Late Autumn, 1469 AD – The Royal Capital, Shersalon

  The opulent chambers of Prince Lucian’s residence were usually full of silence, but today, they vibrated with a royal temper tantrum.

  "What do you mean they are on to us?!" Lucian screamed, pacing back and forth, his face flushed with a mixture of rage and fear. He knocked a vase of expensive wine off a table, sending it shattering across the marble floor. "You said the plan was flawless! You said Thorne would be too busy with the monsters to think!"

  Priest Lancaster stood by the window, his silhouette dark against the city lights. He didn't flinch at the Prince’s outburst. His voice was calm, almost soothing, like a parent speaking to a petulant child.

  "Yes, my Prince," Lancaster replied smoothly. "It seems my associate, Priest Raul, got caught while trying to redo the artifact in the Blackwood Forest. Thorne and the Warbreaker were waiting for him."

  Lucian froze, his eyes widening. "Caught? Did they interrogate him? Does Thorne know I am involved?"

  "You don't have to worry," Lancaster assured him, a thin smile playing on his lips. "Raul took care of the pursuers and escaped safely. No evidence leads back to you directly."

  Lucian collapsed onto a velvet chaise, letting out a long, shaky breath of relief. "Good. Good. As long as my name is clean."

  He rubbed his temples, trying to regain his composure. "Will you guys continue to push Thorne? We can't stop now. We need him destabilized."

  Lancaster shook his head. "No. It would be too dangerous to reactivate the artifacts now that the Covenant has been caught in the act. The Iron Wall is on guard. We retreat to the shadows for the time being."

  Lancaster turned away from the window, his expression sharpening. "I think we should deal with the current situation in the Royal Capital first. Tell me, how is King Eryndor’s health?"

  A cruel glint returned to Lucian’s eyes. "He is bedridden. For months now. The physicians say he is getting weaker and weaker every day. He can barely lift a spoon."

  Lancaster’s grin widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp in the dim light. "Then my curse artifact is working? Excellent."

  Lucian laughed, a sound devoid of any son's grief. "It is working perfectly. Soon, the crown will be mine."

  Alaric woke slowly, dragging himself out of the deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion. He blinked against the morning light filtering through the heavy curtains of the guest room.

  He sat up, running a hand through his impossibly messy bedridden hair, and froze.

  Lucia was there.

  She was sitting on the sofa across the room, wrapped in a shawl, staring blankly at the unlit fireplace. She looked small, tired, and deeply unhappy.

  "Lucia?" Alaric croaked, his voice rough with sleep. "What are you doing here?"

  She didn't look at him. She just shrugged, hugging her knees to her chest. "Nothing."

  Alaric frowned. That wasn't "nothing." The air around her felt heavy with unspoken frustration. He didn't press her immediately. Instead, he quietly slipped out of bed and walked over to the sofa.

  He stood behind her for a moment, then leaned down and wrapped his arms around her shoulders from the back, resting his chin gently on the top of her head.

  "Talk to me," he whispered. "What happened?"

  The dam broke.

  Lucia leaned back into his embrace, her voice trembling. "It’s Father. He... he’s forcing me to go back to the Capital immediately. He says with the Covenant targeting him, Ironhold isn't safe. He says I’m a target."

  She sniffled. "We had a fight. A big one. And it's not just him... the Pope is creating problems too. The Church is demanding I return for 'spiritual safety.' Everyone is trying to lock me away, Alaric."

  Alaric just listened, holding her tighter as she poured out her frustrations. He let her vent about the politics, the fear, and the suffocating protection of the people who loved her.

  Finally, she let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping.

  "I just..." she whispered. "I just came to your room to find some peace and calm. It’s quiet here."

  Alaric smiled softly against her hair. "I'm glad you did."

  He pulled back gently and walked around to the front of the sofa. He knelt before her, taking her cold hands in his warm ones.

  "But even Saintesses need fuel to fight their battles," Alaric said, giving her a lopsided grin. "I suggest we eat breakfast. I saw blueberry tarts on the menu."

  Lucia looked at him, and for the first time that morning, a genuine smile broke through the gloom. "Okay. Breakfast."

  The mood in the Duke's office was strictly business. Thorne sat behind his desk, a file open in front of him.

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  "We wanted to talk to you, Alaric," Thorne said. "We’ve got some interesting info from the guy you saved, the mercenary your lightning didn't fry."

  Alaric sat down. "Did he talk?"

  "Mostly he refused," Thorne admitted. "Kept spitting at my interrogators and claiming he didn't know anything about the priest’s plans. But... we found out his identity."

  Thorne slid a piece of paper across the desk. It was a service record.

  "He is from the Royal Knight Order."

  Alaric’s eyebrows shot up. "The Royal Knights? Are you saying the King is trying to sabotage you?"

  He paused, shaking his head. "No. That's not possible. The King will never do that."

  "Then who?" Thorne asked pointedly. "Who controls the Knights when the King is bedridden?"

  Alaric’s eyes narrowed. "Prince Lucian?"

  Thorne nodded, quick and sharp. "Exactly."

