Silence settled over the tent after Master Kaelen departed.

  At Lord Malrik’s command, the servants and guards withdrew, leaving only Aurelian and Cassian behind. Aurelian remained seated, his fingers wrapped tightly around a goblet of wine. He had been drinking more than usual lately.

  Cassian noticed.

  It was obvious—Aurelian had not recovered from the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of Rose.

  Aurelian finally turned his gaze toward Lord Malrik, his voice sharp with restrained fury.

  “Are you truly going to allow a commoner to threaten me in such a manner?” he said. “I am a Magestate. I bear the royal seal. Any insult directed at me is an insult to our great king—and to the kingdom itself.”

  Lord Malrik took a slow sip of wine, saying nothing.

  In recent weeks, his disappointment in Aurelian had only deepened. Despite belonging to one of the most influential noble houses in the Kingdom of Thalorien, Aurelian was impulsive, narrow-minded, and ruled by wounded pride.

  Unlike Cassian.

  Cassian was younger, yes—but far more perceptive.

  Lord Malrik finally set his goblet down.

  “And how,” he asked calmly, “do you propose we punish Master Rickard?”

  The question caught Aurelian off guard.

  “Well—” he hesitated. “We detain him. Impose a fitting punishment for insulting a Magestate.”

  Lord Malrik’s eyes hardened.

  “And how exactly do you plan to detain him?” he replied. “Do you believe the guards we have here would be sufficient to restrain a man of Rickard’s caliber? One of the greatest mages on the continent?”

  He leaned forward slightly.

  “And what of his escorts? He travels with two knights of Lord Casper. Do you even begin to understand what that implies?”

  Aurelian faltered—but pressed on.

  “Then we demand Lord Altharion intervene. A warrior of his strength could overpower any mage, regardless of power. As for the knights—our guards can handle them.”

  Lord Malrik looked at him with something close to pity.

  How a man like this ever became a Magestate, he thought, is beyond me.

  When I return to the capital, I will revoke his title myself. He is an embarrassment to the office he holds.

  He said nothing of that aloud.

  Instead, he spoke coldly.

  “You presume you can order Lord Altharion?” Malrik said. “And beyond that—you could not even keep your vulgar eyes off Lady Mary.”

  His voice sharpened.

  “Had I not been present, Altharion would have killed you where you stood.”

  Aurelian clenched his jaw, fury burning behind his eyes.

  Lord Malrik continued, unmoved.

  “We have spent enough time on this matter. This discussion ends here.”

  Aurelian bit his lip, barely restraining himself.

  “As you wish, my lord,” he said stiffly.

  Silence followed.

  Lord Malrik then turned his attention to Cassian.

  “What do you think?” he asked. “Has Rick discovered something?”

  Cassian remained quiet for a few moments, weighing the possibilities.

  “No,” he said at last. “I don’t believe he has the full picture. More likely, he reached a dead end—or lacked certainty. That is why he came here.”

  He paused.

  “However… we gained valuable confirmation. The invasion is real. And it is coming.”

  Lord Malrik nodded slowly.

  “I agree. For now, we are ahead of the curve.”

  His gaze hardened.

  “But Rick—and that clever spider lurking beneath Lord Casper—will reach the truth eventually.”

  He leaned back in his chair.

  “As long as our kingdom prepares in time, we will emerge from what is coming as the strongest power on the continent.”

  “Alright,” Mary said sharply, folding her arms. “Now tell me what’s going on, Rick. I didn’t understand a single thing. Why did you threaten that Magestate? And don’t tell me we traveled all this way just for that.”

  She stared at him, clearly expecting an explanation.

  Rick, who had been focused on his meal, finally looked up.

  “I was threatening him—nothing more,” Rick said. “Your graceful husband here had far deadlier intentions.”

  Mary blinked.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “What…? Why would Altharion want to kill him?”

  She turned sharply toward Altharion. “What do you mean—why would you kill him?”

  Altharion avoided her gaze.

  That alone was enough.

  Mary stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor.

  “Why are you avoiding my eyes?” she demanded. “Answer me.”

  Rick burst out laughing.

  “Poor Altharion,” he said between chuckles. “I’m actually starting to feel sorry for him.”

