ã€ŠTwilight Landã€‹


 Fearless

    This is the end. In front, Lucios faced a growling wolf, a clear threat, ready to attack. Now, so close to death, Lucios finally took a good look at his assailant. It was a young wolf, clearly not in its prime. It had a wound on its torso that was dried with old blood, an old injury that hadn''t healed yet, and also a bleeding wound on its front left paw, caused by Lucios just moments ago.

    Now, near death, Lucios remembered his entire short life up to that moment. He was only 10 years old, the fourth son of Count Tiberios of the Apurina house. He had never experienced need like a commoner, but at what cost? His brothers had never been easy on him, but thanks to their strict father, they never crossed the limits. And that was my mistake. I became too lazy, too complacent. If I had been more cautious and hadn''t taken so many risks, I wouldn''t have fallen into this trap.

    He still remembered the words of his older brother, Adrian.

    Adrian: "You''re truly a coward. This is just a forest, not a battlefield. Why are you so afraid?"

    Lucios: "But what if there''s some dangerous beast in the forest?"

    Lucam, his second brother, replied: "Don''t be a fool, Lucios. This forest hasn''t had dangerous animals since our father established the village settlement we were in. I heard that after some commoners died to wolves a few years ago, our father hired several hunters to get rid of the large predators around here. At most, we''ll encounter some foxes."

    Adrian: "Besides, do you really want to go back and listen to old Owen''s ramblings about the importance of trade in this commoner village? After all, it''s not just about ensuring taxes are paid." So, Adrian and Lucam went ahead, knowing Lucios would follow them.

    And indeed, Lucios followed his older brothers, thinking, "This is the last place that old bore will look for me." It''s not like he hated the old knight in charge of his and his brothers'' education, but being a child, he felt he should play and explore, escaping the boredom of books and the long explanations of old Owen. That''s why when his brothers invited him to play in the forest, he accepted without much thought.

    Now, he could only remember being pushed from the clearing where he was with his brothers into a ravine. He didn''t see which of his brothers pushed him, but he remembers hearing their laughter clearly.

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    Unable to go back the way he came, Lucios began walking through the forest in search of an exit. The sun was high when he started, and he walked for a long time in what he thought was the right direction to return, but he didn''t find the way out. He was lost. His heart raced faster and faster. He stumbled over some roots, hurting his foot ¨C a mild pain but still bothersome.

    Armed with a sturdy branch to support himself, he continued. The day was ending when he heard a growl that startled him, but he quickly changed his mind. He thought it was a fox, nothing to worry about. But when he turned to look in the direction of the growl, he only saw a black blur rushing toward him, too fast.

    The only thing he could think of was to swing the branch with all his might against the blur. As the son of a noble, he had been training in the Last Light, a technique of the path, using expensive elixirs that only wealthy commoner and noble families could obtain. The path, a supernatural force that encompasses all living beings and can enhance the body''s capabilities to a superior level, increased the force of his blow, which must have been truly surprising for the wolf, as it didn''t expect that such a small prey would have such strength.

    When the wolf attacked, it was repelled by Lucios''s blow, hitting the wolf''s elbow. The branch broke, causing a wound on the wolf''s paw due to the desperate force of Lucios''s strike. However, the wolf didn''t give up. It leaped at Lucios again and tried to bite him. Lucios put his arm in front. The wolf, seeing that its bite didn''t land where it wanted, tried to use its claws to finish off the small prey.

    Lucios felt the claws tearing into his flesh, making him scream in pain. He tried to defend himself by kicking the wolf with the leg that still had strength. But the wolf was faster and more agile, dodging the kick and taking the opportunity to bite Lucios''s leg. Lucios felt the sharp teeth piercing his skin, causing him to lose more blood. He was getting weak, hopeless. He thought he would die there, devoured by a hungry wolf.

    But in a last effort, he remembered the technique he learned in the Last Light. He concentrated the little path left in his body and felt a wave of energy coursing through his muscles. He used this energy to push the wolf with both hands, with a strength he didn''t even know he had. The wolf flew through the air, letting out a howl of surprise and pain. It fell to the ground, a few meters away from Lucios, who also fell, exhausted.

    Lucios couldn''t feel his limbs anymore. All he felt was the pain all over his body, and then he collapsed on the ground, too weak to fight, while looking at the wolf staring at him from a distance, growling and staring at Lucios.

    It was at that moment that Lucios thought, ''This is the end'' . His entire life passing before his eyes: his beloved mother, his strict and distant father, his brothers who mistreated him, even old Owen. In that moment, Lucios closed his eyes, and all the despair, terror, hatred, fury, anger, and the uncontrollable fear that attacked more relentlessly than the wolf at that moment disappeared. When Lucios opened his eyes, he knew he was going to die. He had no more strength to fight, but still, he didn''t want to give up. In his eyes, all that could be seen was illogical determination. Then, somehow, he managed to stand up.

    The wolf, seeing this, looked into the eyes of the small prey, but no longer found fear in them. His eyes were calm, focused. The wolf knew that this child, once an easy prey, now seemed like a challenge not worth the risk. It looked at the child one last time, and that fearless gaze was still there, waiting without fear. And then, the wolf retreated.

    After a minute, seeing that the wolf had indeed retreated, Lucios, still in disbelief, breathed a sigh of relief before darkness embraced him, and he passed out.

 metamorphosis

    Sir Owen: ¡°I don¡¯t care what your excuse is for letting the count¡¯s sons escape because I guarantee that if anything happens to them, I will kill you myself, go mobilize all the soldiers to look for them,¡± he shouted with a furious voice, slamming his hand on the table and making the wine glasses tremble.

    The six soldiers responsible for escorting the count¡¯s sons were trembling with fear but still forced themselves to obey the orders. They ran out of the room, stumbling over each other and apologizing.

    It didn¡¯t take long for them to return with two of the brothers, Adrian and Lucam, who were calm even under Sir Owen¡¯s severe reprimands: ¡°Have you lost your minds? This is not the family castle where you can wander without any protection, and if some humble bandit attacked you?¡± he asked with a stern look, pointing his finger at them.

    Adrien: ¡°You¡¯re exaggerating, it¡¯s not like any roadside bandit could threaten me with my level of achievement on the way, my strength is enough for protection in these poor villages,¡± he replied with an arrogant tone, crossing his arms and looking to the side.

    Sir Owen became even more irritated with Adrien¡¯s response and approached him, holding his chin and forcing him to look into his eyes: ¡°Do you think you are so powerful? Do you know how many enemies the count has? Do you know how many people want to take revenge on him because of his policies? Do you know how many traps might be waiting for you in this forest? You are irresponsible, ungrateful!¡± he yelled, releasing Adrien¡¯s face with a push.

    Lucam, who was next to Adrien, tried to calm the situation: ¡°Sir Owen, please, don¡¯t be so hard on him, he just wanted to have a little fun, see the world, see new things, it¡¯s no big deal,¡± - he said with a friendly smile, putting his hand on Adrien¡¯s shoulder.

    Sir Owen was not fooled by Lucam¡¯s smile and knew that he was as guilty as Adrien: ¡°Don¡¯t come to me with this soft talk, you are as irresponsible as he is, you two are spoiled brats who don¡¯t know the value of life, you think everything is a game, that you can do whatever you want without consequences, but I will teach you a lesson,¡± he said with a threatening tone.

    Tired of arguing, Sir Owen asked: ¡°And where is your brother, where is Lucius? And don¡¯t even try to deceive me, the villagers saw you leaving together,¡± he said with a firm voice, expecting an answer.

    Seeing that Sir Owen was really irritated, Lucam replied with a smile: ¡°We ditched him in the forest, it shouldn¡¯t take long for the soldiers to find him lost crying like a little girl hahaha,¡± he said with a laugh, finding the situation funny.

    Sir Owen was shocked by Lucam¡¯s cruelty and felt sorry for Lucius, the youngest and most fragile of the brothers: ¡°How can you be so cruel to your own brother? he doesn¡¯t deserve this treatment, he could be in danger, he could be hurt, he could be dead!¡± he said with an anguished voice, feeling a pang in his heart.

    Irritated, Sir Owen left the mansion and gave orders to the soldiers not to let the young nobles out and went to organize another search group for the young noble who was probably lost. He hoped to find Lucius alive and well, and bring him back to safety. He also hoped to give a good lesson to the other two, so that they would learn to respect authority and responsibility. He swore that he would not let anything bad happen to the count¡¯s sons and had a duty to fulfill.

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    ****************************************

    The sun was already high in the sky when Lucios woke up. Its rays penetrated through the small window of the room, bathing Lucios¡¯s face with intense light. He recognized the room immediately - it was his, in the mansion that his father had ordered to be built years ago in that village.

    Lucios felt a dry throat and a stabbing pain in his arm and leg, marks from the wolf¡¯s bite. Less intense, but still present, was the pain from the numerous cuts caused by the animal¡¯s claws. However, what stood out the most was a deep cut on his face, which extended from the side of his nose to the end of his chin. This cut had split his lower lip in half, which was now semi-covered by bandages that barely allowed him to open his mouth.

    With effort, Lucios tried to get up, leaning on the bookshelf next to the bed. In the process, a plate containing a blown-out candle fell to the floor, shattering.

    The noise alerted the servants, who ran through the door and came to help him. Moments later, Sir Owen entered the room. His imposing figure filled the room, a mix of concern and authority.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky to be alive, you know?¡±, began Sir Owen, his voice deep and firm, but tinged with a touch of relief. ¡°Your injuries would kill any normal child your age.¡±

    Lucios tried to respond, but only a hoarse moan escaped from his swollen and wounded lips. Sir Owen continued, his keen gaze fixed on Lucios.

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to speak now,¡± he said, his voice softening a bit. ¡°You suffered a deep cut in the mouth. If you don¡¯t want the young noble ladies to avoid you in the future because of your appearance, it¡¯s better to keep your mouth still until the wound heals.¡±

    Sir Owen paused before continuing: ¡°By the shape of the wounds on you, I would say you faced a wolf.¡± his expression serious. ¡°They are rare in this region, but they still exist. In this case, it was a wolf that had not yet fully matured.¡±

    ¡°You have more strength than a normal child, thanks to your training in the Way. But even so, the account doesn¡¯t close. The wolf should have taken advantage. That¡¯s when I noticed that the energy of the Way is no longer concentrated in your chest. Now, it¡¯s spreading throughout your body.¡±

    ¡°You broke the bottleneck of the foundation stage,¡± continued Sir Owen, his voice gaining a tone of admiration. ¡°You reached the metamorphosis stage. An impressive feat, even for an experienced warrior.¡±

    ¡°You broke the bottleneck the old-fashioned way, without the use of Ether Elixir. This is more common to happen with soldiers on the battlefield of the southern border, where there are many life or death battles.¡±

    Lucios felt a chill run down his spine. His foggy mind trying to process Sir Owen¡¯s words.

    ¡°This is excellent news for you.¡± continued Sir Owen ¡°With the energy of the Way circulating through your body, you will regenerate faster. I would say that in a month, all that will remain will be the scars.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, I will send you to Kaapurina tomorrow. Your mother will take better care of you there. From now on, you just need to rest.¡±

    With that, Sir Owen got up and left the room. Alone, Lucios began to remember the last moments before fainting in the forest. With difficulty, he remembered the feeling he felt when the wolf looked at him confused before fleeing. It was a feeling of freedom, the freedom from the fear that stirred his heart like a lake on a stormy day. Now, that lake was calm, reflecting his reflection.

    A feeling of relief spreading through his aching body. He closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the comforting darkness of sleep, his mind spinning with tumultuous thoughts about what the future held.

 Kaapurina

    The carriage trembles as it leaves behind the dirt road and onto the rough gravel. A cloud of dust rises behind it, dancing in the afternoon sunlight. The wooden wheels creak and groan with every bump, as if they too sense the change in terrain.

    Inside the carriage, Lucios watches through the window, his eyes squinting against the sun. His light brown eyes, just like his father''s, are filled with a mixture of anticipation and weariness. He has been traveling for days, and the long journey is starting to take its toll.

    But now, finally, he is arriving. Kaapurina, the city where he was born and raised, the ancestral home of the Apurina house. A place of wonders, with stone streets, bustling markets, and watchtowers that rise majestically.

    Approaching Kaapurina, Lucios is greeted with a breathtaking panorama. Vast fields of golden wheat stretch as far as the eye can see, gently swaying in the breeze. Fruit trees laden with red apples, vibrant oranges, and succulent pears line the roads, offering a feast of colors and aromas. The pure countryside air is filled with the sweet perfume of flowers.

    Amidst this natural beauty, Lucios observes the commoners diligently working in the fields. Men and women, young and old, bend over the fertile land, planting, harvesting, and tending to the crops with calloused hands and sun-kissed faces. Sweat drips from their brows. Children play freely among the trees, running and laughing while their parents work, their faces radiant with the innocence of childhood.

    The carriage approaches the city, and Lucios can see the castle looming on the horizon. His heart tightens; he is eager to see his mother again, but he also fears his father''s reaction.

    The count has always been distant and reserved, unable to express affection for Lucios. On the other hand, Adrian was the count''s favorite. His strength, courage, and all the qualities the count aspired to in an heir were present in him.

    The carriage finally reaches the main gate of the castle, imposing and adorned with the Apurina family crests. The vehicle''s tremors cease, replaced by the sound of hooves clattering on the cobblestone. Lucios feels his heart pounding in his chest as the door opens, revealing his mother, Isabella, clad in a blue dress adorned with fine lace. Beside her, a retinue of servants eagerly awaits to greet him.

    Isabella opens her arms, and Lucios steps out of the carriage, falling into her embrace in a tight hug. The emotion of the reunion overwhelms them both.

    "My son, what a relief to see you home!" Isabella exclaims, her voice filled with love and relief. "I was so worried when I heard about the attack."

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    Lucios steps back slightly, firmly holding his mother''s hands. "Mother, where is my father?" he asks, his voice wavering.

    Isabella hesitates for a moment, her eyes averting from Lucios''s. "Your father is busy with important matters of the realm," she replies, her voice tense. "He will be here to see you soon, my son."

    Lucios frowns, frustrated with his mother''s response.

    Isabella places her hand on Lucios''s shoulder, a gentle yet firm gesture. "I know you''re tired and upset, my son," she says, with a maternal tone. "But let''s go inside; you need to rest. Then we can talk more."

    Isabella leads him into the castle, where a small welcome banquet awaits them. She notices her son yawning as they converse, and says to him, "Why don''t you go sleep for a while? When you wake up, it won''t be too late to tell me all about your journey to the new settlements of the family villages."

    Lucios was indeed very tired and didn''t argue with his mother. He went to bed, relieved to be back in his room after two months of traveling through the family lands with his brothers, on a mission his father had called horizon expansion.

    When Lucios woke up, the moon still shone high in the night sky. Unable to sleep, he remembered that his father used to stay up late in his office. He got up and went there, trying to speak with him. Along the way, he crossed paths with several servants who bowed upon seeing him and some guards who discreetly greeted him. They all knew Lucios since he was a baby.

    Upon reaching his father''s office, he stopped. In front of the door stood four men in full armor. Two of them, Lucios immediately recognized: they wore light blue armor and were Sir Michael and Sir David, knights of his father''s personal guard. They had a serious and even tense expression.

    The other two were more relaxed. One of them even smiled at Lucios. They wore armor of black and gold. Lucios clearly remembered Sir Owen''s teachings about knights who wore these colors: they were the King''s Lions, the elite guard of knights who only received orders directly from the crown. "But what were they doing here?" Lucios wondered, intrigued.

    Sir Michael saw Lucios arrive and approached him, with a worried expression. He seemed to want to say something to the boy but didn''t have the time. As he got close to Lucios, the door of Count Tiberius''s office burst open with a bang.

    From inside the room emerged a man with short hair and one ear missing. He wore the same black and gold armor as the other two King''s Lions who were there. He bowed to the count, who was seated behind his desk, and said something in a low voice. Then, he joined his companions and the three hurriedly left down the corridor, escorted by Sir David and Sir Michael.

    The one-eared knight paid no attention to Lucios. He passed by him as if he were invisible, not looking at him even once. Lucios stood still, understanding nothing. "What was happening there? Why was Father receiving a visit from the King''s Lions? And why did Sir Michael seem so nervous?"

    That''s when he heard a familiar voice: "Lucios, I thought you would be in your room resting. What are you doing here?" It was his father, Count Tiberius, who looked at him with interest.

    "I just got back from the trip and didn''t have the chance to speak with you, father. So, I thought I could..." Lucios tried to explain but was interrupted by a sigh from his father.

    "Ah, it''s alright, I understand now. Come in, I was actually wanting to speak with you. Come, come in." The count spoke with a distracted tone, turning back and entering the office again, inviting Lucios to follow him.

 punishment

    Lucios, peered ahead at the heavy oak door. His father''s office, Count Tiberios, was a mysterious and forbidden place for him. It had been years since Lucios dared to cross that threshold. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he hesitated, staring at the polished bronze handle.

    The room was shrouded in shadows, illuminated only by a single narrow window and the fireplace. Heavy velvet curtains hung. The air smelled of parchment and candle wax, a blend of mystery and authority.

    The walls were lined with oak bookshelves, filled with volumes bound in leather. Books, scrolls, maps of distant lands. Lucios wondered if any of these tomes contained forbidden secrets or stories of legendary heroes.

    In the center of the room, an imposing mahogany desk occupied the space. Stacks of papers, wax seals, and goose quills were arranged with military precision. Count Tiberios spent hours there, devising plans and strategies for his territory.

    Lucios noticed a worn rug beneath the desk. The colors had faded, but it was still possible to distinguish the family crest, a shield with two intertwined serpents in an attacking position, their forked tongues extended toward the top of the shield, demonstrating vigilance and readiness.

    The top of the shield is adorned with a crown of laurels, symbolizing victory, glory, and honor. Around the shield, there is a blue border carved with intricate patterns, evoking a sense of tradition and nobility.

    This crest also adorned the Count''s ring, a symbol of his noble lineage.

    In the stone fireplace, dying embers cast a flickering light. Lucios entered the office and stood in front of his father, who was watching him with deep, thoughtful eyes. Count Tiberios was a man of few words, but his presence filled the room like distant thunder.

    "Father, I..." Seeing his father silent, looking at him, Lucius tried to start the conversation, but was quickly interrupted by the count.

    "I heard about the wolf attack. An unfortunate event that would not have happened if you had obeyed the orders I gave for you and your brothers to always stay by your teacher''s side. Your lack of discipline is disturbing," the count spoke in a low, more intimidating tone.

    "But, father, it was Adrian and Lucam. It was their idea. They called me and..." Lucius, already nervous, tried to explain to his father, but was interrupted again.

    "They called you? Then they didn''t force you to go, which means the blame for being attacked by the wolf is yours," the count spoke without changing his tone and continued, "As for Adrian and Lucam, they will be punished for fleeing training, ignoring the orders I gave. And don''t think for a moment that because of the wolf incident, you won''t be punished."

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    "I''m tired of your negligence in training. I''ve lost count of how many times I''ve received reports that you''ve run away from your teacher," the count said as he looked at Lucios, who now had a clearly astonished look. "You''re very reckless. Did you really think I wouldn''t find out? However, perhaps I can find new ways to motivate you."

    Lucios felt a lump in his throat as he heard his father''s harsh words. He knew he wasn''t the son his father expected, but he couldn''t muster interest in the training his father imposed on him. He preferred to read history books and dream of adventures in distant lands.

    "From the reports I received, you broke the bottleneck of the metamorphosis stage during the fight," the count smiled. "Because of that, I have in mind an excellent punishment for you. Due to Owen''s clear incompetence in failing to keep you in line, I will not allow him to continue training you here in the castle, where your mother can spoil you."

    "I will send you north, to the Kamaiura estate. Baron Oliver is an old stubborn and grumpy knight who gained the noble title during the invasion of the Tikuna kingdom, ten years ago, on the southern border. He has long been trying to establish connections with the oldest noble houses," the count said.

    "But father, Kaapurina is my home and I just arrived. I haven''t even fully recovered. Also, doesn''t the Kamaiura house territory suffer frequent attacks from barbarians because it''s on the northern border of the kingdom?" Lucios retorted.

    The count, for the first time since the conversation began, changed his stoic gaze to one of surprise. "It seems that at least your training in the kingdom''s geography is being applied. It seems Owen didn''t completely fail in your training."

    The count stood up as he circled the desk and walked to the door, speaking. "It''s already decided. As soon as your injuries heal, I will send you to continue your training under Baron Oliver''s care. And I want to make it clear that if you fail me and embarrass me and the Apurina house while you''re there, I will erase your name from the family tree tome, and you will only remember that you once had the Apurina surname."

    At that moment, Count Tiberios opened the office door, revealing Sir Michael and Sir David, who had returned to their posts at some point.

    "Michael, accompany Lucios back to his room and order some soldiers not to let him leave," the count said.

    Lucios felt a chill down his spine at his father''s words. He knew the count was not joking, and he would have to face the challenge of training with Baron Oliver, a man famous for his rigidity and discipline. He looked at Sir Michael''s face, which seemed compassionate but also resigned.

    Lucios lowered his head, having nothing more to say. He followed Sir Michael down the hallway, while Sir David closed the office door behind them. He wondered what his life would be like in the north, away from his mother, his friends, and everything he knew.

    He didn''t think he would be punished, and even if he were, it never crossed his mind that he would be punished so severely by his father. His biggest mistake was thinking that Sir Owen would hide the flaws in Lucios'' training. After all, Sir Owen was already an old knight who, despite having his services highly appreciated by his grandfather when he was the lord of the Apurina house, his father Tiberius never held the old knight in high esteem, always looking for a way to get rid of him. Lucios thought, with a sad expression.

 the dagger

    Lucios felt like a prisoner in his own room. He couldn''t sleep, as his father''s words echoed in his mind. Count Tiberios had decided that Lucios needed discipline and training, so he would send him to the Kamaiura house, where Baron Oliver would continue his training. Lucios didn''t want to go; he liked living in Kaapurina. He felt his father didn''t understand him or care about his feelings.

    Lucios was so lost in his thoughts that he didn''t notice when his mother entered his room. She called his name, but he didn''t respond. She approached the bed and placed a breakfast tray on the table. She noticed her son''s red and swollen eyes and asked what had happened. Lucios then told her about the punishment his father had imposed on him and how he would have to leave his home and his mother to live with Baron Oliver.

    Isabella was shocked to hear her son''s words. She thought of her first son, Liam, who had also left her to study at the academy for young nobles in the kingdom''s capital. She missed him greatly, and now she would have to part from her second son as well. She began to tremble and said it wasn''t fair, that she would talk to Tiberios and convince him to change his mind. She stood up and headed for the door, determined to confront her husband.

    Lucios tried to stop his mother, but she didn''t listen. She left the room, clearly upset, and ran down the corridor. Lucios followed her but was stopped by a soldier guarding the end of the hallway. The soldier said, "Young Master Lucios, I''ve been ordered to keep you inside the room, please return." Lucios remembered that his father had confined him to the room until he recovered from the injuries he suffered in the fight against the wolf. He tried to argue with the soldier, but he wouldn''t budge. Lucios felt powerless and frustrated. He returned to the room, unsure of what to do. He looked out the window and saw the sun shining in the sky. He thought, "It''s already morning." He sighed and lay down on the bed, hoping his mother would change the fate his father had planned for him.

    Lucios stared out the window, trying to imagine what awaited him beyond the castle walls. He felt a lump in his throat, a mixture of fear, anger, and sadness. And then he heard footsteps in the corridor and turned, expecting to see his mother. But she wasn''t alone; she brought with her Sir Michael, his father''s right-hand man.

    His mother ran to him and hugged him, stroking his hair. She had a pale face, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She said, with a choked voice, "My son, I tried everything, but your father didn''t change his mind. He didn''t want to listen to me or explain why he made this decision. He just said it was your duty and that you had no choice."

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    She sobbed and continued, "He doesn''t care about you or anyone else. He just wants more power, more land, more wealth..."

    She was about to say more but was interrupted by a deep voice. It was Sir Michael, who was leaning against the door, with a serious expression.

    He said, respectfully, "Forgive me, my lady, but I don''t think it''s fair to speak like that about the count. He may not be the most affectionate and understanding father in the world, but he is a good leader. He has his plans and his reasons, which we may not understand now, but will someday make sense."

    He walked over to Lucios and knelt before him, looking at him firmly. He said, in a friendly voice, "Lucios, I know this is hard for you, but I want you to know that I am by your side. You have always been like a son to me since I came to this castle. You are a smart and brave young man, with a great destiny ahead of you. Your father knows that, and that''s why he wants you to go to Baron Oliver''s castle, to learn from him."

    He took a dagger from his waist and handed it to Lucios. It was a simple weapon but well cared for, with a shiny blade and a leather grip.

    He said, solemnly, "This is the dagger I received from my master when I became a squire. I was twelve years old, two years older than you, when he gave me this dagger. It has been my companion in many battles and has helped me survive in difficult situations. It is a symbol of loyalty, and I want you to take it with you, to Baron Oliver''s castle, and wherever else fate takes you. And remember, use it wisely."

    Lucios took the dagger from Sir Michael''s hand and thanked him. He remembered how Sir Michael had always been kind and attentive to him, unlike his father.

    He still remembered when his brother Liam left for the capital of the kingdom; he felt lonely and abandoned, but Sir Michael comforted him, telling him stories about the capital, about the king, about the adventures he had experienced. He said that the capital was a fascinating place, full of opportunities and challenges, and that Liam was happy there, and he shouldn''t be sad.

    Then Lucios noticed the knight''s gaze becoming more serious.

    "The count has tasked me with training you in the coming weeks until you travel north. Since you have just reached the metamorphosis stage, it is important that you build a good foundation to avoid problems in the future. The alchemists are already preparing the elixirs you will use in the coming days. You see, I only reached the metamorphosis stage when I was 18 years old. You are very lucky," said Sir Michael.

    He got up from the chair and walked to the door. "Well, I''ll leave now. After all, from tomorrow on, we''ll have plenty of time to talk about your future," he said. Then he turned his head and said, "Oh, I almost forgot. I lifted your confinement order. You are free to leave the castle if you want. But I believe you won''t do anything foolish, will you?"

    As he watched Sir Michael leave through the door, Lucios resumed talking with his mother, who, upon seeing Sir Michael leave, began to cry, saying that this was an injustice.

 guidance part 1

    The sun had already risen, illuminating the sky with shades of orange and pink. Lucios walked through the castle, smelling the aroma of fresh bread and coffee he had just consumed. He was on his way to meet Sir Michael, to continue his training in the Way, the art of manipulating the energy flowing through all things.

    Lucios couldn''t deny he was nervous. He had reached the metamorphosis stage nearly two weeks ago, after the bloody fight against the wolf in the forest. At that moment, he felt his energy from the Way explode, giving him the strength to separate from the wolf, but he almost lost his life. He still had scars to remind him of that day.

    Since then, he had difficulty controlling his Way energy. Before, in the foundation stage, he could feel his energy easily. Now, in the metamorphosis stage, he could move his energy, making it flow through his body. But he didn''t have much control over it. Sometimes, his energy would explode unintentionally, other times, it would become too weak; he didn''t understand what was happening.

    He knew Sir Michael was one of his father''s knights who had reached the pinnacle of the metamorphosis stage and would surely be able to help him.

    However, before meeting Sir Michael, he would see his grandmother, whom he hadn''t seen for almost three months due to the journey he had to take with his brothers. With his father distant, always busy with household matters, and his half-brother Liam living far away in the kingdom''s capital, Lucios didn''t have much interaction with his relatives. The only family members he had truly kept in touch with over the past two years were his two older brothers, Adrian and Lucam, who never liked Lucios very much.

    Besides them, there was his mother, of course, who always treated him like a baby. She was a woman born as the only daughter of Baron Lester of House Guato, and therefore always had everything she wanted until she married Count Tiberios in a political marriage. Despite the distance between his father and mother, Lucios could feel his mother''s love. However, it was very difficult to talk to her with all those servants around her.

    And then there was his grandmother, his father''s mother, who was undoubtedly the family member Lucios liked the most. The reason for this is that Lucios always felt his grandmother treated him like an adult, unlike everyone else. She was a wise and kind woman, who knew many stories and secrets of the world. She had traveled to many places and had seen many wonders and horrors. She had learned many things. She always encouraged and defended him from his brothers.

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.It didn''t take long for Lucios to reach the back garden of the castle, his grandmother''s favorite place. It was a beautiful and peaceful place, full of flowers of all colors. There was also a fountain of crystal-clear water, which reflected the sunlight and created a place where one could breathe in peace and harmony, and forget about problems and worries.

    Lucios saw his grandmother sitting on a wooden bench, surrounded by flowers. She wore a simple dress. Her gray hair was tied in a bun. She had a wrinkled face, but full of life. She smiled as she saw Lucios approaching and called him by name.

    "Lucio, my dear, I was wondering if you had forgotten about me," she said, with a warm smile that lit up her wrinkled face.

    Lucios looked at his grandmother and replied, "I wanted to come see you yesterday, grandma, but I..." He stopped, remembering the punishment his father had given him. His face twisted into a sad expression that soon returned to normal, and he continued, "Yesterday I went to talk to daddy, and after the conversation I had with him, I had too much on my mind to think about anything else."

    His grandmother, always attentive, noticed the sad expression he tried to hide and asked what had happened. Lucios took a deep sigh and told his grandmother everything that had happened - from skipping Sir Owen''s classes to the wolf attack, and finally, the punishment his father had given him. His grandmother listened attentively, with a serious look, and finally spoke, "You''ve told me your story and clearly shown your dissatisfaction, but now I want you to tell me how you feel about your father''s decision."

    Seeing his grandmother calm and composed, Lucios tried to calm down too and formulate a satisfactory response. Then, he said, "I was shocked; I didn''t think father would know about my escapes. Then, I became very angry about being sent to the territory of some random baron in the north just so father could have some political connection with him. After all, even if father wanted to get rid of me, he could have sent me to the kingdom''s capital. At least I could have been reunited with my brother. But after Sir Michael talked to me about father''s decision, I realized something was off. After all, the political connection with Baron Oliver should be irrelevant since he rules over a poor territory whose greatest riches are exports of furs and fabrics and is constantly attacked by barbarians."

    Happy to see that her grandson was trying to reason out his father''s seemingly nonsensical order, Tiberios, she smiled and said to Lucio, "First, never assume your enemies don''t know your moves. That was a lesson my husband taught to your father, and your father probably taught to Adrian. And I want you to learn that too. Information is power; it''s always good to have more and never less. In the future, always keep that in mind."

