Deep within the Great Shrine of Monatem, Father Benedict sat drinking tea, enjoying the rich flavor of the rare leaves, the warmth of the tea radiating out from within his body. It was almost summer, but now that he was older, he found himself enjoying the warmth—especially since it was colder up in the mountains. Picking up his teacup, he lifted his gray eyebrows in a silent question.

  Across the table from him sat Father Linus, his hands folded in front of him. To most people outside of the Great Shrine, they were seen as leaders of two opposing factions within the Shrine—factions whose members were constantly at each other’s throats, vying for power and reputation. However, in reality, the two old men did not have much conflict with each other; Father Benedict stuck to the spiritual aspects of the shrine while Father Linus was in charge of the administrative tasks. The two rarely butted heads.

  Father Benedict took another sip of his tea as he realized that Father Linus would not speak first, the man’s stubbornness had intensified with age. Stubborn old man, he sighed to himself. Putting his teacup down, he broke the silence. “I have heard rumors that King Alfred’s daughters are still living with the merchant, Maliri. Is this news accurate?” Straightening the rough robe he wore, he patiently waited.

  Father Linus steepled his fingers at the question, silently looking at him. Having spent years with Father Linus, Father Benedict knew he was gathering his thoughts before answering the question.

  “Yes, from what I understand, General Todo escorted the two princesses to the merchant's place during the attack,” he finally said. “They have been staying there ever since. I suspect that they will stay there until Prince Hector can restore order. The fact that he did not call them back sooner makes me believe that he was severely injured during the attack on the castle.”

  Reaching over to the teapot, Father Linus poured himself a cup, carefully adding sugar and a bit of cream.

  Concealing his irritation, Father Benedict watched as the sugar and cream entered the tea, his mind revolting at the barbaric action. In his opinion, adding cream and sugar ruined the quality of the tea.

  Shaking his head in sadness as his colleague destroyed the tea, he quietly stated. “We must keep a close eye on Princess Milina. With the death of her father, she will become an important figure, not just for the Kingdom of Vanura but for the whole continent. If we can show her the teachings of Alumus, it may be a great benefit for our Shrine. Keeping her safe is what I suggest. If something were to happen to her, Prince Hector may take the throne, which could set us back years.”

  Nodding in agreement with his statement, Father Linus stirred his tea, smelling the aroma before taking a sip.

  “I have already sent word to the Faithful to keep an eye on the princesses. What do you propose we do about Prince Hector? With him coming back to deal with the rebellion, Lord Bovera’s plans did not come to fruition. I have heard from some of the Faithful that Prince Hector was poisoned but is mostly healed now. He will announce the King's death soon and proclaim Princess Milina as the new heir to the throne.”

  “Do you truly believe that he is mostly healed?” Father Benedict asked, taking another sip of his tea and expressing his doubt. “I do not think so. It is too soon. Even the elves do not have a medicine that strong. I suspect that it is all an act. I believe Lord Leora’s decision to fight Calahan on Prince Hector’s behalf confirms my suspicions. He is still extremely weak. On the other hand, this could all be a tactic to lure out those who want to hurt him. Either way, it may be a good time to play some of our cards and see how he reacts.”

  “We should tread carefully,” Father Linus nodded, the wrinkles on his face deepening. “Since sending Godric to help Calahan, we have lost all contact with him. I have sent men to track him down, but so far, the only thing we know for certain is that he took some of his men to the Maliri residence before vanishing.”

  “Does Maliri employ any guards that can fight Godric?” Father Benedict asked. He did not think so, but he had to make sure.

  “No, the only person in the Kingdom that can fight Godric is Prince Hector. Currently, I can only think of two scenarios. The first one is that Hector was not injured during the assassination of the King and that the rumors of him being poisoned and injured were spread on purpose. Using the rumors he tricked Calahan to come out of the shadows. He was then injured for real during the fight against Godric. I believe this to be the most accurate. I have never heard of a poison that can hurt an Arcane Master. This would also explain why our scouts have found no traces of the warriors who aided Prince Hector in his battle against Godric and his men. Prince Hector’s men would know the layout and knowledge of the countryside; they would be able to hide a group of skilled warriors without being spotted.”

  “Hmm, and the second scenario?”

