Estia, capital of Lithiar, pulsed with morning light and music. Even months after the grand festival celebrating the war's end, the city still hummed with joy—vendors laughing in the streets, the scent of roasted almonds and blooming lilacs drifting through the crisp air.
Beyond the ornate wrought-iron gates of a sprawling estate, an expansive villa stood proudly—a vision of sculpted hedges, glistening fountains, and sun-warmed brick paths winding through fields of color.
Inside the grand foyer where sunlight painted the marble floors gold, Dominique Kartier reclined on a velvet settee. The rich aroma of roasted coffee mingled with the faint perfume of polished wood. His newspaper rustled softly as he turned a page.
The rhythmic clatter of wheels broke the calm. Sophia, the head maid, appeared, pushing a garment rack lined with freshly pressed clothes wrapped in linen. "Good morning, your grace," she began with a curt bow, "His Highness' new clothes have arrived." Dominique arched a brow. "New garments? We just received the last sets four months ago. Has he outgrown those already?"
Sophia's fingers twisted nervously around her apron. "It would seem so, my lord. The prince has had… another growth spurt." Dominique's sigh was deep enough to ruffle the newspaper. At this rate, he'll outgrow the house itself.
"Papaaa!" A golden-haired blur came barreling into the room. Juliette, all curls and laughter, darted toward her father with a squeal. "Papa, your favorite daughter is here!" "Careful, Julie, lest you trip and fall again." came a soft, exasperated voice from the doorway. Jasmine Sutlin, Dominique's mistress, stepped in, adjusting the lace gloves on her slender hands.
Her dark braid slid over one shoulder as she crossed the room with an elegant sway. The soft green of her floral dress shimmered under the morning light. Dominique rose, kneeling just in time to catch Juliette. "My sweet girl!" he boomed with a chuckle, scooping her up and spinning once before holding her close. The laughter that followed filled the cavernous foyer like birdsong.
Jasmine smiled faintly, her eyes tender as she watched the two. "She has your energy," she teased, easing onto the settee. "Energy?" Dominique smirked. "She has a tempest for a heart."
Their moment was interrupted by Sophia, her voice low. "My lord, a note came for His Highness. From Duchess Emilia." Jasmine's brow lifted. "Another one? He ignored the last, didn't he?" "He did," Sophia confirmed. "It's been untouched on his bedside table since last night."
Jasmine chuckled, waving to the maids who appeared with a gleaming tea cart. "Oh, he's definitely tired of it by now. You should've seen his face last time—he looked like he'd swallowed a lemon." Dominique chuckled, amused by the silent banter between the twins. "You can leave it with the other one, Sophia." He said to the head maid. "Yes, my lord." She bowed, turning to the stairs leading to Nathaniel's room.
Juliette perked up instantly. "When will Prince Zen come back, Papa?" she asked, her voice full of unfiltered innocence. "I miss him! He lifts me up so high I can see the whole world! And he tells funny stories about knights and dragons and—"
Dominique's stern features softened. He watched his daughter's glowing face, his chest tightening with quiet affection. "Well," Jasmine said, watching Juliette practically bounce in her seat, "perhaps a cup of tea will make the wait shorter. I had them bring your favorite cookies, sweetheart."
Juliette gasped audibly, eyes wide. "Really? The buttery ones with the jam in the middle?" Dominique chuckled. "Tea and snacks sound perfect, my love." He leaned in, brushing a kiss across Jasmine's cheek. Her breath hitched, and color flooded her face. "Dominique," she hissed softly, glancing at their daughter. "Not in front of her."
But it was too late. "Papa!" Juliette squealed, hands on her hips, stamping her tiny foot. "Kiss me too! I want one just like Mama!" Both parents exchanged a helpless glance, then laughed. Dominique hoisted Juliette between them, and they each planted a kiss on her rosy cheeks.
Her giggles rang through the sunlit foyer, mingling with the trickle of the fountains outside. For a brief moment, time itself seemed to pause—frozen in laughter, warmth, and the quiet promise of peace that had been so hard-won.
**
The rooster's cry split the dawn in the Uluka tribe, its echo rolling over thatched roofs and dusty lanes. Morning came alive with the hum of voices — the chatter of women balancing woven baskets on their hips, the laughter of children chasing stray goats, the ring of metal as hunters tested their spears' edges. Smoke curled from hearths, mixing with the earthy scent of damp clay and livestock.
To Nathaniel, the scene was a world apart — raw, untamed, and strangely beautiful. His gaze darted from the mud huts to the bustling market alleys, absorbing every flicker of life until the quadruplet brothers halted before a shabby dwelling at the village's far edge. Uler dismounted first. His boots sank into the soft dirt as he pushed open a crooked wooden gate. The hinges screeched in protest, one side splintered and rotted by years of rain.
"Uler," Nathaniel asked, sliding down from his horse, his voice edged with curiosity, "what is this place?" Uler hesitated — the words seemed to weigh a ton in his throat. "This… is where we grew up, your highness." His eyes dropped. "It's our home."
