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The councilor's voice carried firmly across the gathered square.
"These ranks are not just titles. They are earned. From Beginner Warriors... also called Starters, to the Elite Warriors… then the Veteran Warriors, those seasoned fighters who join the tournament year after year. Above them stand the Legendary Warriors, and beyond even that… the Mythic Warriors, honored as champions."
He paused, letting the names sink in like stones dropped into still water.
"The stronger you grow, the higher you climb. And with every step, your responsibility to the kingdom grows with you."
The crowd murmured, some wide-eyed with excitement, others whispering anxiously. A few young boys straightened their backs, pretending to hold swords.
A voice rose from the listeners. "Councilor! What do those ranks mean? How do you reach them?"
The murmur fell quiet. All eyes turned forward.
The councilor nodded, as though expecting the question. "Beginners, or Starters, are those who have just taken up the challenge. They are untested, but willing. Elite Warriors are those who've survived their first battles, fierce, proven they can stand their ground. Veterans… they've seen years of war, earned scars, and still return to fight. Legendary Warriors… they are the ones whose names spread across kingdoms, their victories remembered. And Mythic Warriors…" He let his voice deepen. "They are rare. Warriors who stand above history itself, remembered for generations."
Whispers rippled again, some filled with awe, others with doubt.
Nathan leaned slightly toward Grey, who was perched lazily on his shoulder. "Sounds… serious," he muttered.
Grey twitched an ear. "Serious is an understatement. Might as well say, Get strong or get stepped on."
Nathan gave a small nod. "Still… it feels like something worth trying."
Grey tilted his head, eyeing him. "Thinking of joining already, kid?"
Before Nathan could answer, a sudden voice cut in near his leg.
"Boo."
Nathan startled, stumbling into a crate. Grey squeaked, tumbling off his shoulder — only to be scooped up by two quick arms.
Mira stood there, grinning, holding Grey snug against her chest. "Got you both."
Nathan rubbed his head, half embarrassed. "Mira... seriously?"
She stroked Grey's fur like a prize. "You looked way too serious. I thought I'd fix it."
Grey flattened his ears, groaning. "I was about to have my first real concussion."
Mira giggled and hugged him tighter. "Aw, don't be grumpy. You're soft."
"Soft? I'm a dignified creature of mystery," Grey protested, though muffled against her arms, it didn't help his case.
Nathan sighed, but a small smile tugged at his mouth. For a moment, the crowd felt lighter.
The councilor raised his hand again, regaining silence.
"Remember.... this tournament is not for glory alone. It is a path. A path that prepares the chosen for the world beyond these walls. The true competition… is the Two-Hundred W Tournament. The greatest gathering of warriors or fighters across all kingdoms around the world of Tenaria."
The hush that followed was heavier than before. Even the children stopped fidgeting.
Nathan's eyes widened slightly. "Two hundred warriors?"
Grey wriggled in Mira's arms, poking his head out. "No, no. Not a number. Two-Hundred W... it's a name. The grand tournament. The highest stage."
Mira tilted her head, hugging him closer. "So… the biggest of them all?"
Grey nodded once. "Exactly. The one where legends are born. And broken."
The murmurs hadn't settled when Commander Galen himself stepped forward beside the councilor. His voice was steady, trained to cut through noise without ever sounding harsh.
"Quiet."
The crowd hushed almost instantly.
"This tournament," Galen began, "is not a game. If you want to stand among these ranks, you'll need to step forward — and register. Every season has its trials. If you pass, you rise. Fail, and you start again the next season. Those who endure will reach the Two-Hundred W... and stand against our world's problem, the darkness...."
His gaze swept the crowd. "The rewards depend on the season. Maybe Coin. Maybe Gear. Or Land. Or Recognition. But more than that... it is a chance to carry the honor of Atlon against the other kingdoms. Some of you will want glory. Some of you will want coin. But if you last long enough, you'll realize the real reward is survival to save the world."
For a moment he paused, his brows knitting as if something had slipped his mind. Then he continued:
"Registration begins tomorrow morning at first bell. Outside this very crowd, you'll find the council scribes with their ledgers. You'll need your household name, proof of age if you're questioned, and nothing else — no coin, no titles. Only your will to step forward. Trials start the day after."
A faint ripple of unease moved through the listeners, but no one spoke.
Galen pressed on. "And don't think this excludes the young. Children fight children. Adults face adults. Every level is a test. None are meaningless. You'll all find your place in the ranks, one way or another.... The reason they categorize children is that they don't need to rely on someone to fight; they have their own abilities to survive, fight, defend themselves, and even protect their families."
