Part - 1
The pale gates of Astelvyr loomed like moonlight carved in stone, their quiet majesty at odds with the harsh summer wind behind them. Ser Caelen Vos, knight and envoy of Caelrath, rode calmly through them with his companion, the young Terrowin, flanked on both sides by guards clad in silver-threaded cloaks and moon-marked breastplates.
The moment they crossed into the city proper, their eyes widened. Buildings of pale white marble lined wide, clean streets, each structure a blend of graceful artistry and ancient geometry. Silver etched the frames of doors and balconies, glinting faintly even in the daylight.
"Silver," Terrowin whispered, eyes sweeping over the architecture. "They use silver for decoration. Who does that?"
"A city that's rich," Caelen muttered, "or one that wants you to think it is."
As they passed under a stone arch engraved with runes and constellations, they began to notice more symbols of the moon etched above windows, carved into lampposts, even woven into the guards' sashes. The signs were subtle but consistent.
Terrowin leaned closer. "This isn't just about wealth. I think this place follows an Old God. Look the crescent, the stars..."
Caelen nodded. "The Moon God, most likely. Nirash. That explains the silence."
He turned to one of the silent guards walking ahead. "Who do you serve here? A king? A council? Some sort of democracy?"
No response. Not a glance.
"Is this how you treat guests?" Caelen called, voice sharp. "Ignoring an envoy of a foreign king?"
Still, the guards said nothing, merely marching forward. Caelen clenched his jaw.
After winding through the marble streets, they finally arrived at a towering keep built into the slope of a glowing white hill. Moonlight seemed to linger unnaturally upon its surface, despite the midday sun. The guards led them inside through high archways into a spacious reception hall, elegant yet oddly minimal. Moon-shaped chandeliers hung from a vaulted ceiling.
They were guided to an open room with latticed walls and soft cushions lining a long seating platform. A pair of quiet maids entered and placed trays with tea and pale pastries shaped like crescent moons. The fragrance was delicate, like mint and dusk.
Terrowin took a sip of the tea and looked around. "Magnificent," he murmured. "The city, the people... Even the knights we passed they weren't just ornamental. They looked capable."
A voice came from behind them.
"I thank you for the compliment."
Both Caelen and Terrowin stood as Halric entered, his tone cool and composed. He was dressed in regal robes with silver embroidery youthful but firm in bearing. Beside him walked Prince Veylen, lean and graceful, his hair tied back with a moon-white clasp. Behind them followed Sir Alric, clad in polished knight armor with a deep blue cloak bearing Nirash's crescent sigil.
Caelen didn't bow but gave a curt nod. "Ser Caelen Vos of Caelrath. This is Terrowin, royal scribe and assistant. We've come on behalf of our king."
Prince Veylen returned the nod and smiled lightly. "Then let us speak plainly."
Halric sat beside the prince, hands folded, his expression unreadable. Alric stood firm behind them, saying nothing.
Caelen didn't waste time. "We are here to understand how an entire city suddenly appeared in
Arcadia fully formed, populated, and armed. We were sent to determine if this was an illusion, a remnant... or a threat."
Alric raised an eyebrow. "And you came without an army? Without priests? No mages?"
Caelen smirked. "I may not look it, but I'm plenty strong. And what I've seen here so far? More than enough for me alone."
Alric's jaw tensed, his fist tightening. Caelen saw it and chuckled.
"What? You angry? Gonna do something about it?"
Veylen's voice broke the tension, calm but clear. "You speak boldly, Ser Vos. As if you seek provocation more than peace."
Caelen turned to him with a grin. "Peace is my king's aim. I'm just curious. Curiosity isn't a crime, is it?"
Halric narrowed his eyes. "Yet your curiosity has claws. If you want peace, speak like a diplomat."
"Fine then," Caelen said, voice low but sharp. "Let's begin the diplomacy. Come toour Royal Hall meet our king. Let's talk."
Halric replied smoothly, "He would be welcomed, of course. Though it is curious you come to our walls to ask us to your court?"
Caelen's smile faltered for just a second, the jab not missed.
He set his cup down. "We're holding a grand festival soon. A tournament of arms and a gathering of noble houses. Consider this your invitation. Your king, your prince, your people all welcome."
"And before that," he added, "I need answers for my report."
Over the next hour, questions were asked about the city's arrival, its purpose, and its allegiance.
