Tony was trying to find his way to the Judgment Hall. I got it, he thought. Why not just ask the guard? He walked over to one of the guards stationed in the market—a man on special duty tasked with watching over the traders and maintaining order.
"Please," Tony asked politely, "would you be kind enough to direct me to the Judgment Hall?"
"Yeah, thanks. I got it," Tony said after receiving the directions.
He nodded and left the market, following the guard's instructions.
Soon, Tony stood a short distance from the hall, watching the soldiers guarding its entrance. Taking a deep breath, he approached them.
"Can I speak with one of the two—Yamin?" he pleaded.
One guard narrowed his eyes. "Permission to enter is only granted under strict conditions set by the commander."
"Okay then... can you send a request for me?" Tony asked. "I'd really like to speak with her."
Something in Tony's eyes—a mixture of longing and quiet urgency—caught the guard's attention. He nodded and went inside.
After a few minutes, Yamin asked calmly, "Who is he?"
"I don't really know," the guard admitted, "but I've seen him around."
Yamin considered this and then said without hesitation, "Yeah, let him in."
Who was Yamin? There was an aura of grace and authority around her—she was popular, respected, and treated with deep reverence. Was she a princess? The daughter of a council leader? A warrior?
"You've been permitted. Come in," the guard said, opening the gate.
Tony stepped inside.
With a saddlebag slung over his shoulder carrying the Codex, the Traveller's Time Clock, and the Prism of Life, Tony's eyes roamed the ornate hall until they fixed on Nether Mela, the hall's graceful maid.
"She's inside," Nether said softly, leading him down the corridor. They passed tall pillars and gilded walls before reaching one of the decorated rooms.
Inside, Yamin sat reading one of the old tomes her father had gifted her. Her mind drifted: Jasmine is too long gone... she hasn't returned yet. Then, Nether's voice broke the silence from outside the door: "He is here."
"Should I let him in or schedule a palace meeting?" Yamin murmured to herself.
Her thoughts spun for a moment before she spoke clearly, "Let him in."
Tony reached for the door handle and instinctively pulled it outward. It didn't budge. Realizing it opened the other way, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
Golden beams shimmered from polished artifacts and the frame of an ornate bed. His eyes widened; the room was majestic, almost dreamlike.
And then he saw her.
She stood radiant, her hair glowing softly in the golden light. Her graceful figure, delicate dimples, and finely tailored attire exuded nobility and elegance. She's really beautiful, Tony thought, breath caught in his chest.
"What is it?" Yamin asked softly, her voice like a whispered melody. Her eyes met Tony's, calm yet curious.
Tony stood still, his breath caught for a moment. The room's regal beauty, paired with her presence, made his thoughts stumble. He felt shy. She was stunning—undeniably striking.
"Please," he began, voice uneven, "I... uh..." He paused, cleared his throat, then tried again. "I thought I might discuss a matter with you—about your father and a quest I believe is connected to you."
Yamin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really? I'd like to know what that connection is. But... how do you know my father? Have you met him before?"
Tony held her gaze, drawn in by her round, intelligent eyes. "Yeah," he replied quietly.
Something in the way he said it—simple yet sincere—sent a subtle warmth through her chest. A soft, unexpected feeling, unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
"Could you explain?" she asked, her tone gentler now.