  Mary turned back to Rick, irritated.

  “Rick.”

  He sighed and wiped his mouth.

  “The reason Altharion wanted to kill that piece of filth,” Rick said, “was the way he was looking at you.”

  Mary froze.

  “It was obvious,” Rick continued flatly. “The look in his eyes. That filthy desire. How did you not notice?”

  Altharion finally spoke, his voice calm—but cold enough to chill the air.

  “I wanted to tear his eyes out,” he said. “I barely restrained myself.”

  Mary stared at him, stunned—and embarrassed.

  “I… I honestly didn’t notice,” she admitted quietly. “I was more focused on your conversation with Cassian. I wasn’t paying attention to Aurelian at all.”

  She returned to her seat slowly, then looked back at Rick.

  “Now explain. Please. I’m still completely lost.”

  Rick set his spoon down and looked between Mary and Altharion.

  “I believe the Kingdom of Thalorien knows something about what’s happening here,” he said. “At the very least, they have suspicions—and today’s meeting confirmed them.”

  Altharion frowned.

  “Rick, that’s a serious accusation,” he said carefully. “I may be an adventurer like you, but I’m still a noble of Thalorien. I’ve never heard anything like this before. I’m not doubting you—but in a situation this delicate, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  Rick met his gaze.

  “Do you know Lord Malrik?”

  “Yes,” Altharion replied. “Not personally, but I’ve encountered him at social gatherings.”

  Rick nodded.

  “A man of his stature—a senior Magestate at the royal court, one of the most influential nobles in Thalorien—personally accompanying this campaign.”

  He leaned back slightly.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t find that strange.”

  Altharion fell silent.

  Mary spoke instead.

  “He knows something we don’t,” she said slowly. “And he hid it. That’s a betrayal of the guilds.”

  Her eyes hardened.

  “The Adventurers’ Guild would never tolerate that—especially with the number of casualties. Not if they knew anything about the black-armored demons.”

  “I know,” Rick said quietly.

  Altharion shook his head.

  “Still,” he said, “without proof, this remains speculation. You might be right—but without evidence, nothing can be done.”

  Rick smiled faintly.

  “Proof doesn’t matter,” he replied. “What matters is knowing that they know something.”

  He looked directly at Mary.

  “And that’s why I need you to contact your grandmother.”

  Mary closed her eyes for a brief moment, then nodded.

  “…So there’s no avoiding her after all.”

  Altharion sighed.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “It seems there isn’t.”

  The sounds of combat echoed across the deck of the ship.

  Rose and Mardukir trained together every day. Over time, their sparring sessions had become a spectacle—one that drew sailors and caravan workers alike to watch, some even placing small bets on the outcome.

  But today was different.

  Today’s fight was fiercer than usual, as if neither of them was holding anything back.

  For the first time in a while, Mardukir was on the defensive.

  Rose was fast—light on her feet, constantly in motion. Fighting her had become increasingly difficult, especially now that she was beginning to adapt to his style. He was well aware of it.

  Just as he was adapting to hers.

  Mardukir deflected a low strike aimed at his leg, blocking Rose’s wooden spear with the sheath of his sword, which he used as a secondary weapon. He tried to seize the opening and press forward.

  Instead of retreating—rather than relying on the advantage of her weapon’s reach—Rose suddenly leapt to the right.

  In the same motion, she thrust the spear toward the exposed side of Mardukir’s body.

  He twisted sharply, narrowly avoiding the strike with a full-body dodge. But Rose didn’t stop. She continued her assault from shifting angles, exploiting the gaps around his smaller shield.

  Mardukir barely managed to evade the next blow at the last possible moment.

  Then he lunged forward, attempting to slam into her with his shield.

  Rose didn’t dodge.

  She waited.

  She had seen this attack before.

  Just before the shield could collide with her body, Rose slipped into Sir Rainer’s combat style.

  She felt energy surge through her entire body.

  Everything slowed.

  The world around her seemed to move at a crawl as her eyes locked onto the shield rushing toward her.

  With effortless grace, Rose ducked beneath it—the shield grazing only a few strands of her hair—and drove the wooden spear straight into Mardukir’s abdomen.

