The Pink Palace was not a good hotel. That much was obvious, even to Kios — who hadn't slept in a proper human establishment for a long time. He would've preferred the rough nights spent in the wilderness over this godforsaken place.
Part of the blame lay with the receptionist, a grumpy old woman who insisted on calling herself Lady Alexandra.
"Old hag," Kios thought bitterly as he spotted her, smoke curling from a cigarette in her hand. Her beady eyes followed him as he passed, taking in his every movement.
— Room 306 —
Alastor sat by the open window, allowing the musty air to circulate. He acknowledged Kios's presence with a simple nod before turning back to gaze at the horizon.
The city line stretched before them, a grand view. Lamberg's towering buildings rose like masterpieces of marble and stone. With its sheer size and breathtaking architecture, the City truly deserved its title of "the richest city on the continent."
'Supposedly,' Kios reminded himself. 'No one's set foot in the Anarian Capital in over a hundred years. And then there's the matter of the other continents…'
Their continent, Eos, was entirely isolated from the rest of the world. For all they knew, that was the case for every continent. "Some say there are six, each so vast and full of people, it's like stepping into a different world. Then again, there could be more… Or maybe there's only one—ours."
Lamberg's Port was the closest thing to the fabled Wooden Gauntlet, a perilous stretch of sea that supposedly led to another continent. Many ships had sailed it, but none had returned.
'Some must've crossed and reached the other continent… but who would dare voyage back?'
"The only ship that can make the crossing is the Tsedenrich," Alastor said, closing the window and locking the latch before facing Kios. "A Tssarian vessel. Its course… leads to the next continent."
"I'm not about to face impossible odds just to escape a few priests," Kios replied, leaning against the peeling wall, arms crossed. "That's the 'endgame' of the story; ours is just getting started."
"Anyway," Alastor continued, "the explosion yesterday killed the King and his three sons, as well as the heads of noble families Percy, Sinclair, and Ebinich. The Queen and his two daughters survived."
"I suppose the King's brother, Prince Liras, will take the throne?" Kios asked, his gaze drifting to a spider crawling across the floor.
"Probably. He's the only one left. Lamberg has never had a Queen, and it probably never will."
"Say… your family is one of the richest on the continent. You must have some influence, right?"
"I'm afraid not," Alastor sighed dramatically, feigning ignorance. "My parents did, but I never really interacted with powerful people. Besides, I'm a fugitive now — both for killing my parents and for offing a few Templars."
Kios saw through his facade but didn't press. Instead, he shifted the conversation.
"So why'd you kill your parents?"
"Because I wanted to," Alastor replied, almost as if he'd expected the question. "Don't be so nosy, Kios. Why don't you take a stroll, get familiar with the environment?"
Kios scoffed. "We're fugitives, and you want me to stroll?"
"Make sure to put up your hood."
'…'
Kios's stroll through the city was uneventful. He spent most of his time eavesdropping on conversations.
"They say the explosion yesterday was huge, I was scared out of my wits!" one person muttered."I know, right? A shame about the King and his sons. May their souls rest in peace.""A true tragedy…"
King Richard IX had been one of the rare 'good' kings. A progressive man who supported Lamberg's advancements in technology and mysticism, he was also known for his acceptance of different cultures, races, and creeds.
'Only, the accepting King Richard was also a drunkard who considered everyone beneath him a peasant. He didn't discriminate; he just didn't care. His support for technology and mysticism was all part of his grand ambition to restore the Lambergian Imperium…'
Kios watched as horse-drawn carriages rumbled over the cobbled streets, women chatted as they did laundry, and men sat around drinking from pitchers and playing cards.
He climbed into a nearby carriage and settled into the plush red seat. "Take me to the Port."
The Port was the beating heart of Lamberg's trade. Ships came and went, the markets were alive with activity, and merchants from exotic lands sold goods beyond imagination. The air was thick with the scent of spices, leather, and saltwater.
Grand wooden ships floated on the bright blue sea, their massive cargoes from distant lands waiting to be unloaded: silks from Farenfall, herbs from Dalsta, wines from Anaria.