The word home hung heavy in the air. Nathaniel glanced past him — the hut looked frail against the morning light, walls cracked and sunbaked, yet something about it radiated warmth.
He stepped forward. A sudden flurry of feathers broke his stride — a couple of hens darted between his boots, squawking. Nathaniel jumped back, earning muffled laughter from the brothers until a single sharp glare from him silenced them instantly.
Inside, the air smelled of smoke and old herbs. A blindfolded woman crouched beside a dying fire pit, her frail hand poking the ashes with a cane. Her hair was silver-white, her robes faded to the color of dust. At the sound of footsteps, her head turned sharply.
"I thought I told y'all not to come back 'til I was dead," she rasped, though a smile crept onto her wrinkled face. "Ma!" Uwol bolted forward. "Don't you 'Ma' me, boy!" she barked, swinging her cane at him with uncanny precision. Yet Nathaniel caught the affection beneath her scolding, the trembling of her lips as she fought back tears.
"Your highness," Uler said softly, bowing to compose himself. "This is Ulala — our adoptive mother. She raised us as her own… though she's been blind all her life." Ulala's cloudy eyes turned toward the prince as if she could see him. "Welcome to my humble home, young hero," she murmured, trying to curtsy but her frail knees wouldn't cooperate. "The crown prince of Alkaraz… son of the Holy One."
Moments later, they sat around a wobbling wooden table outside the hut. The morning light filtered through palm leaves, scattering shifting patterns over their faces. The silence stretched — thick, thoughtful. "You may not know this, your excellency," Ulala said at last, leaning closer, her voice low and threaded with mystery, "but I am a seer. I was born blind, yet I have seen worlds no mortal eyes ever could."
Nathaniel's brows lifted. The brothers exchanged uneasy glances. She chuckled, the sound creaky but warm. "I once cursed the gods for my blindness. Couldn't see the rainbows or the harvest or the faces of those I loved. But then these four fools stumbled into my life… and for the first time in forever, I felt useful, needed."
"Ma…" Uwol's voice cracked, tears glistening down his cheeks. "Enough, you big crybaby!" She smacked the table. "You'll rust my table before the rain does." Laughter broke through the tension — brief, but genuine. When it faded, Ulala's tone softened. "Your highness, I know they come from dirt and dust, but they are good young men. Brave. Loyal. Shape them, and they'll rise higher than the stars you command."
Nathaniel said nothing — her words, her presence, even the tremor in her hands seemed ancient, prophetic. Then she spoke again, her voice dipping into something deeper, almost musical. "I see you've already met your moon." Nathaniel blinked. "My… moon?" "Your soulmate, of course." She grinned, showing missing teeth. "That young woman who stirs your soul. Seize her when fate opens the door — or another might take your place."
The brothers turned as one toward Nathaniel. His jaw tightened. "Who are you talking about, Ma?" Uler asked. "His soulmate!" Uwol sing-songed, elbowing Ulyx. "Is he—blushing?" Ulyx gasped. "Even his ears are red!" Uwol howled with laughter.
Nathaniel scowled, rising from his chair. "Enough." The scrape of wood on dirt cut through the laughter like a blade. Leonardo's gaze flicked to the prince — silent understanding passing between them. "All four of you," Nathaniel commanded, voice like thunder. "Kneel."
The brothers obeyed instantly, dropping to one knee before him. Nathaniel unsheathed his sword — the metal gleamed in the morning sun. "With this vow," he declared, the air around them stilling, "I bind you as knights of Alkaraz. You shall serve as the empire's swords and shields, protecting and defending its people from evil. Rise with honor… or never rise again."
The blade touched each shoulder in turn. When it was done, Ulala's hands trembled, pride shining through her old, sightless eyes. "Please," she whispered, reaching out until her frail fingers brushed his. "Take care of my boys." Nathaniel clasped her hand, his tone softer now. "You have my word, Lady Ulala. Please rest easy."
A breeze swept through the yard then, stirring the ashes in her fire pit. Ulala tilted her head toward the sound, smiling faintly — as though she had just witnessed a vision come true.
**
Leonardo felt relieved when it was finally time to leave Ulala's home. He could still feel the tension knotted beneath his ribs, the phantom tremor in his hands from when she kept stealing those quiet, knowing glances at him. There had been something in the curve of her lips—something familiar, almost dangerous. The kind of smile that made the edges of his forgotten past whisper like ghosts in his mind. He shuddered inwardly. Whatever lay behind that veil of memory, he preferred it stay buried.
"Leo! What are you dawdling for?" Nathaniel's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and impatient. "We must make it back before sundown." He added.
The golden horizon bled into amber and rose as the wind stirred the tall grass around them. Leonardo blinked, forcing a faint smile. "Are you alright, Sir Leo?" Uwol asked, concern softening his boyish face. "Your complexion's pale as bone." "I'm quite alright, Sir Uwol," Leonardo replied, his tone calm, though his pulse still hammered from unease.
Uwol froze. "D-did you just call me Sir?!" His grin split wide. "By the heavens above, I've never even dreamed of being called anything but 'reject,' 'scum,' 'scoundrel'—et cetera, et cetera." He threw his head back in a bark of laughter that echoed through the field.