    "And about your assumptions about your father''s decision to send you to House Kamaiura, I think I have information that can clarify that," she said still smiling and continued, "A little bird told me that Baron Oliver''s men found a Tekoha."

    When Lucios heard the word Tekoha coming out of his grandmother''s mouth, he widened his eyes, and his mouth opened so wide it could fit a goose egg inside it. Surprise was evident on his face, and he looked at his grandmother, eagerly awaiting more information.

 guidance part 2

    "Tekoha" was a well-known word to any reasonably educated person. It referred to special caves that, for some reason, bubbled with Way energy. In the highest-quality tekoha, the abundance of energy was such that one could feel the air becoming denser, as if it were moving in water.

    Tekoha were desired by any noble because they were the only places where most of the plants used by alchemists to create potions could be cultivated. Potions were essential to aid in the training and healing of Way warriors, who sought to increase their power and longevity. Additionally, the most important plant of all grew in tekoha: the Ether. Ether was a carnivorous plant, whose roots were the main ingredient alchemists used to make the expensive and extremely useful Ether Elixir. This elixir could enable a decent foundation stage warrior to break through to the metamorphosis stage without risking inflaming their own potential in a life-or-death fight.

    The foundation stage was the first level of Way energy cultivation. In it, the warrior learned to absorb energy from the environment and store it in their body. The metamorphosis stage was the second level, in which the warrior transformed their energy into something more refined and powerful, allowing it to flow through their body. This transformation required a large amount of energy and a strong stimulus, which could be obtained through an extremely dangerous situation or an Ether Elixir. Almost all nobles and wealthy commoners would pay a fortune to get their hands on an Ether Elixir, to reach the metamorphosis stage and live a few decades longer.

    Lucios knew that few noble houses had a tekoha, even his own house, House Apurina, with a history dating back to the kingdom''s inception four centuries ago, didn''t have a tekoha to call its own. All the Ether Elixir House Apurina obtained came through trade with the abundant iron ore extracted from the mines of the house. Additionally, no new tekoha had been discovered in the last 40 years, so Lucios was so surprised.

    His grandmother, still smiling, said, "Close your mouth or you''ll swallow a bug." She stopped laughing and continued, "I still have access to the intelligence sector of the house, a privilege my husband gave me when he was still alive. Tiberius certainly knows, but he doesn''t care."

    "However, these are still rumors, but if they''re true, then Baron Oliver will be sitting on a practically inexhaustible gold mine, which will make House Kamaiura grow to a point that, in a decade or two, it could be on par with any ancient noble house in the kingdom, like our House Apurina," she said, with a tone of admiration and envy.

    "Despite other noble houses not having spies as good as ours, they still have some decent ones, so it''s very likely that, in at most a month, this rumor will spread throughout the kingdom like wildfire. At that moment, Baron Oliver will be suspicious of the intentions of all noble houses that try to make greater contact with House Kamaiura. That''s why your father needs to act fast. He was probably with a huge headache to come up with a decent plan for this issue while racing against time," she said, with a serious and worried face.

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    "When you came yesterday to talk to him, it must have been the first time he started to think that sending you would be a good strategy, and the idea must have seemed so good to him that he didn''t even take time to consider it and immediately gave the order that you would go to Baron Oliver''s territory. In a way, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or looking at it another way, in the right place at the right time," his grandmother said, now with a contemplative look, as if she were speaking more to herself.

    Before getting lost in her own thoughts, she turned her gaze back to Lucios and said, "You understand the importance of this, don''t you, Lucios? I understand if you''re upset with your father''s decision. You must want to live your life like other noble children, right? However, you have to remember one thing: you''re not like other noble children, you''re my grandson, you were born to be great, and this is an opportunity too good to pass up. Do you understand that?" she said, while holding Lucios'' shoulders firmly.

    She looked into his eyes with an expression of affection but also severity. She knew he wasn''t happy with the situation, but she wanted him to see the positive side of things.

    But before Lucios could respond, he heard heavy footsteps and soon saw Sir Michael approaching with a serious and even angry face. However, when he got close enough to Lucios to see who was with the boy, he stopped and showed a more restrained expression.

    Lucios felt a shiver down his spine at the sight of the knight approaching. He knew Sir Michael didn''t tolerate delays or excuses.

    "My lady, I was looking for the young noble Lucios and didn''t realize you were talking to him. I apologize for interrupting, please forgive my mistake," Sir Michael said, with a low and respectful voice, as he lowered his head and began to step back, before being stopped by the count''s mother''s words.

    "Don''t be silly, I was just finishing the conversation I was having with my grandson. You didn''t interrupt anything too important. I suppose you''re here to take him to training, right?" she said to the knight and continued, shifting her gaze to Lucios: "You should go, I''ve taken enough of your time, and I believe I''ve clarified your doubts," she said, with a smile returning to her face and a firm, authoritative voice, but also with a hint of amusement. She knew Sir Michael just wanted to do his job. She also knew that training was important for Lucios'' future, and he needed to learn to defend himself and fight.

    "Yes, grandmother, I know what I must do," Lucios said, with an expression that showed a mixture of sadness and determination, as he accompanied Sir Michael to the training room.

    He spoke with a low, resigned voice, but also with a hint of courage. He knew his grandmother was right, and that he couldn''t refuse the opportunity given to him. He also knew the journey would be tough and painful, and that he would have to face many challenges.

 enlightenment

    Lucios stood facing Sir Michael in the training room. The room was spacious, illuminated by torches mounted on the stone walls. In the center lay a large rug embroidered with the family crest in vibrant colors. Surrounding them, weapons of all kinds were displayed on wooden racks or hung from iron hooks. Shields, swords, spears, axes, bows, arrows, and daggers gleamed in the flickering light of the flames.

    Both men eyed each other with determination, each holding a training sword. They wore simple, lightweight clothing suitable for exercise. Sir Michael, with his dark hair, sharp eyes, and muscular physique, was an experienced and loyal knight. Lucios, at ten years old, seemed dwarfed by Sir Michael''s presence.

    "Lucios, this is the best way to test your new skills and find your weaknesses," Sir Michael said. They were about to engage in a friendly yet competitive duel to assess Lucios''s abilities and progress. As he assumed a combat stance, Sir Michael continued, "The first strike is yours. Begin whenever you''re ready."

    Lucios quickly analyzed Sir Michael''s posture and launched the first attack, delivering a horizontal blow with his training sword. Sir Michael easily blocked it with his own, maintaining a serious expression. They exchanged several blows, each trying to exploit the other''s defenses. It was apparent that Sir Michael wasn''t exerting much effort to parry the attacks; he moved with calm precision, while Lucios struggled to keep up.

    Occasionally, Sir Michael feinted attacks that Lucios realized could have exploited openings he''d shown during the fight. For example, when Lucios raised his sword overhead for a forceful strike, Sir Michael could have thrust quickly at his chest, but instead, he sidestepped and countered with a diagonal cut. Lucios managed to defend in time, but he felt the impact of Sir Michael''s sword on his arm.

    As time passed, Lucios began to display signs of fatigue, sweating and panting. His movements slowed and became less coordinated, and he made more mistakes. Sir Michael noticed this and called for a halt to the fight, lowering his sword. Lucios did the same, albeit with difficulty. He looked at Sir Michael with frustration, knowing he still had much to learn.

    Sir Michael sat cross-legged and gestured for Lucios to join him. As Lucios sat down, Sir Michael began to speak. "Your energy pathway is a mess, and the reason for that is quite obvious. However, to avoid confusion, I''ll explain from the beginning."

    "The pathway, also known as life energy, is the ability to absorb and manipulate the energy that exists in all things in the world. This energy is invisible to ordinary eyes but can be sensed by those born with it or those who train to develop it," Sir Michael explained.

    Though Lucius had heard this explanation a hundred times before, he remained silent, listening patiently.

    Sir Michael continued, "The pathway consists of three stages. The first is the foundation, also known as the absorption stage. In this stage, the body only absorbs energy into a core located in the heart. This core is called the Vital Center. Energy absorption increases the body''s strength, endurance, and speed, as well as improving health and vitality. This stage is the most basic and common among users of Life Energy. Energy absorption is passive and constant but can be enhanced through secret pathway techniques, meditation, and, of course, elixirs."

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    "The second stage is the metamorphosis stage, also known as the circulation stage, as the energy previously stored only in the Vital Center begins to be pumped through the body via the blood. This allows the energy to reach all parts of the body, such as muscles, bones, organs, and nerves. Energy circulation grants even greater strength, endurance, and speed, as well as an enhancement in senses like vision, hearing, smell, taste, and touch."

    "In the metamorphosis stage, greater control and concentration of energy are required. Energy circulation is active and voluntary, meaning it only occurs when the person wants it to. And therein lies the problem that''s causing you to fail. Since you advanced to the second stage at a very young age, you couldn''t store enough energy in your vital core for it to develop fully. Frankly, it''s a miracle in itself that you''ve managed to progress without the necessary accumulation," Sir Michael said with a sincere expression of astonishment.

    "From today onward, I want you to refrain from trying to circulate your pathway energy through your body unless you''re in danger. You must continue absorbing pathway energy to strengthen your core until it becomes strong enough for you to perfectly control energy circulation," Sir Michael instructed.

    "So, does that mean even though I''ve advanced to the metamorphosis stage, I won''t gain any advantage over others in the foundation stage?" Lucios asked quickly, his expression showing a hint of desperation.

    Chuckling slightly, Sir Michael replied, "That''s where you''re mistaken. You won''t absorb energy at the same rate as someone in the foundation stage. You may not have noticed, but you''re already absorbing energy at the same rate as someone in the metamorphosis stage. However, your goal isn''t to increase the quality of your energy, as someone in the metamorphosis stage would. You''ll simply expand your vital core. Even the amount of elixir you could previously ingest without being intoxicated has increased. Thus, you''ll become a complete warrior in the metamorphosis stage very quickly."

    Upon hearing Sir Michael''s words, Lucios grew calmer and remembered something. "You explained the first and second stages, but you didn''t say anything about the third stage," Lucios remarked. He had attended many classes on the pathway with his former teacher, Sir Owen, but the third stage had never been explained.

    Sir Michael calmly looked at Lucios and said, "Even for me, who''s at the pinnacle of the metamorphosis stage, the third stage, the stage of enlightenment, is a vast chasm away and seems unreachable. All I know is that at this level, pathway energy can be expelled from the body, granting unparalleled destructive capability on the battlefield."

    "I''ve heard stories that when the King''s Lions reinforced the siege of the southern border ten years ago, one of the King''s Lions captains, who was in the stage of enlightenment, managed to fight and defeat dozens of enemy warriors in the metamorphosis stage," Sir Michael said, his expression serious. "However, reaching the stage of enlightenment is very difficult simply because it''s unnatural to expel pathway energy from the body. Even here in the Apurina house, where there are a little over 300 warriors in the metamorphosis stage, there are only two warriors in the stage of enlightenment. And one of them is almost 160 years old, too old to fight," he said, with his eyes closed. But when he opened them, he noticed his student had a distant look.

    Indeed, Lucius had only heard the first part of what Sir Michael said. After that, he began to dream of becoming a warrior in the stage of enlightenment, fighting dozens of enemies on a chaotic battlefield, and he paid no further attention to what Sir Michael was saying.

 the bridge

    The night was dark and silent, except for the sound of the wind and the fire. In a quiet room, a single torch illuminated a solitary figure. It was Lucius, seeking to expand his Vital Center. He sat on the floor, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was deep and rhythmic.

    Lucius seemed to be in a state of deep meditation, but his face showed signs of tension and pain. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and neck. He was exerting great effort to concentrate, as if striving to achieve some goal. In his mind, he visualized the energy of the path produced by the elixir he drank, being absorbed by his body, gathering in his heart with great difficulty, while much of it dispersed throughout his body, like water flowing through a sieve.

    "This is much harder than I expected, now that the bottleneck of my Vital Center no longer exists, the energy of the path disperses through the body as if it had a will of its own," thought Lucius as he exhaled heavily and opened his eyes. It had been five days since his encounter with Sir Michael, where the direction of his training had been decided.

    Pressured by the dangers he might encounter in the future while away from home, he did not want to waste time and was completely focused on training. However, he knew that this would be his last night at home, as this morning the doctors from the house had come to see him to check his wounds, which were surprisingly completely healed, thanks to the effect of advancing to the metamorphosis stage, which accelerated the healing process of his injuries, despite only two weeks having passed since the incident with the wolf. The only reminders of his wounds were the various scars scattered across his body, especially the one on his face, which was quite apparent and gave the formerly cute boy''s face a touch of brutality.

    The doctors, seeing that he was completely healed, probably already sent a report to his father, Count Tiberios, and Lucius would soon be summoned to fulfill the order his father had given him. So Lucius decided to interrupt his frantic training to enjoy his last night in Kaapurina, his hometown, and sleep peacefully.

    In the morning, he woke up to a servant calling him, with a respectful voice, saying that his father had summoned him for breakfast in his office. Walking there, Lucius encountered in front of his father''s office door, Sir Damian, a very tall and muscular knight, one of the most intimidating knights of his father''s personal guard. Although he had seen him dozens of times, Lucius had never heard the knight speak a single word; he only grunted in agreement when receiving orders from his father.

    Giving a nod when he saw Lucius, Sir Damian opened the office door and gestured for Lucius to enter. Entering the office, Lucius saw his father''s table, once filled with scrolls, quills, and ink, now filled with food. There were hot chicken and lamb soups, served in silver bowls, accompanied by soft and crunchy bread made from refined wheat flour. There were also roasted meats of pork, beef, and game, such as deer and rabbit. The meats were cut into generous pieces and arranged on silver platters, decorated with fresh fruits. There were also cheeses and wine, a veritable feast. His father, as usual, was seated in his chair.

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    Seeing Lucius, he spoke in a cheerful tone, "Come, Lucius, sit and eat a bit; I also want to talk to you about some details of your journey to the Kamaiura House."

    Lucius obeyed; he sat down and began to eat slowly. After the conversation he had with his grandmother, Lucius knew his father''s intentions in sending him to the north and had already resigned himself to the fact that he would have to go. However, his father probably thought he would still be upset about the order he had given him.

    "You know I''m very proud of you, don''t you?" Count Tiberios continued, picking up a wine glass and offering another to Lucius. "Reaching the metamorphosis stage at 10 years old is very rare; even I only reached the second stage of the path when I was 15, and it was through the Ether Elixir."

    Lucius thanked him with a subdued voice. He felt a mix of joy and strangeness towards his father now, as the Count had never said he was proud of him before.

    "How is your training going? Any difficulty?" Tiberios asked, and Lucius quickly replied, "My path training is progressing without any problems, father."

    "Well, as Baron Oliver gained his noble title through war, he is an extremely warlike noble; he will surely appreciate the talent of a boy who has reached the metamorphosis stage so early," said the Count as he drank some wine and continued, "which brings me to the next subject; you''re probably curious about why I''m sending you to train under Baron Oliver''s guard."

    "And the reason is quite simple: Baron Oliver has no sons, only daughters, three to be precise. Your main goal while at the Kamaiura House will be to get close to the baron''s eldest daughter," Tiberios said.

    Lucius widened his eyes, surprised. He thought his father would probably speak veiledly about tekoha, but he didn''t let his thoughts be seen by his father and quickly asked a question, "But if that''s the goal, why don''t you make a marriage proposal for me directly to Baron Oliver? Being from a small and young noble house, he must be desperate to create more enduring political connections, isn''t he?"

    Showing a surprised look at Lucius'' question, Tiberios replied, "That would be true for a newly created common noble house, but the Kamaiura House is anything but common. For starters, they are self-sufficient in everything except, of course, elixirs. And although they don''t have mines as abundant as ours, they still have some mines that meet basic needs. And most importantly: many of the foundation stage warriors who served in the army 10 years ago under Baron Oliver''s command, when he was still a knight, and who were discharged, were hired by the baron when he gained the noble title. Nowadays, a good portion of these soldiers has advanced to the metamorphosis stage. So much so that I can say with absolute certainty that the Kamaiura House is the strongest barony in the kingdom in terms of military matters, not losing to any viscounty."

    "That''s why Baron Oliver would never go against the will of his precious daughters and agree to a political marriage. Therefore, the only way for this marriage to happen will be if you win his daughter''s heart," the Count said calmly.

    "But father, why is this marriage so important for the house?" Lucius asked, to see if his father would be as honest as his grandmother was with him.

    With a firm and authoritative tone, Tiberios replied, "You don''t need to know the reason; all you need to know is that this marriage is of vital importance for the prosperity of the Apurina House."

    Lucius saw his father''s smile turn into a cold and calculating expression. He realized that his father didn''t care about his feelings or his happiness. He realized that his father only wanted to use him as a pawn in his power game, as a bridge between two houses. He realized that his father was not his friend but his lord.

 Rumors

    The day was dawning, and Lucios had just woken up with a slight jolt from the boat he had been traveling on since yesterday. After the conversation he had with his father during breakfast, Lucios barely had time to say goodbye to his mother and grandmother before being sent on his journey northward to Baron Oliver''s territory.

    Lucios boarded a small delivery boat from the household, which was used to quickly send messages and deliver light and valuable cargo along the arms of the Xingu River. Using carriages, the journey north would take about 20 days, so the fastest route was to go by sea, but it would still be a long 8-day journey.

    First, he would take this boat downstream until it reached the sea, where he would make a stop in Guarania, the main city in his maternal grandfather''s territory, Baron Lester. From there, he would board a ship already prepared by his grandfather, where he would travel northward by sea, then disembark in Sucundu, the northernmost port city of the kingdom, where he would continue the journey by carriage to his final destination, Baron Oliver''s territory.

    The boat he was on was small, with only 15 crew members, including Lucios. It sailed down the river, heading southeast. The river was calm and peaceful, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds. The sun shone brightly, but a gentle breeze tempered the heat. It was a beautiful day, perfect for a journey, but Lucios hadn''t left the cabin since the journey began the afternoon before. He preferred to be alone, away from the gaze and comments of the sailors.

    The sailors were happy and content. They chatted cheerfully on the deck, praising the good weather and their luck.

    "What a wonderful day, isn''t it?" said the first sailor, a young and cheerful man. He smiled, showing his slightly yellowed teeth. "Indeed," agreed the second sailor, an older and more experienced man. "I wouldn''t trade this life for anything," said the third sailor, also a young man.

    The three sailors laughed and conversed happily. "I can''t say the same," said a fourth sailor, an old and thin man. "What''s wrong? Why are you so disheartened?" asked the first sailor, trying to cheer him up. "It was on a sunny day like this, nine years ago, that I had to make a trip on a boat that had to send supplies to Fort Caribuma, on the southern border." said the fourth sailor in a deep voice.

    "So what? What''s the matter with that?" asked the second sailor, not understanding. "The matter is that we were attacked by a small enemy army detachment, in an attempt to sabotage the fort''s supply line with a suicide attack. They caught us off guard and started firing arrows at our boat. I took an arrow in the belly and was peeing blood for days. I nearly died." said the fourth sailor.

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    "Well, I''m sorry, but why are you talking about this? Why are you spoiling the good mood?" asked the third sailor, a bit annoyed. "And why are you even thinking about these things? There''s no need to worry about it. There hasn''t been any war in the kingdom since the peace treaty seven years ago," said the first sailor, still optimistic. "That''s what you think. I''ve heard rumors, my friends. Rumors that the king is bedridden, and the third prince, with the support of the duke of the south, is challenging the first prince''s heir title. They say there''s a conspiracy underway, and a civil war could break out at any moment." said the fourth sailor, in a somber tone.

    "What? Is that true? Where did you hear that?" asked the second sailor, worried. "I heard it from a friend of mine from the capital, who heard it from a very wealthy merchant, who has eyes in the king''s court," said the fourth sailor, convincingly. "That''s absurd. That''s just a rumor, baseless. You can''t believe everything you hear out there," said the third sailor, disdainfully. "Yeah, that''s just a story, nonsense. You can''t let yourself be swayed by it," said the first sailor, hopefully.

    The three sailors tried to calm the fourth, but he wasn''t convinced. He continued to talk about the dangers the kingdom faced, and how they should prepare for the worst. He spoke so insistently that the other sailors began to feel nervous and scared. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

    A strong voice silenced them. "Silence, you chatterboxes! Enough of idle talk. Get back to work, and stay alert. We''re approaching the port, and we can''t be late," said the ship''s captain. "And you," he pointed to the fourth sailor, who fell silent and stared at him. "Stop talking nonsense, and focus on your duty. You''re getting on my nerves." The captain was a tall, strong man, with a scary reputation that commanded respect.

    Meanwhile, Lucios remained inside his cabin, legs crossed and eyes closed, meditating, oblivious to the sailors'' conversation. In his thoughts, he tried to recall the only time he saw his grandfather, Baron Lester. It was on his fifth birthday. Try as he might, Lucios could barely remember that day. He wondered how his grandfather would treat him when he arrived in Guarania.

    He didn''t have to wait much longer. As time passed, the boat began to become more unstable, as the river waters mixed with the seawater. It was then that the boat''s captain entered his cabin to inform him that the port was already visible on the horizon. When Lucios emerged, he saw an impressive sight, one he had only seen once in his life: the sea. And right on the coast, to the right, was the sturdy port of Guarania, one of the most important and bustling ports in the southeast of the kingdom.

    Even before getting off the boat, Lucios saw a large entourage of guards and servants waiting at the port, and leading them was a tall, well-dressed man, wearing clothes in the green and blue colors typical of House Guato. He was Charlie Guato, his uncle and his mother''s brother. It was easy for Lucios to recognize him because his uncle Charlie traveled to Kaapurina at least once a year to visit his mother, Isabella.

    Seeing Lucios disembark from the boat, Charlie spoke: "Lucios, look at you, already a young adult. The last time I saw you was two years ago, and you''ve grown so much. I could hardly recognize you when I saw you coming off the boat, you''ve changed so much. Come, let''s go to the castle so we can talk in a more pleasant environment."

 Quick stop

    Lucios felt a mixture of admiration and anxiety as he followed his uncle along the path leading to the castle. Ahead of him rose the imposing stone fortress, surrounded by walls and towers. To his left stretched the city of Guarania, vibrant and bustling.

    Lucios observed the colorful houses, the various shops, the people of different backgrounds and attire. He listened to the sounds of merchants, sailors, animals, and musical instruments. He smelled the aromas of spices, fruits, fish, and flowers.

    Guarania was one of the most prosperous cities in the kingdom, thanks to its strategic location. It benefited both from access to the sea, bringing ships from other lands and kingdoms, and from the arms of the Xingu River, allowing for river transport inland. Guarania''s port was the heart of the city, pulsing with commerce, culture, and adventure. Lucios imagined what life in that city would be like, so different from his hometown.

    After crossing the city of Guarania, Lucios finally arrived at the castle. He felt relieved to leave behind the hustle and bustle of the port, but also a little disappointed that he couldn''t explore the city more. The castle was a stark contrast to the city: quiet, dark, and austere. Lucios followed his uncle through the dark, cold corridors, admiring the tapestries, armor, and paintings adorning the walls.

    His uncle led him to the guest hall, where a small, simple table was set with a few dishes of food. The hall was spacious and illuminated by tall windows but seemed empty and dull. Lucios noticed there were only two seats at the table, facing each other. His uncle sat in one of the chairs and gestured for Lucios to do the same. Then he ordered the servants to leave them alone.

    Before all the servants left, however, his uncle called one of them and gave him an instruction in a low voice. Lucios could only hear one word: baron. Lucios wondered if his grandfather already knew about his arrival. Nervous, Lucios didn''t have to think about it for long as his uncle began to speak to him.

    Lucios''s uncle looked at him with a gentle smile and began to talk, trying to break the ice. He asked how the boat trip to Guarania was, if the boy had faced any difficulty or danger along the way. He asked if he had managed to rest and eat well during the journey, if he was comfortable in the boat cabin. Finally, he asked about Lucios''s sister Isabella, Lucios''s mother, whom he hadn''t seen in almost a year.

    Lucios answered his uncle''s questions honestly and simply. He said the boat trip was smooth, without any unexpected events. He said he rested well in the cabin, which was cozy and clean. He said the ship''s food was tasty and varied. Finally, he said his mother was doing great.

    They talked for a little while longer about various subjects, from life in the city to the latest news from the kingdom. "Uncle, where is grandfather? Isn''t he going to meet me?" Lucios asked. "He would certainly like to meet you, Lucios, but father is not in town. He made a trip to the capital two days ago to address some issues," his uncle replied, with a serious expression on his face.

    "Grandfather went to the capital in person? What kind of problem would be so important?" Lucios asked, curious. His uncle seemed a bit hesitant about answering Lucios''s question, but eventually, he spoke: "The duke of the south made some changes to toll policies in the southern part of the Xingu River arms, and you know that we, the noble houses of the south, are the kingdom''s largest food producers. And because of that, many noble houses from the north and west that have connections with the Guato house got furious. So father went to try to resolve this matter directly with the other nobles at the royal court."

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.Lucios widened his eyes, surprised by the revelation. He knew the Xingu River was the main trade and transport route between the kingdom''s different regions, and any changes in tolls could affect the economy and politics of the entire country. He wondered what the duke of the south was planning.

    "But uncle, isn''t this very dangerous? Couldn''t the duke of the south be offended by grandfather''s interference?" Lucios spoke. And his uncle replied, "Father knows what he''s doing. He won''t provoke a war, but he won''t be intimidated either." Lucios nodded, trusting his uncle''s words.

    His uncle tried to change the subject and cheer up Lucios, who was still thoughtful about his grandfather''s situation. Thanks to the letter he received from Count Tiberios a week ago, Lucios knew that his final destination was the Kamaiura house, in the far north of the kingdom, even though he didn''t know why Count Tiberios would send the boy there. "Anyway, you don''t need to worry about those things. Soon you''ll be at the Kamaiura house. There, you''ll only have to worry about not freezing your balls off," his uncle said, jokingly.

    Lucios smiled, a little embarrassed. He had heard that the north was a cold and icy place, where snow covered the mountains and lakes for most of the year. He wondered what it would be like to live in such a place, and if he would miss the sun and warmth of the south.

    "Yeah, I know. But I''m also excited to get to know the Kamaiura house," Lucios said, pretending to be enthusiastic. "That''s right, Lucios. But don''t forget that the north also has its dangers. You''ll have to watch out for the barbarians," his uncle said, more seriously.

    Lucios frowned. He knew the barbarians were the people who lived beyond the kingdom''s borders, in the wild and unexplored lands. They were considered uncivilized and violent, often attacking villages and caravans in the north, seeking plunder and slaves.

    "I heard that Baron Oliver has been doing an excellent job. Since he took charge of that land, barbarian attacks have become less frequent and less intense. He has managed to maintain order and security. But anyway, it''s always good to stay alert," his uncle said, praising Baron Oliver''s achievements.

    Lucios was impressed by his uncle''s description. He felt a bit of admiration for Baron Oliver. He wondered what it would be like to meet and live with him. He wondered if he would be a good mentor.

    His uncle continued speaking, "Thanks to the letter your father sent, we had enough time to prepare a ship for you, and it''s almost ready. At this moment, the ship''s captain is making the final preparations and should be ready to set sail in a few hours. Personally, I would have liked you to stay here in Guarania for at least a few days, but your father insisted in the letter that time was crucial and that you should leave as soon as possible."

    Lucios quickly replied, "It''s all right, I was already aware of the time issue."

    His uncle Charlie observed him carefully, trying to read his thoughts and feelings.

    A little surprised by what Lucios said, because he thought the boy was completely unaware of Count Tiberios'' reasons for sending him to the Kamaiura house, he asked Lucios, "So, do you know why you are being sent to the Kamaiura house?"

    Lucios hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell everything he knew or not. He didn''t fully trust his uncle, who had always been distant from him and was now strangely kind. He also didn''t want to appear weak or naive. He decided to be cautious and reveal only what his father had told him. "The only thing father told me is that I would have to seek the favor of Baron Oliver and that in the future, I would receive more detailed instructions," Lucios said, restrained.

    His uncle Charlie was a little disappointed with the scant information of his nephew''s response. He hoped Lucios would be more curious and questioning, wanting to know more about his father''s plans and intentions. He also hoped Lucios would be more sincere and open, trusting him as a friend and advisor. He realized that Lucios was smarter and more reserved than he had imagined, and that perhaps he knew more than he admitted.

    He decided not to insist on the subject, as he didn''t want to create a bad atmosphere between them. He preferred to change the subject and try to distract Lucios, who seemed tense and worried. "Since we have a few hours until you have to set sail, how about we walk around the city so you can choose some presents to take with you?" Charlie said, trying to sound cheerful and generous.

    Lucios quickly became excited about his uncle''s proposal. "Of course, uncle. I would love to go with you. Thank you for the offer," Lucios said, with a sincere smile. He agreed and followed his uncle towards the city, leaving the ship and the north behind, for now.

 pirates

    The knight from the Apurina house, Sir Damian, stood at the prow of the ship, a sturdy galleon of dark wood, with immaculate white sails fluttering in the wind. He was pondering over his current mission, to escort his master''s fourth son, the young Lucios, on a voyage to the Kamaiura house. The mission seemed straightforward, and the house had sent only him and three other soldiers to escort the young noble. For half of the journey, everything was fine, with no problems in sight.

    However, the situation had now changed. Sir Damian watched as another ship, slightly larger than his own, approached rapidly. It was a menacing-looking vessel, with torn sails and a hull worn by time and battles. On the deck, Sir Damian could clearly see some warriors in tattered clothes and various weapons. They were clearly pirates.

    Sir Damian couldn''t believe that common pirates would dare to attack a ship bearing a noble flag. He narrowed his eyes and thought, "They didn''t choose us randomly as their target. These wretched scoundrels are after the young noble."

    The tension in the air was palpable. The sailors on Sir Damian''s ship began to panic as the pirate ship approached. They ran back and forth, preparing for the inevitable confrontation. Sir Damian, keeping his cool, gave an order to one of the three soldiers under his command: "You, stand by the young noble in the cabin and keep him safe. Do not leave there, no matter what happens, understood?" The soldier confirmed the order and quickly entered the ship''s inner compartments.

    Then, Sir Damian gave some quick orders for his men to organize the sailors into a line of defense. Beside him, the ship''s captain, a young man still in his twenties, who must have gained the title of captain through family connections, sweated profusely as he unsheathed a sword. "At least he has some courage," thought Sir Damian about the captain before turning his full attention back to the pirates who were already boarding his ship.

