Imperial Academy, Fort Blue.
Inside a modest horse-drawn carriage, a young lady in a dark green gown sat beside a child, while two others sat opposite them, all neatly dressed.
"I haven't had enough sleep," yawned a red-haired boy, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, stop complaining, Arthis! I spent most of the night getting my hair done! You don't see me whining!" a little girl scolded, frowning.
"Lintlock, please lower your voice. You're giving me a headache," groaned a dark-haired boy with glasses, holding his head.
Lintlock glanced at him and muttered an apology. "Sorry, Sault."
"Enough arguing, children," the young lady interjected. "You are about to meet the Prince and Princess. Remember your manners and everything I've taught you." Her voice was smooth, her expression professional, and her posture elegant.
"Yes, Madam Leona," they replied in unison.
Suddenly, Lintlock's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Is it true that the prodigy prince, whom my parents always spoke about, will be coming too?"
Leona shot her a warning glance. "You will address him as Lord Seventh and curtsey low when greeting him. He is no longer our prince but a Lord of Avalon, understood?"
Her grin widened. "So he is coming!"
Leona sighed. "The message I received only indicated his expected arrival, nothing more. Now settle down, young lady."
"Aww! Looks like someone has a crush," Arthis teased, trying to stifle a laugh.
"You!!" Lintlock balled her fists and glared at them.
"Manners, children," Leona reminded, her tone firmer.
The carriage came to a halt, and a voice called out, "We're here."
"Excellent! We've arrived at the fort. Follow my lead and watch your steps."
Leona opened the door and stepped out into a wide sandy courtyard, where training dummies stood alongside a weapon rack.
Soldiers patrolled the walls and battlements, while a few stood at attention around a large var gate in the center of the courtyard. The large gems on either side of the gate began to glow.
Suddenly, a command was issued, and the soldiers, with solemn gazes and disciplined uniforms, aimed their ranged weapons at the gate.
Dark, rolling clouds materialized, and a young lady in a dark cloak emerged from the portal. She looked around before silently retreating back. Shortly after, two soldiers entered, exchanged words with the officer, and exited.
Soon after, horse-drawn carriages entered through the gate, their surfaces covered in pointed metal and cracks, appearing worse for wear.
The children's jaws dropped.
"What in the seashells happened!?" Lintlock exclaimed, eyes wide.
Leona wanted to scold her but found herself too stunned by the scene before her. "...Manners," she managed to mutter.
–––
The carriages came to a stop, and the doors opened, allowing the occupants to disembark.
The fort commander, a confident woman with dark hair, approached Prince Kaydin, her body language conveying reassurance.
Lurin covered her mouth, tears welling in her eyes at the sight of blood on the carriages, and Beastie comforted her with a hug, whispering words of solace.
Meanwhile, Frozen animatedly conversed with Captain Vahn, who responded with solemn nods.
Suddenly, everyone was startled by a figure flying through the gate and landing with a thud in the sandy yard.
The fort commander narrowed her eyes at the young man dressed like a Navethian rogue. A glance at the prince revealed a pleasant recognition in his eyes, suggesting that the newcomer posed no threat.
With a wave of her hand, she set her soldiers at ease, those who had begun to draw their weapons.
The dark cloud at the gate dissipated, and the glow of the black and white orbs dimmed.
Wriggler took a deep breath and yelled, "Hello Zanseth!"
Then he stood confidently, looking at everyone with a wide grin.
A strange silence enveloped the courtyard as onlookers regarded him with confusion.
"Who's that?" one soldier whispered.
"A mercenary, perhaps?" another speculated.
Wriggler surveyed the crowd with curiosity. "What's the matter? Isn't the Jubul on? Why the long faces?"
The houseguards and Dragoons exchanged annoyed glances, clearly displeased with his actions.
Frozen fixed him a hard stare. "Do you realize we just survived an ambush?"
"All the more reason to celebrate, right?" he replied with a laugh; sensing their irritation, he quelled his mirth.
"Alright, I apologize. You need time to mourn; I understand." He raised his hands in a placating gesture.
Then, his tone became serious as he addressed the guards. "Don't worry. My boss is addressing this situation. Rest assured, the offenders will face appropriate punishment. They won't get off lightly."
A subtle shift in the atmosphere followed, the guards visibly relaxing.