Children smile in excitement with their families, as if they feel motivated to do it for their families' sake, to survive.
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Commander Galen stood tall on the royal stage, the banners above him stirring faintly in the afternoon wind. His eyes swept once more across the gathered square, people faces turned upward, waiting.
At last, his hand lowered, and his voice came steady but calm.
"That's all… for now." He gave a slight nod. "You've heard what you need. Go on with your day, keep to your work, and let these words settle with you."
The crowd stirred, but no one hurried. People glanced at one another as though unsure if it was truly finished. A boy tugged at his father's sleeve, whispering, while an old woman leaned on her cane and muttered softly to her neighbor.
Galen did not step away yet. His silence kept their attention, and when he spoke again, his tone was slower, more measured.
"And… one thing more." He let the hush return before continuing. "Don't trouble yourselves too much about tonight's gathering. I know it may seem unusual… but it is the King's order. Trust that it is not without reason."
His words settled unevenly across the square. Some gave small nods, willing to accept it. Others exchanged doubtful glances, their whispers carrying like low ripples across the crowd. Younger men spoke in eager tones about tomorrow, while the elders frowned in quiet thought.
Then, from somewhere in the throng, a man's voice rang out, not loud, but firm enough to carry.
"Back to work, people! We've got plenty to do, plans to make too. Let's not waste the day."
A ripple of agreement followed. Heads nodded, shoulders straightened, and the murmurs took a steadier turn. Families gathered their children, traders called softly to one another, and even the hesitant began moving with more purpose.
Galen offered no more. With a final, brief nod, he stepped back from the front of the stage.
For a long moment, the people lingered — shifting, murmuring, waiting to be certain. Then, like a slow tide, they began to drift away. Some turned down the side streets, returning to their wooden stalls and market stands. The smell of cooking fires rose as vendors uncovered pots and pans, merchants rolled open their cloth awnings, and apprentices hurried to get supplies. Families drew closer, children tugging at sleeves, while voices of barter and trade slowly reclaimed the air. A few remained longer, casting one last look at the stage before finally joining the flow.
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Yet not all drifted away. Down at the right side of the royal stage, the seven squads remained in their ranks, lined firm at the side. Their armor caught the afternoon light, banners still at their backs. These were not townsfolk to disperse into stalls and side streets, they were the soldiers before, now they're waiting. Waiting for their Commander. Waiting, perhaps, for the King.
Closest to the stage stood Squad One. Tomas kept his steady stance at their front, Kellin's arms folded tight across his chest, Eren shifting his spear restlessly from one hand to the other, Ellis quiet at the edge, and Jarek's sharp gaze fixed on the platform as if the boards themselves might yield answers.
They had listened to every word, though none had spoken. Now, as the square thinned and the hum of ordinary life began to creep back — the clang of pots, merchants calling, children tugging at sleeves — the five lifted their gazes again toward the stage. For some, expecting Commander Galen to return. For others, wondering if the King himself might appear. Soldiers lived on orders, and until orders came, they waited.
It was Eren who broke the silence first. He shifted his spear against his shoulder and muttered, not quite under his breath.
"So… that's it? We stand all day just to hear 'wait until tonight'?"
Kellin's eyes cut to him sharp. "Discipline, Eren. If Galen says wait, then we wait."
Tomas let out a low chuckle, though there was little humor in it. "He's not wrong. We've been drilling since dawn, and not a word on what comes next. A man grows restless when there's nothing but silence."
Ellis finally spoke, his voice quiet but steady. "It isn't just silence. The Commander spoke like he knew more than he could say. Maybe the King holds the rest. Either way… something's stirring."
Jarek, who hadn't spoken at all, finally turned his head, watching the last of the townsfolk slip into side streets — back to their market stalls, cooking stands, and trades. "And when it comes, it won't touch just us. You saw their faces. Half eager, half uneasy. Whatever's waiting tonight… it's larger than drills or orders."
The words lingered among them. For a moment, they only stood in the shadow of the stage, listening to the square recover its rhythm — stew pots bubbling, traders bargaining, laughter of children rising faintly. Ordinary sounds, set against an unease that none of them could quite name.
At last, Tomas straightened, his tone firm. "Then we keep ready. If orders come from Galen, or the King himself, Squad One won't be found wanting."
The others nodded — some sharper, some slower, but all the same in resolve. Even Eren gripped his spear tighter, shoulders squaring again.
And so they held their ground at the base of the royal stage. Not dispersing, not yet. Soldiers waiting while the square slowly gave itself back to ordinary life, the weight of the coming night pressing quietly between them.