  “The second scenario is that Prince Hector was poisoned and left the Kingdom to receive treatment from the Elves of Lundale. Godric would then fight and be killed by an unknown force. One that can kill an Arcane Master leading a group of Arcane warriors and Knights without leaving a trace. A large, unknown army marching around Salizia would attract a lot of attention. So that is out of the question. The only option left is a small group of elite warriors or one strong warrior. Even then, the only way Godric and his men could lose is if they met two Arcane Masters or an Arcane Grandmaster.”

  “And none of the three Grandmasters have gone missing?” Father Benedict questioned, taking a sip of his tea. As the lukewarm tea entered his mouth, he frowned, his tea had cooled.

  “None of them have gone missing. As you know, due to their strength, all the Kingdoms are keeping a close eye on them. They would not be able to move without the whole continent talking about it.”

  “This information is troubling, but there is another task we must see too,” Father Benedict said, massaging his head. “I have received a message from one of my agents that Lord Leora is looking into Green Dragons.”

  “Green Dragons?” echoed Father Linus, raising his eyebrow in question. “What does that have to do with us?”

  Taking another sip of his cold tea, Father Benedict sighed before pushing it away and answering. “Father Linus, do you know why there are so few Occultists within our continent?”

  “Because they are agents of evil, and we eradicate them?”

  “Yes, as you know, over a thousand years ago, the Warlock Villinem brought forth an age of blood and chaos. We can directly trace all blood and chaos magic to him. What you do not know is that this demonic creature worshiped the White Dragon, the Dragon of illusion, nightmares, and fear. By sacrificing endless people to this creature, he was granted the ability and knowledge to control all aspects of the mind and even to change illusions into reality. Gathering all the Occultists, Villinem created an empire for the sole purpose of gathering power, reaching an almost God-like state. The daily blood sacrifices and fear needed to fuel the magic they wielded was astronomical.”

  Pausing to clear his throat, he continued. “The Shrine now preaches how Villinem’s empire waged war against all of creation, burning cities and whole Kingdoms to the ground. And so, in time, only five Kingdoms remained—a dying flame against the fury of a hurricane. When we were at our weakest and most desperate, Alumus took pity on us, shining his light down on us. He sent Saint Sanctius to us. Saint Sanctius led us out of the darkness, our Holy Army turning the tide of chaos, the armies of the Warlock breaking against the light of Alumus. After three years of war, Saint Sanctius personally executed Villinem, ending the Age of Blood.

  However, what you do not know, and what was kept hidden from almost everyone, is that victory was won with a heavy price, Saint Sanctius sustained an injury that would not heal. The Dragon’s power was too potent. To prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again, Saint Sanctius ordered all information on Dragons to be destroyed, creating an elite group of warriors within the Great Shrine whose mission is to do so. Currently, I oversee this elite group.”

  Father Benedict smiled as he saw Father Linus sitting there stunned, his mouth open. Even as one of the Columns of Alumus, he did not know of this history.

  Father Linus reached for his cold tea before asking. “Why was I not aware of this? Why is this not common knowledge?”

  “The less people know of Dragons and how Villinem got his power, the better,” Father Benedict explained. “You cannot worship something you do not know exists.”

  “Why did you tell me now? What action should we take with Lord Leora and the rumors of the Green Dragon?”

  “I was told by Saint Sanctius that the work you have done for the Shine is noteworthy, that this information is rewarded to you for your years of work. He expects you to keep working for the Shine in the future. As for Lord Leora, if he continues to search for secrets he should not know, we have no choice but to take matters into our own hands. It is one of the most sacred missions of our Shrine. We must keep the Dragons from ever gaining power within our continent. We will have no choice but to eliminate him if he continues.”

  Father Linus sat, face pale, his forehead wrinkled in thought before questioning. “How do we go about eliminating him without bringing unwanted attention to us? We must also consider the consequences to the Kingdom with such an influential Great Lord being killed.”

  “I agree with you, Father Linus. If we do have to eliminate him, we must do it in a way that does not reflect on us. I suggest we use Lord Bovera; he has been asking us to support him by sending him military aid. If we send him some of our troops discreetly, we can influence him into attacking the lands of Leora. His desire to conquer the lands of Leora and Ruscell is reported to us by the Faithful. During the conflict, we can eliminate Lord Leora if need be.”

  “I will handle this affair.” Father Linus stood up, his face set. “May the light of Alumus protect us.”