    Sir Damian, despite being outnumbered, had a strategy in mind. He knew that the key to defeating the pirates was discipline and battle formation. He organized his men and the sailors into a solid defensive line, with the strongest soldiers at the front and the sailors with makeshift weapons behind.

    He instructed his men to maintain formation, no matter how chaotic the battle became. "We are the steel wall, they are the wave. Let the wave crash upon us, but do not move!" he said.

    Finally, he planned to use the advantage of his superior fighting skills. As a knight, he was a warrior in the metamorphosis stage trained and had combat abilities far beyond those of a common pirate. He planned to confront the pirate leader directly, knowing that if he could defeat the leader, the other pirates would likely lose morale.

    "Prepare for combat!" shouted Sir Damian, his voice echoing over the sound of the sea and the wind. "Do not let these pirates take our ship!"

    The battle was intense and brutal. As soon as the pirates boarded the ship, the fight began. The sailors, though frightened, maintained formation under Sir Damian''s leadership and his soldiers. They fought bravely, repelling the initial attacks of the pirates.

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    The pirates were wild and ruthless, but disorganized. They attacked in waves, trying to break through the defense line, but the discipline and formation of the sailors and soldiers resisted.

    Sir Damian, with his shining armor and sword in hand, was a force to be reckoned with. He moved with lethal grace, cutting down the pirates who dared to approach. His presence was like a beacon for his men, inspiring them to fight with all they had.

    Finally, the pirate leader advanced to challenge Sir Damian. The pirate captain was a big man, with thick muscles and a disheveled beard. He wielded a broad and worn sword, with marks from numerous battles. His eyes were wild and filled with fury, and he advanced towards Sir Damian with a roar.

    Sir Damian, on the other hand, was the epitome of calm and discipline. He was dressed in his shining armor, and his sword was clean and sharp. His eyes were cold and focused, and he faced the advance of the pirate captain with a firm stance.

    The battle began with the pirate captain advancing with a powerful blow, trying to crush Sir Damian with sheer force. However, Sir Damian dodged the blow with a quick movement and responded with a precise cut that slashed the pirate captain''s shoulder.

    The fight continued in this manner, with the pirate captain attacking with brutish and wild blows, and Sir Damian responding with precise and controlled movements. With each blow the pirate captain struck, Sir Damian dodged and counterattacked, quickly wearing down the pirate captain.

    Finally, with a quick and precise movement, Sir Damian delivered a blow that pierced the pirate captain''s defense and struck him in the chest. The pirate captain fell to the ship''s deck, defeated.

    The fight was a testament to Sir Damian''s training and discipline. Even facing a fierce and wild opponent, he remained calm and used his superior skills to win.

    With the fall of their leader, the remaining pirates lost morale. Some jumped back onto the pirate ship, while others surrendered. The battle was over. Despite the victory, the ship''s deck was in chaos, with wounded sailors and pirates.

    Sir Damian and the two soldiers under his command, who miraculously survived the attack without a scratch, began to gather the surviving pirates. They tied up the pirates with thick ropes and lined them up on the ship''s deck.

    The pirate captain, gravely injured, was brought forward. He was pale and sweating, clearly suffering from the pain of his wounds. Sir Damian looked at him with a stern gaze.

    "Who gave you the route of our ship?" asked Sir Damian, his voice cold and hard.

    The pirate captain hesitated for a moment, then spat out some blood and began to speak. "I do not know the identity of the man. He was dressed in fancy clothes and surrounded by guards. He came to me with a bag full of silver coins and information about an easy raid. He said the ship would not have many warriors and that the captain was inexperienced. The only requirement was to capture a boy who would be on board."

    Sir Damian frowned upon hearing this. Who would be so desperate to capture the young noble to the point of hiring pirates?

    The ship''s captain, who had suffered a deep cut in his leg during the fight and was gritting his teeth, trying to ignore the burning pain radiating from the wound, when he heard the pirate captain''s words about a nobleman who was paying pirates to attack his ship, the revelation hit him like a punch in the stomach, leaving the captain stunned. But there''s no time to process the information. The captain, despite his pain, straightens up. His face is pale but determined.

    He gives orders, his voice resonating above the chaos. He demands that his sailors redouble their efforts. They need to reach the port of Sucundo as quickly as possible. The urgency in his voice is unmistakable. The sailors, though shaken, respond to his command. And they begin to move with renewed determination.

 Sucundo

    Lucius was at the prow of the ship, feeling the cold northern wind cutting through his skin like razors. He knew that was just a prelude to the cold he would have to face on his journey, but he didn''t care. He was determined to fulfill his mission, whatever the cost.

    He looked out to the horizon and spotted the port of Sucundo, a small coastal town that served as the only stopping point for ships sailing the northern sea. He should have arrived there nearly two days ago, but his journey was anything but smooth.

    The first two days at sea were calm, with blue skies and serene waters. Lucius took the opportunity to familiarize himself with the ship and the crew, mostly composed of warriors and experienced sailors, all hired from his grandfather''s House Guato.

    But on the third day of the sea voyage, everything changed. A pirate ship emerged in the middle of the night and, using the cover of darkness, swiftly approached, firing arrows at Lucius'' ship. The captain tried to maneuver the ship to avoid the shots, but some hit the hull and sails, causing damage and slowing the ship down. Lucius saw some sailors attempting to retaliate with bows.

    Before long, the two ships were side by side, and the pirates threw hooks and ropes to board Lucius'' ship. Just before Lucius was pushed into one of the inner cabins by one of the soldiers from his household who was escorting him on this journey, he could see a horde of dirty, ragged men armed with swords, axes, and knives invading the deck, shouting and attacking the defenders.

    Despite the horrible noises he heard during the battle, when it was all over and Lucius emerged from the inner cabin of the ship, he saw few dead or wounded sailors and also Sir Damian and the other two soldiers from his household unharmed. He realized that the warriors and sailors on his ship were of higher quality and discipline than the pirates, who fought in a disorganized and impulsive manner.

    But he didn''t know that was just the beginning of the pirate onslaught. In the following days, Lucius'' ship was pursued and attacked by several pirate ships, which appeared suddenly and attempted to board it. The captain of Lucius'' ship did his best to escape and counterattack, but the situation was becoming increasingly difficult. The ship was damaged and low on supplies, the crew was exhausted and disheartened, and the casualties were mounting. Lucius saw many corpses of sailors who died at the hands of the pirates.

    He also felt fear. Fear of being captured by the pirates, of being tortured or killed. That''s how he arrived at the port of Sucundo, after a week of terror and suffering. He was at the prow of the ship, looking at the approaching city. He knew there he could rest, recover, and prepare for the next stage of his journey. He also knew he could find some help there.

    Disembarking from the ship, Lucius could get a good look at the city. Sucundo was a coastal port city, with the gray and rough sea crashing against the docks. The houses were built of sturdy stone to withstand the constant cold that plagued the city for most of the year. The city was a maze of narrow and winding streets, lined with buildings with steep roofs covered in snow.

    The port was the heart of the city, with fishing boats anchored swaying gently with the rhythm of the waves. The fishermen, wrapped in thick coats, prepared their nets for the next trip to sea, their breath forming clouds in the cold air. The smell of fresh fish and sea salt permeated the air.

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    Despite the cold, the city was alive with activity. The local market was full of vendors selling fresh fish, warm bread, and hearty vegetables. People moved quickly, their faces red from the cold, but their eyes shining with determination to live and thrive in this challenging climate.

    Lucius felt a mixture of relief and anxiety when the ship finally docked at the port of Sucundo. He looked around and saw the tired and grateful faces of the sailors who had survived that dangerous journey. Some of them knelt on the deck and murmured prayers to Yarapari, the sea goddess, thanking her for her mercy. Others cried, relieved to have escaped death.

    Sucundo was the northernmost port in the kingdom, a cold and hostile place where the inhabitants were wary of foreigners. It was rare to see a ship with a noble flag here, and even rarer to see a ship as damaged and riddled with arrows as his. Lucius could feel the curious and fearful glances of the townspeople gathered on the dock.

    Some of them ran towards the city center, probably to warn the guard about the arrival of the ship. Lucius didn''t have to wait long to see a group of soldiers approaching. There were about thirty men, dressed in helmets, spears, swords, and thick leather and fabric clothes. They looked well-trained.

    Leading the soldiers was a man in full armor. He was fat and seemed breathless from the effort of walking. He stopped in front of the ship and shouted with an air of authority and arrogance, "Who are you? Identify yourselves!"

    The captain of the ship, despite the injury to his leg, made a point of limping up to the leader of the guards and making a respectful greeting. He took a leather scroll from his pocket and handed it to him.

    The leader of the guards looked at the captain of the ship and asked, "What happened to your ship?" The ship''s captain took a deep breath and replied calmly, "My ship was attacked by pirates at sea, but we managed to defend ourselves and make it here."

    The leader of the guard frowned and said, "Pirates? Attacking a noble''s ship." The leader of the guard looked at the ship again more carefully. He saw the battle scars, the arrows, the blood. He saw the wounded sailors and the bodies covered in bloodstained cloths. He sighed and said, "I apologize for keeping you waiting out here in the cold. Do you have a place to stay?"

    The ship''s captain quickly responded, "Yes, my master has a mansion in the city. I also want to request help from the city''s doctors to care for the wounded." The leader of the guard nodded in agreement and allowed them to pass.

    Lucius followed the ship''s captain, who led him through the narrow and bustling streets of the city as people looked at him with curiosity. After a few minutes, they arrived at a small rustic mansion in the southern part of the city, which belonged to House Guato. It was a two-story building, surrounded by a stone wall. It had a massive wooden door with the Guato family crest. The ship''s captain knocked on the door and was greeted by a servant, who led them to a spacious and cozy hall, where there was a fireplace.

    "This is your accommodation, young noble," said the ship''s captain. "I believe my mission ends here, and I wish you good luck."

    "Thank you very much, captain," said Lucius, "and I apologize for the trouble caused by the pirates."

    "You''re welcome, young noble," said the ship''s captain. "As for the pirates, it wasn''t your fault. Now, if you''ll excuse me, I have to return to my post."

    Shortly after Lucius nodded in agreement, the ship''s captain bid farewell and left, leaving Lucius and his escort alone in the mansion. Lucius sat down on one of the sofas and sighed. He was exhausted, but also relieved. He had safely arrived in Sucundo after facing so many dangers.

    He got up and was guided by one of the servants to his room, where there was a soft and warm bed. He lay down and closed his eyes. He thought of his family, his home, his mission, and fell asleep, as he hadn''t done in days.

 alternative path

    "...a messenger was sent by land to warn the count about the pirate attacks that plagued our journey," Sir Damian said in a grave voice as he looked out the window of the mansion where they were staying. He noticed that Lucios was lost in thought, staring into the fireplace, oblivious to his words. Sir Damian stomped his foot on the wooden floor, making a thunderous noise that echoed through the empty hall, and spoke in a tone of reproach, "Young noble Lucios, are you listening to me?"

    Lucios quickly raised his head with a startled look at the noise, which quickly turned into focus on the image of the knight who had accompanied him since he left his father''s castle. Lucios felt embarrassed for being distracted and apologized, "Forgive me, Sir Damian, I was thinking about other things. Yes, I''m listening, please continue." Lucios still found it a bit strange to hear Sir Damian''s voice, the frightening knight he always thought was mute.

    Sir Damian nodded in satisfaction to see that Lucios was now paying attention. He continued with his explanation, "Considering that the risk of this journey has increased due to the threat of pirates, I went to Baron Angus''s residence to request that he provide a contingent of soldiers to assist in your escort. However, to my surprise, I discovered that Baron Angus left the city nearly two weeks ago to go to the capital. The servant whom the Baron left in charge of the territory is a weak and cowardly man who lacks authority or courage to dispatch soldiers or make any decisions."

    Listening to the bad news, Lucios felt a chill in his stomach. He could already guess what Sir Damian would say next. They could not travel through the main roads, which were faster and safer, because they would have to avoid any risks such as bandits who might be in collusion with the pirates. Lucios would have to travel only with Sir Damian and the three soldiers who were sent as his personal guard by his father, Count Tiberios. This meant more delay in completing his journey to the territory of House Kamaiura, where he was supposed to meet Baron Oliver.

    Sir Damian continued speaking with determination, "I have some experience traveling in the north, as I have participated in several missions and battles in this region. Therefore, I intend to continue the journey on an alternative path, through the forests that border the mountains. It''s a longer and more difficult path, but also more discreet and less guarded. Therefore, we cannot use carriages, which would attract too much attention and hinder our mobility. We will all travel on horseback, with little luggage and only the essentials for our survival. If all goes well, we should reach Baron Oliver''s territory in three or four days. Are you ready to depart, young noble Lucios?" Words that were met with a nod of agreement from Lucios.

    Lucios looked at the gray sky and felt a shiver run through his body. He was dressed in a wool cape and a thick tunic, but the cold was still intense. He adjusted his leather gloves and held the reins of his horse firmly.

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    They had left the mansion in Sucundo two days ago, heading northwest towards House Kamaiura. The journey was not easy. They had to cross a dense and icy forest, where the trees were covered with a layer of snow. The trail was narrow and uneven, full of rocks, holes, and branches. The horses had to tread carefully to avoid slipping or stumbling. Lucios struggled to maintain his balance, as despite being larger than boys his age, he was still small compared to an adult.

    He had learned to ride from an early age, but he had never faced such a hostile terrain. He felt his legs and back ache, and sometimes he had to cling to his horse''s neck to avoid falling.

    The cold was another obstacle. Lucios had never seen so much snow in his life. He was used to the mild climate of the south, where flowers bloomed in spring and birds sang in summer, and it never snowed in winter. Now, he saw only a white and gray scenery, where the wind howled and the snow fell. He shivered with cold, even with his warm clothes. He had to cover his face with a scarf to avoid freezing his nose and lips. He felt his fingers and toes numb, and sometimes he had to rub them to regain feeling.

    The stops at night were the worst. They had nowhere to shelter, nor a fire to warm themselves because they did not want to attract attention. They had to sleep in the open, wrapped in blankets and animal skins. They had to share the little food they carried, which consisted of hard bread, dried meat, and water. Lucios was hungry and thirsty, but he did not complain. He knew it was a matter of honor and courage, and he had to show that he was worthy to be a noble of House Apurina. He admired Sir Damian, who despite the difficulties still remained expressionless like a block of steel.

    Lucios knew the journey would last another two days until they reached their destination. He hoped everything would go well. On the third day of the journey, Lucios and his companions spotted smoke on the horizon. They headed towards the smoke, hoping to find some sign of civilization. They were tired, hungry, and frozen, and they needed a place to recover.

    They arrived at a small village, consisting of a few wooden and thatch houses, surrounded by a stone wall. There were some people in the street, dressed in simple cold weather clothes. They looked at the travelers with curiosity and suspicion, standing out with their armor and capes.

    Sir Damian approached an older man, who seemed to be the village leader. He introduced himself and asked if they were far from House Kamaiura''s territory, and requested permission to spend the night there in exchange for some silver coins. The man accepted and warned them that they were on the outskirts of House Kamaiura''s territory. Lucios felt a mixture of joy and relief at finally arriving.

    He followed Sir Damian and the soldiers to one of the village houses, where they were welcomed by a woman and two children. The woman offered them a room with some straw beds, and a cauldron with hot soup. Lucios thanked her and felt relieved to have shelter and a decent meal. He ate the soup hungrily and then lay down on the bed, covering himself with a blanket. He felt more comfortable than in the previous nights, but still couldn''t sleep well. He kept thinking about what would happen the next day when he finally met Baron Oliver.

 Mbaraéˆ¥æª…a

    Lucios felt the biting cold of winter on his skin, but he didn''t mind. He was eager to reach Mbara¡¯ba, the main city of the Kamaiura house, where he hoped to find Baron Oliver. He walked alongside his horse, which carried his luggage. Behind him, Sir Damian and the three soldiers of his escort followed, dressed in leather and metal armor, and mounted on brown horses.

    They had traveled for days, crossing forests, mountains, and partially frozen rivers, following a narrow and winding trail. Now, they were finally approaching their destination. They left the trail and entered a wider, flatter road, which was covered with a thin layer of snow but still easier to walk on. The road led directly to Mbara¡¯ba and was used by merchants, travelers, and pilgrims.

    Lucios began to see more people on the road, moving in different directions. He saw carts pulled by oxen or horses, carrying goods, food, or people. He saw peasants on foot, dressed in simple clothes, carrying baskets, bags, or tools. He also saw some knights and ladies, dressed in more elegant attire.

    They all seemed to have a common destination: the city of Mbara¡¯ba, which rose majestically on the horizon. Lucios was amazed by the sight of the city, which was one of the oldest in the kingdom. It was built on a hill, which rose above the frozen plains. At the top of the hill stood the castle, the current seat of power of the Kamaiura house. The castle was an imposing fortress, made of gray stone, with tall, pointed towers, narrow arched windows, and a large iron gate. The castle dominated the landscape and provided a complete view of the rest of the city, which spread out on the hillside.

    The city was surrounded by a double wall, which protected it from invaders and wild animals. The outer wall, which stood at the base of the hill, was lower and simpler and had several gates for entry and exit. The inner wall, which was closer to the castle, was higher and more elaborate and had only one gate, in front of the castle. Between the two walls, there was an open space, where fields, orchards, gardens, and stables were located.

    Inside the inner wall was the most populous and bustling part of the city. There were narrow, winding streets, wooden and stone houses, shops, taverns, and other buildings. The city was divided into two districts. The northern district, which was closer to the castle, was where the knights, soldiers, and their families lived. The southern district, which was farther from the castle, was busier and housed the huts, shantytowns, and markets.

    Lucios, with wide eyes, contemplated the city of Mbara¡¯ba before him. The stone walls, worn by time and marked by countless battles, rose majestically against the horizon. The watchtowers, now adorned with banners of the Kamaiura house, seemed to whisper secrets of times past.

    The cobblestone streets wound among wooden and stone houses, each with its own story engraved on the weathered boards. L¨²cios imagined the ancient inhabitants, their faces weathered by the cold wind and sun, who had built these structures with calloused hands and intertwined hopes.

    A tapestry of history unfolded before him, each stone in the cobblestone streets whispering tales of a bygone century. The city bore the scars of battles long fought, but remained resilient, a testament to the resilience of its people.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.Mbara¡¯ba was not a common city; it was a bastion of civilization in the midst of the wild frontier. Once an advanced outpost in the defense of the kingdom against barbarian raids from the north, it had witnessed its fair share of bloodshed and turmoil. But now, under the rule of Baron Oliver, the city seemed to have found a renewed peace.

    In the southern square of the city, merchants sold their wares, children ran between the legs of adults, and elders gathered on wooden benches, exchanging stories and laughter.

    Lucios couldn''t help but wonder about the transformation. What had once been a constant struggle for survival against marauding tribes now seemed like a prosperous center of trade. He paused to talk to some of the commoners, curious to learn more about the city''s newfound tranquility.

    To his surprise, the locals spoke of Baron Oliver with reverence, crediting him with ending the attacks that had plagued the region for generations. According to them, since the baron''s rise to power, the attacks had decreased to the point of disappearing, allowing the city to thrive like never before.

    As Lucios wandered through the bustling streets, he marveled at the sight of merchants offering their goods and commoners doing various jobs. Despite the harsh climate and unforgiving terrain, Mbara¡¯ba seemed to thrive, its people embodying a spirit of resilience and determination.

    Lucios advanced through the streets of Mbara¡¯ba, accompanied by his silent escort. The four men, dressed in leather and iron armor, stayed close to him. Absorbed in his thoughts, Lucios did not notice the vigilant eyes watching his every move. Unbeknownst to him, a lone soldier, dressed in the uniform of the city guard, spotted him from afar.

    The soldier, an experienced veteran with a stern expression, watched L¨²cios with keen interest. As Lucios wandered through the labyrinthine alleys, the soldier kept a discreet distance, his trained eyes never losing sight of his prey. He observed how Lucios paused to examine the richly carved fa?ade of an ancient building, how he lingered near the bustling market, as if absorbing the sights and sounds of the city with rapt attention.

    With each passing moment, the soldier''s curiosity grew, his mind buzzing with questions. As he watched Lucios and his escort, the soldier felt intrigued. Who were these strangers and what brought them to Mbara¡¯ba? He pondered these questions as he followed them from a distance, remaining concealed in the shadows of the narrow streets.

    Finally, when Lucios and his escort reached the northern district of the city, the soldier decided it was time to act. With firm steps, he made his way to the castle, his mind already working to report to the baron about the presence of the outsiders in the city.

    With hurried steps, the soldier entered the imposing gates of the castle, his mind already formulating the report he would present to Baron Oliver. Without hesitation, he approached the knight in charge of the castle''s security, handing him the information he had gathered about the group led by L¨²cios.

    The knight listened attentively to the soldier''s report, his serious eyes assessing each detail meticulously. Recognizing the importance of the information, he invited the soldier to accompany him to the presence of the baron.

    Baron Oliver listened attentively as the soldier reported the recent events in Mbara¡¯ba. When the soldier mentioned a boy who was being escorted, a look of recognition passed over the baron''s face.

    Recalling the letter he had received from Count Tiberios just a week before, in which the noble expressed his intention to send his son to be educated under the care of the baron, Baron Oliver made an immediate connection.

    "Did you see the age of the boy who was being escorted?" the baron asked, his deep voice echoing in the room.

    The soldier nodded. "I managed to get a good look, and from the size, I would say he must be 12 or 13 years old."

    A sense of understanding washed over Baron Oliver. He began to think of Count Tiberios''s sons, trying to match the age description with one of them. Quickly, he came to a conclusion.

    "The only one who fits that description is the count''s second son, Lucam," the baron murmured to himself, pondering the implications of this discovery.

 Shadows Over the Realm part 1

    Count Tiberios, with a fixed and determined gaze, stands at the prow of the boat cutting through the waters of the majestic Xingu River. As they approach the capital, the busiest port in the realm, a bustling hive of activity, where only the rivers converge, begins to take shape on the horizon. This is a port without access to the sea, but its importance is undeniable, serving as the pulsating heart of riverine trade.

    The port is a spectacle of efficiency and organized chaos. Ships of all sizes dock and depart, while workers and merchants move at a frenetic pace. The docks are filled with exotic goods, and the cries of auctioneers mingle with the sounds of ropes and timber. The air is imbued with the smell of fresh fish, wet wood, and spices brought from distant lands.

    As Tiberios''s boat docks, he disembarks with a posture that exudes authority. Accompanied by his escort of ten knights and two servants, he does not allow himself to be distracted by the bustle of the port. His steps are quick and decisive, leading him directly to the inner circle of the city. There, the castle and noble mansions rise like stone sentinels, guardians of history and power.

    Tiberios is here for a purpose: to meet with the other nobles to discuss the new tax policy imposed by the Duke of the South. Although his lands are not in the south, he and many other nobles from the north and west feel the weight of this policy. There is a sense of urgency in their steps, a need to unite forces and find a solution to the challenge that looms over their domains and the kingdom as a whole.

    With broad and firm steps, Count Tiberios crosses the gate that separates the outer city from the inner circle of the city. The guards, recognizing his stature and coat of arms, make way without hesitation. However, the serenity of the moment is broken when a servant, panting and with an anxious look, is stopped by the count''s escort.

    "I have a message from Baron Lester for you, Count Tiberios," says the servant, catching his breath as he is released by the knights. With a discreet bow, he continues, "My master, Baron Lester, sent me to await your arrival. He wishes to speak with you privately before the nobles'' meeting."

    The servant extends a sealed scroll, which Tiberios accepts with an impassive look. After a quick read, he hands the document to one of his servants and responds with authority, "Very well, since my father-in-law desires a private audience, lead me to him."

    The servant, now with permission granted, leads the way. Tiberios follows, with the retinue of knights and servants in his wake, moving through the paved streets toward the noble mansions. The air is thick with the tension of politics and alliances forming and dissolving in the shadows of power. The meeting with Baron Lester is just the prelude to a dance of strategies and influences that will decide the kingdom''s future direction.

    Count Tiberios, guided by unexpected paths, finds himself before the mansion of the Duke of the West. The structure, with its minimalist elegance, stands out from the other buildings with its almost austere simplicity. The clean lines and lack of excessive ornamentation speak of a power that does not need ostentation to assert itself.

    Upon entering the mansion, Tiberios is greeted by a silence that resonates with the same intensity as the unspoken words. He is led through corridors that seem to absorb the sound of his footsteps until he reaches a room where Baron Lester awaits him. With a gesture, Tiberios dismisses his retinue, who withdraws to wait outside the room.

    Baron Lester, a man whose advanced age is betrayed by his white hair and beard, sits with the dignity his position demands. His somewhat robust body is clad in fine fabrics of a deep green, the colors of his noble house. There is a solemnity in his posture, and despite the signs of time, his eyes still retain the shine of a born strategist.

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    Tiberios observes the baron with respect, recognizing in him both the wisdom of the years and the weight of the responsibilities he carries.

    Count Tiberios entered the room with an upright posture and a courteous smile, expecting to exchange the usual pleasantries before delving into more serious matters. However, instead of the kind words that noble etiquette would demand, he found silence. The baron remained motionless, his expression unshaken since the moment the count crossed the threshold of the door. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, heavy as the velvet of the curtains adorning the windows.

    Finally, the baron broke the silence with a hoarse voice, laden with barely contained emotion: "Did you know? Did you know he was going to do this and did not warn me? He sent knights to threaten me in my house in case I refused to obey and pay the new taxes!" The baron''s words, initially controlled, grew in volume, revealing the fury bubbling beneath the surface.

    Despite the accusations and the tension now filling the room, Count Tiberios remained serene. He understood Baron Lester''s anger, his father-in-law. After all, the actions that triggered such a reaction were not trivial; they threatened the stability and honor of his house.

    Tiberios''s story, Count of the House Apurina, is marked by challenges and political cunning. Over a decade ago, with his father''s death in the war on the southern frontier, he found himself in the center of a whirlwind. The house was in disarray, and doubts about his leadership ability whispered through the corridors, fueled by the loyalty of some knights and servants to his younger brothers.

    With the weight of the newly assumed title of count, Tiberios knew that hesitation could be his ruin. He acted quickly and decisively, weaving alliances and strategies to consolidate his power. One of the shrewdest moves was the alliance with Baron Lester, whose lands housed a vital port for maritime trade and whose wealth was known throughout the realm.

    Fate, in its irony, had left Tiberios a widower, his wife deceased in childbirth with their second child. Seeing an opportunity in the tragedy, he proposed a political marriage to Baron Lester''s daughter. This union brought with it a dowry of financial resources that strengthened Tiberios''s position as master of the House Apurina.

    In return, Tiberios opened trade routes for Baron Lester, facilitating traffic along the Xingu River and offering safe routes through lands infested with bandits. Over time, this partnership proved extremely lucrative, and the two lords expanded their agreements to share various resources, further strengthening the ties between the Houses Apurina and Guato.

    The network of informants that Tiberios built over the past decade is one of these resources. After his father''s tragic death in an ambush, the result of erroneous information, Tiberios vowed never to be caught off guard again. He invested heavily in a web of spies that extended even beyond the kingdom''s borders, ensuring that no state secret or movement escaped his knowledge.

    At this critical moment, it was natural for Baron Lester to suspect that Tiberios was aware of the Duke of the South''s plans and, for some obscure reason, chose not to share such information. In normal times, the baron might have ignored such an omission; after all, the years had diminished his interest in the kingdom''s power games. But the current circumstances were anything but normal.

    The new trade taxes imposed by the Duke of the South threatened to devastate the economy of Baron Lester''s territory, which relied heavily on trade for its prosperity. Almost a third of his income was at risk, and the prospect of such loss was enough to awaken even the most disinterested of nobles.

    "Did you know? Did you know he was going to do this and did not warn me?" The accusation from Baron Lester echoed through the walls of the hall.

    The atmosphere of the noble hall, once fraught with tension, is now permeated by a reflective silence. Count Tiberios, with a posture that inspires respect and a voice that carries the authority of his position, assures, "I can guarantee on behalf of my house that I did not receive from any of my informants the news about the movements of the Duke of the South, he certainly kept his intentions very well guarded." His words, firm and sincere, seem to dissipate part of the haze of uncertainty hanging in the air.

    Baron Lester, a veteran of intricate political games, has always had the ability to discern the hidden truth in others'' words. Recognizing the sincerity in the Count''s speech, his hardened demeanor softens, and with a sigh carrying the weight of his experiences, he murmurs in self-questioning, "Since even you were not aware, then perhaps the Duke of the South made this move on a whim, it will be easy to make him backtrack." The hope of a simple solution shines in his eyes for a brief moment.

    However, this spark of hope is quickly overshadowed by Count Tiberios''s next words.

 Shadows Over the Realm part 2

    The Count Tiberios spoke, his face marked by concern. "I deeply regret, my friend," he began, his voice laden with a weight that seemed to echo through the stone walls of the room. "After the proclamation of the new tax policy, I wasted no time and sent my most trusted master spy to uncover how such a scheme eluded us. With our eyes turned to the south, we hoped for swift answers, but what he discovered... is alarming, to say the least."

    He paused, his brown eyes fixed on the baron. Turning slowly to the window, he gazed at the horizon. "The southern duke has summoned his most loyal vassals, claiming that the tax increase is necessary due to the discovery of suspicious movements on the border. Such news spreads fear among his people, fearing an invasion similar to the one that devastated our lands in the last decade." His hand clenched into a fist. "However, my spies assure me that there has been no such activity. I fear this is nothing more than a smokescreen, a prelude to more sinister plans."

    Baron Lester, who had been observing the conversation with growing unease, finally broke the silence. His eyes, normally calm and calculating, now burned with frantic urgency. "Has the duke gone mad?" he exclaimed, rising abruptly, his chair creaking in protest. "As this news spreads through the corridors of nobility, the food stocks we hold will find no buyers. This will soon affect the commoners, who will seek answers to the sudden inflation." He began to pace back and forth, his hands gesturing fervently. "When the people hear rumors of a new invasion, panic will set in, further inflating prices. It will be a devastating blow to the entire kingdom, considering the south is our breadbasket!"

    "Exactly," said Count Tiberios, his voice resonating with a certainty that seemed to emanate from the very horizon he contemplated. "It is my conviction that the southern duke orchestrated this gathering of nobles with meticulous precision."

