---
The room was silent as everyone pondered the weight on their shoulders. Zachary looked at the two men with him, then back at the documents on the table. He had just signed a document granting him legitimacy as the Crown Prince.
"I should feel liberated, but my heart feels heavier," he thought. His mind kept drifting to his sisters—they had worked hard for this title. He felt troubled, knowing he had to take the throne from them. Still, there were more pressing matters to attend to.
"Allow me to officially greet you, Your Highness, the Crown Prince, I am your loyal servant, Lucius Cornel," Lucius declared with a slight bow.
Zachary nodded, gratitude flickering in his eyes.
"Forgive me if I may ask. You've been adamant about rejecting the title of Prince for as long as I can remember. What changed?"
"The situation called for it. You know it as well as I do. And if the person you suspect is truly behind Occident Coast's troubles, I can't just sit still."
Lucius nodded, admiring Zachary's sound reasoning.
"Now, brief me."
"It's common knowledge that Occident Coast's economy relies heavily on tourism. But we also have another income stream," Lucius began.
"In the wake of the Purple Decade, we discovered several quarries rich in limestone. Thanks to them, we enjoyed a significant economic advantage.
"However, in the past two months, six mines have collapsed—not without casualties. This has crippled our economy. Income streams have been cut, and we've spent a large portion of our funds on damage control."
Zachary frowned. "And you're certain King Awin of Easteford is behind this? What would he gain?"
The other man in the room, Thomas, answered this time. "It's true that Easteford is far stronger than us and has no real reason to feel threatened. After all, the other nations see us as weaklings.
"But after thorough observation, we've discovered that King Awin—like the kings before him—is obsessed with conquering the northern and southern continents. That is why he's doing this."
Zachary nodded, though a gap still lingered in his understanding.
Lucius, as if reading his thoughts, continued. "The Southern Continent Coalition meeting will be held two months from now. There's an existing treaty in place. With the catastrophes our nation has faced, we won't be able to fulfill our end of the treaty. This would give Easteford legitimate grounds to wage war."
"Oh, we'd be doomed," Zachary muttered. "The gap in military power between Easteford and Occident Coast is vast."
The room fell silent again. Lucius and Thomas exchanged worried glances. They feared Zachary might abdicate his title once more, given the dire circumstances.
Zachary threw his head back and let out a resigned sigh. "I have my work cut out for me."
"Isn't this daunting?" Thomas asked.
"It is. It really is. But do you know who you're talking to? The man who worked closely with Awin. I've observed him long enough to understand how he operates. Awin should not have made an enemy out of me."
---
The Traveller's Inn
Qaya and Jaslin left their rooms, starving. Jaslin looked drowsy but couldn't afford to sleep in—she didn't trust her cousin not to get into trouble. They settled at a small table in the corner of the tavern.
Qaya motioned for the innkeeper and placed their orders. "I'll have some fruit pottage, and my companion will have the carp stew."
The innkeeper smiled, partly out of hospitality but mostly because the order promised good sales.
Jaslin glanced at her cousin and browsed the menu, a thin wooden parchment fastened to the center of their table. "Wow, you're a natural. It's almost like you regularly visit places like this." Her smile faded.
"Did something happen?" Qaya asked.
"Our food. You ordered the best meal for me. Why?"
"Why do you look offended? I was just being considerate. I know your palate."
"Then why did you order the fruit pottage? If you were worried about spending too much money, we could have shared one dish."
Qaya laughed heartily and patted Jaslin's hair. "It's nothing of the sort. I just wanted to eat that. I promise."
Jaslin begrudgingly accepted her cousin's words and fell silent.
"One second, Jaslin. I'll be right back."
Qaya stood and walked through the rowdy tavern. Everyone seemed friendly, dining cheerfully. There were a few deviants, but even they seemed tolerable.
She stopped at a table occupied by a large group of fishermen. "Hello," she greeted.
The group turned to her—some taken aback by the new face, others indifferent, and a few eyeing her with suspicion.
"Hello," they greeted back in unison.
"I'm Qaya. I'm visiting Porto Jamon."
"I can tell," a towering woman replied. She had long black hair, bushy eyebrows, and freckles scattered across her face.
Qaya laughed awkwardly. "Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to ask a few questions."
"Ask away," one of them said, eager to help.
"Do you know where I can get a book?"
"Are you asking for a library or a bookshop?" the woman asked.
"Well, it depends. I'm looking for a particular book. I hear it's famous here."
The group muttered among themselves, amused by her claim. "What book is that?"
"The Story of the Mythic Twin."
It was as if the room froze. All the color drained from their faces.
"You must be mistaken. There's no such book," the towering woman said flatly.
Qaya frowned. "That can't be right. I'm certain the book originates from here. Oh, wait, I see the confusion—the title is different in Easteford. Here, it's called Legenria Duo Dei Mythos."
"Enough. We don't have such a book. We're not even known for books," the woman thundered dismissively.
Dejected, Qaya nodded. "I must have been mistaken."
But deep down, she knew they were lying. Their reactions made it clear—the book was forbidden in Porto Jamon as well.