  “May the light of Alumus protect us.”

  Father Benedict watched as Father Linus left the room, the light of change was once again lighting a new path.

  “What do you think?”

  The merchant Maliri stared at the wooden box before him asking his daughter for her opinion. As the strongest and most influential merchant group, sometimes individual citizens hired them to deliver items or messages for a price equal to ten percent of the packages' worth. This wooden box was such a request.

  “The amount the client offered us to deliver this to the Silkbug Kingdom is unnaturally high. It does make me suspicious of the content of the box. Are you sure it is nothing illegal?” Ashley asked, walking up and inspecting the wooden box.

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  “I’m sure,” Maliri replied, wiping the sweat off his face. Summer was approaching, and the weather was getting to him. “It's a decorative saber meant as a gift to the Silkbug King. I personally brought it over to Veston to check the quality of the blade. It’s subpar. If you take off all the gems, the price of this saber is exaggerated tenfold. In fact, I doubt any of our guards would use it. As for the gems… they are adequate, nothing special but nothing to be ashamed about.”

  Glancing over at her frowning father, Ashley spoke. “The caravan trip to the Silkbug Kingdom is already planned, adding an extra box will not be a problem. As long as the package is not illegal, I think we should take the request.”

  Placing her hand on the wooden box, she ran her hands over the smooth surface of the box. “We must uphold our family reputation. The one that you built. As long as it is not illegal, we will deliver it. Besides, this will be my first time leading the caravan. As your successor, I don't want others to think our family’s strength started and ended with you. We cannot reject a client without a good reason.”

  Maliri silently groaned, seeing the determination in his daughter's eyes, his stomach sinking slightly. He had influenced her too well when it came to their family reputation. Normally, he would feel pride at Ashley’s determination, but with the King’s assassination and General Calahan's rebellion, he was extremely paranoid. He saw shadows everywhere. I wish I could talk her out of it, he thought.

  “I understand how you feel, but with the current affairs of the Kingdom, I have a bad feeling about this package,” he tried to argue, knowing his daughter would not budge from her decision.

  “We can increase the number of caravan guards if you are uncomfortable, Father,” Ashley replied, walking around and inspecting the whole caravan.

  The Golden Caravan was composed of multiple grand wagons, horses, and camels, all of which would be packed to the brim with goods. Each wagon was covered by a canvas cover, painted gold, giving rise to the name, The Golden Caravan. The value of the whole caravan was more than what a minor lord could make in their lifetime.

  Trying to keep up with his daughter, Maliri lumbered after her, his face red from the effort. Stubborn girl! I wonder where she got that from? he thought. It’s certainly not from me! “I will send the Diamond Guard with you,” he managed to blurt out, leaning against the wagon Ashely was inspecting and catching his breath.

  Sighing exasperatingly, Ashley looked over at him.

  “Father, you know we can't do that. If you send the Diamond guards with us, the two Princesses would not be properly protected. Don't worry, trust in Captain Hagan and the rest of the guards. I will be safe. Now, please catch your breath and help me with the inspection.”

  Maliri followed his daughter as she walked to each wagon, carefully checking the cargo and integrity of the wagons. Ever since she was young, he had shown her how to check each wagon, showing her the early signs to be wary of. This was the first time she was leading the inspection.

  “I think we need to replace this flag,” she muttered, looking up at a limp flag mounted on a wagon. The flag was weather-worn; the three golden rings of the Maliri family faded by the sun.

  “I agree,” Maliri said, looking up at the flag. “Good catch.”

  One of the most important lessons he had drilled into Ashely was the importance of making sure her family’s flag was visible from every direction. This was because of the truces he had established with the largest bandit groups and city leaders during his travels. The Golden Caravan provided supplies and paid a traveling fee to those controlling the lands they were traveling through. In return, they were granted safe passage.

  This didn’t mean the Golden Caravan lacked the means to protect itself. In fact, before Maliri had forged the truce, he had crushed anyone unwilling to negotiate with him. The result was a bloody merchant's path that connected all the Great cities.

  Waving over at a group of men, Ashley shouted. “This flag is too old, replace it with a new one. We must make sure that everyone knows who owns this caravan.”