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(Back to Nathan, Mira, Grey, and Aerois)
Nathan swallowed. He could feel the weight of every word.
Beside him, Mira shifted, hugging Grey closer as if the rabbit could soften the edge of Galen's tone. She whispered just loud enough for Nathan to hear. "Grandpa said something like that once… 'the higher you climb, the heavier the burden.'"
Nathan tilted his head toward her. "Sounds like he was right."
Mira gave a small nod. "I didn't get it when I was younger. I thought fighting was just… fighting. But he made it sound like it's about carrying people who can't walk anymore."
Her voice dipped. "And if you can't carry it, someone else takes your place."
Nathan let the thought sink into him. His fingers brushed the medallion beneath his shirt again, and for the second time, he swore he felt it pulse.
Nathan glanced down at his medallion. His fingers brushed over it unconsciously, as though it weighed more than silver should.
Mira caught his silence. She nudged him with her elbow. "Hey. Don't drift off. You'll trip on another crate."
Nathan managed a faint smile. "I'm just thinking…" His voice dropped. "Maybe this isn't just a tournament. Maybe it's the start of something bigger."
Mira tilted her head, curious, but said nothing. She just rested her cheek against Grey's fur, listening.
Grey's usual smirk faded, his voice quieter now. "If you're right, kid… then we better be ready. Because beginnings don't stay small for long."
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And the councilor's words still carried through the crowd, but Nathan's attention slipped elsewhere.
The medallion against his chest gave a faint thrum, so soft he almost thought he imagined it. A pulse, like a heartbeat that wasn't his own. His fingers brushed against it instinctively, and for a moment, the noise around him dimmed. Responsibility. Destiny. The words seemed to echo inside him.
Nathan swallowed, pulling his hand back quickly as though not to draw notice. But the weight of the metal lingered, heavier than before.
Mira noticed his silence. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Nathan muttered, shifting slightly. Then, after a pause, he glanced at her. "Do you know… anything about those ranks? I mean, besides what he's saying."
Mira tilted her head, thinking. "Hmm…" Her eyes flickered, like she was chasing a memory. "Grandpa talked about it once. Not a whole lot, though. Just enough to scare me."
Nathan leaned in a little. "Scare you?"
She nodded, her arms still snug around Grey, who looked up with twitching ears. "He said… the ranks aren't just about fighting. They're about carrying weight. Like… the higher you go, the less you fight for yourself, and the more you fight for everyone else. And if you can't handle it… someone stronger will take your place."
Her voice softened. "That's what I remember anyway. I was younger then. I didn't really get it."
Nathan let the thought sit, his eyes drifting to the councilor at the front again. "That actually makes sense."
Mira gave a little shrug. "Grandpa makes things sound simple. But then, when you think about it, it's not simple at all."
Grey, still in her arms, gave a dramatic sigh. "Sounds like a lot of work if you ask me."
Mira smirked and squished him closer. "Good thing no one asked you."
Nathan's lips tugged into a faint smile, but his hand drifted once more toward the medallion under his shirt. The pulse had faded now, but the weight remained.
He didn't know if Mira's words were meant for him — or if the medallion had already decided they were.
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Grey suddenly wriggled free from Mira's arms, springing onto the ground with a soft thump before bounding up Nathan's arm. He perched neatly back on Nathan's shoulder, whiskers twitching as if nothing had happened.
"Alright," Grey said aloud for Mira's sake, flicking his ear. "Enough cuddles. I have a reputation to keep."
Mira stuck out her tongue at him. "Hmph, Grumpy little furball." She turned her attention back toward the councilor, who was still speaking at the front.
But as the crowd noise swelled again, Grey leaned closer to Nathan's ear. His voice dropped — softer, sharper — a tone only Nathan could hear.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?"
Nathan blinked, glancing at him. "About what?"
"The path," Grey whispered. "The climb from Starter to Mythic. You're not the kind of kid who hears about all this and just shrugs it off. I can feel it in you."
Nathan didn't answer, but his hand shifted unconsciously toward the medallion again.
Grey's eyes narrowed, his voice almost like a second heartbeat in Nathan's ear. "Listen carefully. If you grind through every season, survive the trials, and make it to the Two-Hundred W… you won't just win coin or land. You'll be standing where history bends. Mythic Warriors aren't remembered because they're strong — they're remembered because they fix what's broken. Because the world itself changes when they raise their blades."
Nathan's chest tightened. "Fix the world…?"