    Baron Lester, with an expression as if glimpsing a disconcerting truth, leaned forward, the light from the chandelier dancing in his pensive eyes. "If that is the case," he murmured, more to himself than to the count, "then what is the true game of the duke? Is he seeking to position the second prince as a mediator, a hero in the eyes of the people, while he himself lurks in the shadows, manipulating the strings of power?"

    Tiberios turned slowly, his penetrating gaze meeting the baron''s. "No, my old friend," he began, his voice low and firm, "it is not as simple as it seems." He walked over to the map covering the wall, his fingers tracing the lines dividing the kingdom. "Although most nobles remain unaware of the duke''s support for the second prince, the most influential houses have already unraveled the mystery. If the duke attempted such a maneuver, the second prince would never win the favor of the great houses."

    He stepped away from the map, his rigid posture relaxing slightly as he lost himself in thought. "Furthermore," he continued, almost as if speaking to himself, "I cannot imagine the miserly southern duke relinquishing any fraction of his power or influence... All of this to help the second prince gain favor with other noble houses? No, it makes no sense at all."

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    The Baron stared at the Count, whose serene posture contrasted with the urgency of the moment. "What is your plan for the nobles'' meeting?" asked the Baron.

    The Count responded calmly: "First, we must seek the support of the Duke of the West."

    The Baron frowned, his initial unease giving way to palpable distrust. "The Duke of the West is not trustworthy, and you know it," he retorted, but his voice, once filled with agitation, began to soften, as if the Count''s controlled presence influenced him.

    The Count, maintaining his composure, leaned slightly forward. "Despite his faults, he is the only Duke who will be present, aside from the Duke of the South," he explained, his expression remaining unchanged, but his eyes shining with a cold determination.

    The baron was aware of this, after all, the kingdom, divided into four distinct parts, had its most enigmatic territory in the North, as it was not crossed by the arms of the Xingu River, which meandered through the South, West, and Center, facilitating trade and travel, besides of course the cutting cold that characterized its lands, the North was an isolated domain, almost forgotten, connected to the turbulent sea of the East only by two port cities, whose ports were an engineering feat, sheltered by the natural formations that calmed the rough waters.

    The Duke of the North, a man of few words and even fewer appearances, lived far from the disputes and alliances that bubbled in the capital. His indifference to politics was known to all, and his absence was as certain as the ice covering his lands. Even during the invasion from the South, his contribution was minimal, sending only one of his sons accompanied by a contingent of soldiers more savage than disciplined, just enough to avoid being accused of neglect.

    There were no rumors of his arrival, no whispers of his participation in the nobles'' meeting. Yet, the thought intrigued him. It would indeed be a surprise if the Duke of the North left his secluded territory to join them. A surprise that could change the power game within the kingdom. But Baron Lester knew, deep down, that the Duke of the North would remain a shadow in the icy lands, distant from the flames of intrigue in the capital.

    "Yes, only the Duke of the West remains a viable path," murmured the Baron. "If only the king could intervene, all this would be easily resolved," he sighed.

    But the king, imprisoned in his own mind fragmented by the disease that robbed him of memories, had become a shadow of the leader he once was. His sons, sensing the power vacuum left by his growing forgetfulness, began to weave alliances and plot against each other, anticipating the day when the crown would be within reach.

    The Baron, with a determined look, slowly walked to the door of the room, his steps echoing in the silence like the beats of a restless heart. Upon reaching it, he paused for a moment, his heavy hand on the door, as if seeking the support of something solid in the face of the uncertainty that awaited him beyond. With a firm gesture, he opened it and was met with a row of servants and knights from House Apurina and House Lester, attentive, awaiting orders.

    He called one of them, a young servant with a sharp gaze and an erect posture, who approached quickly. "Go immediately to the quarters of the Duke of the West," ordered the Baron with a grave and authoritative voice, "and inform the Duke that I wish to have an audience with him." The servant nodded, understanding the seriousness of the request, and departed without hesitation, disappearing into the dimness of the corridor.

    The Baron watched the servant depart, his thoughts already turning to the preparations for the audience and the words he would exchange with the Duke. He knew that what was at stake was more than a simple conversation; it was the future of his domains and the delicate balance of power among the nobles.

 Shadows Over the Realm part 3

    In the dimness of a dark room, a thin, naked man sits in a meditative position. The atmosphere is enveloped in dense smoke, which twists and dances around him. The smoke seems to have a life of its own, as if it were an ethereal being. It concentrates especially near the man''s body, forming spirals and swirls.

    The man keeps his eyes closed, his expression serene and focused. His skin gleams with an almost iridescent sweat, as if releasing something more than just water. Every drop of sweat seems to carry a vital energy, an essence flowing out of his body.

    As the smoke approaches, it trembles and stirs, as if in tune with the man''s breathing. He inhales deeply, and the smoke seems to merge with him, penetrating his skin, his pores. It''s as if the smoke is seeking something within him, something deep and ancestral.

    The man remains motionless, his spine straight, hands resting on his knees. He seems to be in communion with the universe, absorbing not only the smoke but also the mysteries of the cosmos. Each inhalation is an exchange, a dance between the material and the spiritual.

    As the smoke is absorbed by his body, the man emits a soft, almost inaudible sound. It''s as if he''s whispering ancient secrets to the very air. His eyes remain closed, but his mind seems to be elsewhere, exploring dimensions beyond the reach of common senses.

    And so he continues, in this state of transcendence, in the dark, smoky room. Sweat trickles down his skin, and the smoke dissipates slowly, as if it had fulfilled its mission.

    The silence is broken when a servant gently knocks on the door. The wood creaks, and the meditating man startles slightly, but doesn''t open his eyes. A servant enters with light steps, respectful, as if entering a sanctuary.

    "Master," the servant says in a low voice, "I apologize for interrupting your training." He pauses, waiting for a response. The man merely grumbles, a nearly inaudible sound, but enough to indicate that he''s aware of the servant''s presence.

    The servant proceeds, choosing his words carefully: "You asked to be notified immediately when someone from the royal family made a move." He nods, awaiting the man''s reaction.

    The Duke of the West finally opens his eyes, revealing deep, focused irises. His voice is calm but firm: "Who?"

    The servant swallows hard, feeling the weight of responsibility. "The crown prince, sir. He left the palace tonight, accompanied by a retinue of guards."

    The servant continues, choosing his words carefully: "I also have another piece of news. Late last night, a servant of Baron Lester came to inform that the baron wishes to have an audience with you."

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.The Duke of the West furrows his brow and closes his eyes, his mind momentarily drifting from meditation. His slender body is still, but his mind is active, spinning like meticulous gears.

    Baron Lester, a noble whose lands are intrinsically tied to trade. He would be eager for the outcome of the nobles'' meeting regarding the new taxes in the south, scheduled to happen in a week. The Duke knows the baron wouldn''t come to him if he were alone; he likely already secured the support of nobles who have commercial ties to his house. But that''s still a minor issue.

    The Duke of the West opens his eyes, revealing a sharp gaze. "Send a response message to the baron," he orders. "Tell him I am inviting him to a dinner in my quarters." The servant nods in agreement, ready to fulfill the order.

    But the Duke doesn''t stop there. "I want you to keep an eye on the Crown Prince," he continues. "I wish to know of everyone he comes into contact with in the days leading up to the meeting."

    The servant nods, the responsibility weighing on his shoulders. He withdraws, leaving the Duke of the West once again immersed in smoke and reflections. Sweat trickles down his skin, but his mind is sharp as a blade.

    At the same time, on the other side of the capital city...

    The royal carriage advances majestically through the paved streets of the capital, the rhythmic sound of horse hooves echoing against the facades of residences. Crown Prince Alasdair of the royal house Kaxinawa, a young man with a penetrating gaze and imposing posture, observes attentively the coming and going of citizens, who bow in reverence at his passage. His eyes, however, reflect not only the urban splendor but also the complexity of his thoughts.

    As the carriage rounds the grand central fountain, adorned with statues of ancient kingdom heroes, the crown prince allows himself a brief sigh. His brother, the second prince Eamon, occupies his thoughts, a cunning and ambitious adversary whose political machinations have caused not only a headache but also a palpable threat to his future reign.

    In a moment of introspection, the crown prince ponders the fate of the kingdom and the role his brother plays in these power games. With a distant gaze, he caresses the signet ring bearing the emblem of the royal family, a symbol of his birthright and power. Few in the kingdom could imagine the plans forming in the heir''s mind, plans that involve not only strategies and alliances but also a carefully orchestrated trap. A trap that, if successful, would ensure not only a smooth ascent to the throne but also the stability and prosperity of the kingdom under his rule.

    Snapped out of his reverie by the firm voice of a guard, the crown prince adjusts his posture, preparing to face the reality that awaits him. "We have arrived at Count Murdo''s mansion," the guard announces, his voice cutting through the silence that had settled in the carriage. The prince, with a resolute thought that "finally this matter will be settled," allows a confident smile to bloom on his face.

    As he steps down from the carriage, his eyes immediately catch sight of the count''s mansion. It''s not an imposing structure, but its elegant simplicity speaks volumes about the power and influence that don''t need ostentation to be recognized. Count Murdo, a figure of medium stature and a shrewd gaze, already awaits him, his expression carefully molded into a welcoming one.

    Formalities are exchanged with the precision of a well-rehearsed dance, each word and gesture laden with hidden meanings. The count, with a deference bordering on subservience, leads the prince into his residence.

    As they disappear behind the massive doors of the mansion, the scene fades away, revealing two men of common appearance beside a house near the count''s mansion, dressed in simple servant attire. However, their gazes are anything but ordinary; they watch the prince with an intensity that belies their humble facade.

 Shadows Over the Realm part 4

    "The moon, in its fullness, hovered high in the starry sky of the royal capital. Its silver brightness cast elongated and mysterious shadows over the deserted street, where the two knights, Kristofer and Jakob, awaited. They were leaning against the wall of an old building, their silhouettes almost merging with the darkness. Their simple attire, indistinguishable from that of common servants, camouflaged the true nature of their presence there. They were not mere commoners, but spies in service to the Duke of the West.

    The two men exchanged tense glances, their faces illuminated only by the faint light of the moon. Kristofer, the younger of the two, huffed impatiently. His blue eyes gleamed with frustration. "This is a waste of time," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest. "We shouldn''t be here, waiting like common servants. We are warriors, not servants."

    Jakob, on the other hand, remained calm. His dark eyes were fixed on the entrance of the mansion ahead, observing each movement attentively. "The duke gave us clear orders," he replied, his voice as firm as steel. "We must keep an eye out for any abnormality in the movements of the crown prince. Our loyalty is to the duke, not to our own desires."

    Jakob was a veteran, serving as a spy in the royal capital for the Duke of the West for several years. He knew the streets and alleys of the city like the back of his hand and knew how to blend in with the crowd. Kristofer, on the other hand, was a newcomer. He had started serving as a spy only a few months ago and was still learning the subtleties of the profession.

    Jakob began to suspect when he noticed that the crown prince had been in Count Murdo''s mansion since late afternoon. He knew that the prince, despite displaying cultured and refined behavior, was not very sociable. He rarely mingled with the nobles, even those who supported him since the beginning of the struggle for the throne, like Count Murdo. Therefore, the prince''s delay in the mansion was highly suspicious.

    "Something is going on," Jakob murmured, his eyes narrowing as he watched the mansion.

    From within the mansion, a figure emerged slowly. It was a servant, his face serious and expressionless in the faint light of the moon. He left the mansion with smooth movements and a calm posture, as if he were just going about his daily tasks. However, as soon as he moved away from the mansion and entered the deserted street, his steps quickened. His gaze was fixed ahead, and he seemed determined to reach somewhere quickly.

    Jakob, who was watching closely, noticed the change in the servant''s behavior. He turned to Kristofer, his gaze serious. "That servant is suspicious," he said, discreetly pointing to the figure walking away. "Go after him and find out where he''s headed. I''ll stay here to keep an eye on the crown prince."

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.Kristofer frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the order. "That''s just a common servant," he protested, crossing his arms over his chest. "We have no reason to follow him. We should be focused on the prince, not his servants."

    However, he stopped speaking when he looked at Jakob. Jakob''s gaze was hard and uncompromising, like that of a predator focused on its prey. "Do as I''m telling you," Jakob said, his voice low and threatening. "And go quickly so as not to lose sight of that servant."

    Without another word, Kristofer turned and began to follow the servant, keeping a safe distance to avoid being noticed. Jakob, meanwhile, turned his attention back to the mansion, his vigilant eyes searching for any signs of activity. The night was still young, and he had a mission to fulfill.

    Kristofer, with his heart pounding in his chest, was running to catch up with the servant. However, he soon slowed down when he finally saw the servant walking quickly among the houses and alleys of the capital''s center. The servant, who had initially just been walking briskly, soon began to run, causing Kristofer to curse under his breath. He also started to run, trying his best to keep a safe distance from the servant.

    After a few minutes of chasing the servant, Kristofer, who was getting used to the pace, began to ponder. He wondered why this servant was in such a hurry. What could he be hiding? What could he be trying to protect? In this lapse of attention, Kristofer did not notice that the servant had slowed down the pace of the race. As Kristofer continued to run at the same pace as before, he soon got too close.

    It was at that moment that Kristofer realized he had messed up. He looked at the servant, who was staring at Kristofer with a startled look. The servant, realizing he was being followed, quickly entered an alley and started running much faster than before.

    Kristofer, realizing his mistake, cursed again. He increased his speed, determined not to lose sight of the fleeing servant. He knew he had made a mistake, but he wasn''t willing to let it ruin his mission.

    Kristofer hesitated for only a brief moment before initiating the chase after the fleeing servant. His feet pounded on the stone-paved street, echoing through the narrow alleys of the capital. As he pursued the servant, Kristofer couldn''t help but think of Jakob. He could almost hear Jakob''s severe reprimand echoing in his head for messing up this time. However, Kristofer soon calmed himself, thinking it wouldn''t be too big a problem if this servant saw him. He just needed to come up with a convincing excuse for why he was chasing the servant.

    As he ran, Kristofer began to plan his next steps. He would capture this servant, steal whatever money he had on him, and then let him go. That way, the servant would think Kristofer was just a common thief after some easy money. It was a simple but effective plan.

    However, that plan soon had to be altered when Kristofer realized he couldn''t catch up to the running servant. To his surprise, the servant was managing to distance himself. This was impressive, considering Kristofer had reached the second level of the Path, the stage of metamorphosis, a year ago. This gave him a stronger body than any common servant or warrior, which was why he had obtained this position as a spy.

    Then, suddenly, Kristofer lost sight of the servant in a dark alley. He approached the alley, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of the servant. When he couldn''t find the servant, Kristofer began to curse, his frustration evident. However, he quickly interrupted his swearing when his senses, sharpened by his Path energy, told him he was in danger. A shiver ran down his spine, causing him to stop in his tracks.

 Shadows Over the Realm part 5

    As soon as Kristofer felt the chill down his spine, he heard the sound of rapid footsteps behind him. His instincts screamed at him to move, and so Kristofer jumped to the side just as he heard the sound of something cutting through the air in a deadly hiss.

    When Kristofer looked to the side, where he had just been standing, he now saw the servant he had been chasing. He could barely comprehend why the servant, whom he had deemed so insignificant, was giving him such a sense of danger.

    But soon Kristofer discovered why. The servant didn''t stop after the failed surprise attack because as soon as he missed his strike, he lunged again at Kristofer with a dagger in hand, the same weapon that must have made the hissing sound as it cut through the air.

    Despite being surprised, Kristofer didn''t panic. After all, despite being young, he had been trained in a special regiment of the duke''s army since he was fifteen years old, which was why he had reached the stage of metamorphosis at such a young age.

    Kristofer, with his muscles tense and ready for action, assumed a defensive stance. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he prepared for the imminent attack. The servant, with a dagger in hand, advanced toward him. The strike was quick and precise, aiming directly at Kristofer''s neck. But Kristofer, with his sharp reflexes, made a subtle body movement, narrowly avoiding the blade of the dagger.

    Next, Kristofer retaliated. With a quick and powerful movement, he punched the servant in the face. The impact was strong, and the servant fell to the ground, looking disoriented. Kristofer could hear the sound of cracks as his fist hit the servant''s face. He believed the sound to be the servant''s jaw breaking. After all, he had used the energy of the path in his punch, a force that few could withstand without suffering serious damage.

    Seeing the servant lying on the ground, Kristofer relaxed his posture. He thought the fight was over. However, to his surprise, the servant got up as if the punch had no effect at all. Without wasting time, the servant launched a quick upward attack, making a large cut on Kristofer''s chest. If Kristofer hadn''t stepped back at the last second, that blow could have killed him.

    The sharp pain in his chest made Kristofer recoil. He could feel the warm blood flowing from his chest, staining his clothes. Frightened, he took a few steps back, trying to put some distance between himself and the servant. He thought to himself that he could have died there, in some alley, at the hands of an unnamed servant.

    Kristofer, with his heart still pounding in his chest, looked at the servant who was kneeling on the ground. The servant''s face was covered in blood, and he was spitting out some teeth, a clear sign of the impact of the punch Kristofer had delivered. In the servant''s hand, a blood-stained dagger gleamed in the dim light of the alley. It was the same dagger that had nearly taken Kristofer''s life.

    As Kristofer calmed down from the initial shock of the dagger blow, his astonishment turned into anger. He studied the servant who had almost killed him, trying to understand how he had underestimated his opponent so much. The anger he felt fueled his murderous intent, but he knew he needed to keep calm. He had been well trained and knew he couldn''t blindly rush against an armed opponent.

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    The servant, in turn, also got up and began to analyze Kristofer. However, unlike Kristofer, who maintained a fierce expression, the servant seemed clearly frightened. His wide eyes eagerly scanned the surroundings, searching for an escape route.

    Kristofer noticed the signs of fear in the servant, which only fueled his anger even more. However, he knew he needed to suppress his anger as much as possible while waiting for an opportunity to attack. He didn''t have to wait long. The servant, who seemed increasingly desperate, assumed a position that gave the impression he was about to advance and attack. However, suddenly, he made an abrupt turn with his body and began to run.

    Kristofer, who was already prepared for this, manipulated his energy of the path through his body to his legs. In an explosion of energy, he ran after the servant at an impressive speed. In a matter of seconds, he closed the distance between him and the servant. With a quick movement, he threw himself onto the servant, grabbing him firmly to prevent his escape.

    With a quick and desperate movement, Kristofer and the servant fell to the ground, grappling in a fierce fight. Kristofer, with his heavy breathing and his heart pounding, cursed something about the servant''s mother under his breath. He was furious, but also focused. The servant, on the other hand, was clearly in a panic. He tried to wriggle free from Kristofer, but without success. Kristofer had a more muscular physique and was using the energy of the path stored in his heart without any restraint.

    In an act of desperation, the servant tried to use the dagger to stab Kristofer, who was on top of him. However, Kristofer, who was in an advantageous position, grabbed the arm with the dagger and twisted it forcefully. The sound that followed was terrible, a loud snap that echoed through the alley. It was soon followed by the servant''s desperate scream, who began to cry out for help.

    However, his screams were quickly drowned out by Kristofer''s punches. Each blow was like a hammer, repeatedly striking the servant''s face. When Kristofer finally stopped hearing the servant''s screams, he stopped punching. He stood up, panting, and looked at the result of his fury. The servant was dead, his face unrecognizable.

    It was at that moment that Kristofer began to hear some voices in the distance. He frowned, trying to identify where they were coming from. He thought they might be guards, probably attracted by the servant''s cries in his final moments. He knew he needed to get out of there quickly, before he was discovered.

    With not much time to calmly think about the situation, Kristofer remembered the order Jakob had given him. He was supposed to follow the servant and discover his destination. Now, with the servant dead, that would be impossible. In a burst of inspiration, he began to search the dead servant''s body for any information that could mitigate the failure he had committed.

    He searched the servant''s body, his hands trembling as he looked for something, anything, that could be useful. And, to his surprise, he found some things. The first thing that caught his attention was a small leather pouch. It looked ordinary, but when Kristofer opened the pouch, he was left speechless. Inside the pouch were not copper or silver coins, but gold coins. He had never seen so much wealth in his life. The coins shimmered in the dim light of the alley, almost seeming magical.

    Taken aback from his awe by the voices that were getting closer, he continued searching the body quickly. He knew he didn''t have much time. And then, he found something else noteworthy. It was a letter, sealed with wax with a noble crest. Kristofer recognized the crest  immediately. It belonged to one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, the Duke of the South. He felt a shiver down his spine at the sight of the crest.

    Realizing that these items could be the key to sparing him from punishment, Kristofer stood up. He carefully stowed the pouch of coins and the letter in his pocket and began to run. He needed to get out of there before the guards arrived. He ran, his footsteps echoing through the dark alleys until he disappeared completely into the darkness.

 Shadows Over the Realm part 6

    The atmosphere in the mansion of the Duke of the West was dense, laden with tension, as if thunder was about to unleash its fury. The ancient stone walls absorbed the angry murmurs echoing through the corridors, illuminated only by flickering candles. In one of these rooms, two men faced each other in a heated argument.

    Kristofer, the knight with dark eyes, was breathing heavily, his hands clenched into fists. His cloth garments were stained with dirt and blood, silent witnesses to his recent battle. He was known to prefer action over words, but in front of Jakob, his words were now his only weapons.

    Jakob, on the other hand, sported a sharp expression and penetrating eyes. His tangled hair and simple, though clean, attire suggested a hurried journey. He pointed an accusing finger at Kristofer, his voice cutting like a blade: "You wretch! You''re a damned sloven, Kristofer!" Jakob spat the words out as if each syllable were a personal blow. "You nearly botched the mission! Nearly served us up on a platter to the enemy!" His voice resonated with a threatening tone, sparking with intense anger.

    Kristofer gritted his teeth, feeling the heat of anger rising up his spine. He knew Jakob was right. The mission was simple: pursue the suspected servant and uncover his whereabouts. But the servant was no ordinary target; he was cunning and swift as a fox, and Kristofer had underestimated his prey.

    "I did what I could," Kristofer retorted, his voice hoarse. "The servant was smarter than I anticipated. He spotted me, and we fought. I had no choice."

    Jakob laughed bitterly. "Choice? There''s always a choice, Kristofer. You chose poorly, and now the servant is dead. And what will happen when the Duke finds out? You nearly botched everything!"

    Kristofer felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He looked at Jakob, seeing the ill will in his colleague''s eyes. It was as if Jakob was waiting for his downfall.

    Jakob raised his chin, his face consumed by fury. "You''d better find a way to fix this, Kristofer. Because if you don''t, it''ll be your head that rolls. I don''t intend to be dragged into the abyss with you." His voice carried a palpable threat.

    The air in the room seemed to freeze as the door swung open, revealing an old, thin man whom everyone knew as Darren, the Duke''s loyal personal servant. His eyes, deep and weathered by decades of service, surveyed the scene with an intensity that made the two knights shrink. Kristofer and Jakob, once at odds, now quieted like scolded children.

    Darren closed the door behind him, the hinges creaking like a silent warning. He made his way to the lone chair in the corner of the room, his hunched figure radiating an aura of menace, as if he were a predator lying in wait. He sat with the dignity of one who had witnessed decades of change and turmoil, his posture conveying a sense of relentless power and an inherent capacity for destruction.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation."Kristofer, Jakob," Darren said, his voice as soft as the whisper of wind through autumn leaves. "Explain to me what happened."

    Kristofer felt his heart hammering in his chest. He knew there was no escape. Darren was more than a servant; he was a guardian of the Duke''s secrets. Every word that came out of his mouth would be weighed, measured, judged.

    Jakob, on the other hand, seemed at ease. He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Kristofer. "I sent Kristofer to follow a suspected servant who left Count Murdo''s house, a simple mission, but during the pursuit, he was noticed by the servant he was following. They fought, and the servant ended up dead. The body was left in the middle of the street and found by the guard."

    Jakob''s words were like daggers, each syllable sharp as a blade. Kristofer felt sweat break out on his forehead. He needed to explain, to justify, but the words seemed to elude him.

    Jakob continued, "Shortly after Kristofer returned to his post and explained what happened to me, I noticed some commotion at Count Murdo''s mansion; it was the city guards who must have gone to report the servant''s corpse. I decided we shouldn''t linger there, as the guard..."

    Darren interrupted him with the same soft tone of voice. "I am well aware of the guards'' extravagant movements this dawn." Darren studied Kristofer with a gaze that pierced the soul and then spoke. "This servant must have been important to the prince; Count Murdo doesn''t have the power to influence the guard to such an extent." He paused briefly and continued, "Did you manage to glean any information from the servant before killing him?"

    Kristofer, still nervous, replied that he hadn''t been able to extract any information from the servant. "I... I couldn''t do anything," he began, his wavering voice betraying his anxiety. "As soon as he saw me, everything happened so fast... I didn''t have time to interrogate him. He resisted and... and the fight began."

    He paused, feeling Jakob''s disapproving gaze weighing on him. A chill ran down his spine as he braced himself for the reprimand to come.

    But before Jakob could speak, Kristofer continued, his words tumbling out quickly in a desperate attempt to explain his situation.

    "But still, I managed to grab some items from the servant''s corpse!" he exclaimed, his hands trembling as he produced the objects. "I found these... these..." He retrieved the sealed letter and the small leather pouch that tinkled with the sound of coins.

    Darren, with a smooth movement, took the small leather pouch containing shimmering gold coins. He inspected the contents with a keen eye, but his expression remained unchanged, except for a slight comment: "Interesting...". However, upon picking up the sealed wax letter, his calm gaze quickly turned into a sharp, penetrating expression. He then redirected his attention to Kristofer and asked with a firm voice, "Did you find anything else on the servant''s body?"

    The environment around them seemed to vibrate with invisible energy. Darren remained motionless, like a statue, but the aura around him was anything but static. It was a pulsating force, a living energy that seemed to move and dance around him, as if he had become the epicenter of a hurricane of pure energy, and Kristofer found himself right in the eye of the storm.

    Kristofer could feel the pressure of Darren''s aura. It was an overwhelming force weighing on him, making him break out in a cold sweat. He could feel the sweat trickling down his forehead, his hands trembling slightly. He tried to maintain composure, but the feeling of inferiority was overwhelming.

    He took a step back, lowering his head, recoiling slightly under the pressure of Darren''s aura. He could feel fear creeping into his heart, but he refused to let it dominate him. He tried to speak, but his body wouldn''t obey.

    Darren''s aura was like a blazing sun, bright and overpowering. His own, in comparison, was like a weak candle, struggling to stay lit in the presence of the sun.

    However, just as his instinct saved him in his last fight during the servant''s stealthy attack, somehow Kristofer felt he must manipulate his body''s energy to speak. With great difficulty, he managed to say, "No, my lord, that was all I found. I swear it on my life."

    When he finally finished speaking those few words, the aura that had been pressing so hard ceased. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. When he finally raised his head, he saw Darren looking pensive, the letter already open in his hand. Looking to the side, Kristofer also saw Jakob, who was at the back of the room with wide eyes and sweating profusely. It was then that he heard Darren''s voice.

    "You''ve done well, especially you, Kristofer," Darren said with the same calm tone as before, as if nothing had happened. "Rest, you''re dismissed," he said as he walked out of the room.

 Shadows Over the Realm part 7

    In the Dining Hall of the Duke of the West:

    "... It was on a cold and foggy morning, when dew still covered the grass, that I spotted the boars. They were hiding among the bushes, their eyes shining with wild fear. I prepared myself, feeling the familiar weight of the bow in my hands and the tension of the string against my fingers. As I released, the arrow sliced through the air like lightning, hitting the boar''s chest. However, it wasn''t a fatal blow. Startled and wounded, the boar fled, disappearing into the dense forest. I then spurred my horse, the sound of hooves pounding the ground filling the silence. I chased after the boar, following its trail of blood until I found it. But it wasn''t me who delivered the final blow. Your father was there, next to the dead boar, with an arrow piercing his skull. He just laughed at me, saying I was too slow," Baron Lester spoke, his voice laden with joy and nostalgia.

    "I hated hunting with your father because he always came out victorious, but at the same time, I miss those times," Baron Lester continued, now with a despondent expression. "He was a great man."

    The Duke of the West, ever serious, then said, "Yes, the war was brutal for all of us. I remember your son also died in the Siege, along with my father."

    Baron Lester, remembering his deceased eldest son, lowered his head and took a sip of his wine as he looked at the sunlight streaming through the window and said, "Yes, but let''s not spoil the mood of this beautiful morning by talking about sad things. I heard that the duchess has given birth to a healthy baby boy. I must congratulate you on your third child."

    The Duke nodded, acknowledging the compliment with a slight nod of his head. "I appreciate your words, Baron. My son is indeed a blessing to my house."

    However, Baron Lester''s demeanor changed slightly, and he sighed before continuing. "Meanwhile, my own son has yet to give me any grandchildren to carry on our lineage. It''s a concern that weighs heavily on my heart."

    The Duke then spoke, "despite your son''s little success in this area, I heard he has had much success in others. For example, trade. Even in my territory in the far west, the fabrics traded by your house are famous. It''s a testament to your skill and acumen."

    The baron then, with renewed enthusiasm, spoke, "Trade with the Kingdom of the Tykuasy Islands in the east has always been difficult because they were self-sufficient. However, my son managed to find an item they desired. Since then, trade has become much easier. The fabric they produce there is of the highest quality. It sells like a miraculous elixir in times of plague."

    Curious about the mysterious item that facilitated trade between the Kingdom of the Tykuasy Islands and House Lester, the Duke of the West thought about asking. But quickly changed his mind. This item should be kept a secret like a manuscript of the path.

    Realizing that Baron was on the verge of starting another of his nostalgic narratives, the Duke interrupts, "Please, could you tell me what motivated you to summon this meeting?"

    A brief silence follows. Baron Lester, who had been postponing the main subject, finally speaks up, "As Your Grace must be aware, many of the nobles are being harmed by the policies recently implemented by the Duke of the South. After a concise meeting among the nobles of the southern merchant core, we decided to appeal to the royal family. So invitations were sent for the Nobles'' meeting. I imagine you have received the letter. However, as House Anhanga is distant and not greatly affected by the new taxes, we did not expect Your Grace to attend personally."

    The Baron, with a shrewd look, leans towards the Duke and asks, "Your Grace, the nobles'' meeting is approaching. Could you give us an idea of your intentions for this meeting? How does House Anhanga view the current situation?"

    The Duke, with a friendly smile, responds, "Baron Lester, I understand the difficulties the nobles you represent are facing due to the policies of the Duke of the South. I am willing to help, but as you must understand, every help comes with a price. I am willing to negotiate terms that are mutually beneficial."

