The Nox Swordstress led Horace to the Night Domain. The ice dragon had long since wandered off somewhere.
After passing a great many tears, the Swordstress suddenly stopped and stepped aside.
"It is inside. Please follow your fate."
Horace entered alone.
He climbed the stone steps and entered the room above. It was not large, and a treasure chest sat quietly in its center.
He slowly opened it, meeting no resistance along the way. It seemed Horace truly was fated to obtain it...
"The Fingerslayer Blade."
Horace reached out, and the short blade rested quietly in his hand.
His goal was achieved, but Horace was in no hurry to leave.
He turned toward the Nox Swordstress, who still stood respectfully to one side. "By the way, do you have something here called a 'Mimic Tear'?"
The Swordstress raised her head. Though he could not see her eyes, Horace could sense that she was somewhat at a loss.
"Do you mean the mimetic substance that can reproduce a combatant's form?"
The Swordstress sought confirmation. "We do indeed have that. However..."
She paused, seemingly weighing her words. "What use would such a thing be to an Empyrean like you? All tears were born solely to become the 'Eternal Lord.' The lord Nokron awaits will be a god's consort... and you clearly already have a lord."
The Nox Swordstress cautiously reminded him, "I do not know what sort of temper your 'lord' has, but surely no one would like something that reproduces their partner's appearance?"
Horace's expression did not change. "I have a use for it."
Of course he knew that a Mimic Tear would not be much use to him. But it was simply too handy to pass up. When the time came, he could just dump all his administrative work on