In a well-lit, opulent room carved with gold inlays. A man lounged on a high-backed seat of a Chair, swirling dark wine in a crystalline goblet. Across from him, a figure knelt — head bowed, spine rigid. Another stood silently off to the side, cloaked in shadow despite the brightness of the room, a hood drawn low over his face. He didn't speak. He hadn't spoken since entering.
The man on the seat finally broke the silence, his voice smooth but laced with irritation. "Just how long will it take, Zarius?" His words rang with venom, each syllable deliberate. "How long to find and capture those creatures?"
Zarius didn't lift his head. "Not long now, my Lord. We've picked up traces—"
"I don't fund ten years of research," the man snapped, rising to his feet with a dangerous glare, "crafting the perfect vessels, refining spell after spell, building weapons designed specifically for them, only for my investment to rot in the dark!" He hurled the wine goblet at Zarius, the crystal shattering on the marble floor beside him. "You swore this would work! Was I wrong in trusting you, Zarius?"
"No, my Lord!" Zarius barked, lowering his head even more. "You weren't. We will find them. I swear it—soon."
"I don't want words," the man hissed, eyes narrowing. "I want bloody results. Get out of my sight."
Zarius didn't argue. He stood swiftly, bowed, and exited with silent urgency, the doors closing behind him with a heavy thud.
The arrogance peeled off the man like sweat in the heat of shame. He turned quickly to the hooded figure, face pale, eyes wide. "Master," he whispered, voice trembling, "what do I do? We can't let anyone else find them first. If even one of those beasts bonds to another mage, everything—everything is lost."
The hooded figure remained unmoved, still as a statue, yet the air thickened around him like a brewing storm.
Inside his mind, however, the silence was an illusion. A storm raged — thoughts spiraling, fury crackling at the edges. His grip tightened on the ancient staff in his hand until his knuckles turned white. If one were to look closely, they'd see the staff was incomplete — fragments missing from the top, etched runes that bled into nothing.
And all his wrath, all that silent hate, was focused on one face burned into his memory:
An elf.
Pale as the moon.
Eyes the color of the sea.
And hair — silver hair that shimmered like a blade catching sunlight.
He had stolen it. She had stolen it.
And he would burn down every realm until he took it back.
_________
Athena woke up earlier than usual.
She folded the spare clothes Kael had given her last night and quietly stepped outside. The moon still cast a soft glow over the sleepy village, bathing everything in silver light.
She had asked Kael yesterday if there was a bathhouse. He had laughed awkwardly and said there wasn't one. "Men like me just bathe in the sea," he'd said. "The women… well, they often go weeks without."
Athena had been appalled. That would change. Even if she had to build it shade by shade, she'd make sure every home had a place where the women could bathe in peace.
The stream was a good hour's walk, and she didn't bother using her Development Points for the teleport. She was saving those. Besides, she needed the time to think.
When she arrived, the stream sparkled beneath the fading moonlight—but the water was ice cold.
"Ahhh... what I do for hygiene," she muttered with a shiver.
She stripped, squealed her way into the water, and washed up quickly. She scrubbed her clothes too, then dressed in Kael's tunic—slightly big but warm—and laid her wet garments over a rock.
With her hair dripping and cheeks flushed, she wandered into the Orchard to pluck apples . She stuffed four into her pockets before heading back to retrieve her clothes.
By the time she returned to the village, the morning had fully bloomed. People were already moving around, going about their day. She slipped back into the house.
Kael was still in. She tossed the apples to him.
"I'm heading over to the Hall, in case you need me," she said.
He hummed, biting into one. "Thanks."
#####
Yesterday evening, Faelyn had been busy repairing farming tools when an unexpected visitor came. The Queen had requested his presence.
So this morning, Faelyn woke up at the crack of dawn. He made his way to the village well, carrying a wooden bucket slung over his shoulder. After drawing enough water, he returned to his small home and washed up behind a wooden shade he'd constructed beside it—his own modest solution to the lack of privacy.
He didn't bother with breakfast. There was work to be done.
When he arrived at the Hall, it was still early and the doors were shut. Faelyn didn't mind. He sat on the steps and waited, enjoying the quiet morning air. Eventually, the same young man from yesterday arrived and unlocked the main entrance. Faelyn followed him in, sitting quietly in the reception area.
Not long after, the Queen herself entered.
The young man stood immediately. "My lady," he said. "This is the blacksmith."
Faelyn rose to his feet and bowed lightly. "My lady."
"Come on in," she said with a nod, leading him into the office.
They sat down across from each other.
"Good morning, my lady," Faelyn began with a polite nod. "My name is Faelyn Horn. How may I be of service?"
Athena gave a small smile. "Why yes. I have quite a lot for you to do."
Faelyn sat up straighter.
"Can you forge weapons?"
"Yes, Your Highness. But I don't currently have the right materials. For now, I can only work with wood."
"That'll do," Athena said. "I need wooden swords. Make them sturdy, please. I also need wooden buckets. And—if it's not too much to ask—could you construct a small wooden bathhouse next to my house?"
He nodded. "That's no problem."
