‘It will be fine, right?’
Arthur asked himself as he watched Roland being escorted out of the chamber. He knew that his friend disliked being seen without his helmet, and now, after this gathering, several nobles had learned his true face. Roland’s past was something he preferred to keep hidden, but now it might have been revealed.
The palace his father ruled over was known for keeping secrets, and Roland’s involvement had been played down. The Duke seemed concerned only with Roland’s technology and its connection to the abyssal cult relic, which appeared to be the central issue. Roland’s display of strength during the battle did not hold much interest for him. Most of the nobles had been under the spell’s influence, and it remained uncertain who truly remembered what had taken place within the barrier.
‘At least I will get to see her.’
Though much had happened and guilt weighed on him for Roland’s sake, Arthur’s thoughts quickly shifted to his mother. He had not been able to visit her even once since leaving this place, and he had dreamed of this day for a long time. He doubted he would be able to bring her back to Albrook, the home he had made for himself, yet simply seeing her here and knowing she was well would be enough. His father seemed pleased with his performance, which might mean he would be allowed to visit more often.
“Julius, step forward.”
Arthur’s thoughts were interrupted as the Duke called upon Julius, the firstborn. Julius obeyed and walked forward, the sound of his boots echoing against the polished floor until he stood before their father’s throne. As he passed Arthur, his gaze shifted briefly to the side, and a gentle smile appeared. Arthur did not miss it. Their shared struggle against the cult had brought them closer, yet he still did not know how his brother truly regarded him.
“Your achievements are second to your younger brother’s, but considering your position, they are still meager.”
To Arthur’s surprise, Julius was not praised. It seemed the Duke had expected far more from him. Looking back on the events, Arthur recalled how Julius had begun somewhat unsteady and emotional, taking time to grasp the situation. Yet in the end, he had proven to be a valuable ally.
Arthur wondered if his father’s disappointment came from the way Roland and he had overshadowed his brother. It was Arthur who appeared to direct the mission, or at least that was how it seemed on the surface, even though most of the effort had truly been driven by Roland. To outside eyes, however, it was natural to assume that Arthur, the noble, had been the one pulling the strings while his knight was merely an accessory rather than the main factor.
“You have survived, Julius, but do not mistake survival for triumph. You were tested last night, tested not only by the cult’s hand but also by mine.”
The words rippled through the hall. The nobles shifted uneasily, sensing that there was more to this speech than Julius’ performance.
“You were not the only one being judged. All of you were, and most of you have failed.”
The Duke turned toward the other nobles in a revelation that Arthur had somewhat anticipated. During his early days in the palace, the nobles had abandoned proper decorum in order to make him look foolish. They dressed Roland in rusty armor to amuse themselves, but even then, they lost in the end. This, Arthur realized, was exactly what the Duke was calling out as he continued.
“I have seen how you behaved, how you used my name and hid behind it.”
The nobles lowered their heads in fear as the Duke pressed on. His awareness of their conduct and his displeasure were unmistakable.
“I was testing you. I was testing your resolve, your loyalty, and your judgment when the eye of authority was absent. And what did I see?”
His hand tightened on the armrest, fingers drumming against carved adamantium.
“Petty rivalries. Weak displays of pride. A willingness to mock vassals, diminishing a proud Valerian knight as though he were a lowly servant. That is what you thought was clever? That is how you honor House Valerian?”
His voice thundered and shook the people here to their very core. His tier four might was unmatched, and everyone lowered their heads and trembled in fear. Arthur, on the other hand, felt great. The knight the Duke mentioned was his, and it seemed Roland had won the rare praise of his father who did not usually commend anyone.
“Hear me well. The Valerian name does not stoop to trivialities. It is beneath us to strip someone of dignity or to treat those sworn to your side as playthings for your amusement. That is the behavior of lesser houses, not mine. Never mine.”
No one answered as the Duke continued.
“The knight you belittled is the same one who gave you the chance to live through this night. In your arrogance, you sought to humiliate him. You have shamed me with this display. You have shamed House Valerian, and for that you will be punished.”
When he finished, the Grand Knight Commander stepped forward and nodded. Immediately, multiple guards moved to seize several nobles. The commander then spoke.
“Do not resist. You have been deemed untrustworthy and must prove your allegiance. Some of you have colluded with the enemies of this house, a sin punishable by death.”