A lieutenant stepped forward. "Thank you, Lord Swordbearer. We appreciate Lord Seventh's service to our fallen. In his absence, we will fulfill our duties with utmost diligence."
Wriggler smiled slowly.
"Lord Swordbearer?"
The levity returned to his tone as he rubbed his nose bashfully. "I don't have much experience with nobility, but I could get used to that."
"You're relieved, lieutenant," he said, and the lieutenant nodded before returning to his tasks, the others following suit in better spirits.
Wriggler turned to Frozen with a smug expression. She rolled her eyes but admitted, "You handled that well enough."
"I know," he replied, glancing at the prince, who seemed ready to move. He made an attempt to go to him, but Frozen halted him.
"H-how's Valerie?" she stuttered, embarrassed by her concern for her lady-in-waiting.
"Valerie?" Wriggler raised an eyebrow. "She's resting back at Davor's royal medic bay, boss's orders. She should be back by tomorrow or the next."
A sigh of relief escaped Frozen. "That's good to hear."
"Hm-hmm," he nodded absently. "Now, if you'll excuse me." He swaggered away.
Bevy noticed his approach and frowned.
Wriggler winked at her before turning to Kaydin. "Yo, my man Kaydin. Hope you're not too shaken by that little scuffle?"
The fort commander looked shocked at his informal address. "Show some respect, Wriggler!" Bevy growled.
"Woah, easy there, tiger," Wriggler replied, stepping back.
Kaydin observed with curiosity, unconcerned by the informal attitude. He figured anyone chosen by his stepbrother as a Swordbearer must be exceptional enough to warrant such informality.
"I'm better, thank you," Kaydin said, smiling charmingly. "Though I am a trained fighter, it was still shocking." He glanced at the carriages, a hint of worry in his expression. "But I see Troan isn't here now."
"My boss is busy, but it won't be long. Your security and welfare are my priority," Wriggler assured him.
"That's unnecessary," Bevy interjected. "That's my job."
Kaydin shot her a warning glance, and she looked away.
"Well, that much is obvious," Wriggler shrugged. "Babysitting a prince is quite dull for me. My formal role is more of an auxiliary guard; my true function involves being your wingman and some espionage."
"Wingman? Espionage?" Kaydin looked confused.
Wriggler chuckled dismissively. "Oh, don't worry about that, Kaydin. Just know you're in good hands."
"Debatable," Bevy muttered.
At that moment, a young lady with elegantly tied dark hair and deep blue eyes approached, followed by three curious children.
Upon reaching the prince, she curtsied gracefully. "May this commoner speak, my prince?"
"Commoner?" Kaydin replied, surprised. "You seem far too well-spoken for one."
She smiled politely. "I am the daughter of a merchant specializing in sea trade, my prince."
"I see," Kaydin said thoughtfully, smiling. "You may speak freely, fair lady."
"Thank you, your grace. I am Leona Rower, the current steward of Manor Blue, where you and your entourage will be staying. It is my privilege to escort you there."
Suddenly, Wriggler fell into a coughing fit, bending over with both hands on his knees.
Kaydin looked alarmed. "Are you okay?" he asked, ready to fetch water.
"Don't worry, Kaydin. I just breathed the wrong way," Wriggler said, still bent over.
"Are you sure?" Kaydin asked, concerned.
"Yeah, let her continue, please."
Kaydin hesitated but nodded for Foria to proceed.
"I am privileged to welcome you all back to the manor," she said, maintaining a respectful demeanor.
Kaydin smiled brightly. "Very good! Lead the way!"
–––
Davor Castle, main study.
In a vast study filled with the scent of old scrolls, the wide oak doors stood open, inviting those seeking knowledge.
The windows along the high walls bathed the room in a gentle light, illuminating the tall shelves lining the sides of the door.
The study would appear typical if not for the stone elevation opposite the entrance, resembling a throne's position but instead featuring a thick mahogany table and a plush chair.
Two armored men stood with their backs to this elevation, silently observing Troan, who was sketching something on a piece of paper.
The man on Troan's left looked pale and sweaty, while the man on his right seethed with barely contained anger.
After a moment, Troan set aside the sketch—a depiction of a guillotine.
"I used to think Davor's punishment for treason was severe," he mused. "Years in the north have taught me how naive I was."
He turned his cold gaze to the man on his left, whose expression reflected sheer terror. "Tell me, Captain of the city guards, why shouldn't I feed you to a wyvern?"