Grey nodded slightly. "You think kingdoms care about tournaments just for bragging rights? No. Every champion reshapes power, peace, war. Sometimes for better. Sometimes for worse. If you reach Mythic, Nathan, you'll carry more than a sword. You'll carry the weight of lives you don't even know yet."
The words pressed heavy against him, and Nathan lowered his gaze. "That sounds… too big for me."
Grey softened, nudging his head against Nathan's jaw — rare for the rabbit who usually filled the air with sarcasm. "Every Mythic thought the same when they were Starters. Every single one. You don't start ready. You grow into it."
Nathan's throat tightened. "But what if I fail?"
"Then you get back up," Grey said simply. His voice was firm now, but not harsh. "That's the difference between people who fade and people who become legends. Falling doesn't matter. Staying down does."
Nathan exhaled slowly, staring at the floorboards beneath his boots. Mira shifted beside him, unaware of the exchange, gently rocking on her heels as she hummed under her breath.
Grey's voice dipped to almost nothing, only for Nathan:
"You've got something most of them don't. You're not chasing glory, or coin, or a name. You're searching for something real. That… is what makes me think you'll go farther than you believe."
Nathan looked at him quietly, words failing for a moment. Then he gave the faintest nod.
Grey leaned back, his whiskers twitching in amusement. "Good. Now don't go getting teary on me. I hate damp fur."
Nathan huffed out a short laugh under his breath. "You're unbelievable."
"And you're impossible," Grey retorted, but softer, like a friend making a promise.
For the first time since the councilor began his speech, Nathan didn't feel crushed by the weight of it all. He felt… steadier. Not because the burden was lighter, but because he wasn't carrying it alone.
The medallion pulsed again against his chest. Faint, but sure.
And this time, Nathan didn't pull his hand away.
He just lingered on the thought.
Grey noticed it. "Hey, don't think too much about that. It'll only leave you confused," Grey said.
Nathan looked straight ahead. "Then what?"
Grey sighed. "Just simply move on, kid. Start with something good."
Nathan raised a brow. "Hmm, I'll try then."
Then Mira interrupted. "Wait, Nathan — do you want to train to enter that big event?"
Nathan replied, "Mhm, I'll try…"
Grey nodded. "That's the spirit, kid."
Nathan turned to Mira. "How about you?"
"Maybe… If I'm confident, I'll train and enter," she answered with a small smile.
Then Grey told the two what they needed to do before entering and facing every event of the season. He said something about training — and training without giving up — but warned them not to push themselves too hard, to stay mindful. "Because your body needs rest," he added, before giving a few more tips.
Mira's eyes lit with excitement. "What about we do it now?"
Grey sighed and chuckled. "Not too fast, kid. Training takes time. It's not a rush."
"Oh, okay… you're right," Mira said.
Nathan looked up at the sky. The faint light of his medallion lingered. Around them, people in the side streets — near the main stage — were busy continuing their second round of work before lunch, at the tents and at the large main tent behind Atlon Castle. By then, most of their tasks were nearly finished.
For a while, the three of them just stood there, watching the movement. The bustle of men carrying crates, women arranging food supplies, and soldiers directing carts filled the air with a rhythm that was both heavy and hopeful.
Nathan's gaze lowered slowly, his voice quieter this time. "Do you think… we'll be ready when it comes?"
Mira tilted her head, curious. "When what comes?"
Nathan shook his head lightly, unsure how to phrase it. "I don't know… just feels like something big is waiting ahead."
Grey studied him for a moment, the lines of his face set with a seriousness that didn't match his usual easy tone. "Listen, Nathan. Readiness isn't about knowing the exact storm that's coming. It's about standing when it arrives. That's what training's for. That's what discipline's for."
Mira glanced between them, her earlier smile softening. "Then we'll face it together, right?"
Nathan met her eyes and gave the smallest nod. "Yeah… together."
Grey allowed himself a faint grin, though his eyes betrayed a weight of thought. "Good. Hold onto that. When the ground shakes, it's not strength alone that keeps you standing — it's who's beside you."
The noise of the square swelled again — hammers on wood, the clatter of pots, men calling orders at the tents behind the castle. Life carried on, yet for the three of them, the moment felt carved out, steadier, as if the day itself was pausing to listen.
Grey finally broke the quiet. "Since you two are really set on this… we'll start simple. Not here, though. This place is too crowded, too many eyes." He jerked his chin toward the side streets, where townsfolk hurried between stalls and smoke curled from cooking stands. "The training grounds behind the eastern wall — that's where we'll begin."
Mira perked up. "Today?"