Some nobles protested and begged the commander for mercy, while others bowed their heads and followed the guards. Arthur watched and confirmed his earlier suspicions about the whole affair. The Duke had gathered the malicious factions conspiring against him in one place to expose their true loyalties and remove them in a single move.
Though Alexander Valerian had failed to decipher the cultist relics, it was clear that evidence had been gathered behind the scenes. Many of these nobles would never see the light of day again, and no one seemed particularly disturbed by that fact. The people who remained showed no pity in their eyes, only disdain. This left the young noble wondering if his father’s way of ruling through fear and strict adherence to tradition was truly the path he wished to follow.
‘Mary is probably worried sick, but I doubt I will see her until this is all over’
Arthur thought to himself as the nobles were escorted away. His own vassals were waiting outside the inner palace in the middle quarter, likely overcome with worry as well. He, however, would remain here for a time in order to see his mother. His only hope now was that Roland, the one who had made this outcome possible, would not be held back for too long. Arthur feared that if his father realized how valuable Roland truly was, he would refuse to let the runic craftsman leave so easily.
*****
‘Whoever made this must like puzzles…’
Roland walked carefully down the dimly lit passageway. At first, it looked like nothing more than a narrow corridor of strange greenish bricks, yet the walls shifted ever so slightly as he moved. He could sense that a mechanism was at work, altering the space around them and creating a path that had not existed before.
‘It is some kind of space distortion. We are going much deeper than it seems.’
Although he appeared to be walking forward, in truth, they were steadily descending. He was not alone. His escort consisted of two mages leading the way and two knights following behind, all of them tier three. In the main kingdom, it was rare to encounter class holders of that rank, but here under the Duke it felt as if they were produced in endless supply.
After several minutes, they arrived at the first checkpoint. It was a circular chamber, empty except for a single pedestal in the center. Upon it rested a crystal orb that glowed faintly blue. The mage at his left finally spoke.
"Touch the orb, Sir Wayland. Only then will the path open."
Roland frowned but did as instructed. The moment his hand brushed the surface he recognized the nature of the spell. It was a device meant to record his status and imprint his mana signature, something he disliked cooperating with. The orb flickered a few times, then suddenly went still, leaving the mage staring at it in surprise.
The mage’s brow furrowed as he tapped the surface of the orb. It gave no further reaction, the faint blue glow dimming until it resembled little more than cloudy glass. His colleague moved forward, muttering a spell under his breath, but the result was the same. The orb refused to respond.
“Impossible.”
The first mage whispered as he studied Roland for signs of foul play.
“Maybe it was damaged in the attack?”
He tried to dismiss the problem as a failure caused by the fight between two tier four class holders. Yet the four people present could sense that something was wrong. The knights standing behind Roland shifted instinctively, hands ready to draw their weapons.
“Maybe you should check it again?”
Roland spoke once more while the mages continued to fiddle with the device. They began to argue among themselves as they struggled to find the cause. In the end, they all reached the same conclusion. He was somehow responsible. Their eyes turned toward him with a faint hostility, and he wondered whether disabling the device had truly been the right choice.
“What trickery is this, Sir Wayland? Do you resist the Duke’s command?”
Roland tilted his head slightly and raised his hands in protest.
“If I were resisting, you would know it. But aren’t you the ones resisting the Duke’s command by keeping me here? I doubt the Duke will be pleased if this takes too long.”
The two mages’ expressions shifted, and it was clear they were suspicious of him. Roland wondered if he had gone too far this time and whether he should simply return the orb’s functionality before anything drastic occurred. Then, Just as he was about to give in, a disembodied voice echoed through the chamber.
“Just let him through already.”
As the voice resounded, the bricks around the chamber shimmered. Right in front of the orb he had just touched, something began to happen. The bricks shifted aside and quickly revealed a new opening. It was not a path or a door but a small teleportation gate, about the same size as the one he had created in the dungeon filled with lesser dragons.
“Was it Wayland? Just step through and ignore those simpletons.”
Roland was surprised at the way this person spoke. The voice carried a trace of static, which made him wonder how far the teleportation gate would actually take him. He had no real choice in the matter, since defying the Duke would be unwise. His task was simple: reveal what he knew about the occult relics and hope that, afterward, he would be released.
The blue light of the newly opened teleportation gate filled the chamber with the glow of mana. Roland narrowed his eyes, knowing there was no excuse he could use to refuse. What truly unsettled him was not the gate itself but the uncertainty of its destination.