  "But how can we be sure?" Alaric asked, looking at the file. "We can't blame him publicly. He will just claim the Covenant infiltrated the Royal Knight Order without his knowledge and force the blame on some scapegoat. We have no proof connecting Lucian to the priest."

  "We can't prove it in court," Thorne agreed. "But we can say for sure: Prince Lucian is cooperating with the Covenant."

  Alaric leaned back, processing the gravity of the situation. The Crown Prince was allied with a death cult. It was treason of the highest order.

  "What now?" Alaric asked.

  "He is probably trying to make me agitated," Thorne replied calmly. "He wants to get a violent reaction out of me, then brandish me for treason so he can strip my title. He’s baiting the Iron Wall to strike first."

  Thorne leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Well, regardless of whether I act or not, he will act anyway after the King is no more. He needs to establish the status quo and remove his rivals."

  Thorne pointed a finger at Alaric. "Alaric, I would like you to aggressively strengthen your domain. Build your army. Fortify your walls. When the time comes, war will be inevitable. But you will have to keep Duke Larethin at bay while I deal with the rest."

  Alaric looked at the Duke, keeping his face neutral while his mind raced.

  Yeah, right, Alaric thought internally. You know exactly what you’re doing. You know I will have to help you because of Lucia. You’re playing that card pretty well to secure your North-Eastern flank.

  "I understand," Alaric said aloud. "What about Duke Osborne?"

  "Osborne seems to stay neutral," Thorne said dismissively. "He’s a cautious man. He will likely sit in his western mountains and let the whole event play out to see who wins."

  "Do you think the monster problem is over?" Alaric asked.

  "Probably," Thorne said, closing the file. "With us knowing their tricks and destroying the beacons, they probably won't try anything for a while. They lost the element of surprise."

  "Well," Alaric muttered, standing up. "At least something positive came out of all this mess."

  The mist clung to the docks as Alaric prepared to leave. His small ship was restocked and ready.

  Lucia and Duke Thorne stood on the pier to see him off.

  "Be safe," Lucia whispered, stepping forward to hug him tight. She lingered for a moment, ignoring propriety.

  Behind her, Duke Thorne watched the embrace, his eye twitching visibly with suppressed fatherly rage. He looked like he wanted to challenge Alaric to a duel right there on the dock.

  Alaric gave the Duke a pained, apologetic expression over Lucia’s shoulder. Sorry, sir. I really am.

  "Go," Thorne grunted.

  As Alaric boarded, he felt a sense of accomplishment. While in Ironhold, he hadn't just hunted monsters. With Thorne’s help, he had brokered deals with businessmen all over Southern Shersia. They had agreed to supply Haven with goods via the sea route, bypassing Larethin’s blockade entirely.

  The ship cast off.

  Hours later, deep in the southern waters, Alaric was leaning on the railing when the water erupted.

  BOOM.

  A massive shape surged from the sea. It was a dragon, a serpentine leviathan that stretched for miles. It didn't fully breach the surface, but its spine arched out of the water like a moving mountain range, glowing with blue bioluminescent magic that felt ridiculous in its intensity.

  "What the hell is that?" Alaric gasped, hand going to his sword. "Is it attacking?"

  The ship’s captain laughed calmly. "Easy, my lord. Put the steel away."

  "That's a dragon!" Alaric shouted.

  "Aye," the captain nodded, packing his pipe. "That’s the Guardian of the South. It’s always in the southern sea. It protects humanity from the demons of the Southern Continent."

  Alaric watched the glowing spine sink back beneath the waves. "Why? Why would a dragon protect us?"

  "We don't know," the captain shrugged. "But he is the reason the Demons can't just indiscriminately invade the island with millions of troops. If they try to cross the water, the Leviathan eats them."

  Alaric stared at the churning water, his curiosity burning.

  Huh, he thought. A dragon acting as guardian for humanity? What reason could a beast like that have to side with humans? Or is it protecting something else?

  Alaric walked into the Town Hall of Haven, the smell of fresh construction filling his lungs. He found Lex going over guard rosters.

  "Lex!" Alaric clapped the big man on the shoulder. "We start a new policy from today."

  Lex looked up, wary of the optimism in his Lord’s eyes. "Sir?"

  "Let our informants in the city slums and refugee camps know," Alaric said, grinning. "Spread the rumors far and wide."

  He held up a hand as if framing a headline.

  "Viscount Alaric is providing free houses and farm lands in Thornmere. Anyone can come. They can establish families, live freely, and own their own property."

  Lex jaw dropped. "Free land? Sir, that’s... generous. But what’s the catch?"

  "In exchange for two years of paid service," Alaric finished. "They work for the territory for two years and help building, farming, mining and the house is theirs forever."

  Lex looked at the ledger, then at Alaric, then began to scream.

  "How are we going to achieve that?!" Lex yelled, waving the budget report. "We don't have enough houses built yet! We don't have the timber and stone! The logistics alone will crush us!"

  Alaric laughed, brighter than ever, clapping Lex on the back again.

  "No worries, Lex! We will just think about that when the time comes and figure it out as we build!"

  Lex groaned, putting his head in his hands, while Alaric walked out to survey his growing kingdom, dreaming of a city full of people.