[1 - The Hall of Justice – Krandalia – Evening]
Footsteps echoed through the stone corridors — as if the palace itself remembered battles it never wanted to forget. Towering walls bore faded banners, some torn by time. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and dust — like breath from a forgotten tomb.
Drien stopped before a massive wooden door, then pushed it open without a word. It creaked wide into a chamber draped in dark oak, its floor covered by a heavy gray rug. The smell of aged incense mixed with the ghost of blood still clinging to the stones.
At the center stood a throne. On it sat a woman in a deep crimson dress. Her black hair was tightly bound, her eyes fixed on a book between her hands. The dim light illuminated only shadows — not a face, but a presence.
Kaïlin felt the ground freeze beneath his feet. Before he could move, a cold hand pressed down on his head, forcing him to bow.
Asendra (calmly): Why are you here… Drien?
Drien (sternly): My lady Asendra. As commander of the squad, I request your judgment on this boy's actions.
She closed the book slowly. Her gaze locked onto Kaïlin — sharp, probing. She waited for defiance. But he remained silent.
Asendra: Boy… raise your head.
He did. His eyes met hers — defiant, unbroken. A faint scent of sweat clung to him. Not from fatigue. From fear.
Asendra: Your eyes carry no weight of regret… not even the will to bear it.
Kaïlin's fingers clenched. In the silence, he answered:
Kaïlin: …Regret doesn't bring back what's gone.
A warning flickered in Drien's eyes. Izandra reached for another book. Its pages rustled like dry bones.
Asendra: In two days, bring him to trial. The elite must attend. No one touches him until then.
Kaïlin tightened his grip. His fingers trembled — as if remembering a moment that still burned.
Kaïlin: You're the judge… but you can try me now instead of waiting.
Asendra (coldly): I decide. Not you.
She rose abruptly. Her voice cracked like iron on stone.
Asendra: This isn't an orphanage, Kaïlin!
His breath caught. The scent of blood returned — as if a memory screamed inside his skull.
**Kaïlin:** Who told you…?
She offered only a shadow of a smile. Then gestured toward the door. Drien pulled him out. Kaïlin's last glance lingered — the air outside was colder than ice. Not just cold… empty. Like the world had stopped breathing.
---
[ 2 - The Road – The Caravan of Lyovall – Noon]
Far from the palace, where sunlight never touched the earth, the land was dying. There, an old man with a white beard flowing to his chest led five figures across cracked soil. The air carried the stench of ancient ash. Villagers watched from afar, their eyes full of fear and hopelessness.
To his right walked a tall blond youth, fire still burning in his dull eyes. Beside him, three men and a woman followed in silence.
The elder wiped his wooden beads with trembling hands.
**Elder:** We've arrived, my lord Lyovall.
Lyovall stepped forward. He saw rows of chained people — faces pale as death, children behind rusted bars. A soldier pushed a cart piled with corpses, dumping them onto a mound of rotting flesh. Rage simmered in Lyovall's chest.
The elder spoke, voice laced with sarcasm:
**Elder:** These soldiers… they don't see them as human. Not like us.
Lyovall turned, his gaze icy, heavy with danger. The elder flinched, looking away. The woman beside him opened her mouth — but then, Lyovall closed his eyes… and smiled.
**Lyovall (dryly):** Thank you for showing me all this.
A short whistle cut through the wind — like a warning. From the dust emerged a woman wrapped from head to toe. Her eyes glowed with quiet intensity. Behind her, two armed men marched steadily.
Lyovall smiled again — a rare gesture.
**"Not much,"** he said. **"But I accept."**
**"Let's go."**
The elder stared, stunned. "Thank you, Lord Lyovall Fon Duth… but the woman — please."
Lyovall didn't answer immediately. He studied the woman — then gave a faint nod.
**"As you wish."**
---
[3 - Training Grounds – Elthran Citadel – Istara – Morning]
Cold as death. The stone courtyard shimmered with morning dew. Mist curled around the towering walls. The air reeked of wet iron and damp earth — as if the ground itself wept.
Recruits stood in uneven lines. Their leather armor was new. Their swords gleamed — untouched by blood. Some eyes sparkled with pride. Others hid deep fear.
Commander Lariasa Valmaire stepped forward. Her gray armor bore the sigil of the Nurfal Empire — a raven in flight. Her red cloak fluttered silently.
**Lariasa (sharp):** From this moment… you are no longer lost. You are guardians of the realm. Your lives belong to no one but the kingdom. Above your family. Above yourself. Above everything.
Whispers spread. Then a voice snapped:
**Kazark:** Hypocrite!
The courtyard froze. Lariasa approached slowly — each step echoing like a sword drawn. She plunged her finger into his eye. He screamed, fell to his knees — but a smirk remained.
**Kazark (pained):** Is that all you've got?
**Lariasa:** No. This is only the beginning. Get out of my sight.
She scanned the ranks.
**Lariasa:** Any other complaints?
Silence. Only wind. Only shaky breaths.
Jimi raised his hand hesitantly.
**Jimi:** What about pay?
She stepped close. Her touch was cold — like a verdict.
**Lariasa:** Pay? Isn't protecting the realm enough?
He lowered his head, mumbling an apology. Fear soaked his skin.
Then came the guard's voice:
**Guard:** Attention! The High Commander, Duke Zirad!
Zirad entered — cloaked in black, gold-threaded, eyes sharp with deceit and amusement. The scent of gold and blood hung in the air.
**Zirad:** You'll get what fills your hunger… and more, if you're worthy.
He turned to Lariasa.
**Zirad:** Commander… come with me.
---
[4 - Secret Chamber – Same Time]
The door shut behind them. Six figures sat around a round table, wearing uniforms marked with a golden scale.
Zirad spoke quietly.
**Zirad:** Lariasa… these are the Order of Equity — the finest knights of Istara.
He paused. His voice dropped, tense.
**Zirad:** The time is closing. No room for mistakes this time.
Lyovall — who had been silent — finally smiled. For the first time since arriving, his lips curled. A smile heavy with memory and secrets. He lifted his teacup slowly, as if sipping fate.
A sudden crash — the door burst open.
A woman in a hooded cloak entered, carrying a severed head in her hands. Two armored men followed.
Lyovall smiled — as if he'd been waiting.
Lariasa and Zirad stood frozen. Lariasa drew her sword — the blade rang through the chamber.
The woman spoke — calm, regal:
**Woman:** The fall has begun.
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End of chapter
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