Grey smirked faintly. "Not today. You'd collapse halfway through, and I'd have to carry you both home. Tomorrow morning. Early. Before the noise of the market even starts."
Nathan's lips curved into the slightest grin. "Early, huh? Guess I'll have to get used to that."
"Better now than later," Grey said, his tone firm but not unkind. "Discipline isn't learned overnight. It's built piece by piece. Every cut, every bruise, every step. You'll hate me for it some days, but if you hold through… you'll thank me later."
Mira crossed her arms, feigning a stubborn look. "I won't hate you. I'll beat you."
Grey laughed, the sound deep and unforced. "That's the spirit, girl. We'll see if you still say that after running drills at sunrise."
Nathan's gaze flicked between the two of them, then drifted briefly back to the castle in the distance. The medallion's glow had faded now, but he still felt it — like something unspoken resting just under his skin. His chest tightened faintly, though he masked it with a quiet breath.
"Tomorrow, then," he said softly, more to himself than the others.
Grey clapped him on the shoulder, solid and grounding. "Tomorrow. And no excuses."
Around them, the shouts from the tents carried louder — men calling for ropes, a woman urging children to fetch water, soldiers shifting supplies closer to the main tent behind the castle. The kingdom moved like a single, restless heart. Yet in that moment, Nathan felt the weight of his own beginning settle in.
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Now, inside the castle, Fred was preparing at the dining table, serving the King a pancake snack after they arrived back inside the royal castle. But all he could think of was Nathan. "Like, where has he been now? I know he's having a good time with that other kid named… I don't know, I forgot her name…" he muttered to himself. "And maybe I'll get scolded by my sister, Queen Rhea, or King Nalon." But he told himself he should focus for now. Still, he couldn't help worrying about Nathan wandering outside.
Rhea, after changing into soft royal clothes, stepped out from her bedroom and called out to Fred, her older brother. She asked him how Nathan was. "Is he here in his bedroom?" she asked.
But Fred's mind was clouded with worry. He thought carefully about how to answer Rhea's question. Then he walked upstairs from where Rhea had come from and replied, trying to defend himself while still telling the truth: Nathan was in the tents at the back of the castle, outside, with a girl kid.
Rhea did not get stressed or overreact. She was calm, as always. She offered Fred to sit on the couch first, and she joined him there. Then she told Fred about what had happened last night. She was deeply concerned, because Galen had reported the disaster: first, the undead rising outside the kingdom, marching straight toward Atlon's gates. Second, the blue flying thunder serpent that struck and burned the houses. And worst of all, the terrifying empty-faced white monster — tall, bald, like some kind of demon specimen.
As she spoke, a guard passed by in the royal hallway. Rhea called him over and told him, "Find Nathan and bring him here." Perhaps she wanted to tell him something, or ensure his safety, or confirm what had really happened the night before.
The guard simply nodded seriously and saluted. "Okay, understood." Then he walked downstairs.
Rhea continued the discussion with Fred about the faceless monster, which people were already calling "Perse." Rhea remembered something about it being a demon, though she couldn't recall the details. It was connected to Tenebrous, the dark demon god — the very one responsible for what had befallen humanity. Piece by piece, the world of Tenaria was breaking down, fading away.
After a few moments of talking, the guard returned — but with only Nathan, no one else.
The guard reported, "Here, my Majesty. He was walking on the side streets with his friend, a girl kid, a bunny, and a bird. No harm detected on him."
Rhea was a little surprised, but not happy. She was worried, concerned. Nathan's clothes were dirty, with small rips on the sleeves. He looked as if he hadn't bathed in days, having spent his time with Grey, Aerois, and Mira. She thanked the guard for finding him so quickly.
"It's my duty to do it, my Majesty," the guard replied, before turning and heading back down to his duty outside.
Now Nathan stood before his mother, Queen Rhea, while Uncle Fred sat on the royal couch.
Nathan apologized for wandering around outside. "Sorry mother.... But it was a disaster last night," he explained.
Rhea asked calmly, "What happened to you?"
Nathan fell silent, not knowing how to respond. After a moment, he sighed and simply said, "It was a disaster last night…"
Queen Rhea gently stroked his messy dark brown hair. His blue eyes gleamed as the sunlight reflected through the window.
She said softly, "I know you got stronger. Keep it up, Nathan…" She nodded with a faint smile, though her brows stayed serious. Then she sighed and asked, "So, where are your friends?"
Nathan answered, "Oh, um, they were outside the castle, sitting at the balcony, maybe waiting for me. Because I was called by the guard. And I know it was you…" He smiled.
