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TRAS Chapter 82: Ellen Lirathel
🕑 Added 2025-03-16 11:57:07 +0000 UTCAfter she’d spent some time admiring Noué’s portrait at the count’s estate, Ellen began to feel uneasy. Not only had the count returned—so had his daughter. Yet the duke and his sister were still in Aakdrift.
“The duke sends his apologies that you’ve been left waiting, and is uncertain when he’ll return,” a butler had informed her. “Count Fleuve also wishes to let you know a room has been prepared for you, should you choose to stay the night at the estate, Miss Lirathel.”
“I might then, thank you,” Ellen said, smiling politely.
It had been a few hours since, and Ellen was left to contemplate just how much Ailn might have figured out—and why he’d stuck around in Aakdrift.
Part of her regretted telling him Safi’s hiding spot outright. “It was basically a dead giveaway…” Ellen muttered.
But what choice did she have? If she’d simply kept mum, then the count’s daughter really might have hidden herself away forever.
It was maybe five years ago.
Ellen had first noticed Safi wandering around Aakdrift when the girl was a young teenager.
The count’s daughter always had this air about her, as if she were sorry to impose on anyone’s time—as if she were asking for a favor just for speaking and wanting to be listened to. If Ellen spoke to her, she’d quickly excuse herself. Sometimes Safi would merely give a small nod from across the way.
And Ellen… she had her own worries. She’d tried to reach out a few times. Just as a gesture, but not much more.
After a time, Ellen noticed Safi had noticeably brightened. She must have made a friend. Ellen’s heart felt a little lighter.
That friend, however, was not normal. It was with a start that Ellen realized Safi had become friends with the rusalka—the shadow on the water that still plagued Aakdrift.
It worried Ellen terribly, of course. But Safi was a girl naturally immune to anything the rusalka could do to her. And she seemed so happy—Ellen had never realized just how chatty the count’s daughter was.
So Ellen carefully watched the two’s blossoming friendship, until she was certain it would never hurt her, even if it could.
Truthfully, it was an imprudent decision. One that Ellen still couldn’t justify, knowing just how dangerous the creature was. But…
Both those girls deserved to have a good friend. Ellen knew that better than anyone else.
One day, Safi came up to Ellen of her own accord, something she’d never done before. She had a request.
She wanted a hiding spot. Safi had spent enough time in Aakdrift enough to notice—that somehow, Ellen was ‘good at hiding.’
What else could Ellen do? She gave her a hiding spot. The best one in town.
But now, doing what she could to nudge Safi out of her antisocial behavior was just the right thing to do. She’d send Ailn her way, and well… It was up to him to actually cross over into Safi’s world.
The trouble was, in doing so, Ellen had also tipped off the duke to her own illusory magic, and pointed him directly toward Noué’s childhood home. He was likely still there, trying to find some way through the illusion.
Well, that gave her all the time in the world, then. They’d have to sleep sometime. If the duke and his sister wanted to spend the night out in Aakdrift, that was their prerogative.
Her thoughts were cut short as Sir Kylian and Naomi—the two essential lieutenants of the duke and count’s respective retinues—entered the small parlor where Ellen had been gazing at Noué’s portrait.
Naomi looked noticeably deflated. Ellen, though, didn’t have any particular reason to pry.
“Miss Lirathel, Duke eum-Creid has returned to the estate,” Kylian said. “He asked me to inform you that he’s worn out from the day’s events and suggests meeting tomorrow instead.”
“A lot has happened today, hasn’t it?” Ellen remarked. “That’s not an issue. I’m just glad the count’s daughter is safe.”
“…Are you staying the night here, Miss Lirathel?” Kylian asked, his gaze shifting briefly to Naomi, who blinked, startled out of her thoughts. Confirming Ellen’s plans would have been her responsibility.
“I’ll return home,” Ellen gave an embarrassed smile. “Though I’m grateful for the count’s hospitality.”
With that, Ellen made her way out of the estate, and set for home—back in Aakdrift.
_____________
Observing Ellen as she left, Naomi’s arms tightened around herself as she cast her gaze irritatedly to the side.
“Does your duke often ask you to lie, Sir Kylian?” Naomi asked.