  Watching the men run to replace the flag, Ashley nodded before continuing the inspection. As Ashley inspected each wagon, Maliri could tell that her excitement was growing. Signing to himself, he could not help but remember how excited he was when he had first started his business, his young, strong body shaking with anticipation every time he set off. Seeing his own daughter's hand tremble, he could not help but feel a mixture of pride and unexplainable worry. Everything will be alright, he told to himself.

  The night before Ashely was set to depart for the Silkbug Kingdom, Maliri meticulously reviewed the contract for the saber delivery, going over it line by line to ensure everything was correct.

  Rubbing his tired eyes, he yawned and reached for a cup of wine. Taking a sip, he mused on what he had learned. So far, he did not find anything out of the ordinary—besides the outrageous price. That was fortunate—or was it unfortunate? he did not know. Shuffling some papers, he started to read the report about the client. If there was nothing about the item, maybe he could find something about the client.

  The client was named Diam, a small-time merchant who owned a fabric shop in the capital. The man was ordinary—not even part of the merchant’s guild. Nodding to himself, Maliri jotted that information down. It was never bad to be too cautious. Turning back to the report, he studied what was sold at the shop. Looks like he gets most of his fabrics from Kandula, he thought. Mostly cheap stuff that looks expensive. I doubt he has too many loyal customers. He probably makes most of his money selling to people who don’t know fabrics well. And from the looks of this, it’s the first time he requested our services.

  Stretching his tired body, he tapped his chin in thought. This still makes me feel uneasy.

  Finishing his wine, he reached over to ring a small bell; he had made up his mind.

  “I need you to discreetly summon Zenrom to me. Make sure that Ashley does not know,” he told the butler who walked in.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  As the butler left, Maliri stared out the window. This was not the first time he felt this uncomfortable dread. Throughout his life, he could count the number of times he had felt like this, and every time he did, something had gone terribly wrong.

  A couple of minutes later, a knock came from the door, followed by Zenrom entering.

  “I am afraid that I must ask you to accompany my daughter to the Silkbug Kingdom,” Maliri said, pacing back and forth, leaving footprints on his carpet.

  “My Lord, Lady Ashley will never accept that. She is determined to show the world that she is worthy of being your successor,” Zenrom replied, closing the door behind him and walking over to him.

  “I understand her thoughts,” Maliri answered, knowing his daughter would hate him for not trusting her, but he could not get rid of the foreboding shadow looming in his mind.

  “Zenrom, I have never been wrong about my intuition when it comes to danger. I want you to secretly follow her. Do not let her see you. If I am wrong, she would never know you followed her. If I am right, you will be able to protect her.”

  Feeling uncomfortable as Zenrom quietly looked at him, Maliri picked up a stack of papers, fanning himself with it. “You only need to follow her until the border of the Kingdom.”

  “I understand,” Zenrom finally uttered, nodding his head once.

  Surprised and happy that Zenrom had agreed to his request without putting up a fight, Maliri heavily sat down, grunting slightly. This was going well!

  “Who should I take with me?”

  Pouring himself more wine, Maliri paused. “Take Winks, Cam, and San. Leave, Shina, and June—they are the closest with the princesses; their absence will be noticed. I also think it will be a good idea to leave Reges with us. We need at least one Arcane Lord.”

  “I understand.”

  Zenrom’s face was expressionless. “I suggest we leave three days after they leave. We can catch up within the week, and if Lady Ashley has scouts looking out for us, it will be easier for us to hide from them once they let their guard down.”

  “Yes, I trust your judgment.”

  Maliri laughed, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from him. “Zenrom! I feel much better after talking to you! Let us grab a bite to eat! I feel famished after worrying so much.”

  “Thank you for the invite, but I have a couple of things I must do to prepare for the journey,” Zenrom said.

  “That's too bad, but I understand,” Maliri smiled, ringing the bell. “More food for me.”

  The northeastern region of the Vanura Kingdom had been controlled by the Galra family for generations, their love of beauty legendary. Their love for beauty was so strong that each family member worked tirelessly to cultivate vast fields of flowers, transforming their land into oceans of immaculate living colors. At the heart of this ocean of flowers stood Castle Flower Rock—a crown atop a bed of flowers, a fortress that every lord envied. Although their glory days were in the past, House Galra still enjoyed being called the Most Beautiful Great House of Vanura.

  Lord Essen Galra sat at his desk, absentmindedly biting his nails, a habit he could never seem to grow out of. He wore a black suit embroidered with flowers, his house emblem—a peacock on his right chest.

