Chapter 1

The high sun beamed down upon the free city of Lev illuminating rooftops and major roads while darkening the alleyways.

A young man shot through the shadowed alleys. The hooded cloak concealing his figure billowed about him and snapped at the frayed edges. Passing through the occasional beam of sunlight, the hilt of his sword flashed a gleam, momentarily betraying its presence.

Hardly sparing a glance, the young man nimbly leapt over in-coming obstacles and darted around sharp corners as he fidgeted with the bracelet on his wrist.

Tinted black, it was a curved metal sheet inscribed with a language long lost. Chains from both ends linked together at an intricate silver latch.

'Late. I'm going to be late. Ah, Captain's going to chew me out on this one… But why won't this latch catch?'

The bracelet was an amulet of luck. Having received it during the middle of a campaign years ago, it became a keepsake as time went by.

Surrendering his efforts, he stuffed the metal link away. It would only serve to frustrate him further.

The young man looked up.

The darkness of the alleyway gave way to the light of an open road. Shouts of street vendors grew distinctly. Sharp scents of spices and foreign foods permeated the air as the incessant chatter of crowds became audible.

Sliding out from the shadows and into the light, the young man veered around the corner, stepping onto the main road with a sharp turn.

Unbeknownst to him, someone else had occupied that space.

Crash!

The stranger cried out in surprise.

"Are you alright?"

The young man's eyes drifted to the sword sheathed at her side. Her metal armor shone in pristine condition. A short blue cape, draped over her shoulders, reached slightly further than her cascading mousy brown hair.

Emblazoned upon her cape was an upright sword framed by a crescent feather—the Sky Larks' insignia.

She was a Sky Lark knight.

In other words: a glorified city guard.

The members of this order had a wide spectrum of skill sets and proficiencies. An honorary knight division, nobody knew exactly how someone would join the Sky Larks. The only definitive requirement being an endorsement from an acclaimed source.

As variable as their skills and proficiencies was their sense of morality and responsibility. Ranging from a rigid and orthodox view of a black and white world to not caring less about patrols and public safety, the Sky Larks were truly diverse.

Nevertheless, such a glorified city guard is still a knight, and it meant less trouble if you kept yourself in their good graces.

Recomposing himself, the young man made a move to apologize.

"Good day, miss. I apologize for—"

A murmur, barely audible, escaped her breath.

"Silver eyes?"

He blanched.

'For the love of the damned—!'

With a curt excuse, the young man bolted from the scene while lifting his hood. As he lowered his gaze, he searched his pockets. After slipping a silver ring from his pocket onto his finger, he fitted his hands into leather gloves.

The young man stole a glimpse of his reflection in a window from beneath his hood.

Good. His eyes were now brown.

Keeping a perpetual shade over his face, he made straight for his company's inn by weaving through crowded streets and cutting through labyrinths of alleyways.

Arriving at his destination, the young man looked upon the building before him. A trimmed sign denoted the edifice 'Vox Ensis'. The building itself was not special in design. However, the constant flow and presence of people spoke to its popularity.

Lunch had just begun.

Warm air and the smooth babble of conversation drifted over the young man as he stepped foot into the building. The rich scent of spiced eggs and fatty meat saturated the atmosphere.

The young man strolled through the dining hall. Before he made it halfway through, a lanky lad appeared before him. With a quick gesture of his hands, the boy motioned to be followed.

The two silently made their way through a back door and into a hallway.

As soon as the door shut behind them, the lad's mouth overflowed with words.

"Why are you so late? When did you leave? No—where did you go? You do know you weren't supposed to leave the building until after the meeting, right? Captain definitely made sure of that last night. I heard—"

"Hey, Thomas, a good evening to you, too. Look, I meant to leave a note, but there was a bit of a situation and…"

"And what? More importantly, what did you go do?"

"It wasn't anything important."

The boy furrowed his brows, perusing his companion's face. Finally, the boy spoke. His words formed slowly at first and then with increasing speed.

"Well, for nothing important, you're late for something very important. And in my humble opinion, that's not the smartest trade-off. Okay, fine, what's done is done. But if you were going to go out awhile you should've told me at least."

"Sure, sorry about that."

Thomas let out an exasperated sigh. His face relaxed, and he glanced over at the young man through the corner of his eyes.

"Keep your apologies; I'd sooner be sorry for you. You've gotten yourself into quite the situation."

After turning a corner, the pair descended a set of stairs. Entering the hallway of their destination, the two plodded on silently.

Narrow slits high up towards the ceiling served as the sole light source. The gradation of darkness was apparent in the dim hallway. On the opposite side of the hall, a heavy wooden door was illuminated by an overhead lantern.

Thomas hesitatingly lifted his knuckles to the door. He glanced back. Seeing a nod of confirmation, Thomas sharply rapped the coarse wood before swinging open the door. With an expression reading 'god luck,' he dismissed himself soon after.

Beyond the door were windowless stone walls, illuminated only by the lanterns placed around the room. Bookcases and cabinets, filled with books, files, and maps, stood erect along the perimeter. In the center of the room was a rectangular table. Seated there were four men.

When the door opened, all activity had ceased. Heads turned and eyes silently gazed upon the newcomer.

Sitting at the far end of the table, a muscular man sat leaning back into his seat. His dark hair was combed back, the streaks of gray illuminated in the lamplight. Black eyes peered from beneath heavy brows.

Crius spoke cordially in greeting.

"Good evening, Captain."

Arms crossed over his broad chest, the man spoke in a low rumble.

"Crius. You're late."