It did not seem likely that cultists were waiting on the other side, so for the moment, he nodded to himself and stepped forward. He stopped just before the shimmering blue light and glanced at the four guards behind him. The gate only worked in one direction, which meant using it as an escape route was out of the question.
‘I suppose there is nothing I can do for now.’
This time, he had few backup plans. He believed that no real harm would come to him, yet he could not pass up the chance to leave behind a small helpline. After placing his hand on the wall, he altered the faintly glowing runes. It was nothing elaborate, only a beaconing rune that would allow him to locate this chamber in relation to wherever he ended up. Still, it was enough to help him find his bearings later. With that done, he finally stepped through the gate, and the world around him shifted.
Roland stepped out of the gate into a different silence. It was not the sleepy quiet of a country road nor the taut hush of a guarded prison; it had the brittle, expectant hush of a place that had been waiting for something to happen, and then for a long time had decided it was finished waiting.
*****
The chamber of black stone was silent once more. Darkness hung heavy in the air, unbroken until the familiar flicker of blue light appeared above one of the great stone seats. The Seat of Azure had arrived. One by one, flames kindled into being and circled the round table. Red, blue, and green appeared in turn until at last the pitch-dark fire of Obsidian crowned the largest seat, swallowing the light like a living shadow.
“Again, not all are present.”
Azure’s voice resonated softly. This time it was not tardiness that left the table incomplete but other reasons. Two seats now stood empty, and the flickering flames of those who remained showed unease. The crimson flame spoke first.
“First, it was the seat of Yellow, and now Violet. Did someone betray us?”
The violet flame’s seat remained dark. Cracks split the stone, a sign of her demise. The Seat of Obsidian pulsed once, its black fire swelling outward like a ripple of ink in water. Its presence smothered the other flames until silence fell again.
“No. There are no traitors.”
The flames went silent for a moment, shrinking away in the wake of their leader’s displeasure.
“If the Seat of Obsidian says so, then it must be the truth. Violet was too ambitious and prideful. They must have walked into a trap set by the Duke!”
Said Azure, his voice striving to steady the dark flames.
“Indeed, the Seat of Violet was too hasty. But what should we do now? Our foothold on the island is gone. Should we abandon it?”
Now the crimson flame chimed in while the black flame receded. For a moment, Obsidian considered the options and then finally spoke out again.
“The church’s presence there is too strong. We will abandon that ground for now. Order the remaining temples to retreat and gather within the main temple.”
“As you wish.”
“Also, I need an explanation for this. Whoever is responsible must be found and dealt with. Use the Oracle if you must. Our plans cannot be hindered further.”
The Obsidian flame burned hotter as it gave out orders to the group.
“The Oracle?”
The seat of Crimson spoke, his tone implying that something was amiss.
“Is there an issue with the Oracle?”
All the flames turned toward the Crimson flame, who appeared to be responsible for this person.
“It is her age. She is growing old, and asking her to perform more tasks like this could shorten her lifespan even further…”
“I see. That would complicate matters. We need the Oracle. What of her replacement, what of the girl?”
Asked the seat of Obsidian while the others remained silent.
“She is still young, but her abilities are already budding. Once she undergoes the ritual, her power will be fully unlocked and be ours to command, but until then…”
Crimson continued talking, but before he could finish, the leader cut him off.
“Our time is limited, so we will accelerate the ritual. The girl must be secured before anyone else claims her. Violet’s failure has weakened us already, and if we suffer another setback, our plans for the convergence will be ruined.”
Azure’s flame flickered as he noticed Crimson not speaking up to correct their leader.
“Accelerating the ritual now could destroy her. We should be cautious…”
“... How long must we wait?”
Obsidian asked as he rethought his position, and this time, Crimson responded.
“A few years at most. We must prepare the ritual carefully, and she must grow stronger. In her current state, she will not survive it. Once everything is in order, our agents will strike.”
“Fine… We will wait.”
Obsidian came to a reluctant conclusion. He was not pleased, but they needed the Oracle for their future plans. Unless certain strict conditions were met, the ritual could kill the pawn they required to bring forth the everlasting dream.
“Now return to your realms, keep a low profile, and remember this. When all is done, the lord will reward us with the everlasting dream.”
“For the everlasting dream.”
All the gathered flames repeated the words in unison before vanishing one by one. They had failed this time, but this was only a battle. The war still raged on.
178