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    The Baron, a veteran of decades in politics, quickly realizes that the Duke is fully aware of the desperate situation of the faction he represents, not as calm as he tried to make it seem. He knows that the Duke will ask a high price for his help. Determined to take the reins of the negotiation, the Baron steps forward.

    "Your Grace," the Baron begins, "our faction from the south has much to offer. We are willing to provide cereals and raw materials to your territory at half the market price. Furthermore, we can guarantee manufactured goods at three-quarters of the usual price. I believe this is a fair and mutually beneficial offer."

    The Duke, with a radiant smile, replies, "While cereals are not as abundant in our territory as in the south, we are not lacking in raw materials. We have always had abundance in the west. The only offer that truly tempts me is the manufactured goods that the south trades. However, a 25% discount is insufficient for the help I am willing to offer."

    A brief silence follows, broken by the Baron: "So, Your Grace, what would be a fair price for your help?"

    The Duke expands his smile and replies, "Despite the resources of the west, we have always been limited in the matter of alchemist masters. Whenever we need more complex potions, we have to rely on the alchemist masters from the south." He pauses briefly, watching the Baron''s face darken. "A fair price," the Duke continues, "would be for one of the alchemist masters from the south to travel to the west to train some of our own alchemists."

    The Baron, clearly irritated, retorts, "That price is exorbitant! Even if I agreed, the other nobles of the southern merchant alliance would never accept. What you are asking for is absurd!"

    The Duke''s smile disappears, replaced by a serious expression. He responds firmly, "If they want my help to face the Duke of the South, they will have to offer something of real value to me."

    The Baron squirms in his chair, a clearly visible internal struggle on his face. He looks at the Duke, his eyes sparkling with determination, and speaks through gritted teeth, "I... I will try to convince the other nobles to pay this price. But I cannot guarantee anything."

    The Duke, in turn, smiles again, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. He inclines his head towards the Baron and says, "With the veteran Baron Lester leading this negotiation, I am sure the other nobles will understand the importance of this agreement."

    The Duke seemed like he was going to continue speaking, perhaps to add another condition or to clarify a point, but he is interrupted when the massive wooden doors of the dining hall open with a bang. An old, hunched man enters the room, his presence immediately drawing the attention of the two men. The conversation between the Baron and the Duke is abruptly halted.

    The old servant, Darren, who had entered the room, takes a few steps towards his master, the Duke. With a calm voice, he speaks, "I apologize for interrupting Your Grace, but I have important news."

    These words are followed by silence. The Duke, with an expectant expression, waits for his old personal servant to continue and reveal what the news is. However, after a brief silence, the Duke realizes that Darren believes this news should not be known to the Baron. So, with an almost imperceptible movement, the Duke makes a small gesture with his hand for Darren to approach.

    Recognizing the signal, Darren, with the Duke''s permission, approaches. He leans towards the Duke''s side and whispers something in his ear with a very soft voice. Meanwhile, the air around them mysteriously ripples briefly.

    The Baron, noticing the movements of the Duke''s personal servant and unable to hear what he was whispering to the Duke, asks, "Is there a problem?"

    The Duke, who unconsciously already had an extremely serious face because of his servant''s words, suddenly remembers his guest, the Baron, when he hears his words. He then gradually returns to showing a calm expression and says, "A problem has arisen in my territory. I will have to return there and cannot attend the nobles'' meeting."

    The Baron stands up and, agitatedly, asks, "Are you really leaving the capital at such a critical moment? What about the agreement we just made?"

    The Duke then replies, "The problem that has arisen in my territory requires my personal attention. As for the agreement, we were just negotiating the terms and haven''t finalized anything yet."

    Despite the Baron''s displeased face, the Duke continues to speak. "I will have to bid farewell to your pleasant company, Baron," he says, already moving towards the exit of the room. "However, I can leave one of my knights to represent me in my absence at the nobles'' meeting."

    He pauses, looking back over his shoulder. "I know that my representative''s words will not carry as much weight as my personal presence at the meeting," he admits. "But I believe it would still be a help that you would be interested in."

    With that, the Duke leaves the room, leaving the Baron with his thoughts. "And as for the terms of a new agreement," the Duke adds, "you can discuss that with my personal servant, Darren."

    The room falls silent as the doors close behind the Duke. The Baron is left alone with Darren, the Duke''s personal servant, and the prospect of a new agreement to be negotiated.

 Shadows over the Realm final part

    A tired-eyed man sits in a leather chair, gazing fixedly at the dancing flames of the fireplace, their reflections flickering across his weary countenance. He sighs deeply, his thoughts immersed in a web of intertwined concerns surrounding the imminent gathering of nobles. An oppressive weight rests upon his chest, a sense of apprehension weaving an intricate tapestry in his mind from which he cannot escape.

    Firstly, the absence of some of the Southern Merchant Union nobles in the preparations casts a shadow of uncertainty over the horizon. He had counted on their presence to bolster his position, but now their absence creates a power vacuum, a gap of uncertainty that he finds himself compelled to confront. Questions echo in his mind, ''Have they received the message? Have they chosen to ignore it?''

    Secondly, reports of peculiar behavior by the city guard, seemingly on orders from the crown prince, stir a whirlwind of unease. What could the heir be planning? Is he attempting to seize control of the situation, or is there a dark game unfolding behind the scenes?

    And, most worrisome of all, the Duke of the West, who was supposed to be his staunchest supporter at the meeting, mysteriously decided at the last minute not to attend. This was a harsh blow, this unexpected turn casting a shadow of doubt over his chances of success. He wondered why the duke had changed his mind, what could have led to this sudden decision. What hidden forces could be at play, plotting against his interests?

    Lost in his thoughts, the man is suddenly roused by a hoarse and familiar voice. The voice belongs to his father-in-law, Baron Lester. "Tiberios¡­ Tiberios¡­" the baron calls, his voice restrained yet laden with urgency.

    Count Tiberios, still somewhat dazed, lifts his head to meet the baron''s gaze, filled with an intensity rarely seen. "Is it resolved?" Tiberios inquires, his voice tinged with restrained tension.

    The baron does not respond verbally. Instead, he simply looks to the center of the room. Tiberios follows the baron''s gaze and sees several men in the center of the room. Most of them are older men, corpulent, with white hair. They are engaged in vigorous discussion, their voices rising and falling in an almost musical rhythm.

    The men are clustered around a large wooden table, upon which are spread various scrolls and maps. They gesture with their hands, point to the documents, and occasionally pound the table to emphasize a point. The discussion is heated, almost hostile.

    One of the men, a gray-haired marquess with a robust physique, rises abruptly. He shouts, his voice echoing through the room, "It would be absurd to agree to such a high price for a mere representative of the Duke of the West!" Tiberios immediately recognizes the man. It is Marquess Attila Tu¡¯Arua, the most powerful noble of the Southern Merchant Alliance. His territory, situated nearly at the kingdom''s center and bathed by two of the main branches of the Xingu River, is one of the most productive in the entire kingdom.

    As the echo of Marquess Attila''s shout still resonates in the room, another voice rises. It is not a shout but a cold, lifeless voice, almost devoid of emotion. "I also believe that the price demanded by the Duke of the West for the help of his representative at the meeting is not worth it," says the voice. "The Southern Merchant Union already has more than enough power to sway the Royal Counselor''s opinion in favor of the union."

    Tiberios turns to see the owner of the voice. It is Klaus Jurandir, a corpulent baron with a gaze sharp as a knife. Unlike most present in the room, Klaus has a decadent physique. Though young, he is by far the fattest man among all the nobles present, yet everyone feels a sense of unease when listening to his lifeless voice, making everyone in the room uncomfortable. His territory lies on the peninsula on the kingdom''s east coast, meaning that most of his wealth comes from trade by sea and the Xingu River''s branches. This explains his aversion, as well as Marquess Attila''s, to the agreement with the Duke of the West, as they stood to lose the most in this deal.

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    The other nobles in the room, indignant at the two nobles'' opposing response, begin shouting in disagreement. The room fills with loud and heated voices, each noble trying to make their opinion heard above the noise.

    Tired of this needlessly long discussion, Tiberios rises. His voice cuts through the noise like a sharp blade. "The agreement is already sealed," he declares. His words are followed by a sudden silence. All eyes turn to him, and for a moment, the only sound that can be heard is the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

    Then, the silence is broken by a cry of indignation. It is Marquess Attila. "Have you sealed an agreement with the Duke of the West without consulting us? With what authority did you seal this agreement, COUNT?" he asks, his voice echoing through the room. His cry is followed by an impressive release of aura from the path, a wave of energy that spreads through the room and causes great discomfort to most of the nobles who were unprepared for this development.

    But Count Tiberios does not falter for a second under the pressure of the marquess''s aura. He remains standing, his gaze firm and unwavering. He knew that the marquess, in his fit of rage, would surely disregard the nobility''s rules of conduct and resort to intimidation. But Tiberios was prepared.

    Amidst the chaos of the room, Count Tiberios rises, a pillar of steady serenity against the storm of Marquess Attila''s indignation. His gaze sweeps the room, finding a mosaic of expressions, some enraged, others surprised. With a voice that, though calm, carries the undeniable weight of his authority, he responds:

    "My esteemed colleagues, I understand deeply your concern. However, we must face reality with open eyes. The Southern Merchant Union, despite being an alliance of considerable power and undeniable influence, currently finds itself in a disadvantaged position to face the colossal challenge before us."

    His eyes then fix on the map spread out on the table, where the noble territories that should have been present at the meeting are clearly visible but notably absent. "Observe," the count continues, pointing to the empty spaces on the map, "our allies, those whose support we counted on in this crucial meeting, have not shown up. Without their presence, our union significantly loses its bargaining power."

    Addressing the crux of the issue that awaited them, he adds, "And as for the Duke of the South, our main adversary at this table, we must not underestimate his cunning. He did not raise taxes on a whim; he surely has a meticulously crafted plan to garner favor with the Royal Counselor."

    After a brief moment of reflection, Tiberios proceeds: "Faced with these challenges, it was necessary to ensure the solidity of the agreement with the Duke of the West, even if it meant a high price, even if it was only for the representative. We need every advantage possible to face the Duke of the South and win the favor of the Royal Counselor."

    As Tiberios, with his upright posture and penetrating gaze, lays out his arguments with unwavering eloquence, a shadow of discontentment falls upon Marquess Attila''s face. It is evident in every line of his expression, in every furrow of his furrowed brow, and in the tightness of his lips.

    Before he could articulate any objection, a voice echoed in the room, interrupting him at the height of his indignation. It was the deep and authoritative voice of Baron Lester. His voice, like distant thunder agreeing with Count Tiberios, echoed through the hall with an undeniable presence, silencing the murmurs and drawing all eyes.

    The impact of his words was immediate and profound. One by one, other voices joined his, forming a symphony of agreement that echoed among the nobles present. They were voices linked to the Guato and Apurina houses, each adding their weight to Baron Lester''s argument, like stones being added to a scale.

    However, the final blow came from where it was least expected. Baron Klaus, hitherto an ally of Marquess Attila, broke his silence with a surprising turn. His voice, characteristically devoid of emotion, echoed in the room, but this time with a different tone. He agreed with Count Tiberios, admitting that since the agreement was sealed, it was futile to continue the discussion.

    He then rose, his tall and imposing figure casting a long shadow in the room. Before leaving, he glanced at Count Tiberios and spoke with a seriousness that made the air in the room heavier "I only hope you are right." The Baron Klaus''s somber and threatening tone resonated in everyone''s minds, even without the manifestation of a path aura like the Marquess had done moments before.

    The impact of this change in position was like a silent yet overwhelming wave. Attila suddenly felt isolated, his resistance weakening in the face of the convergence of opposing opinions. And so, with the discussion ended by Baron Klaus''s departure, the room fell silent. The political showdown between the nobles of the Southern Merchant Union came to an abrupt end.

 I accept the challenge

    North of the kingdom, City of Mbara¡¯ba, territory of the Kamaiura house:

    Lucius sat in front of an old wooden table in his modest yet comfortable room. The soft candlelight danced on the stone walls as he wrote a letter to his father, Tiberios. Carefully penned, the letter spoke of his adjustment to the two weeks since his arrival in Mbara¡¯ba. He mentioned how the fresh northern air differed from that in Kaapurina, and how the commoners were friendly, albeit somewhat reserved.

    Initially, the baron had mistaken him for his older brother, Lucam, leading to some comical misunderstandings. Lucius smiled at the memory, his quill dancing on the paper as he wrote. But suddenly, he was interrupted by firm knocks on the wooden door of his room.

    As he rose and opened the door, a tired-faced servant greeted him. The servant, well bundled and wearing the crimson livery of the baron''s house, informed him that the young lady wished to practice fencing with him. The servant''s comment was followed by a look of displeasure from Lucius. He was growing weary of the constant training sessions with the baron''s daughter, a young woman of fierce determination.

    After bowing his head and remaining silent for a few moments, Lucius spoke with a soft yet firm voice, stating that he only needed a few moments and would soon meet Miss Lilian. He closed the door with a sigh, returned to the table, and tucked away the unfinished letter in a drawer.

    He grabbed the thick woolen cloak hanging on the coat rack, feeling the rough fabric against his skin. With one last glance around the room, he exited, closing the door behind him, to face yet another of the baron''s daughter''s training sessions.

    Lucius walked slowly through the castle''s stone corridors. The sound of his footsteps echoed off the walls as he passed several servants busy with their daily tasks and soldiers in their leather armor.

    After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the back part of the castle, where the training field lay. The field was bustling with activity, with various people practicing archery at targets while other men sparred with wooden swords, their faces sweaty and focused.

    On the side of the field, a short-haired girl in boy''s clothing awaited impatiently. She was accompanied by a stout, bearded man, whose eyes twinkled with amusement. When the man saw Lucius, a wide smile spread across his face, and he spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, "Young noble Lucius, did you sleep well?"

    But before Lucius could respond, the girl impatiently interrupted, "Enough of this chatter, let''s get started." The comment was followed by a loud chuckle from the bearded man, who replied with a nod, "Alright, my lovely fighter."

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.As Lucius tried to recall the first day when he arrived in Mbara¡¯ba two weeks ago, the only thing that came to his mind was this girl. He had just arrived at the imposing castle of the city, his heart pounding in his chest, as he presented the document proving his noble lineage from the Apurina house.

    After confirming his identity, he bid farewell to Sir Damian, who had led his escort. With a final wave to the rest of his fellow travelers, Lucius entered the castle, guided by a servant of the baron, a middle-aged man with a friendly face, to his new quarters. The room was small but cozy, with a window overlooking the castle''s inner courtyard.

    Lucius barely had time to familiarize himself with his new surroundings when he was surprised by a slender figure he initially mistook for a boy. However, as the figure began to speak, the soft, melodious voice revealed that it was, in fact, a girl. Lucius''s surprise was palpable, but it also piqued his curiosity.

    She had approached him with fierce determination in her eyes and challenged him, "I challenge you, Lucam. Even though you are from the Apurina house, you are sorely mistaken if you think you can just come here and I will immediately agree to marry you just because daddy told me to. I will only marry a man who is stronger than me!"

    Confused by the girl''s shouts and intensity, Lucius had replied calmly, "My name is not Lucam." This was followed by a look of confusion from the girl, who, with a tone of embarrassment and a flushed face, apologized and ran off, leaving Lucius even more puzzled.

    However, it didn''t take long for her to return, dragging the stout, bearded man who was her uncle, Otis Kamaiura, the baron Oliver''s brother. The girl then spoke excitedly, "Uncle Otis, he''s here, but he said he''s not the Count''s son who arrived." Otis then looked at Lucius and saw his clothes in shades of blue that were uncommon in the north, chuckled, and said to the girl, "Okay, okay, my lovely fighter, if this isn¡¯t the boy, I''ll find him for you."

    Otis approached Lucius. He looked at the young man with a piercing gaze and asked in a grave tone, "Tell me, boy, is your name Lucam Apurina?" Surprised by the question, Lucius quickly replied, "No, Lucam is my older brother."

    With a nod of understanding, Otis continued, "So you are the son that Count Tiberios said in the letter would come?" Lucius confirmed with a nod, preparing to recite the long introduction monologue he had prepared in advance. However, before he could begin, Miss Lilian interrupted.

    She spoke presumptuously, "So you really are the count''s son. You must have thought you could use the name confusion as a means to escape my challenge like a coward. However, you are sorely mistaken if you think I''ll let it slide. Come on, accept my challenge."

    Lucius was stunned, taken aback by the girl''s audacity. He barely knew her and yet she was already labeling him a coward. Otis, seeing the look of surprise and confusion on Lucius''s face, whispered to him, "Young noble, I know this may be very sudden, but I know my niece well enough to assert that she won''t change her mind. It''s better for you to accept the challenge and get it over with."

    Finally beginning to understand what was happening, Lucius agreed. He spoke with a firm yet hesitant voice, "In that case, I accept the challenge." The scene then shifts back to the present, where he faced Miss Lilian once again in another challenge.

    Lucius had lost count of how many challenges of hers he had accepted in the past two weeks, but the outcome never changed. Lilian, with fierce determination in her eyes, entered the training area with a wooden sword in hand. She spoke confidently, "This time will be different," a comment met by Lucius with a smile as he stepped into the small arena wielding a wooden sword as well.

 Tenacity

    Otis''s voice rises as he speaks, "Alright, you know the rules, the winner is whoever gives up or gets thrown out of the arena. Hahaha, are you ready?"

    With a determined look, Lucios raises his wooden sword. "I''m ready," he declares, echoing the words he uttered in Lilian''s previous challenges. Already positioned in the arena, Lilian says nothing. She initiates the attack as Lucios''s words reverberate through the space.

    Lilian is the first to act, moving with a grace and speed that only come with much practice. She delivers three quick and precise strikes. Despite his inexperience with the sword, Lucios manages to block. The force of the impact makes him step back, but he stands firm.

    Realizing that Lilian was about to attack again, Lucios tries to respond with a light blow to break her posture. However, Lilian takes a small step to the side and easily avoids the strike, continuing to press Lucios with two more quick but connected strikes at a tricky angle that almost causes the sword to slip from Lucios''s hand.

    Lilian, realizing she didn''t disarm her opponent, follows through with a wide vertical strike, causing Lucios to comically dodge with a half-roll that looks more like a stumble.

    Barely having time to rise, Lucios is pressed again by Lilian with some quick strikes. This is her fighting style: several weak blows connected at nearly impossible angles to dodge. She is the first person Lucios has met with such a peculiar fighting style.

    During his years in Kapurina, Lucios had some fencing teachers, all excellent knights with vast experience. Many used similar fencing techniques, but there were still some different styles. But there was one thing that never changed, the frequency of his teachers'' strikes was always low, mainly using heavy blows that made Lucios''s arms numb, followed by one or two quick strikes to feint or test the posture.

    Lucios is awakened from his brief lapse of attention by two more diagonal strikes that push him a few more steps back, bringing him to the edge of the arena.

    Feeling cornered and with nowhere else to retreat, with Lilian rapidly advancing to close the distance between them, Lucios finally decides not to hold back anymore. He allows the energy of the path, stored in his heart, to begin flowing through his veins, rising until it reaches his eyes.

    The transformation is remarkable. The world around Lucios seems to have slowed down, every movement of Lilian''s is now clear and distinct. He can see the wooden blade of his sword cutting through the air, can feel the change in air pressure as it approaches. He can even see the drops of sweat trickling down Lilian''s face, each one shining like a tiny jewel in the sunlight.

    Now, in his line of sight, Lilian, who once seemed extremely fast, begins to slow down. When she finally approaches him, her strikes, which were once extremely difficult to keep up with, become slow and entirely predictable, as if by magic.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.When Lilian finally reaches the necessary range to unleash her strikes, Lucios acts first, raising his sword to meet Lilian''s before her strike is complete. Seeing her blow interrupted, Lilian tries again with another quick strike, which is also intercepted by Lucios before it even gains speed.

    Realizing she''s losing the initiative, Lilian decides to double down and make a riskier move, getting even closer as she thrusts with her sword. However, Lucios doesn''t block the attack, nor does he make a counter-attack to buy time. For the first time since the beginning of the fight, Lucios dodges her strike while grabbing her arm holding the sword.

    The change in the fight''s dynamics is palpable. Lucios, who had been on the defensive until then, now takes control. Not only does he dodge Lilian''s strike, but he also manages to grab her arm, interrupting the flow of her attacks. The expression on Lilian''s face changes from confidence to surprise.

    Lilian, with her arm caught, struggles to break free. However, Lucios, despite being two years younger, is stronger than her and doesn''t let go. When Lucios is about to say something, he stops, realizing Lilian hasn''t given up yet. A punch comes towards his face, which he narrowly avoids by turning his head to the side.

    Angry, Lucios turns Lilian around and grabs her other arm. Due to her resistance, both end up kneeling on the ground. Then, Lucios finally speaks as Lilian squirms trying to escape. "Give up, you can''t win this fight anymore. Victory is mine again," he declares.

    However, in an unexpected development for Lucios, Lilian suddenly throws her head back, headbutting Lucios in the face. This causes a burning pain, making him loosen his grip, allowing Lilian to break free.

    Finally free, Lilian quickly turns around and, seeing that Lucios, with his hand on his face in pain, wouldn''t be able to react, prepares to attack. However, she realizes that at some point while being restrained, she lost her sword. Knowing she doesn''t have much time, she doesn''t even get up from the ground. Instead, she grabs one of Lucios''s arms and puts one of her feet on his stomach to serve as leverage, then throws him away.

    Lucios, with his hand on his face, can barely react as he''s thrown to the ground. However, he quickly gets up. When he looks at the hand he had on his face, it''s covered in blood. It was then that he realized the scar on his lip must have opened from the impact of the headbutt, causing so much pain.

    When he looks ahead, he sees only Lilian looking at him with a smile on her face. Finally piecing together the events, Lucios begins to grow very angry. Following his will, the energy of the path in his heart, which was previously only flowing to his eyes, begins to flow throughout his body through his veins, resulting in a huge expenditure of energy.

    Lucios still didn''t have full control over his energy in the metamorphosis stage and most of his energy, once it started flowing through his body, would be dispersed and wasted before even enhancing his abilities. However, he would endure long enough to teach that girl a lesson.

    However, he only needed to take one step before his illusions were interrupted by a bearded man who stepped in front of him. The man was Otis, who spoke with a deep voice: "You lost, kid." It was only then that Lucios noticed that when he was thrown away after the headbutt, he fell out of the arena.

    While listening to Lilian''s celebratory remarks and still being stared at by her sharp-eyed uncle, Lucios finally begins to calm down. His energy returns confined to his heart while his face continues to bleed. Otis then comments, "Ignore my niece, she''s only this happy because she''s been so frustrated losing to you so many times these past two weeks. Here, take this and put it on your face." He then hands Lucios a piece of cloth and says, "Come with me, I''ll take you to the castle''s alchemist, he must have something good for that cut," hesitating a bit Lucios puts the cloth on his face covering the cut and follows Otis out of the castle training grounds.

 frustration

    Lucios, with the scar on his lip still open, follows Otis out of the training field. Every step he takes is accompanied by a slight pain from the cut, a constant reminder of the fight he just endured. The cloth Otis gave him to staunch the bleeding is now soaked, a tangible symbol of the battle lost to Liliam. Lucios grips the cloth tightly, as if squeezing it might somehow lessen the pain.

    Recalling the confrontation, the anger he felt upon seeing his own blood trickling down his face was immediate and visceral, an instinctive reaction to the pain. However, as he walks alongside Otis, the fury that consumed him in the training field begins to dissipate, replaced by deep reflection.

    Lucios can''t help but replay the scene in his mind, analyzing every detail with a critical eye. He thinks about his technique, Liliam''s movements, and the mistakes he made. The initial anger gives way to more calculated thoughts.

    Lucios remembers his tumultuous childhood, marked by constant teasing and fights with his older brothers. They always found a way to irritate him, whether through cruel jokes or heated disputes. When he sought justice from his mother, she invariably reacted with loud outbursts that attracted the attention of the whole house. This only made his father''s ire fall upon everyone, including Lucios, even when he was the victim. The punishments, though unjust, taught him to control his emotions and be colder in his reactions. The need to avoid unfair punishments led him to develop a patience that would stay with him forever.

    This careful demeanor was intensified by the near-death experience he had the previous month when he encountered a starving wolf. The ensuing fight was brutal. Lucios used all his skills to survive, barely escaping with his life, but not without physical and mental scars. This encounter made clear to him the fragility of life and the necessity of being vigilant and strategic in all situations. The memory of the wolf''s wild eyes, the searing pain of his injuries, and the exhaustion he felt after the battle are vivid reminders that reinforce his caution every day.

    Additionally, the current context demanded even more prudence. Lucios was in Baron Oliver''s territory, far from the protection and familiarity of his own land and family. Here, he needed to be doubly careful with his actions and words. Every movement was observed, every decision potentially scrutinized. The politics and power dynamics in the Baron''s territory were still unknown, and Lucios knew that a misstep could have serious consequences. He could not afford to act impulsively or let himself be carried away by anger.

    These memories and experiences combined to shape Lucios into someone more restrained and thoughtful. He learned the importance of staying calm in difficult situations, to carefully evaluate every move before acting. His outburst of anger in the fight against Liliam was, therefore, a disturbing anomaly for him. Reflecting on the episode, Lucios realizes how much it could have compromised his mission. He needs to constantly remember why he was sent there by his father: to facilitate an alliance that would favor the Apurina house, not to engage in unnecessary conflicts. The need for self-control and focus has never been more crucial.

    Lucios wonders what would have happened if Otis hadn''t intervened. He looks at Otis, the younger brother of Baron Oliver. Despite having similar appearances, almost like reflections of each other, their personalities could not be more different. Where Baron Oliver is austere and reserved, Otis is the epitome of joy and sociability.

    Always with a smile on his face, Otis has a disarming way that puts everyone around him at ease. He moves with an almost carefree lightness, spreading a human warmth that contrasts with the Baron''s strategic coldness. With every step, Otis finds someone to greet, and each greeting is received with genuine enthusiasm. He not only waves or murmurs quick words of courtesy, but he also stops, asks questions, laughs at small jokes, and is sincerely interested in the answers. This authentic connection with the people around him makes him beloved and respected, not just for his title, but for who he is.

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    Lucios observes how the castle workers interrupt their tasks to greet Otis. Their faces, initially tired or focused, light up upon seeing him. It¡¯s as if Otis''s mere presence is a welcome relief in the daily routine. He reciprocates each greeting with warm comments and an attentive gaze.

    Lucios admires this quality in Otis, recognizing that, in many ways, it is a strength as powerful as any combat skill.

    Noticing Lucios''s distant and absorbed look, Otis slows his pace until he stops completely. He observes the young man with a curious expression. Lucios is clearly lost in thought, his gaze fixed on an invisible point, entirely oblivious to the world around him.

    Otis understands that, despite his noble lineage, a defeat like that can weigh heavily on a boy''s mind. Otis tilts his head and leans forward slightly, trying to make more direct eye contact. He gives a small smile and speaks in a soft, friendly voice, breaking the silence, ¡°You seem distracted. Still thinking about the fight?¡±

    Lucios, abruptly awakened from his thoughts by Otis''s words, blinks several times as reality slowly reconnects to his consciousness. He feels a slight blush rise to his face, a mix of discomfort and embarrassment upon realizing that his distraction was evident enough to be noticed. For a few seconds, he remains silent, trying to organize his thoughts that still float between reflection and the memory of the fight.

    Finally, he takes a deep breath and responds, his voice hesitant: ¡°Yes... At that moment at the end of the fight, I didn''t realize I had stepped out of the arena. It wasn''t my intention to ignore the rules of combat when I tried to return.¡± He averts his gaze for a moment, uneasy with the vulnerability exposed, before gathering the courage to face Otis again.

    Otis then laughs, his voice reverberating with warm joy. ¡°So you''re worried about that? Come on, relax, kid. Everyone has moments of anger when they lose control, especially someone like you, who is still learning to master your own energy.¡±

    Hearing Otis''s words, Lucios''s face turns even redder. He stammers, trying to hide his embarrassment: ¡°Was it that obvious?¡±

    Otis smiles broadly, his eyes shining with a mix of understanding and humor. ¡°Was it obvious?¡± He says in an amused tone. ¡°Lucios, in the middle of the fight, when you started using your energy to enhance your eyes, it was still fine. You were only releasing half of your energy outside your body. But when you tried to enhance your entire body,¡± Otis lets out another laugh, ¡°it looked like you were wasting your energy, as if it didn''t matter.¡±

    He pauses, his expression becoming more serious and reflective, demonstrating his deep knowledge and experience. ¡°The truth is, if I hadn''t interrupted your advance and allowed the fight to continue, you would hardly have beaten my niece, especially if she had adopted a defensive stance.¡±

    Lowering his head in shame, Lucios murmurs: ¡°I know I''m not ready to fight using the advantage of the metamorphosis stage. But no matter how much I try, I can''t gain the upper hand against her if I only keep my energy in my vital core when I fight with Miss Liliam.¡± He pauses, his frustration evident as he struggles to find the right words. After a few moments of silence, he finally admits something he was reluctant to reveal. ¡°The truth is, I would have lost all her challenges if I hadn''t already reached the metamorphosis stage. No matter how much I try, I can''t get used to her fighting style.¡±

    Lucios feels a lump in his throat as he continues. "The way she handles the sword is... exceptional. Every move she makes is precise, every thrust calculated. It feels like she''s always three steps ahead, anticipating my actions before I even decide them. Her fencing technique is not just proficient; it¡¯s almost like a dance, a fluidity that disarms and leaves me breathless."

    He looks at his own hands, feeling the weight of inadequacy. "It was Liliam''s superior skill that forced me to resort to the metamorphosis stage. Every time I tried to fight with my energy contained in the vital core, she simply outclassed me. It was like fighting a shadow, something intangible and unattainable. There was no room for mistakes, and I made many."

    Lucios takes a deep breath, trying to control the wave of emotions threatening to overflow. "I had to use metamorphosis to try to level the battlefield, to at least keep up with her speed and precision. But even then, it felt like I was just reacting, never in control. Her fighting style forces me to be at my best, and yet, I always feel like I''m behind, always one step behind." He then raises his eyes to Otis, hoping to find an explanation, and asks, ¡°She doesn''t seem much older than me... how did she attain such mastery?¡±

 Exceeding expectations

    Otis looked at Lucios with a profound gaze. He hadn''t imagined the boy to be so frustrated. When he saw Lucios was distracted, he merely thought the boy was sad for losing to Liliam for the first time. It never crossed Otis''s mind that Lucios felt inferior in fencing compared to his niece.