They quickly settled on prices:
– 20 wooden swords for 10 copper coins
– 15 buckets for 20 copper coins
– 1 bathhouse for 10 copper coins
She also asked if he needed help, offering to hire someone if needed, but Faelyn declined.
"I've already got help. Jimmy, my nephew—he's a wonderful craftsman."
Athena smiled. "Even better."
As Faelyn stood to leave, she suddenly remembered. "One more thing—I need wooden crates and wooden carriages. Crates for transporting apples, carriages for both people and goods."
They agreed on:
– 3 copper coins per crate, totaling 60 copper for 20 crates
– 20 copper coins per carriage, totaling 60 copper for three carriages
He'd initially asked for 30 copper per carriage, but Athena replied smoothly,
"Unless you've figured out how to shield passengers from the sun, I suggest you accept twenty."
Faelyn let out a chuckle and agreed.
Before leaving, he added, "Oh—and if you're in need of farming tools, I've got those too."
Athena laughed. "Of course I am. Bring them in when you can."
As the door closed behind him, she found herself genuinely pleased. Faelyn left a good impression—passionate, efficient, and grounded.
She glanced toward the empty office door, surprised. Still no Elandor?
Just then, Micah knocked and stepped in.
"My lady," he said, "we've got some applicants for the guard position."
________
The three of them stood in front of the large wooden doors of the Hall, staring at them like they might bite.
"Do you think they'll even accept us?" Bram asked, his voice barely louder than the wind. He rubbed his arm nervously, eyes flickering toward the early morning light bleeding into the sky.
"Let's just try," Garret said, already stepping forward. He was always the brave one, or at least the best at pretending. He knocked once before pushing the doors open.
Sera exchanged a glance with Bram before following, her heartbeat oddly loud in her ears. Bram came last, hesitating only a moment before stepping in and shutting the door quietly behind him.
The inside was warm and polished, a soft glow from the early sun drifting through the tall windows. To the left, a young man sat behind a desk, doing nothing. He looked up as they approached.
"Good morning. How may I help you?" he asked politely.
"Uhmm…" Bram started, taking a step forward. "We saw the notice…"
"Oh!" the man smiled. "Are you here as farmers? Well, we aren't recruiting for that yet, so—"
"Not farmers," Garret interrupted, his tone respectful but firm. "Guards. Is there still space left?"
Micah blinked. "Space? Of course—yes, give me a moment."
He quickly rose from his seat and hurried down the corridor without another word. The trio stood awkwardly by the desk, the silence swallowing them.
"I don't think I've ever talked that fast before," Bram muttered under his breath. Sera elbowed him, though her lips twitched slightly.
Soon, Micah returned, beckoning them forward. "This way, please. Her Majesty will see you now."
They followed him into a side room that held a desk, a few chairs, and a small window. And behind the desk sat the woman they'd all heard rumors about—Queen Athena. She didn't wear a crown or dress in jewels,in fact dressed just Like them and in a way that made them feel better,but even that couldn't hide her beauty . They remembered her speech. 'We shall be equals', she said. She was really moving according to her words. They suddenly developed a huge respect for her.
Unknowingly to them she was dressed like this only because she had no other clothes, and that's exactly why she was meeting with the sailor this afternoon. This village was too dry and empty for her and with the kind of money she had heard Elandor mention,she was sure the village wouldn't be going broke soon.
Micah stepped aside. "My lady, these are the guard applicants."
Athena gestured to the chairs. "Come in."
The three bowed awkwardly—none of them trained in etiquette—and stepped forward.
"What are your names?" she asked.
"Garret, my lady."
"Sera."
"Bram."
She nodded, eyes scanning each of them carefully. "You've had some experience?"
"A bit," Garret said. "Volunteer patrols. Wild animal threats, mostly."
"Hunting," Sera added. "I know how to track and shoot, though we haven't had many real battles."
"Logging camp," Bram mumbled. "Just guarding supplies and tools sometimes. That's all."
Athena was quiet for a beat. Then she spoke with a steady tone that cut straight through the air.
"I'm not just looking for guards. I'm looking for soldiers."
They blinked, unsure how to respond.
"A guard keeps watch. A soldier protects. Guards stand still. Soldiers move, fight, lead when needed. A soldier doesn't just wait for danger—they're prepared for it before it comes."
Her gaze locked onto each of them, steady and sure.
Garret sat straighter. Sera swallowed. Bram's hands curled into fists at his side.
"If you're ready to become more than just watchmen," Athena continued, "be at the Hall before sunrise tomorrow. Training begins early. We'll be using the courtyards of the brick manors, and if necessary, the buildings themselves."
"Y-Yes, your Majesty," Bram said first, the other two quickly echoing him.
"Good. You're dismissed."
They left the room with their hearts pounding, a mixture of fear and excitement burning in their veins. None of them said a word until they stepped back outside, the morning sun greeting them like a promise.
Garret grinned and clapped Bram's back. "Told you we'd get in."
Sera exhaled. "Soldiers, huh?"
Bram nodded slowly, looking toward the horizon. "Guess we've got a lot of learning to do."