The knock on the door was firm, but it carried a respectful rhythm — not rushed, not hesitant. It echoed lightly across the room's polished stone walls, bouncing between the tall windows and the engraved pillars that held the ceiling like frozen guardians.
"Come in," Fortis said, his voice steady but low.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing a man whose presence was sharp and orderly — not unlike the steel that hung at every guard's side. He stepped into the room with a quiet confidence, his boots silent on the crimson rug embroidered with silver thread. The man wore a dark, finely tailored uniform bearing the emblem of the Royal Expedition Bureau: two crossing quills over a mountain split by a blade. A silver pin, glinting faintly, marked his rank.
His features were refined — rectangular spectacles perched on a straight nose, and dark red hair slicked back with methodical precision. His amber eyes were keen, observant. There was no sign of nervousness, nor arrogance. Only discipline.
"Prince Fortis," the man said with a respectful bow, his voice as clear as the chime of a tuning fork.
Fortis, sitting by the window, closed the book he hadn't truly been reading. He regarded the man for a moment.
"You're from the expedition bureau," he said. "I assume this isn't a courtesy visit."
The man offered a small, measured smile. "Correct, Your Highness. I am Thayle Vensire, Deputy Director of the Royal Expedition Bureau."
Fortis raised an eyebrow. "Number Two of the Bureau himself? Quite the honor."
Thayle bowed his head. "It would've been improper to send anyone else. Not when it concerns the prince of the kingdom I serve."
There was no flattery in his tone — only a strange formality mixed with personal belief. Fortis nodded slightly, appreciating the weight of the gesture.
"Very well then, Director Vensire. What brings you here?"
Thayle stepped forward with a scroll in hand, sealed with dark red wax. The sigil was sharp and angular — the official mark of the Royal Expedition Division.
"You have been assigned your first expedition. A 1-Finger black stone zone located southeast of the Helvarin Ridge. The area is known as Kaelish Hollow."
Fortis accepted the scroll and broke the seal, unrolling it with care. His eyes scanned the contents — maps, deployment orders, creature estimates.
"What type of monsters inhabit the Hollow?" he asked, gaze still on the parchment.
"A creature classified as Feldrins. Werewolf-like monsters. Bipedal. Fast. Brutally physical. They lack refined intelligence, but their instincts and resilience are troublesome. A frontal assault is unwise."
Fortis nodded, noting the caution embedded in Thayle's tone.
"And who are my companions for this mission?"
Thayle clasped his hands behind his back. "As per His Majesty's orders, the Fourth Sword, Ervian Halbrecht, will accompany and oversee the expedition's field security. Ardan, your sparring partner, has also been included. Two more apprentice knights from the academy — Siel and Doran — will assist. Additionally, a field medic will be present: Sayla Verin, trained in rapid battlefield response."
Fortis rolled the scroll back up and set it on the table. "When?"
"The next Elaris Half-Moon. Three days from now."
A pause lingered between them.
Fortis turned his gaze toward the window — nine moons filled the sky, scattered across the blue expanse like gods carved into the heavens. Some were glowing, others dulled by shadow. One flickered crimson, wrapped in a halo of smoke-like clouds. Another shimmered like fractured black glass.
It was beautiful. Objectively so.
And yet—
"Why," Fortis murmured to himself, "do I feel so disgusted when I look at this sky?"
Thayle shifted, uncertain if the question was meant for him. Before he could speak, Fortis gave a subtle motion with his hand. "That will be all, Director. Thank you."
Thayle bowed deeply, turned on his heel, and exited with the same precision he had entered.
Moments passed.
The silence in the room grew thick, almost ceremonial. Then, like smoke, a strange black mist began to curl on Fortis's lap. It was slow, precise — not chaotic like natural smoke, but deliberate. Forming.
From the darkness, a shape emerged — small, feline, unsettling. A black cat with eyes like twin voids. It blinked slowly and curled its tail around itself, perfectly still.
"Vayr," Fortis said calmly. "You've awakened again."
The cat licked its paw with disinterest. "You're weak right now. That's when I can appear."
Fortis studied him. "You wouldn't come out unless you had something to say. Go on."
"I feel something," Vayr said, his voice soft yet eerie. "A presence. It's piling up. Growing. It wasn't this strong before, but now it's like… rot beneath silk."
Fortis narrowed his eyes. "Do you know what it is?"
Vayr looked at him blankly. "How would I know? I'm a fragment. A shadow. I only see what you feel."
"Then what's the point of saying any of this?"
"To warn you."
Fortis's voice dropped. "About what?"
Vayr didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared into Fortis's eyes, unblinking.
"How did you step into the realm of Prem during your last spar, without even being in Norm Reach?"
Fortis was quiet.
"I don't know," he said finally. "For a moment, I felt like the world was pressing down on me. Everything — time, weight, space. It was like… I carried it. Just for a second. But it broke me."
Vayr's eyes glowed faintly. "That makes sense."
"Explain."
But Vayr didn't.
Instead, he stood and arched his back in a stretch. "I'm embedding a sword technique into your mind. Something old. You need it."
Fortis looked suspicious. "Why?"
"Because your current approach is reckless. You push too far. If you try something like you did against Ardan again… you'll fracture your mind. You're not ready. Your realm isn't ready."
Fortis clenched his fist. "So I should follow the rules?"
"For now," Vayr said, voice trailing.
The black mist began reclaiming the cat's form. His tail, his eyes, all fading. But just before he disappeared completely, he spoke again.
"Go to Valenhold's territory before the expedition. There's someone there you must meet. A child. I saw him when you walked the city disguised as a commoner."
Fortis's eyes sharpened. "How did you—?"
"I'm always watching," Vayr said. And then he was gone.
The silence returned, but it was different now. Heavier.
The next morning, Fortis requested an audience with Ervian Halbrecht. The Fourth Sword stood tall, his broad shoulders casting long shadows in the morning light. He bowed slightly.
"I want to visit House Valenhold's territory," Fortis said.
Ervian didn't question the reason. He simply nodded. "I'll prepare the carriage."
The day passed with quiet preparation.
That night, Fortis stood by his window, staring again at the sky. The moons shone brilliantly, as always. But tonight, one was flickering — as if something stirred behind it.
And then he remembered.
FLASHBACK: Several weeks ago—
The city was busy, alive with festival lights. Fortis walked slowly down a merchant street, dressed in plain traveler's clothes, a cloth mask covering the lower half of his face. No one recognized him.
He moved through crowds unnoticed, listening. Watching.
And then, in a shadowed corner near a crumbling library, he saw him — a boy, no older than twelve, standing still while other children ran circles around him.
The boy's eyes were closed. But his hand moved. A small stone hovered before him, unmoving. His presence was unlike anything Fortis had ever felt from a child. Not sword intent. Not black stone energy.
Something else.
But then it was gone.
Fortis turned away, but something stayed with him.
The memory faded.
The next morning, the carriage was ready.
It gleamed like obsidian in the sun, its structure reinforced with hidden black stone fragments — a precaution against beast ambushes. Two silver-cloaked guards stood at the front, and Ervian waited beside the door, hand over heart.
Fortis stepped in without a word.
The wheels turned.
And in the distance, Valenhold awaited.