Now it was Kylian’s turn to cross his arms. Tapping his finger on his elbow thoughtfully, his eyes trailed toward the ceiling as if he were searching through memory. Then he shook his head.
“Astonishingly, I believe this is the first time,” Kylian said.
“Oh? Is honesty astonishing these days?” Naomi asked.
“Ailn does employ a fair amount of guile,” Kylian admitted. “Though I doubt that’s what’s turned your mood so sharp.”
“...You call your duke by his first name,” Naomi muttered. “It’s strange, is it not?”
“Most would consider it so,” Kylian said.
Of course, Naomi couldn’t care less about calling Count Fleuve ‘Conrad.’ Her mind was on Safi, whose form of address Naomi had always raised like a shield and dagger.
‘Lady Fleuve.’
It had soothed her guilt, imagining Safi as a lady growing nobler by the day. In stark contrast , Naomi reminded herself constantly just how base her own heart had proven.
Today’s ordeal helped Naomi see clearly her own indulgence. What’s more foolish than putting someone on a pedestal to atone for knocking them down? What’s more craven than belittling oneself as a salve for shame?
All she’d done was gaze at her own reflection in the water, because flaws make for prettier sights than their consequences.
“...It’s not too late to strike a friendship with Lady Fleuve, Naomi,” Kylian said.
“An easy thing to say,” Naomi said softly. Her self-embrace only grew tighter, as realized how transparent her thoughts were. “Reduce the duke to tears and tell me if your friendship stays the same.”
_____________
Ailn and Renea were hiding in some bushes.
“Didn’t we just learn a lesson about talking to people directly?” Renea mumbled, sounding a little bitter about it. “Do you never get tired of your little tricks coming back to bite you?”
“’Little tricks?’” Ailn repeated blankly, before shaking his head and deciding not to bite. “Ellen’s got her reasons for keeping a few secrets hidden, and we’ve got some reasons for trying to uncover them—even if it means we keep hidden ourselves. Good communication’s about responding in kind, Renea.”
“You make it sound nice,” Renea glared, “but if that were true then ‘good communication’ would be responding to a lie with a lie, and secrets with more secrets.”
“...Do you want to find this treasure or not?” Ailn asked.
“...I-I do,” Renea admitted.
They’d sent Kylian ahead to inform Ellen of their ‘return,’ and sure enough, after a couple hours’ wait, they spotted her approaching.
The two of them weren’t particularly well-hidden, but Ellen had dropped her guard. Even as she passed right by, she missed their presence entirely. She walked toward the inner bank’s crest, where Noué’s childhood home should have been and…
She kept walking.
Rather, she started descending its gentle slope at an oblique angle.
Ailn ushered Renea to start following him, hoping she’d somehow learned how to walk quieter overnight. When they reached the top of the bank, they noticed Ellen walking a dirt pathway—one that was level and descended to an alcove just below.
Following her into the space, Ailn and Renea found themselves on a grassy ledge overlooking the channel, no more than twenty meters from the stone flood marker.
And there was a small yellow house. Smallish, at least. A little tall, actually.
It was a real headscratcher. Ailn had been expecting to see the illusion break more conspicuously—a house gradually emerging from thin air. But this was actually more impressive. The house was just there. As if it had been there all along, just off the beaten path, tucked into an overlooked nook.
Ellen was fumbling with a ring of iron keys, when Ailn gently called out to her.
“We followed you, Ellen,” Ailn said. “Sorry.”
For a moment, Ellen looked angry. She wouldn’t even turn to look at them. Then her countenance softened, and even wilted.
“Caught by such a stupid trick,” she sighed, listlessly beckoning them inside with a wave of her hand.
“We didn’t break any rules, did we…?” Renea asked anxiously. “Is this even part of the hunt? We’re not just intruding on your house, are we—”
Renea’s social conniptions trailed off, as her hand drifted to her mouth in surprise, eyes widening as they flitted through the house’s interior. “It’s…almost exactly the same as the portrait.”
A timber interior greeted them, hinting that its original owners had a comfortable, perhaps even affluent, existence.
The entry opened directly into a multifunctional space: a kitchen, living room, and dining room all at once.