Rhea smiled back, and Fred, leaning against the couch with his arms crossed, smiled quietly as well.
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Nathan's smile faded a little when he noticed the look in his mother's eyes. Calm, yes—but beneath it, a quiet heaviness. Rhea held his gaze for a moment, brushing his hair once more before speaking.
"You're safe now, and that's all I need to know for the moment," she said softly. "But, Nathan… the world outside is changing faster than we imagined. The creatures you saw last night are not illusions. They are real—monsters born from something darker, something ancient."
Fred let out a heavy breath, shifting in his seat. "He's just a boy, Rhea. Don't burden him with—"
Rhea raised her hand lightly, silencing her brother. "Fred, he deserves the truth. You know as well as I do—he's not an ordinary child....."
Fred realized it, raising his brows then down. "Well....." He sighed.
Nathan's brows furrowed, his small hands tightening at his sides. "What do you mean by that? I saw the faceless monster… I saw the serpent burning the houses. People were screaming. It was real, but… are you saying there's more?"
Rhea leaned back against the couch, her voice steady, but her words carried weight. "There's more, Nathan. Much more. That faceless one—the Perse—it isn't just a stray creature. It's a fragment, born from Tenebrous, the dark god sealed away ages ago. If it stirs again… all of Tenaria will fall into ruin."
Silence filled the chamber. The only sound was the faint crackle of a torch along the hallway.
Nathan's chest tightened. He wanted to ask a hundred questions, but his words tangled together. Finally, he whispered, "Then what can we do?"
Fred rubbed his chin, his voice low. "The king has already summoned the commanders for tonight's meeting. He suspects these attacks aren't random. Someone—something—is stirring them awake."
Nathan stepped forward, his blue eyes sharp. "Then I have to get stronger. I can't just hide inside the castle while everyone fights."
Fred almost stood, but Rhea raised her hand again, calm but firm. She turned her eyes back to her son, seeing in him not just a child, but a spark of something far greater.
"You will, Nathan. In time. But for now—you will stay close, listen carefully, and learn. Strength is not only in the sword, but in the heart, mind, and—patience."
Nathan swallowed hard, nodding reluctantly. "I understand, Mother."
Rhea gave him a faint smile, brushing the dust from his sleeve. "Good. Now… bring your friends inside. I want to see them, meet them. If they've stood with you through last night's disaster, then they are no ordinary children either."
Nathan's eyes widened a little, then softened. He nodded quickly. "Yes, Mother." He turned to hurry out, but glanced back once—seeing Fred watching him with quiet pride and worry, and Rhea, still poised yet thoughtful.
For the first time, Nathan felt the weight of his place not just as a child of the castle, but as someone fate itself was beginning to pull forward.
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Then Nathan turned downstairs, heading toward the castle's main door to bring Mira, Grey, and Aerois inside—because Queen Rhea wanted to meet them. "If they've stood with you through last night's disaster, then they are no ordinary children either."
When he reached the tall royal doors, he stood before them, one hand resting on the doorknob. For a brief moment, he thought of something… but he let it fade away, like forgetting it on purpose. With a deep breath, he pushed the doors open.
Outside, Mira was already sitting on a chair along the royal balcony, arms folded as she watched the view beyond. She was waiting for Nathan, but her thoughts were deeper—sadder—than Nathan realized. Aerois was perched on her shoulder, as if trying to comfort her, making sure she didn't worry too much. Grey stood nearby, his expression nonchalant.
"Hey, kid…" Grey muttered with his usual blank face. "You said we're going inside?"
Nathan nodded quickly. "Um… yes, of course. My mother wants to meet you. And also Mira and Aerois."
The three of them followed as Nathan led the way, and once they stepped inside, Nathan closed the heavy door behind them. Mira looked around, surprised by the grand halls. Grey and Aerois, though curious, kept their composure—but it was clear this was their first time inside a royal castle.
Nathan guided them upstairs to the royal chamber, where Fred and Queen Rhea were seated on the royal couch, speaking softly. Both turned their eyes toward Nathan as he entered.
"Mother…" Nathan said with a slight smile. "Meet Mira, Aerois, and Grey."
Rhea's lips curved into a gentle smile. "Well, I suppose you've made good friends… when I was not here."
Fred smirked, leaning forward a bit. "So, you're the girl who got stuck in the burning village last night?"
Mira nodded shyly, but with a small smile. "Mhm. Yes, mister."
Fred then turned toward Grey, pointing with a half-smile.