"It won't do any good if I keep badgering them for answers. But I'm still not giving up."
She walked up to her table where Jaslin was waiting for her.
"Our food still isn't here?" she asked, her tone a bit more disappointed than expected.
Jaslin pursed her lips in a fake smile, giving her cousin the I told you so look.
Just as she was about to scold Qaya, the door burst open, and a bunch of rowdy, loud young men came in. They had weapons fastened to them, and their very presence caused the atmosphere of the tavern to tense, with some people even quietly leaving.
Qaya smelled trouble. "Jaslin, let's leave."
"Wait, what? What about our food?" she whined.
"That doesn't matter. These boys spell trouble. They look like the troublesome bunch, and to make matters worse, it's not even noon yet, and they're drunk out of their stupor."
"Your kings are here!" their leader thundered as he staggered through the tavern.
The head innkeeper clenched her fists. "I see you decided today was my inn's turn, Gaston."
"Well, you seemed too happy, almost like you forgot who was in charge. You guys must think you're some special place because you're not under a particular kingdom, but never forget that we, De Gei Jaune, are your kings."
Gaston snatched a man's bowl and drank from it. When he emptied it, he threw the bowl at the wall, causing shards to disperse across the tavern.
"I heard some of you are busy with whispers of treachery. One of you talked about the burned book."
Qaya instinctively knew the burned book referred to the one she had asked about. So many questions floated in her head, but the one that distressed her most was how they had even heard about this. She looked around.
There were spies in their midst.
The entire tavern was silent, and the stench of oppression was strong and putrid.
Gaston looked around until his gaze stopped at the head innkeeper.
"No one's going to talk? Then I guess I'll have to hold you responsible. It is your inn, after all."
He moved toward the innkeeper, subtly reaching for the hilt of his sword, when Qaya spoke up.
"It was me. I asked about the book. I'm a visitor. I had no idea that..." Her voice trailed off.
Gaston flashed a creepy smile that made her stomach churn.
He walked up to her, inspecting her.
"I see, but I still have to punish you. If I don't, these ants will take us for granted, and De Gei Jaune cannot be taken for granted."
He turned to his companions, grinning.
"Oh, what punishment shall I mete out?" he said, feigning helplessness.
Jaslin clenched her fists. It was hard enough watching her cousin being treated like this, but it took every fiber of her being to resist standing up for Qaya. This is what Qaya had demanded.
Gaston ogled Qaya, licking his bottom lip like a ravenous coyote.
"A sight for sore eyes."
He reached out to stroke her hair, and in that moment, Qaya, much to her chagrin, became a statue. She wanted to run from this vile man's touch, but there was a crippling fear that kept her transfixed.
"What's going on here?" a voice called from behind them, at the door of the tavern.
Qaya subconsciously let out a breath of relief when Gaston dropped his hands and turned his attention to the new visitor.
In official yet inconspicuous attire was Rivan Ceria.
He looked tired, as if he needed a haircut, but his strong, commanding aura did not dissipate.
"Who are you?" he asked the men.
"I should be asking that," Gaston threw the question back.
Rivan grimaced, annoyance on his face. "I am Rivan Ceria, commander of the dragon cavalry, here under the authority of the throne of Easteford. Now back to my question, who are you lot?"
Rivan's words had an instantaneous effect on the group. Gaston shrank back and turned to leave. "We're just locals."
"Really?" Rivan asked, unconvinced. "Your dialect suggests otherwise."
Gaston rolled his eyes. "Wasn't born here."
He didn't wait for further questions. De Gei Jaune practically fled the scene.
"What are you doing here?" Qaya approached him, Jaslin following closely after her.
"Here on official business."
"So Awin sent you?"
Rivan shook his head and placed an order for a drink. They were speaking in Eastefordian now.
"The king didn't even want to grant me an audience. I came out of responsibility. Reports reached me about a terrorist group causing problems on the island."
"Guessing those were the 'locals,'" Jaslin added, the last word dripping with sarcasm.
"They call themselves De Gei Jaune," Qaya added. "But isn't this a bit out of your jurisdiction?"
"Yes and no. Porto Jamon is under the joint protection of the northern continent alliance and Easteford. Apparently, a request for help has been sent to the northern nations with no result, so I have to step in."
"But the king, if he didn't approve of it..." Jaslin said.
"Don't worry about the king. My actions are backed by legitimacy."
"You don't fully know the man," Qaya cut in, her voice and countenance oozing bitterness.
The trio walked out of the inn.
They were awkwardly quiet, with Qaya pondering how she would have to find the story of the Mythic Twin, while the other two stayed quiet, not knowing how to relate to each other without their mutual friend.
Jaslin looked up and broke the silence.
"Lord Rivan, are those your soldiers?"
Rivan and Qaya looked up.
"I didn't come with soldiers. My initial plan was just to assess the situation and then return with reinforcements."
"If you didn't come with them, then why are they here?"
The three looked in confusion and mild horror at the swarm of Easteford soldiers moving around with bloodlust and hanging up wanted posters.
"Just what are you planning, Awin?" Qaya muttered under her breath.