Chapter 122: Come with me
Leon kept his expression carefully neutral, though internally, everything she said lined up exactly with what he already knew firsthand.
"What happened to him?" Leon asked. "In the stories, I mean."
Iris’s expression shifted slightly, something more thoughtful settling over her features now, the earlier defensiveness fading as she slipped further into the memory of whatever she’d read as a child.
"Different versions say different things," she said. "Some say he died in battle, betrayed by someone close to him. Others say he never really died at all, just sort of... disappeared. Sealed away somewhere, waiting for the right person to find him again."
Leon’s mind raced quietly at that detail, thinking immediately of Excalibur itself, of how the sword had ended up in his own hands entirely by accident, buried and forgotten until his talent had pulled it free.
"Do you remember anything else?" he asked. "About Excalibur specifically?"
Iris tilted her head slightly, considering the question.
"Just that it wasn’t an ordinary sword," she said. "Some of the older texts described it as being blessed by multiple goddesses, though the exact number always changed depending on which version you read. Three, in most of them. Goddesses of fire, light, and lightning."
Leon’s breath caught slightly. That matched exactly, word for word, what he’d already seen for himself in Excalibur’s own status description.
"And it only worked for certain people?" he pressed. "Not everyone who touched it?"
"That’s what the stories always said," Iris confirmed. "The sword judged people, and only accepted those it considered worthy. Pure of heart, or something like that."
"I always thought that part sounded a little dramatic, honestly. Like something out of a fairy tale meant to teach kids a lesson about honesty."
Leon huffed out a short breath, something close to bitter amusement flickering behind the sound. If only she knew exactly how real that particular detail actually was.
"What about anyone else?" he asked, pushing further now, his curiosity outweighing his earlier caution. "Other figures from those same stories. Do you remember any other names?"
Iris’s brow furrowed slightly, clearly trying to recall details buried somewhere further back in her memory.
"There were others," she said slowly. "A lot of them, actually. My grandmother’s collection wasn’t just about Arthur. There were stories about all kinds of legendary figures. Different pantheons, different regions, all mixed together in the same books."
"Like who?" Leon asked, careful to keep his tone casual despite how badly he wanted an actual answer.
She hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him again, some of her earlier suspicion returning.
"Why do you want to know so badly?" she asked. "You said you just saw Arthur’s name somewhere. That doesn’t explain why you’re suddenly so interested in all of this."
Leon paused, caught slightly off guard by the sudden shift in her attention. He hadn’t expected her to notice how eager he’d become, though in hindsight, he probably should have anticipated it.
"I’m... uh, interested in old stories," he said carefully, keeping his answer as vague and believable as possible. "Especially ones that might actually be true, apparently."
Iris studied him for a long moment, her blue eyes searching his face intently, as though trying to peel back whatever layer he was currently hiding behind.
Leon held her gaze steadily, careful not to let anything slip through that might give away more than he intended.
Finally, she seemed to relax slightly, though the suspicion in her expression didn’t fully disappear.
"There are a lot of stories about different gods or deities. There’s one with serpents for hair," she said slowly. "Ones who could turn people to stone with a single look."
Leon’s pulse quickened slightly at that. Medusa.
"And messengers," she continued. "Fast ones. Ones who could supposedly cross entire countries in the blink of an eye, wearing winged shoes."
Hermes.
Leon kept his expression carefully controlled, though internally, everything inside him had gone sharp and focused.
Every single detail she’d mentioned so far matched exactly, without exception, everything he’d personally encountered since this entire nightmare had started.
It was actually a bit ironic that the two examples she gave turned out to be part of the ones he was looking to learn more about.
However, he didn’t show it, and simply acted like someone who was only curious about these stories.
"That’s a lot of specific detail for stories most people consider fairy tales," he said quietly.
Iris shrugged slightly, though her earlier tension hadn’t fully faded.
"My grandmother always said the details mattered. Said if you got them wrong, you’d lose whatever truth was actually hidden underneath the story itself."
Leon leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows against the table now, his full attention locked onto her.
"Do you still have those books?" he asked. "The ones your grandmother owned?"
Iris’s expression flickered slightly at the question, something unreadable passing behind her eyes before she answered.
"Some of them," she said carefully. "Not all. A few got lost over the years."
"Would you be willing to show me?" Leon asked.
She blinked, clearly not having expected the request, her earlier suspicion resurfacing sharply in an instant.
"Why would I do that?" she asked. "I barely know you. You could be anyone."
"I could," Leon admitted. "But you’re the only person I’ve met in this entire city who actually seems to know anything real about this."
Iris studied him carefully again, her arms tightening slightly across her chest as she considered his words.
The silence between them stretched on for a long moment, neither of them speaking, the quiet hum of the library settling comfortably around their unfinished conversation.
Iris kept studying him, her arms still crossed, clearly weighing whether to trust him at all. Then, without warning, she reached out toward him, her hand extending suddenly toward his shoulder.
Leon’s instincts kicked in before he could think it through. His hand shot up, catching her wrist mid-motion, his grip firm but not painful.
Iris froze, her eyes widening slightly at how fast he’d reacted. For a moment, neither of them moved, his fingers still wrapped loosely around her wrist, the two of them caught in an awkward, suspended stillness.
Her cheeks flushed pink almost instantly. She turned her head away, refusing to meet his eyes.
"I was just trying to brush off some dust," she muttered, her voice noticeably smaller than it had been a moment ago. "You had a little on your shoulder."
Leon glanced down at his own shoulder, half expecting to find nothing there at all, some flimsy excuse thrown together on the spot.
Instead, he spotted it immediately, a small, pale speck of dust resting against the fabric of his borrowed shirt.
He released her wrist slowly, feeling slightly foolish for the reflexive grab. "Sorry," he said. "Guess I’m still a little on edge."
Iris pulled her hand back quickly, rubbing at her wrist absently even though he hadn’t gripped it hard enough to actually hurt.
She kept her gaze fixed somewhere off to the side, clearly still recovering from the sudden, unexpected contact.
For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. The quiet hum of the library settled comfortably around them again, filling the space where conversation had briefly stalled.
Then her expression shifted, something calculating flickering behind her eyes as she finally looked back at him.
Whatever internal debate she’d been having with herself, it seemed to resolve all at once.
"Come with me," she said suddenly.
Leon blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change in direction. "What?"
"To my house," she said, straightening slightly, as if daring herself not to take the offer back the moment it left her mouth. "You want to see the books, right? Actual proof, not just me talking about half-remembered stories. Come see them yourself."
Leon studied her for a moment, genuinely surprised by the sudden shift. Only minutes earlier, she’d been ready to storm off entirely, suspicious of even his basic curiosity. Now she was offering to bring a complete stranger back to her own home.
"You’re sure about that?" he asked, mostly out of habit rather than any real hesitation on his own part.
"No," she admitted, a faint, nervous laugh slipping out. "Honestly, this is probably a terrible idea. I don’t know you. You could be anyone."
"I could," Leon agreed easily.
"But," she continued, ignoring his agreement, "you’re literally the first person I’ve met in years who didn’t immediately dismiss everything I said as nonsense. That has to count for something."
Leon considered her offer for barely a second before answering. "Alright," he said. "Let’s go."
Iris blinked, clearly not expecting him to accept so quickly. "That’s it? You’re not even going to think about it?"
"Should I?" Leon asked.
"Most people would at least hesitate," she said, studying him carefully now, her earlier suspicion resurfacing slightly, though mixed now with confusion.
"I could be leading you into a trap for all you know. Or I could just be crazy, like you clearly thought earlier."