    Otis''s surprise was particularly significant because he believed Lucios, having already reached the metamorphosis stage, a feat Liliam hadn''t yet achieved, would have unshakable confidence in his abilities. Lucios had won previous duels against Liliam precisely because of this advantage; in Otis''s view, it should have been enough to keep the boy''s spirits high.

    The expression of frustration and self-deprecation on Lucios''s face was something Otis hadn''t expected to see, especially considering the remarkable progress the young man had already demonstrated. To Otis, it was almost inconceivable that someone with Lucios''s achievements would feel so affected by a single setback.

    Otis looked at Lucios before him. "Don''t underestimate yourself so much," he said, his voice full of sincerity. "Your fencing technique is good, very good indeed. It''s the result of countless hours of practice and dedication, I bet. You should be proud of that."

    He paused, his eyes turning to the path they had come from, as he thought of Liliam. "However, Liliam is... different," Otis continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. He looked up as if trying to reach a distant memory. "She''s always been like this, since..."

    Otis sighed, a frustrated expression passing over his face. "Since her mother died in Anette''s childbirth... well," he sighed again, this time more deeply, "Liliam began to mirror only her father. It led her to develop an obsession with duels."

    He continued, "Her swordsmanship didn''t come easy. She worked hard for it, training day after day, year after year. But there''s also a stubbornness in her that worries me. She''s headstrong, sometimes too much so."

    Otis chuckled, as if trying to lighten the mood. "You know, almost every soldier in the castle has been challenged by her at some point," he said, a playful gleam in his eyes.

    Lucios listened calmly to the first part of what Otis said, as he had received a great deal of detailed information about Baron Oliver, his family, and his territory before coming. He knew that the baron''s wife had died in the childbirth of their third daughter, six years ago.

    Upon arrival, Lucios found Liliam''s appearance strange. She looked much like a boy in almost everything: short hair, practical and masculine clothes, a determined way of walking, and fearless behavior nothing like the young noblewomen he had known. What really set her apart was her feminine voice, a striking contrast amidst her masculine appearance.

    However, Lucios quickly connected these observations with the information he had received, especially the explanation that after her mother''s death, Liliam began to mirror only her father.

    But when Lucios heard the last part of Otis''s account, he was taken aback. In his homeland, Kaapurina, he never shied away from fencing training, dedicating himself with great effort and diligence. Compared to books on grammar, rhetoric, and arithmetic, fencing practice was almost a relief for him, a welcome break where he could truly feel alive and focused. Fencing was not just a duty but a passion that consumed him and motivated him to constantly improve.

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    Although he often dueled with soldiers during these trainings under the guidance of his teacher, Lucios only spontaneously challenged his brothers. He felt these duels were more balanced, as his brothers, being only a few years older, offered a fair and motivating challenge. This made these disputes even more stimulating and meaningful for him, providing a battlefield where he could test his skills on equal terms.

    The revelation that Liliam challenged practically every soldier in the castle was a genuine surprise to Lucios. He was impressed to realize the intensity and fierce determination his opponent possessed. Previously, Liliam was just a nuisance to him on his mission, always challenging him to new duels and refusing to accept her own weakness. However, this new understanding not only brought a new degree of respect for her but also made him reflect on his own motivations.

    Otis paused, assessing Lucios''s reaction, before continuing. "You have no idea the headache your arrival brought to my brother and me," Otis observed Lucios''s surprised look and said, "When your father sent the letter proposing an alliance between our houses, we were surprised. The idea of an alliance was unexpected enough, but the mention of a marriage proposal caught us completely off guard. And when he stated that he would send his most talented son to demonstrate his sincerity and commitment, my brother simply couldn''t believe it."

    Otis continued: "Despite House Kamaiura being a newly born noble house, situated on unfavorable ground, my niece received numerous marriage proposals. Most of them came from knights'' sons, but we also received proposals from some northern noble houses. They were always for their younger sons, but still, there were many."

    Otis chuckled before continuing. "Liliam turned them all down. She always said she would only marry someone as strong as her father. To her, he is the standard of strength and virtue. My brother, on the other hand, believes in the importance of being firm but also can''t force her into anything. So, he doesn''t pressure her to accept any of the many marriage proposals we''ve received."

    Otis paused, recalling some of the proposals. "Of the boys sent by families to try to win my niece''s favor, all were challenged by her to a duel. They accepted, confident, but all changed their minds after being miserably defeated by Liliam. She faced them with the same determination and skill she admires in her father, and none of them could prove themselves worthy in her eyes."

    Otis looked directly at Lucios and, with an energetic tone, said, "But then you arrived. Since I received the letter, I was already expecting your arrival, anticipating that you would show skills well above average." He laughed a bit and continued, with an intensity in his eyes suggesting a mixture of admiration and envy. "I always thought if there was any boy her age capable of defeating her in a duel, it would be the prodigies trained by the great noble houses with their secret and mysterious techniques. Those young men are true living legends, molded from an early age for excellence, something that has always fascinated me and, I must admit, caused me some envy."

    Lucios felt a mixture of nervousness and shock growing within him with Otis''s words.

    Taking a brief pause and adopting a deep look, Otis concluded: "Two weeks ago, when Liliam came to me, radiant, saying that another boy had arrived to take a beating, I knew things were about to change. She was absolutely confident, as always, certain she would defeat another boy who dared to challenge her. Her joy in facing yet another opponent she considered unworthy showed how much she underestimated anyone who appeared. But with you, Lucios, I felt it would be different, and you surpassed my expectations."

 Prodigious talent

    Otis continued to fix his eyes on Lucios, as if he were in front of an exotic and fascinating creature, something he had never encountered before. His gaze was piercing, a mix of intense curiosity and critical evaluation, almost as if he were trying to decipher every secret Lucios might hold. The intensity of this gaze was palpable, charged with an energy that made Lucios feel examined on a personal level.

    Lucios, for his part, felt the discomfort grow with every second that gaze stayed on him. It was like being under a spotlight, unable to hide or protect himself. He began to shift his feet, trying to mask his discomfort, looking down at the floor and feeling his face heat up under Otis''s attention. The tension was almost tangible, and he had to resist the impulse to step back or make any gesture that might seem rude.

    Realizing the effect his gaze was causing, Otis finally looked away, giving Lucios a brief respite. When he looked back at the boy, the previous intensity had vanished, replaced by a gentler expression. His voice, now more restrained and without the initial animation, sounded calm and measured:

    "I usually don''t watch all of Liliam''s duels with her suitors," he explained, emphasizing that it wasn''t a matter of total disinterest but of selectivity. "There are many, and I prefer to reserve my time for other matters. However, when you arrived, I was genuinely eager to see how you would fare in my niece''s usual test."

    "When the duel began, I was curious to see in what you would excel," Otis continued, his eyes shining with the enthusiasm of a true connoisseur. "I wondered if your specialty would be in technique, speed, and agility, like Liliam. These skills are fundamental for a swordsman who prefers quick and precise movements, capable of attacking and defending with a fluidity that is hard to follow."

    "Or perhaps," he mused, "you might excel in strength and physical endurance. These are qualities that transform a swordsman into a veritable wall in combat. Maybe you were the type to use more flexible strategies, capable of reading the battlefield like a book, identifying the opponent''s weaknesses and adapting your tactics in real-time, minimizing losses while exploiting the adversary''s mistakes. A true game where every move is calculated to ensure victory."

    "Imagine my surprise when I discovered that your style is... common," Otis admitted, his tone carrying a slight disappointment, quickly replaced by a sympathetic smile as he continued. "However, upon reflection, it''s to be expected. You must have focused most of your time on perfecting your achievement in path development. Your fighting style may be common now, but that''s understandable, considering where you concentrated your efforts."

    "I didn''t expect you to have reached the metamorphosis stage so young. Although I have heard stories of people who achieved such a feat at your age, they are still very rare cases. Metamorphosis is a level of mastery that many only reach after years of arduous training and discipline. Seeing someone as young as you reach this stage is truly extraordinary. It not only demonstrates your innate talent but also a dedication and determination that are rare to find."

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    Lucios, still surprised, began to understand why Otis had analyzed him so intensely a few moments ago. Otis believed he had reached the metamorphosis stage purposefully, as a result of some kind of rigorous and methodical training. The intensity of Otis''s gaze now made sense; he was trying to decipher the path Lucios had taken to achieve such a level of mastery at such a young age. To Otis, metamorphosis was a grand feat that required meticulous planning and almost obsessive dedication, something not everyone could achieve.

    What a surprise it would be for Otis to discover that Lucios had advanced to the metamorphosis stage in a completely unplanned way, in a life-or-death battle? Instead of a methodical and intentional journey, Lucios''s transformation had been triggered by a desperate need to survive in the heat of battle, with death looming over him.

    Understanding what Otis thought of him, Lucios decided not to reveal the truth. Otis''s perception that he had reached the metamorphosis stage through deliberate and disciplined training and not through sheer luck created an aura of genius around him.

    Considering his task of forging an alliance with House Kamaiura, Lucios recognized the value of this new perception. Baron Oliver was known to respect exceptional strength and skill. If they believed Lucios was a prodigy, achieving extraordinary feats at such a young age through pure mastery and determination, they would be more inclined to see him as a valuable and reliable ally.

    Understanding Otis''s expectation, Lucios decided to maintain the illusion. "The metamorphosis stage was an early goal of mine," he said, maintaining a tone of humility. "I spent years training rigorously, studying every move, every technique. It was a difficult but rewarding path."

    Otis seemed satisfied with the response, but realizing from Lucios''s answer that continuing might seem rude, he soon changed the subject, turning his attention to something more practical. "Let''s talk about something more immediate. You saw the fencing technique used by Liliam. I''m sure it caught your attention."

    Lucios nodded, taking advantage of the change in focus. "Yes, I was very interested. I have never met anyone who fought that way in my family''s territory in Kaapurina. It''s a unique and fascinating technique."

    Otis smiled slightly, as if appreciating Lucios''s enthusiasm. "It''s not surprising. The technique Liliam uses is not native to here, but from a southern kingdom. It''s a form of fencing that combines agility and precision, a style that few master completely."

    "It''s truly impressive," Lucios admitted. "The way she moves, the fluidity and speed of her attacks, is something I would like to learn."

    Otis raised an eyebrow, a glint of interest in his eyes. "Would you be interested in learning this technique, Lucios?"

    Lucios met Otis''s gaze, his mind already evaluating where Otis was going with this question. "Yes, very much. I believe mastering this technique could make me an even more complete warrior by compensating for my current weakness."

    Otis leaned slightly forward, his tone becoming more serious despite the smile on his face. "If that''s what you want, I can arrange for Liliam to train you. However, it will be a rigorous challenge. I bet she will accept nothing less than perfection."

    "I am ready to face the challenge," Lucios replied with determination. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to learn and improve."

    Otis nodded, satisfied with the answer. "Very well, I will make it happen."

 Unwanted Betrothal

    Liliam ran through the castle, her excitement evident in each quick step. Her smile was radiant, and her eyes shone with excitement. She passed through various corridors, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The soldiers and servants she encountered greeted her respectfully, accustomed to the young woman''s contagious energy.

    "Good morning, Miss Liliam!" some said, while others asked, "Why the rush, miss?"

    "Today is a great day!" she exclaimed in response, not slowing her pace.

    In a wide corridor, Liliam almost collided with a group of maids carrying large baskets of laundry. "Excuse us, Miss Liliam!" they said, laughing at the girl''s haste. Liliam nimbly jumped aside, avoiding the maids and the baskets, and waved in thanks.

    Further on, a young servant emerged from a side room carrying some tools. Seeing her approaching rapidly, he stepped back, pressing himself against the wall to make way. "Careful, miss!" he said, concerned, but Liliam just smiled and waved.

    At the entrance of one of the castle''s halls, a group of soldiers were conversing animatedly. When they noticed Liliam''s presence, they stopped talking and quickly lined up, saluting. "Good morning, Miss Liliam!" they greeted in unison.

    "Good morning!" Liliam replied, eyes sparkling. "I can''t stop, I''m in a hurry!" And she passed by them like a whirlwind.

    Ascending a spiral staircase, in a moment of distraction, Liliam hurriedly turned a corner and bumped into a servant carrying a bundle of neatly folded clothes, scattering everything on the floor. The servant, a round-faced young man with a startled expression, looked at the mess in dismay. "I''m sorry, Miss Liliam!" he said, bending down to pick up the clothes.

    Liliam hesitated for a second, her eyes showing indecision, but soon determination propelled her forward again. "Sorry!" she said, continuing her run. The servant sighed as he watched her leave.

    Finally arriving at her destination, she stopped in front of a simple wooden door, her heart pounding with anticipation. Her breath was quick not just from the effort of running but from the excitement of telling her father she had finally won a duel against Lucius, the trickster. She imagined the proud look on his face, the approval in his eyes. Without hesitation, she forcefully opened the door, entering the office. "I did it, I did it! I said I would do it, Daddy!" she shouted, the excitement clear and loud in her voice. However, it was a young girl''s voice that responded.

    The baron''s office was spacious and practically organized. There was a shelf with a few books and a stand with some decorative weapons on the wall. A sturdy wooden desk dominated the center, with a large chair behind it, where a little girl was sitting, swinging her feet in the air, and a much smaller chair in front.

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    "So you managed to defeat your future husband, hahaha, impressive."

    Liliam turned to find her younger sister, Celine, sitting in the chair that was too big for her. Celine was an incredibly smart girl for her age, with a mischievous smile that revealed her delight in teasing her older sister.

    "Celine, why are you here?" asked Liliam, more out of habit than true curiosity. Celine always liked to spend time there, imitating their father''s authority when he wasn''t around.

    Looking around the familiar office, Liliam noticed her father''s absence. Before Celine could answer, Liliam automatically asked, "Where is Daddy?" But suddenly, Celine''s words registered in Liliam''s mind. She frowned and, in a furious tone, exclaimed, "Wait, what did you say?! Who is my future husband?"

    Celine smiled even more, clearly pleased with the reaction she had provoked. "I heard Daddy talking to Uncle Otis about an arranged marriage. It seems you and Lucius are destined for each other," she said, in a sing-song voice that showed how much fun she was having.

    Liliam felt her face heat up with anger. "The trickster?! My future husband?! That will never happen!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms and stomping her foot on the floor. The very idea was intolerable. How could her father even consider such a thing? Liliam grew even more furious when she turned her attention back to Celine''s smile.

    Liliam ran around the desk to grab her sister, but Celine, already expecting this reaction, jumped out of the chair and quickly slid under the desk. The little girl''s laughter filled the office as she escaped, agile as a cat. "It''s your fault, sister!" shouted Celine, her tone full of amusement. "You told Daddy you would only marry someone who could defeat you in a duel. Uncle Otis was saying that Lucius has the necessary qualifications to be a worthy suitor! That''s why Daddy agreed to send a messenger to Count Tiberios to formalize some kind of arrangement and engagement between you two."

    Liliam continued to chase Celine around the desk, dodging chairs and obstacles with the agility of a hunter. "What?!" exclaimed Liliam, her voice rising in surprise and frustration. "You heard Daddy say he''s already decided to accept the trickster''s marriage proposal?"

    Celine escaped again, this time climbing onto the bookshelf and jumping to the other side of the room. She smiled even more satisfied and, sticking out her tongue, ran out of the office, her laughter echoing down the corridor.

    Liliam stopped, breathless and perplexed, her gaze fixed on the door through which her sister had disappeared. "It can''t be," she murmured to herself, her mind racing with the new information. Had her father already decided on the marriage? She remembered clearly the first times she dueled with Lucius. She had lost the first duels but was determined to improve. Until now, her father had not mentioned anything about the arrangement, and Liliam had begun to believe he wouldn''t use it to force her.

    "What is my father thinking?" Liliam wondered, feeling frustration and confusion growing inside her. Although she knew her father always considered what was best for her, Liliam couldn''t accept the idea of being forced to marry someone she considered a trickster. She recalled the times Lucius used dirty tricks in their duels, turning the tide and gaining the advantage. How could her father think he was a worthy suitor?

    Frustration gave way to anger, and Liliam left her father''s office even faster than she had arrived. Her footsteps echoed down the corridor, heavier and more determined. As she ran, her mind raced with thoughts. "How could he do this to me? I can''t let this happen!" she repeated to herself.

    She needed to find her father immediately. Celine''s words echoed in her mind, increasing her determination. "I will never marry the trickster, never!" she thought as she descended the stairs with a speed that surprised even the guards.

 Pirarovy

    A man who seemed to have just reached his thirties was sitting by the edge of a stream. Despite the apparent youth of his face, there was something in his gaze that betrayed an old soul, marked by years of experiences and adversities. His eyes, a deep dark, conveyed a wisdom and sadness that only someone who had lived long and suffered much could possess. His calm demeanor and erect, firm posture were not merely a matter of training, but also of a character forged in adversity.

    He had a well-groomed beard, carefully trimmed to maintain a clean and orderly appearance. His hair was short, almost shaved, revealing a scalp that showed signs of a few scars. Well-proportioned sideburns framed a strong face with defined features, which could easily intimidate those who did not know him. Despite the thick clothes and fur cape he wore due to the northern cold, it was evident that he possessed an impressive physique. The muscles of his arms and chest, visible even under the layers of fabric, indicated considerable brute strength.

    Next to him were a few horses, all young and robust, with shiny coats reflecting the care and good nutrition they received. Their alert eyes and constantly moving ears showed they were well-trained animals, ready to respond to their riders'' slightest command.

    A few steps away, another ten men accompanied the seated man. By their faces, they appeared very young, perhaps just into their twenties. They were completely wrapped in heavy cloaks, trying to protect themselves from the cold. Judging by their expressions and posture, they showed clear signs of discomfort and fatigue, indicating that the journey was particularly difficult for them, perhaps due to inexperience or the severity of the weather conditions. Some were rubbing their hands to warm them, while others stomped on the ground, trying to keep the blood circulating in their feet. The cold wind blowing from the north seemed to penetrate their clothes, and their faces were flushed with the intense cold. Their low conversations revealed a mixture of nervousness and excitement, typical of young soldiers still getting used to the rigors of military life.

    The seated man watched the stream in front of him, which flowed vigorously over smooth, rounded stones. The crystalline water ran with a constant force, creating gentle whirlpools and small ripples on the surface. To an unobservant onlooker, the current might seem dangerous, but to those accustomed to the place, it was merely a reminder of the dynamic and untamed life of the north. The icy water reflected the cloudy sky, giving the stream a silvery appearance.

    In the midst of this current, he spotted a bluish fish swimming gracefully. This fish was large, about half a meter long, with scales that shone in the dim sunlight, reflecting a deep blue mixed with touches of green. Its wide and powerful tail moved elegantly, cutting through the water effortlessly. The fins were long and thin, almost translucent, giving the fish an ethereal and majestic appearance. Its eyes, large and dark, seemed alert and watchful, always moving, observing the surrounding environment.

    This fish was a Pirarovy, a species that lived in Lake Ykaray, known and appreciated throughout the kingdom. Shortly after, other fish of the same species, but smaller, appeared, following the larger one with almost perfect synchronicity. The Pirarovy liked to swim together when migrating, forming cohesive schools that moved as a single entity. They glided through the stream, staying close to each other, as if dancing an ancient and well-rehearsed choreography.

    The Pirarovy were highly prized throughout the kingdom, not only for their tender and tasty meat but also for their beauty and grace. Watching them swim together was a hypnotizing spectacle, a reminder of the abundance and natural beauty that the north could offer, even on its coldest and most difficult days.

    It was the seventh month of the year when the summer heat began to slowly penetrate the perennial cold of the north. At this time, the accumulated snow in the mountains began to melt, feeding the rivers and streams with fresh water and stronger currents. It was during this period that the Pirarovy began their annual migration out of Lake Ykaray. This lake was a sanctuary of calm and deep waters, ideal for the survival of the Pirarovy during the colder months.

    Following the current, the Pirarovy began their journey along the Akua River. The river snaked through valleys and mountains, crossing dense forests and arid plains. Along the way, various streams and tributaries fed the river, creating a complex network of aquatic paths that the Pirarovy used for their migration. They swam through half the northern kingdom, passing through villages and cities eagerly awaiting their arrival, as fishing for Pirarovy was a vital source of food and income for many.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.The Pirarovy''s journey did not end at the kingdom''s borders. They continued swimming, crossing beyond known lands, venturing into the wild regions of the barbarian territories. The goal of their long journey was to find cooler waters where they could thrive during the hot summer months.

    The Pirarovy would only return to Lake Ykaray at the beginning of the next year, at the end of the ninth month, when the weather began to cool again. As autumn advanced, temperatures dropped, and the first snows began to cover the mountains. This natural signal marked the start of the Pirarovy''s return journey. They retraced the same path, but now swimming against the current of the Akua River.

    During this return trip, the Pirarovy again passed through the same villages and cities, bringing with them the promise of a new fishing season.

    Shifting his gaze from the group of fish and looking further ahead, the man saw a group of people by the stream, on some rocks. They were casting nets into the water in an attempt to catch the valuable Pirarovy. The fishermen formed a heterogeneous group, composed of individuals of various ages. There were teenagers, whose young and anxious faces reflected the inexperience and excitement of their first fishing season, alongside gray-haired men, whose time-marked skin and calloused hands told stories of decades dedicated to fishing. The older men guided the younger ones, their voices firm yet patient, creating a symphony of commands and lessons about the art of fishing.

    The people of the northwest kingdom depended heavily on the Akua River for survival, especially during the Pirarovy migration seasons. Unlike the northeast, where fertile lands allowed for abundant harvests, the northwest was a region of poorer soil and harsher climate. Agriculture there was limited and often insufficient to sustain the population. Thus, the Akua River became the main source of food and income.

    During the Pirarovy migration months, the Akua River transformed into a vital hub of economic activity. The fishermen worked hard to catch as many of these fish as possible, highly valued throughout the kingdom for their tender and tasty meat. The abundant catches allowed not only to feed local families but also to create a surplus that could be traded. Baskets of fish filled quickly, and the sight of nearly full baskets beside the fishermen indicated they were having a good fishing day.

    The trade of fish with other parts of the kingdom brought a crucial injection of wealth to the northwest. Merchants from distant lands traveled there to trade, exchanging food, fabrics, and other necessary goods for shipments of Pirarovy. This trade not only ensured the subsistence of families for the rest of the year but also allowed the region to connect with the rest of the kingdom, participating in a larger economic network.

    That is why the first and seventh months of the year were the happiest for the people here. During these periods, the frantic activity on the banks of the Akua River was a sign of imminent prosperity. The Pirarovy fishing brought renewed hope and a sense of security to the community. The sight of fish in the baskets, shining in the sun, was a symbol of luck and abundance. Thus, the northern people''s dependence on the Akua River, especially during the Pirarovy migration seasons, was a fundamental part of their life and identity.

    Still distracted by the scene, the seated man heard footsteps behind him. The sound was almost imperceptible, a light pressure on dry leaves and branches scattered on the forest floor. The careful and measured steps clearly belonged to someone accustomed to moving silently, an unmistakable sign of an experienced hunter. The seated man''s eyes suddenly sharpened, reflecting a sense of authority and making it clear he was no simple man. Even absorbed in his thoughts, he was the first to notice the approach, while the ten soldiers accompanying him remained oblivious, only becoming aware when the hunter emerged from the tree line.

    When the hunter finally stepped out of the tree shadows, the soldiers showed expressions of surprise, their hands instinctively moving towards their weapons. However, upon recognizing the man, they quickly relaxed, exchanging looks of relief and respect. It was evident they knew the hunter well and trusted his abilities.

    The hunter was a man dressed in tight leather clothing, perfectly fitting his body, allowing agile and silent movements. His hat, made from the skin of an unfortunate squirrel, stood out for its high quality. The skin was thick, soft, and well-tanned, highlighting the hunter''s talent and care in every detail of his craft. The hat, in particular, was adorned with small feathers and fine stitching, revealing impressive craftsmanship.

    The newcomer brought his feet together, maintaining an erect posture while his arms rested lightly behind his back. With a graceful movement, he bowed before the seated man, demonstrating deep respect. The hunter''s eyes, fixed on the ground for a moment, slowly lifted to meet the man''s. His voice, though firm, was low and respectful. "My lord, I found their tracks. I believe they are not far."

    Baron Oliver, who was seated, finally stood up, revealing a calm and controlled expression. It was as if he knew it was only a matter of time before the hunter found the tracks of the bandits that had been troubling him in recent days. His lips curved into a slight smile of satisfaction. "Good, let''s pick up the pace. I want to rid ourselves of these pests soon." He then mounted his horse with natural elegance, his movements flowing with the practice and confidence of a veteran leader.

    The soldiers, following the baron''s example, quickly mounted their horses. The group set off in an orderly formation, following the hunter who led them with agile and sure steps, disappearing once again into the forest''s density.

 Bandits

    The hunter, Baron Oliver, and his ten soldiers rode at a reasonable pace through a dense forest. The trees were tall and closed off the path, leaving only a narrow trail to pass through. Soon, they spotted a small wooden bridge ahead. Although old, the bridge seemed sturdy, its thick wooden supports still withstanding the test of time. The group crossed the bridge carefully, as the sound of the flowing water echoed below.

    After crossing the bridge, they continued riding for a few more minutes until the terrain began to become more mountainous. The trees became more spaced out, and the trail grew increasingly steep. Suddenly, Baron Oliver, with his keen eyes, noticed something in the distance that surprised him, a trail of smoke rising into the sky. He hadn¡¯t expected to see such clear signs of the bandits¡¯ presence.

    Not long ago, when the hunter returned and reported that the bandits had crossed the river and headed into the mountains, the baron initially thought it would be difficult to capture them in such rugged terrain. He knew that the mountains offered numerous advantages for those trying to evade pursuers, like steep and winding trails, deep valleys, and hidden caves, all favoring the fugitives.

    The baron had imagined it would take days to track them and that the bandits, if they knew the region well, would be a complicated prey. However, upon seeing the trail of smoke rising in the distance, his opinion changed drastically. He immediately realized that the bandits were extremely careless. Lighting a fire in such a situation was a grave mistake, revealing their location.

    Maybe they¡¯re being so careless because they believe they aren¡¯t being followed, thought the baron.

    ......

    A few days earlier, Baron Oliver was in his office, scolding his daughter Celine. ¡°How many times have I told you not to come in here when I¡¯m not around?¡± He spoke with a severe tone, but Celine kept her mischievous smile. ¡°I understand, father, I¡¯m sorry,¡± she replied, knowing he couldn¡¯t really be mad at her. The scolding was more of a facade than anything else.

    ¡°It¡¯s not just a matter of rules, Celine. This office contains important documents. If something goes missing or is altered by mistake, it could cause many problems,¡± he continued, trying to sound firm, but his voice betrayed a touch of resignation.

    ¡°I know, father, but you know I¡¯d never do anything to harm you. I just wanted to see if you had arrived,¡± she said, with a look that mixed affection and defiance. ¡°Besides, you always say I¡¯m smart enough to understand everything that¡¯s here. Maybe I can even help you.¡±

    ¡°This is not a matter of intelligence, Celine. It¡¯s about responsibility and respecting the house rules,¡± he responded, crossing his arms and trying to maintain seriousness. ¡°One day, you¡¯ll understand that some things are more complicated than they seem.¡±

    ¡°Now I need you to leave the office. I have a lot of work to do and can¡¯t be distracted,¡± he said, trying to keep firmness in his voice.

    ¡°But father, I just wanted to stay here with you for a bit,¡± Celine protested, with a pleading look.

    Baron Oliver sighed, running his hand over his head in a gesture of frustration. ¡°You¡¯re really stubborn, you know? You remind me a lot of your mother,¡± he said, softening his tone. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more later, I promise,¡± he replied, going to the door and opening it gently.

    Celine hesitated for a moment but eventually gave in. ¡°Okay, father. But don¡¯t forget your promise,¡± she said, leaving the office with one last hopeful look.

    ¡°I won¡¯t forget,¡± he replied, watching her leave. As he closed the door, he let out a deep sigh.

    After sending her away, the baron sat in his office chair, picking up some documents that Sir Patrick had left on the desk earlier that day. He finally opened the reports and began analyzing them, one of which talked about bandit activity.

    The document detailed that a group of bandits was committing robberies in the villages. Although bandits were uncommon in that part of the kingdom, they occasionally appeared. The report mentioned that despite the robberies, there had been no deaths during the group¡¯s actions, which made the baron pay little attention to the incident. ¡°A group without blood on their hands,¡± he thought.

    Following standard procedure, Baron Oliver summoned Sir Patrick, the head knight of the house. He was a middle-aged man with some gray hair and a shaved beard. His slender physique contrasted with his rigid posture and the authority he emanated. The baron ordered him to send soldiers to reinforce the security of the settlements near the attacked areas, aiming to deter the bandits.

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    ¡°Send more men to the fishing villages,¡± instructed the baron. ¡°They have better income and will be more attractive targets for the bandits. Focus less force on the farms, which aren¡¯t as lucrative.¡± Sir Patrick nodded, already starting to plan the mobilization of soldiers to ensure the protection of the most vulnerable villages. The baron knew that the fishermen, with their income from the abundant waters of the Akua River, would be a greater lure for the thieves, and it was crucial to protect these communities to maintain order and stability in his territory.

    However, two days ago, the baron realized the audacity of the bandits when he received an alarming report. The same group had attacked a merchant caravan. Upon reading the report, the baron was taken by surprise, he hadn¡¯t expected the bandits to be so bold. However, this surprise soon turned into a boiling anger when he discovered that the attack not only resulted in deaths among the merchants but also in the capture and abduction of some women from the caravan. The gravity of the situation was undeniable and demanded an immediate and decisive response.

    It was the month of the Pirarovy migration, a period when many lone merchants and caravans crossed the baron¡¯s territory and that of other nobles to trade their goods for this valuable fish. During this time, the merchants preferred to trade directly with the commoners, aiming for the smaller villages that had little or no protection from the soldiers of the noble houses. This made the merchants easy targets for bandit groups, especially in less patrolled areas.

    Although the tolls collected from merchants during these journeys weren¡¯t the main source of income for the baron¡¯s house, they still represented a significant contribution to the barony¡¯s treasury. The fees collected ensured a steady income and helped sustain daily operations and the maintenance of the territory.