Halric answered carefully, omitting key truths like their exile instead framing it as a divine test of worth to become apostates of Nirash.
Caelen listened, his expression unreadable.
As the meeting came to a close, Halric offered a polite farewell.
Caelen and Terrowin were escorted out, the silver gates approaching once more. As they turned back, Caelen glanced at Alric and smirked.
"See you at the festival. I'll be watching to see if your moonlight bites."
They left Astelvyr under the pale glow of a sun-struck moon, with questions unanswered and tensions coiled, ready to snap.
Part - 2
The gates of Astelvyr closed behind them with a low, resonant thud. Caelen and Terrowin rode into the open grasslands, their horses' hooves drumming against the packed earth. The white spires of the moonlit city shrank slowly behind them, swallowed by distance and the shimmer of heat rising from the plains.
For a time, they rode in silence. Then Terrowin broke it.
"Ser, if I may ask... why were you so blatantly challenging them back there?" His tone was tentative.
"We were sent to check their intentions and talk about diplomacy, not... provoke them."
Caelen's mouth curved into the faintest smirk. "Hmm. Originally, that was my plan. But I had to change it. You see, that city it's not just rich. Yes, they have plenty of coin; silver practically runs through their walls. But they're strong, too. The knights outside the gates were no ornament. I could feel it. And that one standing behind their prince the Alric fellow he was probably as strong as me, if not stronger."
Terrowin frowned. "Then why offend them? Wouldn't that be dangerous?"
"Because if I'd simply asked questions, handed them an invitation, and left, they'd have taken it as a sign of weakness," Caelen explained, his voice measured. "I think they already suspected one of the Wardens would be sent as a messenger. They were ready to put on a show of superiority. So I played the part of the arrogant knight dismissive, even insulting. By showing them my fangs, I probably did offend them. But now they will have to tread carefully. They won't know exactly where my strength lies or where Arcadia's does. That uncertainty will make mediation their first choice, not an all-out war."
Terrowin tilted his head. "But why would they start a war first?"
Caelen's eyes narrowed against the wind. "Because they're Aethreians, and they know the Arcadian people are Thaloramians. In their minds, that means war is inevitable. The clever move would be to strike first, catch us off guard."
Terrowin let out a low whistle. "I thought you weren't interested in politics that you had no taste for statecraft. But that... that's not the man the rumors speak of."
Caelen gave him a flat, unreadable look. "Because you're right. I don't know anything about politics."
"Then..." Terrowin began, confused.
"...I was told this," Caelen interrupted, "by someone through a letter. It arrived last night, after the court meeting with the nobles."
Terrowin blinked. "A letter? From whom? Someone in the First Prince's faction? The Second's? And how could they know all that?"
Caelen's gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead. "I don't know. But whoever they are, they may have just prevented an all-out war."
"Also from now you are my squire." said calene.
Terrowin shocked "Huhhhh."
Part - 3
Back in Astelvyr, the mood within the castle was lighter than it had been in days. As Halric and the others walked the shadowed corridors, the Counsellor allowed himself a rare exhale.
"So," Halric said, glancing toward the young prince at his side, "we have, for now, prevented an all out war."
Veylen's expression brightened. "Halric, your plan worked brilliantly."
"Thank you, my prince," Halric replied with a shallow bow.
Alric, still in his armor, nodded. "Yes, Counsellor. Sending that letter was a masterstroke. They had no choice but to take caution."
Halric's tone turned sober. "Yes, it workedbbut it was risky. They could have just as easily taken it as an insult and initiated war. If the Warden of the Throne had been sent instead of the Warden of the Common, things might have turned out very differently." He let that sink in before continuing. "The information from that farming couple was invaluable. We'll need to reward them and keep them close. They said it was Caelen Vos, Warden of the Common, who will be sent. They may yet provide us with more useful intelligence. Keep them safe. They are guests of our kingdom now."
Halric turned his attention to Alric. "And what of the people? Have they come to understand our position?"
Alric's reply was confident. "Yes. Almost all of them believe they can live here without issue, especially if it means it will keep the prince safe from that ritual."
"Good," Halric said. "Not hiding the truth about the ritual from the people was the right decision. Now they stand with us... and against the old coots." A faint, wry smile crossed his lips. "Now, we prepare for the next step: the festival in Arcadia, celebrating their victory in the War of Generals.
We'll need to begin making arrangements for our departure soon."
End of Chapter.