"And that gray bunny—his name is Grey, huh? Makes sense, I guess." He rolled his eyes with mock annoyance, then gave a dry, unimpressed look. "But I do remember you talking nonsense in the forest this morning when I was looking for Nathan, only to find him missing. And that bird—your name's Aerois, right?"
Nathan quickly cut in, a little flustered. "Well, that's just—"
"That's enough, both of you," Queen Rhea interrupted. Her tone was sharp at first, then softened as her expression calmed. "This is not the reason they are here."
She turned her eyes back to Mira and gave her an innocent, reassuring smile.
"Well, dear, could you introduce yourself a little more?" Rhea asked kindly.
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Mira hesitated at first—shy as always—but she stayed brave. She spoke softly yet clearly, telling a few things about herself, and even mentioned Aerois and Grey at her side.
"My name is Mira," she began, her hands clasped together nervously. "I… grew up in a small place, not far from here. Most days I just help my grandpa with trading, carrying goods or learning how to count coins."
She glanced at Aerois, who shifted on her shoulder. "This is Aerois. He's been with me for as long as I can remember… he never leaves my side." Her lips curved into a tiny smile before she gestured toward Grey. "And that grumpy rabbit—Grey—he looks annoyed most of the time, but he's the one who makes sure I don't get lost or do anything foolish."
Grey flicked an ear and sniffling in annoyed,
muttering to his own. "Hmph. Foolish? You're the one who drags me into trouble."
Mira stifled a laugh, covering her mouth. "See what I mean?"
Even Rhea chuckled softly at their exchange, though her eyes lingered on Mira. There was something more to this child than what she let slip. The innocence of her words carried an undertone—a quiet strength, maybe even a hidden burden—that Rhea could not ignore.
After a brief silence, Rhea's expression turned thoughtful, her voice dropping into something gentler.
"And what about your parents, dear?"
Mira froze. Her lips trembled as her eyes grew worried. A small tear welled up, slipping down her cheek as she rubbed it away quickly.
"I… I can't tell anyone," she whispered. "I promised my grandpa—the old merchant."
Rhea's face softened instantly. She leaned forward slightly, her voice tender.
"I'm sorry, child. Forgive me. I didn't mean to burden you with the question."
For a brief moment, Rhea thought she understood. Perhaps her parents are gone… maybe even dead. That would explain the sadness hidden behind her brave little face.
Rhea became sad and reached out gently, brushing the back of her hand against Mira's cheek to wipe away the tear. Her voice was soft, almost like a lullaby.
"Shh… I'm so sorry, you don't need to say anything, dear. Not if it hurts. Some promises are too precious to break."
Mira lowered her head, sniffling, but she nodded. Aerois leaned closer on her shoulder, ruffling his feathers as if to shield her.
Fred, who had been leaning back with his arms crossed, straightened a little. He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.
"Well… the girl's tougher than she looks. Not many children could go through what happened last night and still stand here smiling." His voice carried a mix of respect and concern, though he tried to hide it under his usual rough tone.
Rhea smiled faintly at her brother's words, then returned her gaze to Mira.
"You've already shown me enough of your strength," she said warmly. "Both you and Nathan are still so young… yet you carry weights no child should bear. That alone tells me how special you are."
Mira blinked up at her, shy but comforted, and whispered, "Thank you… your majesty."
At that moment, Nathan, who had been quietly fidgeting beside them, stepped forward. His small hands clenched then loosened as he tried to gather courage. He looked at Mira, then back to his mother, his voice softer than usual.
"Mother's right. Mira's strong… even stronger than me, sometimes."
Mira's eyes widened a little, surprised at his words.
Nathan grinned sheepishly, trying to lighten the mood. "If she wasn't, then… Grey and Aerois would've left her already. But they didn't. They stick with her… like they stick with me."
Grey flicked an ear, giving Nathan a side glance. "Hmph. Don't get too cheesy, kid."
That made Mira giggle through her fading tears, her shoulders easing. Even Rhea chuckled softly, and Fred smirked, shaking his head at Nathan's attempt to sound wise.
Rhea leaned back, letting the moment settle, and said, "Then it seems I owe all of you my gratitude—for being with my son. And for being brave enough to stand with each other."
Mira nodded gently, wiping the last trace of her tear, and Nathan gave her a small smile, proud of himself for helping her feel lighter.
The chamber grew quiet for a moment — not heavy, but warm. The kind of silence where nothing more needed to be proved, because something unspoken had already been understood.
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Queen Rhea leaned back with a soft, almost motherly smile. "So… it would be a pleasure to have you stay here, if you wish," she said, her tone light, innocent, yet holding something deeper beneath.