Toward the back, two separate arches led to a bedroom and storage room respectively—each expanding into their own half-chamber and giving the house an almost heart-like shape.
It was definitely surreal, walking into the setting of Noué’s legendary portrait. Especially since Ellen was treating it as if it were her own cozy home. There weren’t any fishing poles by the door anymore, but there was a kettle she’d just thrown over the hearth.
“You live here, Ellen?” Ailn asked, furrowing his brow. Glancing toward the corner, he spotted a long chest which he guessed stored the fishing gear.
“I stay here when I need to,” Ellen mumbled, clearly not too happy. Still, she walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a few mugs. “Is tea fine? Go on and sit.”
Renea shrank a bit, seeing Ellen’s attitude.
“Um, you don’t… have to do anything for us,” Renea said, fidgeting with her hands. She was clearly feeling worse by the second, even though she took a seat. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have…”
Ellen took a deep breath, then let it out in a gentle sigh, managing a reassuring smile for the anxious girl in front of her.
“No, this was on me,” Ellen said quietly. “I should have shown you sooner. I’m the one who watches over this house—and who’s supposed to nudge seekers toward Noué’s vault.”
“Or away from it, I assume,” Ailn said, fiddling with his wrist. He didn’t take a seat. His eyes wandered to the back, where the bedrooms were.
“...It’s up to my discretion, yes,” Ellen said, her fingers drumming lightly on the table as she waited for the kettle’s whistle. Renea’s brows furrowed in thought. Her gaze was still taking in the house, but something was clearly bothering her. “Then you’re part of an organization that protects the secret of the vault. And it’s managed to last three whole centuries?”
The drumming of Ellen’s fingers stilled, just as the kettle started to hiss.
“It’s an interesting job, to be sure,” Ellen said, deftly avoiding Renea’s question. As she poured tea into their mugs, she waved them off lightly. “Just so you know, I’m not here to tell you where the vault is. That part’s still up to you.”
“Can I take that as permission to look around?” Ailn asked, as if he weren’t already examining the living room. He picked up a glass jar that was sitting on the windowsill—one of many—and squinted at the coral pink mussel shells inside. “How much of this house is you, Ellen, and how much of it is still Noué?”
Ellen stared at him with a faint frown, her blinks slow. “I’ve tried to preserve it. But I’ve lived here a long time, of course.”
“If these are Noué’s, then her collection of river shells is surprisingly cute and childish,” Ailn said, setting down the jar. “I expected something more like… desiccated lizard husks.”
“Right?” Ellen agreed readily. A smile crept back onto her face. “Sometimes when you look back at where it all started, you…”
Her words trailed off, and her expression turned melancholy.
Renea, who’d been quietly sipping her tea, tilted her head. Confusion, embarrassment, and thoughtfulness—the classic emotions of someone sensing a behavioral disconnect—flickered across her face.
“Ellen, you really love Noué, don’t you?” Renea remarked.
It was the same question Ailn had asked earlier that morning.
“You mean the way an expert loves their subject?” Ellen asked. She seemed unfazed, even if her expression was caught between bitterness and wry amusement.
“No,” Renea said softly, as she sipped her tea. “Not like that at all.”
Ellen stiffened, and the words hung in the air, while Ailn continued to look around. There really wasn’t much to go off of, though that was a hint in its own way. A fishing household that was well-to-do—those weren’t necessarily contradictions, but…
Rustic wasn’t wrong, but it was a little dishonest. The fishing nets on the wall looked more ornamental than anything, and the framed river chart looked especially valuable.
As far as the condition of the house…
“I’m having a hard time believing this place is three hundred years old,” Ailn said.
“I maintain it,” Ellen said, without making eye contact. “Treat things well, and they last a long time. And when furniture or things finally break… I try to get something just like the original.”
Ailn halted in his tracks. “That’s a lot of effort put into maintaining the authenticity of a place that’s been unseen for centuries.”
“Yeah. It is.” Ellen put down her tea.
“Sort of like a historic preservationist, huh?” Ailn asked, though Ellen didn’t respond. He watched her face as he asked his next question. “From what Kylian told me, it seems Noué had an agreement with the city’s bureaucracy to maintain it.”
