Secret Journey

The elegant hand, belonging to Brendant, carefully inserted the ornate key into the door, which exuded opulence in every detail. Occasionally, he cast a vigilant gaze to the right and left, where the two male guards shadowed his every move. Their expressions conveyed their understanding of the situation as they nodded in response to his unspoken commands.

As Brendant, the white-haired man, stepped into the room, he was greeted by a spacious chamber meticulously arranged with a lavish red and gold theme. His swift strides led him to the sole table in the room, his eyes scrutinizing every nook and cranny with precision. The suspense hung heavy in the air.

Not long after, he discovered a slightly aged, plain brown leather note tucked away in a discreet corner of the nightstand. As he opened the initial white page, there are script that adorned it. It read, "Note by Artonius", the words nearly indecipherable, written in signature.

Both of Brendant's brows furrowed in deep concentration. He knew the seriousness of the situation. He was here on a mission directly from Queen Caeloria, and if this note could indeed reveal the treason of Herich and the emperor, it had the potential to alter the course. But he was also aware that uncovering such a truth might unleash a maelstrom of chaos.

"This revelation will create all the kingdoms into turmoil," exclaimed Amarta from behind the cold, iron bars. Her attire had lost its luster, replaced by a disheveled garment that contrasted her former regal splendor. "War will be inevitable."

Brendant, standing before her, lowered his head, a mixture of determination and sorrow in his eyes. He couldn't bear to see Amarta in this state, surrounded by bewildered slaves, who were all wondering why Queen Caeloria had ventured into their midst.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Brendant's voice trembled with emotion, and his devotion to Amarta was evident in every word. "I will give my all to secure your release from this crisis. My faithfulness is yours alone."

Amarta managed a faint but appreciative smile, acknowledging Brendant's dedication. "You have served both me and Artonius with unparalleled commitment, Brendant. Now, take this with you."

Brendant looked ahead, his eyes locked on Amarta as she extended a crimson book through the prison bars. He listened intently as Amarta elaborated, her voice full of her concerns. "Visit my son first, deliver this to him before you embark on your expedition to Unitedland."

The queen took a moment to gather herself before continuing, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and apprehension. "Tell him that I am unharmed, and implore him to remain in that school until the situation here stabilizes."

In the shadowed depths of the slave chambers, Amarta's voice carried the weight of uncertainty. "The Emperor's formidable legions now tread upon our soil, and I harbor grave worries for the safety of my son," she murmured, her gaze veiled with melancholy. "These are no ordinary battalions, but the product of relentless training from all corners of the realm."

Her attention returned to Brendant, the sentinel of the throne, whose stoic countenance bore witness to the unfolding crisis. "Engaging them in open confrontation is an untenable direction. Time is our ally, a respite to unveil the full extent of our plight."

Brendant's throat, suddenly desiccated, endured a strained swallow. "I understand, Your Eminence. The charge shall be executed with due haste."

"One final request, Brendant," Amarta's hands gripped the prison bars with increasing intensity as if drawing strength from the very steel. "Tell Alorian that in the depths of my affection, I love him so much."

In reverent response, the man before her bowed in deference, his ears attuned to the Amarta's soft-spoken voice. "Because Herich has shut down the entire locomotive transportation to all kingdoms, stride with utmost vigilance, Royal Guardian."

Emerging from the queen's confined sanctuary, Brendant was met by a cohort of castle sentries, their faces a tapestry of bewilderment and indignation at Amarta's trouble.

A brunette woman, her features etched with concern, hastened forward to inquire, her words a torrent. "Commander! Pray, enlighten us. How has Queen Amarta found herself ensnared in these harrowing circumstances?"

With a decisive step away, Brendant moved into the shadows of the corridor, leaving a cloud of disquiet in his wake. "The situation deepens. Caution should be your closest companion within these walls," he cautioned, voice resolute. "I bear a mission that beckons."

As his figure gradually dissolved into the dimly lit route, the guards hastened toward the servants' quarters, driven by an urgent need to unravel the enigma shrouding Queen Amarta's fate.

The man's footsteps resonated through the corridor, the torchlight casting an aura of simmering determination upon his countenance. As he ascended and swung open the door, two other Royal Guardians were already in attendance, awaiting his arrival.

"We depart now!" Brendant proclaimed, his words met with nods of affirmation from a male and female companion, both clad in elegant steel armor.

