Chapter 3
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[1 – Kingdom of Ishtara — Meeting Room — Afternoon]
A sharp click echoed — the first sound before eyes could grasp what was unfolding.
Dark droplets of blood fell from the head of an elderly sage, striking the polished wood of the grand table, then trickling slowly toward the gleaming floor as if seeking escape.
The severed head lay coldly propped before Larissa, her trembling hand gripping the hilt of a heavy sword. Her breaths came uneven, her face frozen somewhere between shock and wrath.
Zerad's wide eyes pierced the heavy silence as his voice broke through, taut with accusation:
"Lioval… What is the meaning of this damnation? Do you bear any connection to this woman?"
Lioval did not move. He sat among his squadmates, eyes half-closed, as if the scene before him bored him beyond concern.
In a voice sharp and icy, he commanded:
"Sit down… please."
The air thickened; breaths became audible—each heartbeat seemingly held captive by the tension awaiting his next words.
Larissa and Zerad remained standing, locked in silent gaze.
The woman and two men at the table seated themselves as Larissa and Zerad exchanged glances.
Lioval spoke with mild surprise:
"Will you remain standing like this until we finish? Or what do you intend?"
The woman answered with biting sarcasm:
"Seems you're still afraid of me, though I entered with the utmost courtesy."
Zerad exhaled deeply, followed by the sound of Larissa laying her sword down.
Lioval's voice took on a light, mocking tone:
"As long as the ghost enjoys her jests, I hope I haven't caused you any trouble…"
Larissa's fists clenched sharply.
"Stop talking as if you command us," she spat. "This madwoman has stained the room with an old man's severed head."
Zerad's tone sharpened:
"We treated you with respect and reason… and this is our reward—no regret, no apology."
Lioval's mocking smile deepened:
"Perhaps you have grown dull in understanding."
Shock and disbelief crossed Larissa and Zerad's faces.
Leaning back, Lioval placed his chin atop his interlaced fingers, voice dripping with superiority:
"Your treatment of me is no choice of your own."
Anger and fear warred across Zerad and Larissa's features.
Larissa snapped:
"What did you say?"
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Far from this turmoil, in the Kingdom of Ashtar…
The sun glistened over the training grounds. Aurelia walked with golden steps amid the clang of steel, greeting a foe from the past—a foe unprepared for this meeting. Yet memories ask no permission before tearing into hearts.
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[2 – Kingdom of Krendalia — Palace of Justice — Late Afternoon]
The scene opened with a sweeping view of the towering palace, bordered by neatly aligned trees and a training yard paved with polished gray stones.
The clang of swords rang out, mingled with warriors' shouts—like a land bracing for war.
The dying sunlight shimmered on the dew-kissed grass, trembling slightly with every cry. Armor groaned under blows; heavy boots kept the rhythm of impending battle. A gentle breeze caressed the chaos like a tender hand.
At the opposite end, a group moved with calm assurance—above the din rather than part of it.
Ahead strode a young woman with deliberate steps, draped in a long golden skirt that swayed with each stride. Her eyes sparkled, her gaze steady, chin raised with aristocratic pride tempered by subtle humility.
Behind her, two men followed—the taller, slender; the other slightly shorter, matching her height. Both wore gray battle cloaks with light armor padding shoulders and knees, clutching books and bags as though serving a princess, not a warrior.
Her voice rang clear, tinged with pride:
"We knights are not mere pillars of this team... we are the very foundation every heart in this capital leans upon.
To seek this rank—that is true beauty. True beauty is ambition forged into human form."
She smiled as if confessing to herself before speaking to others.
The tall youth replied politely:
"We thank you for accepting our service, Aurelia, well aware your time is too precious for idle words."
The other stammered awkwardly:
"And I… since training with you… I have… I mean, my growth has been steady."
Aurelia paused, glanced over her shoulder with half a smirk—recognizing the genuine tone of the first, the hollow echo of the second.
"That is enough talk. From now on, address me as Lady Aurelia. Understood?"
She shrugged lightly and pressed on, eyes sharpening as she surveyed the grounds, awaiting something—or someone.
Suddenly, she halted.
Footsteps approached from the corner.
Aurelia's lips curled into a slight, knowing smile.
She turned toward the newcomer, raising her hand in a formal greeting.
"Welcome, Lord Kaelin."
Kaelin, clad in black garments clinging to his sweat-soaked frame, stood statuesque—eyes void of life as he observed the ruin around him.
He paused mid-step, eyes flickering between her and the two men behind.
Tension etched his features.
"In what sense... Lord?" he asked hesitantly.
She stepped closer, measured in movement, as if judging him.
A dry smile curled her lips.
"You seem uneasy, Lord Kaelin… But don't worry—with friends at your side every step of the way, isn't it comforting?"
Kaelin replied with a dry chuckle:
"Well, that's reassuring."
A beat of silence.
"Where exactly are you positioned?"
She leaned in, whispering:
"My place? The anchor."
Kaelin fell silent briefly, then turned away, continuing on his path.
Before disappearing from sight, he lowered his head slightly, placed fingers on his eyelids, and sighed deeply.
Not because he failed to understand—but because he understood far too well.
And that was precisely what he feared.
But what if escape was no longer an option?
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Far away, in the Kingdom of Ishtara… a secret plot unfolds between Commander Lioval and his followers.
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[3 – Kingdom of Ishtara — Meeting Room]
Amidst oppressive tension and the mingling scent of food and blood, Larissa stood, her features taut with barely contained rage.
In the heavy silence, every breath became audible.
Zerad turned toward Lioval and the woman beside him, then to his squad who had remained silent since entering, and sighed deeply.
His voice was a blend of confusion and concern:
"Larissa, sit down."
She looked at him, puzzled, then obeyed.
A girl rose to open a window.
Lioval gazed at the sky and lifted his tea cup.
"I fear time is short. Let's get to the point, Zerad."
Zerad steadied himself under the mounting pressure.
"As you know, the 'Eight-Year War' draws near, and rival kingdoms threaten our territories."
He hesitated, voice heavy:
"Though none rival us, especially with your strength… but…"
A pause.
"Continue," Lioval urged.
Zerad's voice trembled slightly:
"I fear Krendalia will interfere as it always does."
"How so?" Lioval challenged.
"The first king, Rei, has grown reckless, meddling where he should not. Alongside the Justice Squad, who see themselves as the world's court."
Lioval rose confidently, a smirk playing on his lips:
"I've heard enough."
Zerad gasped:
"But—"
Lioval cut him off, calm but commanding:
"Zerad, Larissa—
You felt shame when my subordinate treated you harshly.
Yet many more suffer far worse, and you pay them no mind.
I don't blame you; one only tastes the bitterness of poison when forced to drink it oneself.
Fortunately, I and those with me are among the few who have drunk that poison and emerged stronger. Our will is unbroken, our resolve unyielding."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of his words sinking deep.
Zerad muttered softly:
"They're not here to protect the kingdom… but to decide who will rule it."
He bowed in apology.
"I must go. Time presses. Let's move."
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[4 – Lioval's Caravan — Night]
Inside the caravan, Lioval sat on a chair beside a girl sleeping on a bed.
A knock came at the door.
"Enter," Lioval called.
A man stepped in.
"You summoned me, my lord?"
Lioval ordered firmly:
"Tell the others to head to the palace. Summon the Reformers. We're moving north, to the Palace of Justice."
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End of Chapter
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