Gwayne could feel himself improving rapidly. His mind was clearing, his control over his body becoming confident and natural. At last, he had the spare energy to glance toward the girl who was still being held at swordpoint.
"So… what's going on here?"
The half-elf girl had been doing her best to become invisible, praying that House Seawright's descendants would be too overwhelmed by their "ancestor's return" to remember the minor detail of someone looting their tomb. But before she could sneak away, Gwayne's gaze locked onto her, sharp as a hawk's.
The poor thief shrank into herself, looking utterly pitiful. "I-I was just trying to find somewhere safe to hide…"
"Hiding all the way into the deepest vault of the ancestor's tomb?!" Lady Hestia snapped, turning to Gwayne, fire in her eyes. "Ancestor, this vile tomb-robber desecrated your resting place and disturbed your sacred slumber!"
Gwayne blinked, looking at the half-elf girl with a strange expression. "So… you're the one who woke me up?"
If human anatomy allowed, the thief would've hidden her entire head inside her ribcage. Her voice trembled as she rushed to defend herself: "I swear I didn't mean to! I really just wanted a safe place to hide, but, uh... old habits die hard, and one thing led to another and, uh... but I didn't actually take anything!"
Gwayne thought for a moment, then said seriously: "Well, thanks anyway."
The half-elf: "...Huh?"
Rebecca, Hestia, and the rest of the soldiers: "...What?!"
Clearing his throat, Gwayne awkwardly pressed on: "Let her go. Four grown men pointing swords at one girl—it's not exactly a good look. Not very knightly, you know. Chivalry and all that."
Hestia hesitated, her face tight with disapproval. "But Ancestor, she—"
"I said let her go," Gwayne interrupted with a wave. "If I'm not mad about it, what are you worried about?"
Ser Byron gave Gwayne a long, complicated look but eventually withdrew his sword, and the three soldiers followed suit.
The half-elf girl darted a glance around, cautiously verifying she wasn't about to be skewered after all, and then carefully stood up. She pointed at Gwayne and warned nervously: "You're the elder here—you better not go back on your word!"
Hestia visibly twitched but somehow restrained herself from throttling the impudent thief on the spot.
Gwayne, meanwhile, studied the girl curiously. From the inherited memories of Gwayne Seawright, he could tell she was a half-elf.
"What's your name?" he asked.
The girl blinked, then replied, "Amber."
Gwayne rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Amber, huh? Sounds about right for a woodlander."
Before the conversation could go further, Hestia interjected urgently: "Ancestor, forgive me, but now is not the time for idle chatter. We are not safe here."
Gwayne snapped back into character, turning to her seriously. "What's the situation outside?"
"Monsters!" Rebecca burst out. "Monsters came from the Selwyn Road and from the old mines! Our forces couldn't stop them—now the entire territory is likely overrun!"
"We did everything we could," Hestia added grimly. "Ser Philip led a group of civilians to safety, but before we could evacuate the rest, the monsters destroyed the drawbridge. We fought to the last at the castle gates before falling back to the ancestral crypt."
Gwayne quickly asked a few more questions and pieced the situation together:
This was Seawright territory, held by House Seawright since the founding of Andraste, passed down through generations. The young girl, Rebecca—who still looked barely old enough to attend a magic academy—was actually the current Viscountess, the ruling noble of this land.
When the monsters attacked, she had done her best to organize resistance, but ultimately, they were overwhelmed. Most of the defenses were shattered; survivors had been evacuated in waves until even that was impossible. Rebecca and the last remnants of the defenders had fallen back to the crypts—and stumbled into his tomb by sheer luck (or misfortune).
And Lady Hestia—the mature noblewoman—was Rebecca's aunt.
As for Amber, the half-elf thief? Well, she had been looking for a place to hide... but her professional instincts were so sharp, she accidentally burgled her way into the deepest, most sacred tomb on the estate.
"Wake up after centuries and it's already a complete mess..." Gwayne sighed, rubbing his temples, flipping through the inherited memories for anything useful. "So the surface is a deathtrap. Good to know."
"But what are these monsters exactly?" he asked.
"I believe they are some kind of demonic offspring," Hestia answered carefully. "But demons haven't appeared on the material plane for many centuries... and never in such numbers."
Rebecca turned to him with desperate, shining eyes: "Ancestor, can't you defeat them? Surely, with your power—"
Gwayne froze. "...Me?"
"Of course!" Rebecca said, almost bouncing with excitement. "You're the greatest knight in the history of Andraste! You once slew the Warlord of the Northern Tribes with a single blow!"
Gwayne scrambled to check the memories—and was floored.
The original Gwayne Seawright had indeed been a living legend.
He had been one of the earliest pioneers after the collapse of the ancient Gondor Empire, leading the survivors north through the wastelands. He helped found the Kingdom of Andraste, carving order from chaos, fighting back the encroaching darkness at the edge of civilization. He had started at fifteen, became the youngest knight of the frontier, fought dozens of battles, survived the worst the world had to offer... until finally dying in battle at thirty-five, defending humanity's last footholds against the tide of darkness.
An incredible life—brilliant but tragically short.
Gwayne the newcomer felt his temples throb. Of all the bodies to inherit...
Still, he wasn't intimidated for long.
His own memories—stretching back through countless millennia—flared to life. He might not have the raw physical strength of the legend he now embodied, but he had something else:
Perspective.
He had watched this world spin long before its peoples learned to walk upright.
This realization steadied him.
Confidence filled him.
He wasn't just the heir to Gwayne Seawright's legacy. He was more.
First, though, they had to survive.
"We can't fight our way out," Gwayne said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I've been asleep too long—can't guarantee my full strength—and we don't know what we're up against."
Rebecca's face fell. "But... but there's no way out! The drawbridge is gone—the other roads are sealed off!"
Gwayne cut her off calmly: "Underground. The Seawright Estate was once a key fortress in the southern defenses of the kingdom.
There's a secret tunnel system built beneath the castle—blessed by the earth elementals themselves. It could last a thousand years without collapse."
"And there's an entrance?" Rebecca's eyes lit up.
"Yes... underneath the castle." Gwayne scratched his head. "Though, uh... from the crypts, I'm not exactly sure how to reach it."
Rebecca blinked. "You lived here for hundreds of years and you don't know the way?"
Gwayne: "..."
Ser Byron and the soldiers: "..."
Hestia pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling faint. Surely, no ancestor in history had ever been as frustrating as theirs.