They made their way to a location on the palace grounds, oblivious to the fact that they were being observed from afar. At the stable, three white horses were already prepared, poised for the journey ahead.

Meanwhile, Herich, standing on the palace balcony, watched the departure of the most formidable of Royal Guardians with a hint of unease. He couldn't help but wonder about their intentions on a night as impenetrable as this.

The black-haired man swiftly entered the grand chamber, a vast expanse adorned with numerous pillars that supported the towering ceiling. At the heart of the hall stood a luxurious dais, resplendent and aglow, reflecting the radiance of the chandeliers above.

Herich intermittently sipped his wine, his gaze fixed upon the commander of the Emperor's elite forces, who feasted at a long table in the distance. One of his Royal Guardians approached him, displaying a demeanor lacking in decorum and appearing rather relaxed, adorned in silver armor.

"I have given information from them that the Emperor has conveyed a message for you," the weathered yet stern-faced man spoke. "You must reclaim certain artifacts from them. We cannot allow other kingdoms to continue growing in strength."

"Give me a moment, Darryl," he replied, pacing back and forth briefly before taking a seat on the opulent throne, setting his crown aside. "I want you to tail Brendant and his companion, find out where they are headed."

He, who had once bowed, now raised his gaze toward the figure. "And tighten security along the borders of our neighboring regions."

***

"What? You two are in the library?" Isvhara's sudden outburst filled the room, and she quickly covered her mouth with both hands, glancing around in panic.

"Shhh! Don't be so loud!" Althea, the white-haired woman with a ponytail, cautioned her. "The room next door might hear us."

Isvhara nodded in understanding, her curiosity too great to resist. "How did you two get so close?"

Althea was momentarily taken aback from her seated position, her sweet face flushing. "We're not that close! We were just curious about the visions we've encountered."

"Oh, is that why I've been seeing you two together so often?" Isvhara, dressed casually in black, sat cross-legged on a mat with Althea under the glow of lanterns. "But... what kind of visions are you talking about?"

"Eh? You don't know? Doesn't it happen to everyone when they practice sensing Prana?" Althea replied, growing increasingly puzzled.

"Well, I didn't see anything," Isvhara responded, then picked up her food with chopsticks. "I just daydreamed during that time. Nothing convincing, just some other absurd stuff."

She chuckled and added, "Aren't we all technically asleep when we sense Prana?"

Althea, not entirely convinced by Isvhara's conclusion, fell silent, absorbing her perspective while starting to eat. From Althea's expression alone, there were many things she wanted to convey to Isvhara, especially regarding the chaotic state of Alorian.

"Isvhara, did Alorian behave like this before I arrived?" the soft voice, almost like a whisper, deepened their conversation.

"Well, no," Isvhara exclaimed while chewing her food. "You sense something odd about him, don't you? I've felt it too. I don't know what caused him to change."

As Isvhara finished chewing her meal, she continued, "Perhaps it's because of the trials; they've been weighing on him."

"Trials?" Althea, with her eyebrows furrowing, was now getting new information.

The black-haired woman, whose hair fell to her shoulders, merely nodded, not pausing in her eating. "You see, in Caeloria, every heir to the throne must undergo several trials to prove their worthiness."

She paused to take a sip of water. "It's not easy at all; all of his brothers failed these trials. That might be what's affecting him."

"Wait, why are you so curious?" Isvhara teasingly smiled, leaning forward and causing the blush on Althea's face to deepen. "Could it be... you have a crush on Alorian?"

Unable to maintain eye contact with Isvhara, who was now just inches away, Althea turned to the side, hiding her embarrassment. "No, I just find his behavior strange, nothing more. Especially how he managed to fall asleep during Master Savih's class has made it worse."

Isvhara resumed her normal sitting position and tidied up her empty bowl. "Yes, it's the first time he's been like this." The black-haired woman then sauntered off to the kitchen to clean the utensils.

"Oh, Althea," she turned back as the water from the sink finally flowed. "Can I sleep here tonight?"

That night, Althea was immersed in contemplation as she tried to connect the series of events that Alorian had experienced. Armed with knowledge of all of Alorian's recorded visions and the information about the trials from Isvhara, she hoped to find a common thread between them.

Alone at her desk with only the flickering lantern light for company, she let out a sigh, a mixture of relief and exhaustion. "You must be under immense tension, aren't you?" she whispered in the quiet of the room, with Isvhara, who had fallen numbed on the bed, as her silent witness.