~ The Next Day ~
A commotion spread through a street in Anselt. Gasps rippled through the morning bustle as conversations faltered mid-sentence, merchants abandoned their pitches, and pedestrians slowed their steps, their attention irresistibly drawn toward the source of the disturbance.
Murmurs passed from one stranger to the next in hushed, uncertain tones, fingers discreetly pointing as curiosity warred with apprehension beneath the capital's ordinarily lively disposition.
Golden Street.
That was the nickname granted to the long, straight stretch running from the capital's eastern gate to the junction that branched into the royal road leading to the castle. It boasted the highest concentration of high-value commercial traffic in all of Anselt.
It had been famously reconstructed and renovated by the kingdom's leading merchant, Lucas Baltruss, in honour of his benefactor—the man who almost always entered the city from that very direction.
The Black Owl of the East.
Elio Palat Alonbright.
It would not be an exaggeration to call it his own royal road.
On this particular day, however, the disturbance caused upon that illustrious path would echo far beyond the week, the month, and perhaps even the year. It would persist in the minds of those who witnessed or heard about it for years to come.
"Oi oi... you can't be serious..."
"Avert your eyes, you fool!"
"Dear Amelphas... what in the world is happening in this country...?"
Slowly, in a complete daze, as though robbed of every higher faculty he possessed, Duke Humphrey Brunford stumbled down the illustrious Golden Street without so much as a single article of clothing to cover himself.
The man's bare feet bled, torn raw like he had spent hours wandering across rough, unforgiving terrain. His usually immaculate beard hung damp and matted, sticky with saliva.
The vivid green eyes that once carried sharp intelligence and unwavering conviction now drifted aimlessly across the heavens, following clouds as they passed overhead. Every so often, a soft chuckle escaped his lips, as if the simple act of watching the sky had become endlessly fascinating.
The Duke of Brunford—the man who had commanded the loyalties of countless lords, ordered matters of state in the royal court, and stood as one of the kingdom's pillars—ambled along with the absent wonder of a child discovering the world for the first time.
"...Should we do something?"
"Like what? What if we anger the Brunfords?"
"It's their lord's shame on display here!"
The nervous chatter died the moment a man pushed through the gathering of spectators, his measured stride parting the crowd without a single word. Three guards flanked him—one at either side and another at his back—their refined movements conveying years of experience.
Recognition spread almost immediately.
"Sir Baltruss..."
"Why is the Golden Merchant here?"
Lucas Baltruss came to a stop before the staggering duke, his sharp grey eyes taking in the bloodied feet, vacant smile, and hollow gaze.
If he was surprised, his expression gave nothing away. After a moment, however, a faint note of disgust settled over his features.
"...What is the meaning of this, Lord Humphrey?" Lucas asked. "Have you lost all respect for yourself?"
The Duke's attention seemed to drift toward him in response, only for it to dissolve into incoherent babbling and soft chuckles. The sight made the merchant's eyes narrow further before he let out a quiet sigh.
Just then, the leading flagbearers of Brunford—Berren and Morgana—arrived, a carriage screeching to a halt as it came to a stop. Two flags snapped in the wind: one bearing a verdant rose sigil, the other an eagle.
"My Lord!" Ursa screamed, leaping out first, followed by Astrey, who froze for a brief moment on the carriage steps in sheer disbelief. "What are you doing?! Cover him up!"
The command snapped the man out of his stupor. He quickly removed his own robe and rushed forward, draping it over his lord.
Then he turned, levelling a glare at Lucas and his entourage.
"Don't think we don't know that this is your doing!"
The dark-haired merchant met his gaze with all the composure in the world.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, scratching his bare chin. "I heard a commotion at the front door of my establishment and came out, same as everyone else."
"You know what I mean...!" Astrey gritted out.
Ursa snapped forward, wind whipping from her fan as it stopped mere inches from Lucas's face—only to be halted by an odd, large sword with a zigzagging blade pressed directly against her neck.
The guard behind the merchant—a blond man with brown eyes and a red headband—stared at her as though daring her to continue.
"Hey," Lucas started slowly. "You realise the sword is at my neck too, Balzard?"
The dark-skinned man to his right scoffed.
"You wouldn't die from something like that."
"It would be more likely for him to die from mana reversal," the tallest among all those assembled—the red-haired woman to his left—added.
"Delman... Yul... I don't know what you think of me," Lucas said, a sweat drop forming. "But humans die when their necks get cut."
"Then you're not human," all three responded in unison.
The lighthearted exchange only seemed to enrage the Marquess further, but she relented, stepping back as she felt rot spread from the sword's tip into her skin.
She moved back to the Duke and helped Astrey support him to the carriage.
"I promise you," she said without looking back. "This isn't the end."