  The stored energy detonated.

  The blast sent him crashing onto his back across the deck.

  Gasps rippled through the crowd.

  To the sailors and caravan workers, it was as if Rose had vanished at the last instant. None of them could truly grasp what had happened.

  But Sharruk, Kaveh, and Zamirah stared in stunned silence.

  How could someone so young move like that?

  Zamirah turned slowly toward Sharruk.

  “She’s fast,” she said quietly.

  Sharruk said nothing.

  His eyes remained fixed on Rose.

  Rose stepped forward and extended her hand. Mardukir took it, allowing her to pull him back to his feet. He laughed, shaking his head.

  “Damn it, girl… what was that?” he said with a grin. “Were you holding back against me this whole time?”

  Rose smiled.

  “No. I just wasn’t using everything I had.”

  Mardukir rested a hand on her head, amused.

  “A clever plan. But were you expecting me to attack with my shield?”

  Rose nodded lightly.

  “I was waiting for it. Your shield’s small—it’s easier to maneuver, but it leaves many openings.”

  He chuckled.

  “You’re not wrong.”

  Then he exhaled deeply.

  “And now… I’m starving after that.”

  He looked at her.

  “How about a meal?”

  Rose smiled back.

  “Of course. What are you thinking?”

  Mardukir glanced toward the galley.

  “Let’s see what the cook has. I think they caught plenty of fish yesterday.”

  When Rose followed Mardukir down into the galley, she found Sai and the ship’s cook working side by side.

  The cook was carefully cutting fresh fish, while Sai stirred chopped onions in a large iron pot, slowly adding chunks of potato. The pot itself was secured by thick chains, keeping it steady despite the ship’s motion.

  Mardukir glanced at Sai with a faint smile.

  “You seem to spend a lot of time with the cook.”

  Sai smiled back.

  “Master Melir is an excellent cook. I want to learn more about the kind of meals prepared at sea—food meant for long voyages.”

  Melir chuckled approvingly, clearly pleased to have Sai working beside him as Sai opened several small wooden jars, adding spices one by one into the pot.

  Rose crouched slightly, peering beneath the pot. A faint heat shimmered from a smooth stone set beneath it.

  Sai noticed her curiosity.

  “It’s a special magical stone,” he explained. “Used for cooking in enclosed spaces.”

  Rose nodded.

  “That’s really useful.”

  Melir grinned.

  “It doesn’t burn as hot as a normal fire, but it’s perfect for tight spaces. Much safer—less smoke, less risk.”

  Rose looked at him expectantly.

  “So… is the food ready?”

  Melir stared at her, then raised his voice theatrically.

  “And what do you think we’re doing right now?”

  “…Cooking?” Rose replied.

  “Then how could it possibly be ready?” he snapped—before breaking into laughter.

  Rose sighed.

  “Alright, no need to shout.”

  She glanced at Sai, who was clearly trying—and failing—to hide his smile.

  “In a few hours,” Melir said, tossing fish into the pot, “then it’ll be ready.”

  Mardukir rested a hand on Rose’s shoulder.

  “Come on. I’ve got some smoked meat and dried fruit.”

  Rose nodded reluctantly.

  “Fine. Even though I’m starving after all that training.”

  They made their way back up to the deck. The wind brushed against Rose’s face as she leaned against the railing, chewing on a strip of smoked meat and staring out at the endless horizon.

  “I don’t see anything but water,” she said quietly. “Are we really on the right course? I don’t understand how the captain navigates out here without losing his way.”

  Mardukir leaned beside her.

  “It’s like traveling through the desert. In the open sea, it’s an ocean of water. In the desert, an ocean of sand. We use the stars to guide us—and magical tools that can determine direction far more accurately than an ordinary compass.”

  Rose looked at him, eyes bright.

  “So… when will we reach land?”

  “Tomorrow, most likely.”

  Her heart skipped.

  “Tomorrow…” she whispered.

  That meant the Eastern Continent.

  Rose turned her gaze back toward the horizon, excitement stirring deep within her chest. Beyond that endless blue lay a new land, unknown paths, and an adventure her fate was already drawing her toward.

  And she couldn’t wait to meet it.