A look of confusion crossed Renea’s face.
“They stopped when Aakdrift was abandoned, clearly,” Ellen replied.
“How’d you maintain the illusion?” Ailn asked, suddenly changing gears.
“...Does it matter?” Ellen asked.
“Some people I’m looking for sometimes have special powers,” Ailn said. “A lot of things would line up if you were one of them.”
“Special powers?” Ellen asked, narrowing her eyes. “What makes you think my illusions couldn’t be done by a mage or an artifact?”
Ailn gave a casual shrug. “I never said they couldn’t.”
The kitchen had a small round table, made of marble, that felt a little extravagant—especially when the dining table was pine. Even if Ailn couldn’t be certain, he was fairly sure Ellen wouldn’t bring something like that in herself.
Having finished her tea, Renea didn’t have anything to redirect her fidgeting toward. “Ellen, um…” She started to speak up, but faltered. “N-no, nevermind.”
“I’ve got the gist of it. The main room at least,” Ailn said, eyeing the bedrooms again. He walked deliberately back toward the table, much to Ellen’s surprise, and sat across from her. “Ellen, were you really supposed to hide this place?”
Ellen flinched. “Sorry?”
“I think Renea and I were just a bit confused,” Ailn’s tone softened and turned careful. “How was this place ever supposed to be maintained by the city?”
Though her expression turned sour at being casually included into Ailn’s accusation, Renea’s curiosity over this fact was still apparent.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Ellen said tersely. She gripped her own forearm fiercely.
“If you’re hiding the house, Ellen,” Ailn said. “You and this ‘organization.’ If there was an illusion over this house from the start, then Sussuro could never have maintained it. But the records show that it was, for some time.”
“...The city employs me,” Ellen said after some time. Her grip relaxed slightly. “A while back, Sussuro decided to hide the house, while still maintaining it.”
“The city which abandoned this entire district?” Ailn asked, his brow furrowing.
“Noué is central to Sussuro’s cultural legacy, and her myth brings vault seekers. Why kill the—” Ellen grit her teeth, stopping mid-sentence.
“Goose?”
“Why kill the flow of tourists?” Ellen ignored Ailn. “I preserve the myth by ensuring no one ever finds the vault.”
“When you could just let the house sink into the swamp?” Ailn asked, exasperated.
“We—” Ellen’s frustration was getting more pronounced, and she took some time to consider her next claim. “We’re trying to open the vault, too.”
“The vault isn’t open yet?” Ailn paused.
“That’s right. And Sussuro wants the treasure to itself,” Ellen said. “There’s a long lineage of mages who know illusion magic who’ve kept this purpose, and I’m the last one.”
“...Are there such things as illusion mages, Renea?” Ailn asked.
“Illusion mages?” Renea bit her thumb anxiously. “I’ve… never heard of them. But that doesn’t mean…”
Groaning, Ailn held his forehead for a moment. This was getting stuck in the reeds. He gave the situation its due consideration, and finally came to a decision. “You know what, Ellen? You’re great at dodging.”
“Excuse me?”
“His dumb little tricks,” Renea muttered.
“...You don’t get tripped up,” Ailn said, ignoring Renea. “I don’t want to spend all day badgering you, so I’m going to be direct. I think you hid this house because you personally didn’t want anyone to find it.”
Ailn held up one finger, while Ellen crossed her arms in response.
“Say what you want,” she said, narrowing her gaze.
“I think that you’re invested in hiding the vault,” Ailn said, raising a second finger, then a third. “And I think you’re a reincarnator. Otherwise you wouldn’t clam up every single time I mention knowledge from the other world. Nor would you have tried to pre-emptively ward me off when I asked about special powers.”
Opening and closing her mouth a few times, searching for a response, Ellen stayed silent—shifting uncomfortably and turning her face away. Ailn caught a glimpse of her eyes that were shaking.
“I’m guessing you’ve got ruby eyes that affect people’s perception,” Ailn said, raising his fourth finger. “And somehow Safi managed to daisy chain off it to hide herself.”
At that Ellen arched an eyebrow, but still said nothing.
“...And,” Ailn said, finally showing his full hand, “I think your real name is Elenira.”