    With the bandits¡¯ attacks, there was a risk that the presence of merchants would decrease, which would directly affect this additional source of income. The baron knew he needed to act quickly to restore security and confidence in his lands, preventing the merchants from starting to divert their routes away from his domain.

    With the expression of anger still visible on his face, the baron called out, catching the attention of a passing soldier. ¡°Bring me Sir Patrick, immediately!¡± he ordered, his voice resonating with an intensity that echoed through the walls.

    Initially, he thought of sending knights from his personal guard to resolve the situation quickly. These experienced soldiers had fought under his command during the siege ten years ago at Fort Caribuma, proving their loyalty and combat skills. However, as he pondered the situation more, he remembered the new recruits.

    Recruited at the beginning of the year, these soldiers had completed their training two months ago but had yet to be tested in real combat. While waiting, the baron reflected on the decision to send the personal guard, but the idea of giving the novices an opportunity began to seem more appropriate. It was time to test the value of the new soldiers, to see if the intense training they received had really been worth it.

    When Sir Patrick finally arrived at the baron¡¯s office, he found him calmly looking at the document in his hands, the expression of anger replaced by a cold determination. ¡°Sir Patrick,¡± the baron began, ¡°gather ten of the most promising novices, regardless of where they are currently serving. I will personally lead them on a hunt.¡±

    Sir Patrick¡¯s initial surprise was quickly replaced by a nod of understanding. He knew that when the baron made a decision, it was final. With a resolute expression, Sir Patrick left to carry out the order, while Baron Oliver mentally prepared for the mission ahead, determined to restore order in his lands and test his new soldiers in a real combat situation.

    ......

    Back in the present, the hunter climbed a rocky escarpment with the agility of a cat, moving silently among the rocks and staying out of sight of the bandits. Baron Oliver signaled the soldiers to wait and then quickly climbed the escarpment as well. When he reached the top, he saw the hunter crouched, waiting for him patiently.

    The hunter pointed to a slight depression in the mountain and said, ¡°They¡¯re there, my lord. It seems they¡¯re celebrating.¡±

    Due to his level of accomplishment on the path, the baron had much sharper vision than the hunter. He could clearly see the bandits and their activities. In the bandits¡¯ camp, there were some tents and a bonfire where they were roasting a Pirarovy.

    Among the various stolen goods, the baron recognized valuable items, fine fabrics, boxes of spices, and other goods looted from the caravan. This sight only increased his determination. Seeing the bandits treating the stolen items as trophies and celebrating their feats filled the baron with a silent and resolute anger.

    Making a quick count, the baron saw that, besides the man roasting the fish, there were four more bandits warming themselves around the fire and another seven scattered around the camp. He quickly compared these numbers with the data from the report he had received earlier, which indicated the presence of a group of sixteen bandits. Noticing the discrepancy, the baron concluded that the other bandits must be inside the tents.

    Turning to the hunter, the baron said, ¡°You¡¯ve done a good job. Stay here while I lead the soldiers and take care of these bandits.¡± The hunter quickly responded, visibly agitated: ¡°But, my lord, I can help.¡± It was clear he had personal reasons for wanting to participate in the attack. Perhaps a desire for revenge or justice drove him. However, the baron shook his head and said, ¡°I want to test the performance of the novices in combat.¡± After a brief pause, he continued: ¡°If any of the bandits flee, you¡¯ll pursue them. Understood?¡±

    The hunter lowered his head, his body still tense with frustration, but he knew that nothing good would come from contradicting the baron. ¡°As you wish, my lord,¡± he responded, with a note of resignation in his voice. However, a slight spark of satisfaction appeared in his eyes, knowing that the bandits who tried to escape would be his to deal with. The hunter¡¯s personal mission wasn¡¯t completely frustrated; he would still have his chance to deliver justice with his own hands.

 Night Assault Part 1

    Baron Oliver silently descended the escarpment, gesturing for his soldiers to prepare for the attack. The moon''s glow barely lit their faces, but it was enough to sense the tension and expectation in the air. With a low, firm voice, the baron began to explain the strategy. He quickly informed them about the layout of the enemy camp, describing the position of the tents, the location of the campfires, and the bandits'' patrol routes. He emphasized the importance of the element of surprise, as it would be key to their success. The soldiers, though young and inexperienced, listened attentively, their faces revealing a mix of nervousness and determination.

    Noting their anxious expressions, the baron said, "Just follow your training. Pair up and form a crescent around the camp."

    "You will approach silently and surround the camp from the high side of the depression," the baron instructed, pointing to the rocky formations encircling the area. "Move like shadows, without making a sound. Once you''re in position, wait for my signal before attacking. Our objective is to capture as many of them as possible without raising an alarm. Use the element of surprise to subdue the bandits before they can react. Only kill if absolutely necessary."

    He continued, detailing the importance of neutralizing the bandits furthest away first, to prevent them from alerting the rest of the group. "Each pair should advance in sync, moving from cover to cover. Avoid areas lit by the campfires and use the darkness to your advantage. When you attack, do it quickly and silently. Use immobilization techniques to take them down without drawing attention. Don''t let them escape or call for help."

    Before the soldiers took their positions, Baron Oliver called their attention once more and said in a motivating tone, "I will be observing each of you tonight. Those who demonstrate courage and skill will have the chance to become squires and, eventually, knights. Show me what you are capable of."

    The baron''s words brought a wave of excitement and renewed determination to the soldiers. Their eyes shone with a new intensity as they prepared for what could be a defining moment in their lives. The mission was not just a battle against bandits but an opportunity to prove their worth and earn the baron''s recognition.

    The soldiers nodded and the group moved away, keeping low and silent as they approached the bandits'' camp. The sound of their boots on the soft snow was almost inaudible. When they got close enough, the baron raised his hand, signaling them to stop. They positioned themselves, hiding behind rocks and trees, their eyes fixed on the unsuspecting bandits who laughed and drank near the fire.

    The sound of the bandits'' laughter and the crackling of the fire grew louder, allowing the soldiers to hear their conversations. The camp was in a festive mood, with most of the bandits drinking from wooden mugs and chatting merrily. Some were reclining on fallen logs, while others played dice near the tents, from where occasional noises and murmurs emanated. The smell of roasted fish mixed with the smoke, creating an atmosphere of carefree revelry among the criminals.

    One of the bandits, near the fire, said, "Hahaha, you should have seen the old man''s face begging." Then, standing up slightly and gesturing exaggeratedly, he began a tearful imitation: "Please, please, you can take everything, just don''t hurt her." He made a high-pitched, trembling voice, contorting his face into a mask of despair. Satisfied with the imitation, the bandit started to laugh, visibly drunk, almost spilling his drink as he swayed from side to side.

    The bandit roasting fish, a young man with keen eyes and a serious expression, spoke in a soft voice with a tone of disapproval: "But you didn''t have to kill him, Geof. The old man couldn''t have stopped you from taking the girl." His immature voice revealed that he was a teenager, but his eyes showed deep discontent. He looked directly at Geof, his lips forming a thin line of reproach. "If you were really strong, you would have fought the caravan guards like the boss did, not killed a defenseless old man."

    Geof responded, now directly to the bandit roasting the fish: "And what do you care about what I do or don''t do, Adler?" Remembering that the kid had refused to attack the merchants, focusing only on stealing the goods, Geof raised his voice to almost a shout: "You know what? I''m sick of your cowardice, boy!" He stood up abruptly, spilling his mug on the ground, intending to fight the boy, but a muscular arm grabbed his elbow, stopping him mid-motion.

    Geof yanked his arm, trying to break free, but the hand that held him was firm as an iron clamp. Angrily, he turned to yell at the man holding him, but his voice failed him upon recognizing the imposing figure restraining him.

    A long silence was broken only by the crackling of the fire until a rough, firm voice said, "Go cool your head, Geof, and stop causing trouble." The muscular man who had grabbed Geof had an imposing appearance. His face was square and marked by a burn scar that ran from his neck to his collarbone, giving him an even more menacing air. His eyes were deep and full of authority, and his body, covered in defined muscles, evidenced years of battles and fights.

    Geof, looking at him, had a flash of fear pass through his eyes for a second, before being replaced by anger. However, now the anger seemed more feigned, a mask to hide the true fear he felt before the man. With his face still contorted in anger, Geof said only, "Whatever," as he walked away from the fire, heading to the edge of the camp.

    With each step away from the muscular man, Geof began muttering curses at the boy. At first, they were almost inaudible whispers: "Coward... stupid brat..." But as he distanced himself, the whispers turned into a normal voice, laden with frustration and resentment: "He''s nothing but useless... As if he understood anything about fighting..." Geof continued grumbling, his voice echoing in the darkness as he walked.

    With everyone in position, Baron Oliver carefully observed the bandits'' camp. The celebratory atmosphere had increased after Geof was reprimanded, with the bandits laughing and drinking even more. The baron realized that this moment of distraction would be ideal for the attack, as the confusion and noise would cover the initial sounds of the assault. He raised his hand and gave the signal. The soldiers sprang into action, advancing silently like shadows.

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    The first to be captured was Geof, who was on the edge of the camp, urinating and grumbling. He barely had time to react when two figures emerged from the shadows and took him down with a swift move. A strong hand covered his mouth while another struck his temple with a precise blow. Geof collapsed, unconscious, without making a sound.

    The two soldiers continued advancing, leaving Geof unconscious on the ground. Other pairs of soldiers stealthily moved around the camp''s perimeter, where they encountered two more bandits. The pairs of soldiers acted efficiently, using immobilization techniques learned in training.

    The first bandit, surprised while dozing near a tent, was silenced with a chokehold. The second, who was on guard, met the same fate: a hand covered his mouth, and a knife approached his neck. As the bandit began to understand what was happening, a blow came directly to his head, rendering him unconscious. Although these moves generated some noise, it was not loud enough to alarm the entire camp.

    However, the sound was enough to alert the muscular bandit with the burn scar, who was now sitting by the fire. He slowly stood up, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the darkness. The suspicious silence made him frown. Approaching to investigate, he called out to his comrades, including Geof, cursing at the lack of response: "Geof, you useless bastard! Where are you, you scum?" His rough, authoritative voice cut through the air, laden with impatience and suspicion, as he headed towards the edge of the camp, ready to discover what was happening.

    When the scarred bandit neared the camp''s edge, he was ambushed by two soldiers. Though taken by surprise, his combat experience allowed him to react quickly. He saw the first blow coming toward his head and managed to dodge in time. Angry at the attack, he retaliated with a powerful punch that struck the soldier square in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

    The scarred bandit considered continuing the attack, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the second soldier approaching. Even so, it was too late; the soldier managed to strike him with a strong blow to the ribs, knocking the wind out of him and almost making him fall backward.

    Planting his feet firmly and breathing deeply, the scarred bandit stayed on his feet and drew a knife from his belt, intending to finish off the two men who had attacked him by surprise. The soldiers, realizing he would be a tough opponent, drew their swords. Seeing the gleam of the swords, the bandit hastily retreated a few steps while shouting, "Enemy attack!"

    Shouts of surprise and alarm erupted from the bandits as they tried to defend themselves. Most were so drunk that they struggled to react quickly. Few managed to arm themselves with swords; most grabbed knives or anything that could serve as an improvised weapon.

    The soldiers fought bravely, demonstrating their training by working together to subdue the enemies. Despite their lack of combat experience, they moved in a coordinated manner, covering each other and taking down their opponents with precision. Some of the drunker bandits fell easily with blunt blows, while others, less fortunate, were struck down with sword blows, never to wake again.

    As the battle intensified, some nearly naked bandits emerged from the tents and joined the fight with shouts of anger. These men, with muscular bodies and scars indicating numerous battles, were visibly stronger and more skilled than those outside the tents. With agility and strength, they began to stabilize the battle, gathering a group of five bandits from the initial wave who managed to resist in a core near the fire. Altogether, there were nine bandits still standing, including the scarred bandit who positioned himself among them. This new formation, composed of experienced and fierce fighters, began to pose a significant threat to the soldiers.

    The soldiers noticed the change in the battle''s dynamics. Even with the initial element of surprise, they now faced a greater challenge. Baron Oliver, observing the entire fight from his strategic position, fixed his gaze on one of the men who had come out of the tents.

    The bandit was short, with long, unkempt hair and beard, giving him a somewhat disheveled appearance. His face was thin and angular, marked by scars that told stories of past battles. His eyes, a common brown, almost got lost under his thick, unruly eyebrows, which would easily make him blend into a crowd. At first glance, he seemed like an ordinary bandit, someone anyone would underestimate.

    However, his deceptive appearance contrasted with his combat skill. With a sword in hand, his strikes were delivered with a combination of strength and precision, showing a technical mastery above average, though still below that of an experienced knight.

    He wielded the sword with a dexterity indicating years of practice, alternating direct strikes with dodges and quick counterattacks. His fencing technique included subtle feints and sudden changes of direction, confusing the young soldiers. Even facing four soldiers at once, he always seemed a step ahead, anticipating their movements and responding with impressive speed.

    Each attack was executed with meticulous precision, his hands firm and steady on the sword''s hilt, while still having time to shout some orders to the other bandits. His performance in the fight was the only reason the bandits had not completely collapsed, keeping them in the fight.

    And it was no wonder. When the baron directed some of the path energy to his eyes, he could clearly see the circulation of path energy in the bandit''s body. The energy flowed frenetically, amplifying his physical abilities beyond what would be normal for someone of his constitution. The flow was intense, radiating a subtle light that outlined the bandit''s muscles and veins, giving him superhuman strength and agility. Each movement seemed charged with this energy, making his blows more powerful and his reflexes faster.

    However, the baron also noticed that the energy was largely dissipating. Small currents of energy were escaping from the bandit''s body, dispersing into the air around him. This indicated that, although the bandit had reached the metamorphosis stage, he had not advanced much within this level.

    This observation caused the baron astonishment. He knew it was very difficult to find someone of this caliber in such small groups of bandits. Usually, the metamorphosis stage was reserved for more experienced and trained warriors, belonging to large groups of bandits, knight orders, or structured armies. Seeing a common bandit, apparently without formal path training or significant resources, reach this stage was quite rare.

    This event made the baron hesitate. In the blink of an eye, he pondered the situation. The purpose of the journey was to provide experience for the novice soldiers, so he did not intend to intervene in the combat. However, he did not expect to find someone at the metamorphosis stage among the bandits. At most, he imagined facing bandits who had trained up to the peak of the foundation stage.

    For a brief moment, the baron weighed the risks and benefits of his intervention. He knew that intervening could compromise the valuable experience the soldiers were gaining. However, seeing the soldiers begin to retreat, breaking formation, he realized that the situation was deteriorating rapidly. The presence of the bandit at the metamorphosis stage was dangerously tipping the balance in favor of the bandits.

    The sight of the soldiers, young and inexperienced, struggling to hold the line while being pushed back, made the baron make his decision. He recognized that learning came through experience, but not at the cost of his men''s lives. With the determination to protect his soldiers and restore order in the battle, the baron stepped forward, ready to intervene.

 Night Assault Part 2

    Baron Oliver emerges from the shadow of the night, his steps slow but sure. With each step, the energy of the path flows from his heart, spreading through his veins like a powerful, vibrant current. This energy courses through his muscles, making them tense and ready for action, then expands to his organs, revitalizing every cell with a palpable force. Finally, the energy reaches his bones, which seem to reverberate with an unbreakable power.

    As the path¡¯s energy fills his entire body, it begins to intensify, almost like an uncontrollable frenzy. The aura around the Baron glows with a fierce intensity, radiating from his skin and creating a halo of brutality and dominance. His steps echo with growing power until, suddenly, the energy contracts, pulled back inside him, disappearing completely.

    The moon partially illuminates his face, cold as winter, highlighting his austere and impassive features.

    The battle in the camp was at its critical point. Although they had been fighting for several minutes, there was still a certain balance between the soldiers and the bandits. Both sides showed visible signs of fatigue: heavy breathing, less precise movements, and sweat streaming down determined faces. The shouts of commands and the clang of clashing swords echoed across the field, creating a cacophony of chaos and intensity.

    The bandit leader, who was in the metamorphosis stage, began to pant from the effort of fighting four opponents simultaneously. Each strike he delivered seemed to drain more of his energy, and his chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to keep up the pace. However, despite the evident exhaustion, he remained extremely cautious and patient. His eyes analyzed every movement of the soldiers, waiting for a moment of weakness. This patience was finally rewarded when he noticed a flaw in the formation of the four soldiers.

    With a calculating look, the bandit leader identified the soldier on the far left who was exposed. He took advantage of the gap with lethal precision, delivering quick strikes that forced the soldiers to separate. Then he concentrated his attack on the isolated soldier, striking his thigh with a precise move. The soldier, too slow to react and without the support of his companions, could only watch in horror as the sword pierced his flesh, making him fall to the ground with waves of pain emanating from his bloodied leg.

    The other three soldiers realized the imminent danger as the bandit leader prepared to continue the attack on their fallen comrade. Panic was etched on their faces, reflecting the deep friendship and loyalty they shared. Without hesitation, they rushed in desperation to protect their injured friend, but soon regretted this decision.

    As the three soldiers advanced, the bandit leader gave a cold smile. This smile was a harbinger of disaster, and the soldiers realized, too late, that they had fallen into a trap.

    The bandit leader, anticipating this exact reaction, acted quickly when the three soldiers broke formation to help their fallen comrade. When they realized they had fallen into his trap, the soldiers desperately tried to regain formation but failed in time.

    The bandit leader, with lethal precision, delivered three quick strikes. The first was a diagonal cut aimed at the foremost soldier, who managed to raise his sword in time to defend against the attack. However, the force of the impact made him stagger backward, leaving him momentarily disoriented.

    The second strike was even more devastating. With a fluid movement, the bandit leader spun and delivered a powerful blow to the soldier beside him. His sword pierced the soldier¡¯s belly, tearing through flesh and penetrating the stomach. The soldier let out a cry of pain, his face contorted in agony as he tried in vain to contain the blood beginning to pour from his wound.

    The third strike was the most brutal. With a quick and precise move, the bandit leader cut deeply into the chest and shoulder of the third soldier. The blade sliced through the leather armor as if it were made of mud, tearing muscles and bones. The soldier, unable to withstand the pain and shock, fell to the ground unconscious, blood rapidly flowing from his mortal wound.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.The soldier with the pierced belly fell to his knees, clutching the wound with both hands as his face paled. Blood flowed freely, forming a pool around him. He tried to breathe, but each movement caused unbearable pain.

    The soldier who had managed to defend against the first strike looked around, terrified, seeing his companions grievously injured.

    With two more soldiers fallen and unable to fight, the remaining soldier knew he couldn¡¯t face the bandit leader alone. In desperation, he called for help from the companions fighting the other bandits. This plea broke the line that had been keeping the bandits in check.

    The bandit leader, seeing the soldiers¡¯ vulnerability, intensified his attacks. The soldier now facing the bandit leader alone defended himself with great difficulty, his sword trembling under the force of the adversary''s blows. He could maintain the defense for only a few moments before nearly collapsing, his energy and courage quickly draining.

    Fortunately, another soldier, managing to disentangle himself from his previous opponent more quickly, ran to reinforce his beleaguered comrade. With the arrival of the ally, the isolated soldier¡¯s situation was relieved, allowing him to catch his breath and prepare to continue fighting.

    In a short period, the remaining soldiers freed themselves from their previous battles and, with quick and coordinated movements, formed a protective circle around their injured comrades. The seven remaining soldiers, now with grim and determined expressions, defended against the intensified attacks of the bandits surrounding them.

    The defensive circle was tight, and each soldier fought fiercely, determined to protect their fallen comrades. Swords gleamed in the moonlight as they blocked each bandit strike, creating a barrier of steel around the wounded. The shouts and the sound of clashing blades filled the air.

    The bandit leader, now facing only two soldiers at a time, appeared more relaxed and confident. His movements were more fluid, the previous tension dissipating. His breathing, once frantic due to the effort, now showed signs of stabilization. He knew he had the advantage, patiently waiting for the right moment to deliver a fatal blow.

    At that moment, the firm steps of the Baron were heard by one of the bandits, who alarmed, shouted: "Boss, look, there¡¯s another one!" The bandit leader, initially alarmed and somewhat nervous, glanced at the Baron. His nervousness quickly faded when he realized it was just a newcomer, not a group of soldiers. Upon sensing the energy emanated by the Baron, which was even less than that of the soldiers he was fighting, his alarm vanished completely. He assumed the newcomer was just a soldier who had been stationed at the rear and, seeing the situation, was trying to help his comrades in danger.

    Losing interest in the newcomer, the bandit leader turned his attention back to the surrounded soldiers. Seeing that the battle was under control, he decided to reinforce his position. "Ebruk!" he shouted, calling one of his strongest and most reliable men. One of the half-naked bandits, upon hearing his name called, stopped immediately, his eyes focused on the leader. "Take that arriving soldier and kill him," ordered the bandit leader, knowing that Ebruk, being one of the strongest under his command, could quickly dispose of the newcomer and return to help finish off the surrounded soldiers, whom he considered the real threat.

    Among the bandits still standing, many already displayed various cuts and wounds from the battle. Ebruk, however, was the only one, aside from the bandit leader, who had not yet been injured. With unshakable confidence, he quickly disengaged from the soldiers he was fighting and ran towards Baron Oliver, a dagger firmly gripped in his hand, determined to quickly finish off the newcomer.

    The Baron, with his cold and expressionless face, watched Ebruk approach without showing the slightest sign of fear. Ebruk, noticing the apparent lack of threat from the Baron, felt his confidence grow even more. He decided to attack without the slightest caution he had shown when facing the soldiers, confident that this opponent would be easily defeated.

    Seeing that the bandit was underestimating his presence and attacking without any care or technique, Baron Oliver lost the little interest he had in the confrontation. Ebruk, noticing the disdain in the Baron¡¯s eyes, felt a wave of anger, followed by laughter, finding it amusing what he considered to be the arrogance of a weakling who would be killed with a single blow.

    "Die!" shouted Ebruk, striking with his dagger from top to bottom. But to his surprise and confusion, the blow stopped in mid-air. His arm began to throb with pain, as if being chewed by the jaws of a wolf. He tried to reason and realized that the Baron had disappeared from in front of him and reappeared at his side, holding his wrist with tremendous force.

    Ebruk cursed, desperately trying to break free, but as soon as he started to escape, the Baron tightened his grip on his wrist. The sound of bones breaking echoed across the battlefield, and the dagger fell to the ground. The unbearable pain made Ebruk stop his escape attempt and start screaming desperately.

    The Baron continued to tighten Ebruk¡¯s wrist until he heard a final crack, completely breaking the bones in the bandit¡¯s arm. Ebruk¡¯s scream echoed through the night, drawing everyone¡¯s attention, as he fell to his knees, overcome by pain and fear.

 Night Assault Final Part

    At that moment, the fight between the group of bandits and the soldiers abruptly stopped. Everyone, whether soldier or bandit, was in a state of shock, their eyes fixed on the brutal scene unfolding before them. The fierce bandit Ebruk, who had resisted the soldiers'' attacks so tenaciously for so long, was now being completely subdued by Baron Oliver. The surprise on the faces of the soldiers and bandits was palpable, none of them could believe that the bandit was being defeated so easily, without even managing to land a single blow against the baron.

    Ebruk was kneeling on the ground, despair and pain clearly visible in his expressions. He cried and screamed, tears mixing with the sweat streaming down his face as he tried in vain to free his arm, which was bent unnaturally due to the baron''s relentless grip. The sound of bones breaking echoed through the camp, contrasting with the baron''s impassive face, sending a chill down the spine of all who watched. The intense pain and the sight of his adversary''s unwavering face made Ebruk increasingly paranoid. He reached the point of drooling while crying, with snot running from his nose, completely overwhelmed by fear and pain.

    Tired of Ebruk''s incessant screams, the baron delivered a quick punch, as fast as lightning, creating afterimages for most of those watching. The impact was devastating, Ebruk''s jaw broke instantly, sending a small jet of blood and teeth that stained the snow on the ground red. The blood formed abstract patterns in the snow, starkly contrasting with the pure white around. Ebruk''s tongue hung out of his now-deformed mouth as he fell unconscious, motionless on the ground, with no sign of remaining resistance. The momentary silence that followed was filled only with the sound of the crackling fire.

    Turning his attention forward, Baron Oliver saw his exhausted soldiers, three of them on the ground, bloodied. Before the baron''s arrival, the soldiers were beaten and hopeless, their expressions revealing exhaustion and the lack of prospects in the desperate situation. However, now, with the baron''s imposing presence, their countenances changed. A new spirit spread among them, and the determination to subdue the bandits resurfaced with renewed strength.

    The baron also observed the bandits, whose expressions ranged from astonishment to anger. Most of the bandits, furious and surprised by Ebruk''s fall, were preparing to attack. However, only the bandit leader and two others showed fear, their eyes fixed on the baron as if they saw something that the others could not perceive. The leader, in particular, had wide-open eyes, frozen by a terror that only he seemed to fully understand.

    The baron smiled and, with a firm and authoritative voice, said, "Drop your weapons and surrender now." His words sounded like an unquestionable command, imbued with an authority that allowed no refusal. The tone of his voice made it clear that disobedience would bring severe and inevitable consequences, echoing the certainty of relentless punishment for anyone who dared to defy his order.

    Hearing these words, some of the bandits began to curse, protesting against surrender. However, the two bandits who had previously shown fear began to regain some confidence. Though they did not join in the cursing, their expressions changed to a silent determination, ready to follow any order from the leader. He, on the other hand, remained in a trance, static, his eyes still fixed on the baron, unable to break free from the fear that paralyzed him. The tension in the air was palpable, with everyone awaiting the leader''s next move, who, immersed in his terror, seemed to see something in the baron that his subordinates and the soldiers could not perceive.

    Breaking out of the fear-induced trance, the bandit leader began to hear the voices of his subordinates, calling to him insistently. They noticed the strangeness in their leader''s expression, worried about the paralysis he was displaying in front of the baron. Only when he heard the anguished calls of his men did he manage to break the fear that dominated him.

    "All of you, attack him, I''ll block the soldiers so they can''t escape!" ordered the bandit leader, his voice trembling slightly but with fierce urgency. He gestured violently, pointing at the baron with renewed determination. "Let''s go! Advance now!"

    Receiving the order, half of the bandits immediately advanced, already eager to attack. "Let''s finish him!" shouted one of the bandits, brandishing his sword fervently. "Die!" exclaimed another, running towards the baron with an expression of unbridled fury. The desire for revenge and the need to prove their worth were etched on their faces, with smiles of excitement and eyes hungry for combat.

    On the other hand, the other half of the bandits hesitated, disobeying the leader''s order. Their expressions varied between uncertainty and fear. "Did you see what he did to Ebruk?" murmured one of the bandits, eyes wide with dread. "I''m not throwing myself in front of that monster," said another, slowly retreating. They looked at the baron with a mixture of fear and respect, recognizing his superiority and feeling powerless in the face of the situation. The bandit leader, noticing the hesitation in his ranks, frowned but could not dispel the shadow of fear that still haunted him.

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    With the baron''s presence inspiring confidence in his men, the soldiers resumed their attack with renewed vigor. Determination was visible on their faces, each blow struck with strength. They focused on the bandit leader and the three others who had not advanced to confront the baron. The soldiers'' offensive, however, only managed to put the bandit leader on the defensive. Despite the pressure of the attacks, he moved deftly, blocking and dodging skillfully, without showing signs of being in immediate danger.

    The leader of the bandits, although maintaining his defensive position against the soldiers, couldn''t take his eyes off the battle between the baron and the bandits who had advanced on him. His gaze continuously darted to the baron, worry etched on his face. Every move of the baron was followed with intense concentration, his thoughts clearly dominated by the unfolding fight.

    The bandit leader''s concern grew with each passing moment. His nervousness was palpable, reflected in the sweat streaming down his forehead and the slight widening of his eyes with each strike from the baron. Even while defending against the soldiers'' attacks, his mind was divided, part of him completely absorbed by the confrontation between the baron and his men.

    Seeing the five bandits running towards him, the baron frowned and decided to act swiftly. With a clear intention to destabilize his enemies, he ran towards the center of the group, his body moving with surprising speed.

    Upon contact, the baron dodged two sword strikes and one dagger thrust with incredible ease, his movements fluid and precise. Entering the midst of the five bandits, he left them stunned, unable to react adequately to the speed of his attacks. Each of the baron''s movements was calculated, and the brutality of his blows was devastating.

    From that point on, the fight became one-sided. The first bandit received a punch to the stomach so powerful that he fell to his knees, vomiting blood. The second had his leg broken by a low kick, his scream of pain echoing across the battlefield. The third was sent flying through the air with a punch to the chest, falling to the ground, likely on the verge of death.

    The last two bandits, seeing their companions fall one by one, tried to coordinate their attacks. Four blows were struck in rapid succession, but the baron dodged them all with agile and graceful movements. The fifth strike, a dagger, was firmly caught by the baron. Keeping control of the bandit''s arm, he twisted it with relentless force, making the bandit scream in pain before being stabbed with his own dagger.

    The final bandit, witnessing the swift and brutal downfall of his comrades, dropped his weapon and knelt on the ground, begging for mercy. "Please, don''t kill me!" he pleaded, his body trembling with fear. The baron looked at him with contempt, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "Coward," the baron muttered before delivering a powerful kick that sent the bandit flying backward, landing unconscious on the ground.

    "Come on, keep the pressure!" shouted one of the soldiers, trying to break the concentration of the bandit leader. But the leader barely heard, so fixated was he on the scene of the baron dominating his men. Each agile and brutal movement of the baron seemed to increase the leader''s anxiety, who began to envision the inevitable outcome.

    Seeing that the baron had managed to subdue his subordinates with terrifying ease, the bandit leader decided that fleeing was his only option. Desperate, he threw one of the three bandits beside him towards the soldiers, using him as a distraction to try to escape. The bandit, surprised, fell in the midst of the soldiers'' formation, managing to block only one blow before cursing the bandit leader for his betrayal. He was then struck by two more sword blows, which ultimately killed him.

    The distraction worked for a brief moment, but two more attentive soldiers quickly acted. They advanced skillfully and managed to wound the bandit leader with sword strikes as he tried to flee. The first blow struck his back at shoulder height, tearing and penetrating deeply into the flesh, eliciting a scream of pain from the leader. The second strike, a bit lower, cut across his back, tearing muscles and opening a wound that immediately began to bleed profusely.

    Despite his injuries, the leader kept running, leaving a small trail of blood with each step. His body ached, and the blood flowed, staining the path he took, but fear and the instinct for survival pushed him onward.

