, but his somewhat fierce look suggested that Ophelia should have done that from the very beginning. Something the Mage Knight had probably already suggested, only to be shot down.

Ryland gently shook his head. Poor Viren was working under the assumption that this was a genuine interaction, not something born from a petty noble’s insecurity.