Kios spotted honey-skinned men from Dalsta struggling to carry heavy chests, and a golden-haired woman in loose white robes surrounded by golden-armored centurions.
But what truly caught his attention were the people from Creno.
Creno, the Holy Land of Light. What a load of bullsht. A barren wasteland between Lamberg and Rosto, the only thing there a massive cathedral.*
Kios recalled his travels to Rosto, where, from the Alps, he had once seen the faint outline of a giant, glowing four-pointed star. He squinted, activating his 'Spirit Vision.'
The Crenians wore white cloaks with golden outlines, their heads draped in thin white veils. All three radiated faint blue auras, with subtle hints of gold.
'Who knows? They must be up to some strange things in that so-called "Holy Land." They might not even be human…'
Still with his 'Spirit Vision' active, he noticed that many others at the Port had pronounced auras, especially the golden-haired woman. Her aura shone a brilliant white. Her centurions were similarly imbued with powerful energy.
'She must be important. Maybe a foreign envoy from Anaria?'
Though Anaria was sealed off, its people were not trapped in their country.
'A thousand years ago, Conqueror Alexander Gaius Aurelian nearly conquered the entire continent. The Anarian Empire once stretched across what is now Rosto, Tsarria, Dalsta, and Zealf. But they never managed to conquer Lamberg — which back then was little more than a collection of scattered sea folk and pirates.'
Kios glanced toward the people from Farenfall. Once a mighty kingdom, Farenfall had been reduced to a single city and scattered mountain tribes, known as the Ghengz.
Pale, tall, and fair, their blood ran thick with the Farren legacy. Their hair was often blonde or red.
'Oh my.' Even Kios was beginning to feel the effects of a nearby blonde. But when he checked her aura, it was completely ordinary.
He deactivated his 'Spirit Vision' and turned his attention to the line of ships docked in the harbor. One large vessel caught his attention, and he could hear a loud Dalstan voice cursing the navy.
"F*cking bergs! Nobody cares that the King died. How dare they stop us from setting sail?"
His accent was thick, but Kios made out the meaning. 'Bergs? Seriously? They need to come up with better slurs…'
In the distance, Kios saw even larger ships circling the harbor — the Lambergian Royal Navy, their ships flying blue and white colors. 'Typical,' Kios thought as he made his way toward the bazaar.
The market was a mix of shabby and extravagant stalls scattered across the harbor. Nothing caught Kios's eye right away, but he did overhear something interesting.
"From the north, Prince Liras was spotted! I hear he's bringing almost 15,000 men with him. He was tasked with defending the border from Roston troops…"
'Already? The King died only yesterday. That's fast… Suspiciously fast.'
"You saw him yourself?" someone asked.
"I was coming back from Port Dimir with some Roston furs when I saw them — a huge army, flags flying with the Lambergian eagle."
Kios eyed the tall, blonde-bearded man who claimed to have seen Liras's army. 'Some Roston's turned their back on their country. Their leader declared himself a dictator, and now the whole place is a militaristic mess.'
He passed through more stalls, his black hood pulled low over his face. He caught a few odd glances — some wondering why he was wearing a cloak on such a sunny day, others sensing the dark aura around him and instinctively avoiding him.
As he was about to call for a carriage, a young boy with curly brown hair dashed by, holding a stack of newspapers.
"News! Breaking news! The Queen, Alanna Verley Pendragon, has declared herself Queen Regent!"
He shouted at the top of his lungs, drawing the attention of nearly everyone nearby.
"Declared herself Queen Regent…"
The words echoed through the crowd, and then, chaos erupted.
"WHAT THE F*CK? WE WILL NOT ACCEPT A QUEEN!"
"THE TRUE KING IS LIRAS!"
The crowd began shouting, repeating variations of the same phrases. And soon, one chant dominated them all:
"Fck the Queen!*"
'Is she mad? Yeah, probably. Liras isn't going to take this lying down…'
Kios smiled beneath his hood, though no one could see it.
"Things are getting very interesting…"