  “Essen, stop biting your nails. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  Taking his finger out of his mouth, he glanced up, his wife had walked into the room. Silan was thin but strong, her pretty face always giving off an air of intimidation. Smarter and more ambitious than most women—most men if he was being truthful, she was the one who truly ran their lands.

  Looking at his wife, Essen wondered when the last time he had seen her truly smile.

  “There is a rumor that Maliri is delivering a gift to the King of Silkbug. Normally, this would not be of much news, but the rumors are saying that it is one of the Twelve Weapons created by the legendary Elf King,” he told his wife, looking down at the report in his hand. He hoped she had some insight she could give him.

  “What is your source?” she asked, frowning. “The annual trip to the Silkbug Kingdom should have started just yesterday. It’s unnatural for rumors of it to travel to us in such a short time.”

  Nodding at his wife, Essen told her. “Since King Alfred became sick, I’ve infiltrated the Capital with men loyal to our House. They sent word that the moment the Golden Caravan left the Maliri residence, rumors of the weapon spread like wildfire in the market.”

  “The value of one of the Twelve Weapons is equal to that of a Kingdom! Why would anyone send it as a gift to the Silkbug Kingdom?” Silan shook her head. “This rumor sounds like a scam.”

  Agreeing with his wife’s reply, Essen explained what was written on the report. “According to the rumors, the owner took years trying to unlock the sword's power. Having failed to unlock its secret, he decided to present it as a gift. He is requesting a title of a Lord in return.” Bringing his finger back to his mouth, he started to bite his nails.

  Looking at her husband in disbelief, Silan walked over to him, taking his hand out of his mouth. Picking up the report, she started reading it herself, her frown deepening.

  “The rumors are too in-depth,” she reasoned. “And it is unreasonable to give the sword away instead of passing it down to your children. Furthermore, there is no way that you would send such a valuable weapon using a merchant. If anything happens, you will lose the most important item in your possession. This is a hoax.”

  “I also agree with you,” replied Essen, stretching his arms over his head. He was glad she came to the same conclusion as him. “The question now is what we should do? Should we involve ourselves in this situation, or should we ignore the rumors?”

  Sitting down on a cushioned couch, Silan tapped her finger on the armrest, reading the rest of the report. “Regardless of the Caravan's strength, the value of the sword will cause multiple parties to try their luck. If we are to consider this as a scheme… It is quite simple but effective. The Golden Caravan will be attacked by multiple bandits and mercenaries.” Glancing over at him, she questioned. “Do you know anyone foolish enough to attack the caravan?”

  “A handful,” Essen admitted, quickly listing the most likely candidates in his mind. “But I doubt they actually would.”

  “I see…” Silan narrowed her eyes. “So, we must ask ourselves who is targeting the merchant and why?”

  “That makes sense,” Essen replied, looking at his wife. “Should we look into who started the rumors?”

  “No, no,” his wife answered, her forehead wrinkled in thought. “We don’t need to know who set the stage to play on it. If it were me, I would send our men to cause as much chaos as they could. If we are lucky, something interesting may arise.”

  “Hmm… But what benefit can be acquired from playing along with this scheme?” Essen asked. He felt a little foolish he could not understand his wife’s plan.

  Lifting the report with the tips of her fingers, she answered. “According to this, the merchant who requested the transport of the weapon is named Diam. He is a fabric trader who has a close relationship with Lord Forcen of Kandula. The same Forcen who is on good terms with Lord Bisconti Bovera. This incident has the smell of Bovera all over it. If I had to guess, he is the one to send the sword, and he is the one to spread the rumor.” Looking over at her husband, she continued. “Ever since we formed a military alliance with Lord Bovera through our daughter’s marriage to his son, Kornel, we haven’t gained much. I thought Lord Bovera would share his strategies with his son and in turn our daughter, but we have nothing so far. Using this situation, we will try to grasp his intentions and reveal his claws.”

  Smiling widely at his wife's wit, Essen nodded. “I agree with you. I, too, have felt as if Bisconti is hiding something from us. It’s always safer to take precautions in case something happens. I don’t want to be caught off guard. I will send our men to cause chaos. If we are lucky, we will see his hand. If not… well, we won’t lose anything.” Lord Essen looked over at his wife. She was smiling, the faint lines in her eyes revealing a genuine smile.