"Cut it out, Uwol!" Uler scorned, smacking him on the back with enough force to make him stumble. "Your voice is scaring the birds away." "How tragic," Uwol mocked, clutching his chest in feigned pain. "The noble birds shall never recover."
Despite himself, Leonardo's lips twitched. Watching the two of them—laughing, teasing, so effortlessly at ease—sparked a flicker of warmth in him he didn't understand. They'd both been spat on by the world, cast aside by their own people, yet together they seemed untouchable, unbroken.
He watched as they shoved each other like squabbling children, their laughter trailing into the breeze. It must be nice, he thought, to have siblings—to belong somewhere to someone.
**
Fatima had been walking on eggshells around the estate ever since the duchess and her daughter's return to the duchy. Without the commanding presence of Duke Dimitriu, the entire mansion felt like a powder keg waiting for a spark. She let out sigh, then dipped the rag into the water, wringing it to resume cleaning the marble statue of a woman barely dressed. Then— footsteps approached, heels thudding the floor like a warning.
"How dare you step foot inside this mansion, you worthless parasite?" Florette's voice cracked through the air like a whip, her jeweled fan slicing the air in sharp, angry waves. "Ha! You aren't thinking of yourself as a real nanny, are you? Just you wait—Mother and I will set things right once my brother returns."
Fatima stood still for a moment, her pulse steady despite the venom hurled her way. The marble floor gleamed cold beneath her slippers; sunlight spilled through the tall windows, catching in the gold trim of Florette's gown—a peacock shimmering in fury.
It would be best to ignore her.The last thing I need right now is a confrontation with the duchess's daughter. Fatima sighed softly, brushing a stray lock of silver hair from her face, and—unfortunately—rolling her eyes just a little too visibly.
Florette froze, disbelief flashing across her delicate features before twisting into rage. "Wh–what was that?" she hissed, her face blotching pink. "Are you ignoring me? How dare you!" Her fan clattered to the floor as she lunged, fingers outstretched for Fatima's hair like a beast's claws —but Fatima was already gone, skirts whispering against the steps as she darted down the grand staircase.
"Get back here, you filthy bond servant!" Florette shrieked, the sound echoing through the halls. Before she could follow, a timid voice broke through her fury. "My lady?" "What!" she snapped, spinning toward the trembling maid. "Master Dimitriu is on the telephone… wishing to speak with you."
Florette froze mid-breath. Her anger melted into sudden, radiant delight. "Brother!" she gasped, clutching her chest as if his very name had revived her. Downstairs, Fatima exhaled in relief. For now, the storm had found a new direction. "That was dangerously close."
**
As Nathaniel, Leonardo, and the quadruplet brothers crossed the threshold of the villa's gates, guards offering deep bows and stablemen leading their horses away, a commotion arose behind them. He turned around to find the knights huddling into a circle, barking questions at whoever was in the middle. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head as he strode toward them. "What on earth are they up to now?" Leonardo murmured, following Nathaniel. "Your highness, an intruder tried to enter the villa." One guard shouted, stepping aside to allow him through.
At the center of the commotion, a hooded figure thrashed against their hold like a trapped beast, his movements erratic but desperate—every inch of him resisting capture. The knights struggled to pin him down, curses spilled from their lips. "Stay still you lawless ruffian." One huffed, pressing him down. "Who would be foolish enough to infiltrate your escort?" Leonardo murmured, fingers cupping his chin pensively. "Let him go." Nathaniel ordered suddenly, his tone calm but calculating. The guards hesitated. One of them straightened, armor clinking nervously. "Be careful, your highness. If this is an Ecaleapsian spy," "I said—let him go." Nathaniel cut in, his tone heavier now.
A chill swept through the courtyard. The men instantly obeyed, releasing their grip. The moment they stepped away, the figure fell still, rising to sit on his knees and bowed before Nathaniel. The prince's brows furrowed slightly as he stared at him, confused and baffled. The tension was palpable—the sound of shifting armor and drawn swords echoing softly as the knights raised their weapons, encircling them like wolves around a lone deer.
Nathaniel stepped closer, a gust of wind billowing his navy cloak as his footfalls echoed against the flagstones. He reached for his sword with a slow, deliberate motion, the metallic whisper of the blade cutting through the heavy silence. "I'm not sure if I should praise your bravery or chastise your stupidity." Nathaniel roared, his voice earning nervous jolts from the knights as they exchanged uneasy glances. He lifted the blade, then with a flick of his wrist, hooked the tip beneath the stranger's hood and flung it back.
Gasps rippled through the group as they retreated a few steps back, stunned by the revelation. "What in," one of them choked, eyes wide with disbelief. "Goodness!" another gasped, cheeks burning crimson. "Oh, for goodness' sake." Leonardo groaned, shaking his head in irritation. Even Nathaniel's expression faltered, his usual composure fracturing for the briefest instant as he met the intruder's gaze. "What on earth are you doing here?" he asked, instantly sheathing his weapon.