Lucas smiled faintly. "I'm sure it isn't."
Then the carriage left.
The Golden Merchant swiftly quelled the commotion, dispersing the crowd with his usual energetic, friendly charisma before returning to his office.
As soon as the doors closed, his expression dropped.
"Prepare a communication orb... and ready the line immediately."
Balzard nodded. "To Greater Purgis?"
"No," Lucas sighed. "Connect to Young Lady Elisia's personal line."
---
- The Castle -
Fros sat upon his throne, his face buried in his hands.
As his advisor—Meridin—watched the man, he noted how much older he seemed than he truly was.
'Such is the weight of the crown...'
"Humphrey, that fool..." Fros muttered with a sigh. "He was always too narrow-minded for his own—and the kingdom's—good."
Meridin had to agree.
Despite the Duke not holding a candle to his counterpart, he still served a purpose in keeping the Alonbrights in check—at least in the public sphere.
"Where is Elisia Alonbright?" the king asked, faint disdain unhidden in his tone.
"She took an air train to Degradio last night," Meridin replied, scanning through transport records. "But even if she were still here, she would be untouchable. It's unlikely Duke Elio would make an appearance... but there's still his monster of a youngest daughter."
Fros rose and walked to the balcony overlooking all of Anselt. His hands traced the rough stone of the bannister, wondering how many of his predecessors had stood in the same place, plagued in the same way as him right now.
"We're supposed to be tackling a national catastrophe," he said quietly. "And yet the two main supporting pillars of the nation are carelessly adding more incidents onto our table... What am I supposed to do, Meridin?"
The advisor had a few options in mind, none of them good.
He sighed, leaning against the stone barrier beside the monarch and looking him square in the eye.
"We may need to seek out external help."
"Not happening," Fros replied instantly. "The only force trustworthy enough to approach is the Academy City, and that would be a greater shame than simply abdicating the throne—I might as well be abdicating the moment the people hear of it."
"Well then... we play the cards we're dealt and hope for a miracle," Meridin said, closing his eyes. "Who knows? Maybe one of the princes or princesses becomes our saviour."
Fros almost laughed. "That would only bring the kingdom to ruin sooner."
A contemplative glint crossed Meridin's eye.
"There are the Princesses Lara and Wynn. As well as Prince Cale."
"Right... a warhawk and a passive wallflower, as well as the weak and feeble youngest."
Meridin gave a light laugh, hiding a silent expectation.
"You never know."
---
- The Academy City: Degradio -
- High Archon's Chambers -
A bright blond man who could only be described as a peak specimen of pure, raw physicality stepped out of the bathroom to find a violet-haired man holding his bathrobe for him.
With a frown, he accepted the assistance in slipping it on and settled onto an ornate bronze couch with teal cushions.
"I told you I don't like that."
The other man, dressed sharply in white, smiled as he adjusted his tie and knelt before him, bowing his head.
"I, the humble Lucard Descarion, had news that simply couldn't wait."
"I don't like that either..." the blond muttered. "If that was the case, you could've just waited outside instead of taking the robe off its hook."
He paused, golden eyes flickering with subdued power even in their idle state as he looked at the man.
"You're Aldain's vice-headmaster, not my servant," he added, running a hand through his hair. "And I don't need servants."
Lucard chuckled. "Yes, yes. You've said that before. But you're the ruler of Degradio, not just Aldain's headmaster. Someone of your standing will always demand reverence and servitude simply by existing."
The headmaster sighed, shaking his head at the man's stubbornness.
"So, what is it that I needed to know so bad?"
Lucard straightened, his expression darkening.
"The relic in the south has disappeared."
The blond froze, turning slowly and leaning forward.
"For real?"
"For real."
He draped an arm over his eyes, throwing his head back.
"Someone claimed it then," he said. "Any idea who yet?"
"No. The news didn't arrive through our usual channels," Lucard explained. "I simply put two and two together after receiving news that the southern portion of Lindis had 'gone missing' after the quake four days ago."
"So that's what that was..." the blond muttered. "I thought it was just one of the other two. They both have rough temperaments, so I didn't think it would be too out of character..."
Lucard wanted to point out that the man was also rough around the edges, but kept it to himself.
"What will you do now?"
The blond rose, golden lightning faintly arcing around his frame.
"The last intake of the year happens soon, yeah?" he asked, though he already knew.
"In under two months, yes," Lucard answered.
"I heard there are some promising candidates this time around," he continued with a smirk. "Like the kid who claimed Galaplexius... I'll try to make it back before then, but an investigation is necessary."
He paused.
"Both Galaplexius and Luvarne at the same time... the world is about to be overturned. I need to be sure whether that's a good or bad thing."