Mira hesitated, glancing down before answering honestly. "Thank you, Your Majesty, but my grandpa needs me. I can't stay here for too long."
Rhea's smile didn't fade—in fact, it grew warmer, though there was a faint chill behind it, a subtle intent Mira couldn't quite read. "Oh, not too long," Rhea said smoothly, her voice gentle. "Just one night. Think of it as… a small kindness, nothing more."
Fred, standing nearby, blinked in surprise. "Your Majesty?" he asked carefully, unsure what exactly the Queen was implying.
Nathan tilted his head slightly, watching his stepmother with quiet confusion. Mira, on the other hand, felt her chest tighten—there was no malice in the Queen's smile, yet it carried a weight she couldn't shake.
Grey and Aerois exchanged a quick look, both too young to fully understand the undertone, but sensing something unspoken passing between the Queen and Mira.
Rhea's eyes lingered on the girl just a moment longer, soft and curious. "One night," she repeated softly. "That is all I ask."
Mira shifted slightly, her hands clasped together. "Your Majesty… may I step outside for a moment? My grandpa is waiting near the streets. I… I want to ask his permission first."
For a second, silence lingered. Rhea's smile remained unchanged—warm, calm, almost disarming. "Of course," she said gently. "It is only proper."
Fred's brows furrowed, still quietly puzzled. Nathan glanced at Mira, giving her a small nod as if to encourage her choice.
Mira lowered her head respectfully. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said softly, before turning toward the door, her heart steady but uncertain.
Behind her, Rhea's gaze followed with that same quiet, mysterious smile—an innocent warmth on the surface, yet with something veiled beneath, as though this single night meant more than anyone else could see.
As Mira stepped out of the hall, Nathan stood at the top of the royal stage stairs, his eyes following her down. Aerois trailed after her as well, moving with quiet steps — perhaps out of instinct, or maybe because he felt she needed the safety of someone at her side.
Nathan looked back to his mother. "Mother… why do you want Mira to stay here? Even for just one night?"
Fred, standing nearby, furrowed his brow, clearly confused. "That's what I've been wondering too," he murmured, glancing between Nathan and the Queen.
Rhea's expression didn't change. She sat calmly, her hands resting on her lap, her smile as gentle and innocent as ever. Yet behind it was something no one could quite place. "Sometimes," she answered softly, "the reasons are not meant to be explained right away. Let it be, Nathan. The night will speak for itself."
Fred's confusion only deepened, and Nathan kept his gaze fixed on his mother, trying to read her—while Aerois's distant figure stayed close to Mira, making sure she wasn't alone as she stepped outside.
Nathan's gaze lingered, a quiet unease building in his chest. He didn't like half-answers, not from his mother — not about Mira.
Rhea noticed the way her son's brows tightened, how his silence carried more weight than words. She tilted her head slightly, her smile calm, though her eyes seemed to read his thoughts too easily.
"Come now," she said gently, her voice like a cool breeze settling over a restless flame. "Don't think too much about it, dear. It'll be fine. You'll see tonight."
Fred blinked at her words, clearly unsettled but holding his tongue. Nathan, however, stayed still at the stairs, his mind caught between trust and suspicion.
Nathan stayed frozen on the steps, his fingers brushing against the wooden railing as he tried to read his mother's face. Her words sounded soft, almost reassuring, but beneath them… something felt hidden.
Why tonight? he wondered. What does she mean by that?
For a moment, he thought he felt the faintest pulse inside his chest — the medallion's aura, buried and quiet, as if it stirred only when his doubts grew. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished again, leaving him uneasy.
Fred glanced at him, then at Rhea. "You're being a little too vague, sister," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "What's this all about?"
Rhea only smiled, that same chilly but innocent smile, her eyes never breaking from Nathan's.
"Trust me brother" she said softly. "I just want to talk clearly with his friend Mira… to see if she's related to that bloodline."
Nathan blinked, his brows furrowing. "Bloodline? What do you mean—"
Rhea raised a hand gently, cutting him off with a calm look. "No, dear. You'll find out later. Tonight, perhaps." Her smile brightened just a little, softening the edge of her words. "For now, how about I get both of you some cookies when she arrives back? If you'd like, you can rest first."
Fred's eyes narrowed slightly, confusion written across his face. He leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath. 'Bloodline? What in the world is she talking about now…'
Nathan didn't press further. Still, a strange unease clung to him, even as his mother's words tried to make everything sound light and harmless.
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To be continued
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