    In the background, he could still hear the voices of the last two standing bandits, cursing him for his escape. "Miserable traitor!" shouted one of them, anger evident in his voice. "Are you going to leave us to die?" screamed the other, desperate. But the bandit leader, blinded by terror, ignored the curses, focused solely on escaping with his life.

    The last two bandits, now in a desperate situation, also tried to flee. But the soldiers, prepared for this outcome, pressed their attack, preventing the escape. The soldiers'' offensive was swift and efficient, and they soon managed to subdue the remaining two bandits. They were now on the ground, with several bloody cuts, screaming for mercy, their voices laden with fear.

    At this moment, the baron reached where his fallen soldiers were. He knelt beside them, his forehead furrowed with concern. Upon examining the wounded, he realized that two of them were in very grave condition. One of the standing soldiers appeared at his side, his face a mixture of exhaustion, shame, anger, and determination.

    Taking a deep breath, the soldier spoke with extreme respect, "My lord, what are your orders? Should we go after the one who fled?"

    The baron stood up and looked at the trail of blood and footprints left by the bandit leader in his escape. "That won''t be necessary..." he said, turning his gaze to the soldier. "Use some branches and tent fabric to make some stretchers to tie to the horses. Burn the bodies of the dead bandits, tie up those who survived, and search the camp."

    The soldier nodded and went to inform the others of the new orders. The baron looked again at the blood trail left by the bandit leader and thought, "If you manage to escape Girma exhausted and with these injuries, it means Komuchiutsu favors you and guides you away from death''s beak."

 Old Antoine

    North of the kingdom

    City of Mbara¡¯ba

    Year 887 of the ascension of Cuarac¡¯Yba, eighth month.

    ¡­ ¡¥\_(¥Ä)_/¡¥ ¡­

    Lucios walked along the main street of the outer circle of the city of Mbara¡¯ba, a thoroughfare filled with shops, inns, and taverns. The environment was a spectacle of vibrant colors, with fabrics hanging on colorful lines, intense smells of spices and food prepared on improvised stoves, and sounds ranging from the laughter of children playing to the clamor of vendors announcing their products. Some of the odors were pungent, a mix of fresh fish and smoked meats, while the sounds could be deafening, creating a constant cacophony.

    This scene was something Lucios rarely experienced. His hometown, Kaapurina, and the city of Mbara¡¯ba were founded around the same time, but they followed different trajectories. Kaapurina was meticulously planned, with wide, well-organized streets lined with trees and lampposts, while Mbara¡¯ba initially emerged as a strategically positioned military fort.

    Over the centuries, Mbara¡¯ba expanded in importance and population, but this growth was not accompanied by adequate urban planning. The city grew chaotically, resulting in a network of narrower, more confusing streets, where the constant crowding of people made passage difficult. It was easy to get lost amid the winding alleys and narrow streets, where each corner revealed a new confusion of stalls and tents. The buildings, hastily and improvisedly constructed, were piled on top of each other, creating dense shadows and narrow passages where barely one person could pass at a time.

    As Lucios made his way, a large man carrying several fish tied with ropes over his left shoulder bumped into him. Despite being surprised by the impact, Lucios did not lose his balance or stumble, even though he was shorter. "Watch where you¡¯re going, boy," the man said in a reproachful tone, continuing to walk without looking back. Lucios, surprised, watched the large man walk away, reflecting on how this was the first time something like this had happened to him. Usually, his escort would scare away anyone who dared to get too close. The man, dressed in worn fisherman''s clothes and smelling strongly of the sea, seemed not to notice Lucios''s presence, as if he were just another person in the crowd.

    Lucios had never noticed this difficulty of movement because, every time he had been walking the streets of Mbara¡¯ba, he had always been accompanied by soldiers as his escort. They would clear the way for him, ensuring his unobstructed passage. Now, alone, he felt the chaotic and pulsating reality of the city, and this experience made him reflect on the differences between his protected life in Kaapurina and the raw freedom he found in the busy streets of Mbara¡¯ba. Every step he took, he felt the uneven texture of the stones under his feet and the constant push of the crowd around him, a feeling of vulnerability and independence he had never experienced before.

    At that moment, Lucios snapped out of his stupor, remembering the reason he was there alone: he needed to meet one of the knights of the Apurina house who lived there in the city of Mbara¡¯ba by order of his father, Count Tiberios. Lucios then turned his head, quickly looking around, trying to remember the way to the tavern where he had eaten on the first day he arrived in Mbara¡¯ba, when he was still being escorted by Sir Damian, a month ago. The memory of the tavern was vivid in his mind: the large wooden windows, the rustic tables filled with mugs and clay plates, and the characteristic smell of beer and roasted meat.

    Finally entering the tavern, he was greeted by the welcoming warmth and the murmur of voices. The most varied people were scattered around the hall, all without their thick cloaks because of the fireplace''s heat. The atmosphere was cozy, with the golden light of the candles dancing on the wooden walls, and the sound of conversations and laughter filling the environment.

    Lucios decided to go up to the top floor of the tavern to find the knight of his house, as Sir Damian had told him he should do if he wanted to contact the house. However, as he was about to climb the stairs, a fat man working in the tavern blocked his way and said, "Hey, boy, you can¡¯t go up. The top floor is only for those with money. If you want, you can eat here at the counter."

    Lucios showed his second look of surprise of the day but soon understood the reason. Despite Baron Oliver giving him permission to enter and leave the inner circle of the city at will, without any guard as an escort, he still drew much attention wherever he went. In the last two times he tried to go to the outer circle of the city, he could almost feel the sharp looks of the guards at every corner, leaving him with the feeling of being watched all the time. Therefore, in those last two attempts, he didn''t even leave the inner circle of the city. This time, he left the castle dressed in a servant''s clothes, aiming to go unnoticed by the baron''s soldiers. The tavern worker must have thought he was just any boy, unable to afford the costs of the upper floor, merely trying his luck.

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    Lucios then quickly showed the fat man an emblem with the shape of the Apurina house crest before hiding it again in his clothes. Despite the quick movement, Lucios could see the tavern worker''s face change from disinterest to confusion and then to seriousness. The fat man, with flushed cheeks and a thick beard, frowned as he recognized the symbol.

    The fat man then stammered as he spoke hastily, ¡°I understand... please, follow me. I will take you to your table.¡± The fat man quickly ascended the tavern stairs, clearing the way for Lucios, who followed the employee. Each step creaked under their feet, and the smell of old wood mixed with the aroma of freshly prepared food filled the air.

    Following the fat man, Lucios climbed two flights of stairs to the top floor of the tavern. Upon reaching the top, the fat man guided him through a narrow corridor with dark wooden doors aligned on both sides, leading to a discreet room at the end. The atmosphere was quieter there, muffling the festive sounds from the main hall below.

    The room had a small solid wood table with four sturdy chairs around it. The furniture, although simple, was well-crafted, with delicate carvings on the legs of the chairs and the table. The room was illuminated by a large window that occupied almost the entire wall opposite the door, allowing in a soft, golden light. The window provided a privileged view of the commercial part of the outer circle of Mbara¡¯ba, where Lucios could see the constant movement of people and merchants in their daily activities. The irregular rooftops of the shops and taverns, the vibrant colors of the displayed goods, and the distant sounds of urban life created an interesting contrast with the tranquility of the room.

    The fat man then spoke, now in a more respectful voice: ¡°You may wait here, I will inform old Antoine that you are here.¡± He made a slight bow, perhaps to correct his earlier lack of courtesy, and quickly left the room, carefully closing the door behind him. Lucios merely nodded in confirmation, sitting in one of the chairs and letting his mind wander while he waited. His eyes were exploring the details of the room as his thoughts returned to the events that had brought him there.

    ¡­

    A month ago, when he arrived in Mbara¡¯ba, Sir Damian took him to several places in the outer circle of the city. One of the first destinations was the northern part of the outer wall, which had been demolished by barbarians a century ago when they still attacked in large numbers. Lucios was impressed with the history of that wall. Now rebuilt and reinforced, it was one of the most fortified parts of the wall, with additional watchtowers and sturdy gates. The stones used in the reconstruction were larger and more resilient, and he noticed the protective arches and strategically positioned arrow slits. The place conveyed a sense of security and lessons learned from the past, showing the city''s resilience.

    At Lucios''s request, Sir Damian also took him to see the city''s slums. The slums were situated in the most peripheral areas, where inequality was more evident. The houses were mostly made of wood and mud, with thatched or partially rotten wooden roofs. Few were made entirely of wood, and even fewer were in perfect condition. Lucios noticed the precariousness of the constructions, with crooked walls and holes patched with fabrics. The narrow, muddy streets were full of barefoot children playing and adults busy with their daily tasks, casting suspicious glances at Lucios and his escort.

    During this tour of the city''s outer circle, Lucios said he wanted to try some of the city''s typical dishes. Sir Damian, who seemed to be expecting this, had the perfect place in mind; he took him to the commercial sector to one of the best taverns in the city. Upon entering, Lucios was greeted by the irresistible aroma of roasted fish and spices. The tavern was a welcoming place, with sturdy wooden tables and a crackling fireplace. During his meal, in the same room where he was now, he was introduced to the tavern owner, another knight of his house. The old man introduced himself to Lucios as Sir Antoine Jay, but said that to maintain appearances, it was better to refer to him simply as old Antoine, as everyone called him. The food was delicious, with exotic spices he had never tasted before, and Antoine''s hospitality left a lasting impression.

    Old Antoine lived up to his nickname. His head was covered with sparse white hair and beard, his face somewhat skeletal, and his body slightly hunched. However, despite his fragile appearance, he showed plenty of energy in his voice and movements. In his introduction, old Antoine told Lucios that he had served as a knight of the Apurina house for nearly 70 years and had been personally trained by Lucios''s grandfather, the former count. He spoke with pride about his past achievements and the honor of serving the Apurina family. Antoine also mentioned that since he was injured in combat in the south thirty years ago, he had been moved to the house''s intelligence sector and relocated to Mbara¡¯ba to serve in his old age as the eyes and ears of the Apurina house in the North. His eyes, though aged, still sparkled with the cunning of a man who had seen and lived much.

    Sir Damian then explained to Lucios that he should report from time to time to old Antoine, and that he would pass on the information to the house. Damian emphasized the importance of these meetings and that if the count had any command, it would be conveyed through old Antoine.

    ¡­

    The door to the room opened, rousing Lucios from his thoughts. He looked up to see old Antoine entering with a warm smile. Antoine closed the door behind him with a firm and confident movement, contrasting with his aged appearance. The soft light from the window illuminated his face, highlighting his wrinkles and the white strands of his beard. Antoine approached the table, pulling a chair to sit down. "Young noble Lucios," began Antoine, his voice resonating with a measured tone, "I have been expecting you for this past week.¡±

 Juicy Rumors

    "It was not my intention to delay our meeting,¡± Lucios said to the old knight of his house. "Every time I tried to leave the inner circle of the city, I felt the watchful eyes of the baron''s soldiers fixed on me. It was as if their attentions were always heightened, suspecting my every move. Even dressed discreetly, I couldn''t escape the feeling of being watched at all times, like a rat trapped in an invisible trap.¡±

    Old Antoine, with his wisdom accumulated over the years, let out a light laugh that sounded almost like a whisper. "The baron truly trains his soldiers in an exemplary manner. They are extremely vigilant and disciplined,¡± he said, his eyes shining with amusement. "That¡¯s why you¡¯re dressed as a commoner, I suppose, but I believe this disguise won¡¯t be very useful in the long run. Though it may make it difficult for ordinary soldiers to recognize you at first glance, I doubt it will make any difference to the baron''s own spies¡­ some of them are even here, in this bar, silently observing, mingled with the crowd.¡±

    Seeing the agitated look on Lucios¡¯s face, which now seemed somewhat desperate, old Antoine laughed again, this time with a calming tone, trying to reassure him. "It¡¯s all right, my young friend. You know, I¡¯ve been here for many years. When I was sent to the north, I chose the city of Mbara''ba precisely because, among the great northern cities, it was the only one not governed by a lord, but by one of the king¡¯s lions since it was still one of the territories of the royal house of Kaxinawa. This peculiarity made it a strategic and relatively safe place for our operations.¡±

    "And this choice proved correct, as I was never discovered. Well¡­ I was never discovered until Baron Oliver arrived,¡± continued Antoine, with a sigh of resignation. "I expected my life here in Mbara¡¯ba to be more difficult after his arrival, as Baron Oliver earned this fief from the king himself for his military feats in the southern war. He brought with him not only a title but also a reputation and a group of loyal and skilled followers.¡± He then stopped speaking and lowered his head.

    "I was very careless in my preparations for the baron¡¯s arrival, leaving my spies too exposed, thinking that the same care I applied under the previous government of the knight of the King¡¯s Lions would suffice,¡± thought Antoine, without voicing this thought.

    "So, the baron knows you are part of the Apurina house?¡± asked Lucios, his eyes widening in surprise, unable to hide his incredulity.

    "Oh, yes, he knows,¡± replied old Antoine, straightening in his chair and fixing Lucios with a serious look. "When the baron arrived here in the city of Mbara¡¯ba to claim his fief, he brought many extremely competent men. These men were formerly part of the king¡¯s army. However, at the end of the war, there was no need to maintain such a large army, so they were discharged. Those who stood out and were still discharged received offers from various noble houses seeking their talents. However, almost all the men who served under Oliver, recently promoted to baron, decided to swear loyalty to him, many becoming his knights. Among these men, some are true masters at unearthing moles, especially a man named Patrick Kilo.¡±

    "The chief knight of Baron Oliver?¡± asked Lucios, still trying to process the complexity of the situation.

    "Exactly,¡± confirmed old Antoine, with a nod. "Patrick Kilo unearthed all the moles I had in the castle just a week after the baron took over the castle. After that, it took less than a month to unearth my men scattered throughout the city until he reached me... At first, he wanted to use me to gain quicker control over the streets. His approach was direct and relentless, typical of a man accustomed to overcoming seemingly complex challenges.¡±

    Old Antoine then let out another light, continuous laugh, his face assuming an expression of nostalgia and irony. "He thought I was just a commoner who had managed to rise in life after many decades of effort and that I would be very inclined to serve him to maintain the power I had gained. The truth is, the moment I knew he had already captured all the servants and guards I had infiltrated in the castle in just one week, I knew it wouldn¡¯t be long before I was discovered. I would have left the city and settled elsewhere, but I had already contacted the house, and the count gave me new orders, considering the skill of the knights of the kingdom¡¯s newest baron. My mission had changed, and fleeing was no longer an option that would please the count¡¯s plans.¡±

    Lucios showed a curious look, eager to know the outcome of old Antoine¡¯s story. Old Antoine continued the narrative, recalling the events of many years ago: "The moment Sir Patrick made me the proposal in an irresistible tone, I revealed that I was a knight of the Apurina house and that I desired an audience with Baron Oliver. At first, Sir Patrick showed slight confusion and surprise, his eyes widening briefly before replacing them with a sharp and calculating expression. The speed with which he regained his composure and displayed that confident look again.¡±

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    "I quickly realized the reason he found my spies so easily; that man is indeed a dangerous character, with cunning and insight that surpasses many. This thought crossed my mind like a lightning bolt, bringing with it a sense of unease. However, I soon abandoned it, reminding myself that I didn¡¯t need to be his enemy. After all, prudence and diplomacy could be my allies instead of direct confrontation.¡±

    "After some consideration, the request was accepted by Sir Patrick. In short, I had to bow and apologize for my audacity, but that was all, because, despite being the chief of all the spies he captured, he wouldn¡¯t want to blame the Apurina house for it. The count also tasked me with discussing some minor trade agreements to appease the baron.¡±

    "Some of these agreements were specifically proposed to recover some of the spies captured by Sir Patrick, as not all of them were working as spies just for money. Among them were men who acted out of loyalty to House Apurina. Since then, the relationship between House Apurina and House Kamaiura has been reasonably good. We have maintained a delicate truce, based on mutual respect and common commercial interests.¡±

    Lucios, with a perplexed look, turned to Antoine and said in a tone full of confusion, "Mutual respect? Didn¡¯t you just mention that he has spies here, in this tavern, disguised as customers mingled with the crowd?¡±

    Old Antoine, with a serene expression and a calm, measured voice, replied, "These are his lands. It¡¯s natural for him to want to be informed about the meetings an old knight from another noble house like mine is having. Besides, I must admit that I much prefer dealing with a few disguised spies rather than having soldiers watching the door of my establishment all the time. The spies are much more discreet and, to be honest, they always end up spending their coins on wine, which is great for business,¡± he said, finishing his speech with a light laugh.

    Lucios, in a resigned tone and with a look of frustration, questioned, "So, was it a waste of time for me to worry about being discovered, given the situation?¡± His eyes fixed on old Antoine, seeking a justification for all the precautions he had taken.

    Old Antoine remained silent for a moment, reflecting before responding. "Yes, there was no need to disguise yourself as a servant. In fact, it would have been more prudent to request the escort of one or two of the baron''s soldiers when leaving. Although I believe that no one in this city would dare attack you intentionally, the presence of the soldiers would be advantageous. They could clear the way through the busy streets and prevent the commoners, often ignorant of the norms, from causing any trouble.¡±

    Lucios let out a deep sigh and lowered his head, feeling foolish for his inability to escape the baron''s watchful eyes. He sank into dark thoughts, convinced that he had been naive to believe he could deceive the experienced soldiers and spies. The weight of his mission seemed more overwhelming than ever, and the fear of failure gnawed at his mind, leaving him in a state of constant anxiety.

    Old Antoine, noticing Lucios¡¯s dismay, let out a light laugh, trying to lighten the tension in the air. "How is your progress with the baron¡¯s daughter?¡± he asked, in a casual, almost carefree tone. "The news I manage to get from the castle isn¡¯t very reliable, as my spies are limited to the inner circle of the city. The castle is too risky, so I only hear rumors. I don¡¯t have any trustworthy observers inside the castle.¡±

    "Rumors?¡± Lucios raised his head, a spark of curiosity shining in his eyes. He was eager for any information that could be useful. "What kind of rumors?¡±

    Old Antoine smiled, savoring the change in Lucios¡¯s mood. "What kind of rumors, you ask? Hahaha! It¡¯s not surprising you haven¡¯t heard them. I doubt these rumors would gain traction in the inner circle of the city, where the elite are more discreet. However, in the outer circle of the city, it¡¯s been the only topic of conversation for the past two weeks.¡±

    Antoine paused, savoring the moment before continuing, knowing he had Lucios¡¯s full attention. "The rumor probably started among the castle¡¯s servants. They say that Baron Oliver¡¯s daughter challenged her newest suitor, a boy of noble origin, to a duel. However, this time, her perfect record of victories over her suitors was broken, and she lost the duel. Hahaha! Up to that point, the rumor was already hot news, after all, it¡¯s not every day that the Indomitable Lady loses a duel, especially against a suitor of similar age. However, days later, there was an even more shocking update: the baron¡¯s daughter, dissatisfied, issued a new challenge for a rematch, in which she lost again.¡±

    Antoine watched Lucios attentively as he spoke, waiting to see his reaction. He continued, his tone full of amusement. "These rumors are causing a stir among the servants and commoners, who love a good story with twists. Apparently, the baron¡¯s daughter, known for her skill and pride, is now facing a new reality of unexpected defeats. The commoners keep wondering why she doesn¡¯t just admit that she can¡¯t win and accept the suitor once and for all. These speculations only increase the curiosity and comments among the population, who never miss an opportunity to discuss the fate of the powerful.¡±

    Antoine paused dramatically, observing Lucios¡¯s increasingly quiet expression. "And there¡¯s more,¡± he said, leaning a little closer. "The rumors say that the young suitor is not only skilled with the sword but also possesses an irresistible charm. Some even suggest that he may have won the baron¡¯s daughter¡¯s heart despite the defeats. This, of course, only fuels more gossip and speculation. The entire city is in turmoil, waiting to see what will happen next.¡±

    A torturous silence followed old Antoine¡¯s words. Lucios¡¯s face showed an increasingly despondent expression, his eyes lost in dark thoughts.

    Sensing Lucios¡¯s growing dismay, Antoine broke the silence. "What¡¯s wrong, my young friend?¡± he asked, with genuine concern in his voice.

    Lucios slowly lifted his eyes, his voice almost a whisper. "In reality, it¡¯s the opposite of the rumor.¡±

 Unexpected Good News

    In that room on the top floor of the tavern, old Antoine kept a thoughtful gaze as he listened to the young man''s complaints before him, who had been talking for several minutes. "...I really am a genius with girls. From the moment I defeated her in the first challenge, she started completely ignoring me, unless it was to challenge me again, as if that was the only way she could tolerate my presence," said Lucios, with a sigh of frustration.

    "How could I have imagined that she would react like this to losing? I had an important responsibility in mind, but deep down, everything seemed simpler before I met Miss Lilian. When she challenged me for the first time, I thought of refusing. But when she noticed my hesitation, she wasted no time in humiliating me. She shouted that I was a coward, that she would never respect a man without the courage to face her, let alone defeat her. And she even said that if that were the case, I should turn around and go back home like a good failure," said Lucios, feeling the weight of each word.

    Lucios paused, rubbing his forehead with his hand, the exasperation visible on his face. "I thought accepting the challenge would be the right way to earn her respect, but now I''m completely lost, Antoine. It seemed that the more I tried to get closer, the more distant she became. And now..." He let the sentence trail off, his voice weakening as he lowered his head, the weight of the situation clearly oppressing his shoulders.

    Old Antoine, with the patience that time and experience had given him, remained silent, waiting for the young man to find the words he needed to say.

    Lucios took a deep breath, trying to calm his turbulent mind, just as he had learned from his former teacher, Sir Owen. Raising his head, he straightened his posture and fixed his gaze on old Antoine, determined to continue, now with a more controlled tone, without the despair that had previously dominated him. "After the first challenges, when I realized that she continued to avoid even looking at me, I considered stopping accepting her invitations to duel or perhaps just letting her win. But it was her uncle, Sir Otis, whom I''ve been talking to quite a bit over the last month, who convinced me to keep going."

    "He told me that Lilian imposed a condition: she would only marry the one who defeated her. He made me believe that even if she didn''t want me, the defeat would silence her, and she couldn''t oppose the marriage proposal. This seemed to align with my goals, so I continued accepting the challenges. However, in our last duel, a week ago... I was defeated."

    Old Antoine raised his eyebrows, surprise clearly etched on his face. "Defeated!?" He repeated the word, incredulous. Then, he leaned slightly forward, his eyes fixed on Lucios. "How did that happen?" As he awaited the response, his mind buzzed with thoughts. It was inconceivable that the baron''s daughter could defeat Lucios, especially considering that the young man was in the metamorphosis stage, a phase in which his body and abilities were far beyond normal limits. Unless, of course, Lilian had also entered the same stage prematurely, which would be equally surprising and concerning.

    Lucios lowered his eyes for a moment before responding. "I was careless," he admitted, a tone of self-criticism in his voice. "Miss Lilian''s fencing style is different, even complicated, but I was starting to get used to it. That made me feel too confident, maybe even arrogant. When she was about to lose, there was a moment of desperation... and that''s when everything changed. She used a desperate move, something I didn''t expect. I was caught off guard, and before I could react, the duel was lost."

    Lucios sighed deeply before continuing. "In the days following the duel, I tried in every way to contact Miss Lilian, but she simply avoided me. Not that this was anything new, but this time it was different... it was even worse. Before, at least, she would challenge me to new duels, but now, not even that. She completely shut herself off, as if I didn''t exist."

    In his growing frustration at not being able to even speak with Lilian, Lucios decided to seek out Otis, hoping that her uncle could intercede for him. "I went to Otis," Lucios explained, "to ask for help with this situation. But he told me that a lost duel wouldn''t change what was already established. He repeated these same words to Lilian, and it seems that was what made her even more furious. Now, she doesn''t even want to speak with him, her own uncle."

    Old Antoine leaned slightly forward, focusing on a single question. "But why did you seek help from the baron''s brother?" He asked, his voice laden with growing confusion. "As far as I know, Otis is the biggest supporter of his niece, always siding with her when she rejects suitors. I''ve always heard that he fervently defends her."

    Lucios frowned, surprised by old Antoine''s reaction. "Otis has been the person who supported me the most over the past month," he said, still trying to understand the old man''s perplexity. He paused for a few seconds, reflecting on the words. "Whenever we talked, he praised my talent, especially for having reached the metamorphosis stage so early. That must be why he was so much in my favor, contrasting with his own niece on this matter."

    Stolen novel; please report.Antoine, now with a tone of realization in his voice, slowly nodded. "Of course... how could I forget? Sir Otis also grew up in the royal army''s camp. He was a squire to one of the King''s Lions knights. Growing up in such an environment, it''s evident that he would think that only a young man with achievements like yours would be worthy of his niece. I imagined that the baron, who spent even more time in that circle, would be the most impressed by your accomplishments."

    Lucios nodded thoughtfully. "I thought the same, but since I arrived here, I''ve only been able to meet with the baron twice. The first was at the welcome dinner when I arrived, and the second was during the rematch duel when Lilian challenged me for the second time. During these two meetings, the baron barely spoke, and when he did, it was never directly with me. He seemed distant, almost indifferent."

    He continued, reflecting on the situation. "I began to think that the baron didn''t care about me, that I was just another disposable suitor in his eyes. But then, in one of our many conversations, Otis mentioned that the baron was actually impressed with the way I conducted myself, whether it was my behavior or the victories in the duels against Lilian. It was this revelation that made me believe that, perhaps, I was making some impact, even if the baron didn¡¯t show it openly."

    Lucios concluded his reasoning with a sigh of uncertainty. "But even if the baron truly does like me, what if¡­ when the proposal is sent, Lilian still doesn¡¯t want to accept it, especially now that she has managed to defeat me? She could use this victory as an excuse to convince the baron to reject the proposal." The insecurity was evident in his voice, revealing that Otis''s reassuring words hadn¡¯t been enough to calm his worries.

    Old Antoine listened attentively until the end, then began to respond, his voice measured and calm. "I believe I know why the baron seems so distant," he said, pausing briefly to choose his words carefully. "The seventh month is extremely important for House Kamaiura, financially speaking, due to the migration of the Pirarovy. I have heard many reports of bandits in the region, some of whom were bold enough to attack merchant caravans, which could have a significant impact on the house¡¯s finances. With that in mind, I heard a rumor that the baron himself left nearly two weeks ago, taking only a handful of soldiers to hunt down these bandits. At first, I thought this was an unlikely rumor, since he would normally send his knights on such missions, so I ignored the story. But it seems there was more truth to the rumor than I imagined."

    Lucios felt genuine relief upon hearing those words. Knowing that the baron''s distant behavior was likely due to problems related to his territory, and not a lack of approval on his part, brought him a sense of peace. Otis''s words now seemed even more reliable and comforting.

    Old Antoine continued, with a slight smile on his face. "As for whether the baron¡¯s daughter might complicate the marriage negotiations¡­ well, young man, you don¡¯t need to worry about that."

    Lucios¡¯s expression of relief soon turned into one of questioning. He frowned and asked, "But why don¡¯t I need to worry?"

    Antoine leaned in slightly, as if about to share a secret. "Two weeks ago, House Kamaiura sent a messenger southward. Until a few days ago, I didn¡¯t know what message he carried or where he was headed. However, as I mentioned, just three days ago, a runner from House Apurin? brought a message. He reported that the messenger from House Kamaiura arrived in Kaapurina with the news that the baron had accepted the terms of the marriage proposal made by the count for you and the little indomitable lady."

    Lucios was left speechless, his jaw nearly dropping. "But how¡­ the proposal has already been accepted? But it seemed like nothing was going right!"

    Hearing Lucios¡¯s question, old Antoine showed a slight discomfort, unable to provide an exact answer. He frowned and looked at Lucios with a thoughtful expression. "Well, I really don¡¯t know why the baron accepted the marriage proposal so quickly. From my information, he always took a few weeks to send a response to the suitors'' houses, precisely to carefully assess the candidates for his precious daughter."

    Finishing his speech, Antoine lowered his head, his voice taking on a reflective tone, almost as if he were formulating a hypothesis aloud. "I thought you had managed to win over and tame the famous indomitable lady, but after what I¡¯ve heard today, that seems impossible." He paused, raised his head, and fixed his gaze on Lucios before continuing. "The most likely scenario is that the count included some other proposal, perhaps of a commercial nature, between the two houses, as a condition to facilitate and speed up this commitment."

    Lucios frowned in question. "Why are you uncertain about this matter, Antoine? When I was on my way, Sir Damian didn¡¯t reveal anything about the letter or any instructions my father might have given him. But on the day I arrived, I saw that you and Sir Damian spent a good amount of time talking alone. I thought you knew the contents of the letter." Lucios''s expression became displeased, and he asked, with a slightly distrustful tone, "So, are you going to hide the letter''s content from me too, just as Sir Damian did?"

    Old Antoine, showing a smile that masked subtle frustration, replied in a patient tone, "I¡¯m as in the dark as you are, young man." He then clarified the situation: "The reason I¡¯m uncertain is that the letter with the marriage proposal was delivered by Sir Damian directly into the baron¡¯s hands on the day you arrived. Therefore, any specific content or instruction it might contain, I¡¯m as unaware of as you are."

    Old Antoine, trying to ease the tension, smiled at Lucios and said in a reassuring tone, "Now, there¡¯s no reason to keep dwelling on this, boy. The news is good, after all." He paused, as if organizing his thoughts, before continuing. "At this moment, the messenger from House Kamaiura must already be on his way back, and should arrive here in at most two weeks. When he arrives, House Kamaiura should send invitations to the surrounding nobles for a grand banquet, where the engagement will be formalized. At that moment, the count¡¯s plans for your future will be set in stone."

    Antoine concluded his words with a loud laugh, which came out slightly hoarse due to his age, but carried a genuine attempt to cheer up the young man in front of him.

 A Soldiers Dream

    In the center of a training courtyard, Evan, a young man of no more than twenty years, dressed in leather and wool to protect himself from the cold, breathes heavily. His gaze is steady, focused on the figure in front of him: a girl who appears to be no older than thirteen, wearing a tight outfit of silk and velvet that highlights her agility and speed. Both are armed with wooden swords, clashing them with precision and force.

    The battle between the two resembles more of a choreographed dance. The girl, Liliam, advances with a diagonal strike, which Evan blocks with an agile wrist movement, pushing her back. She quickly recovers, spinning on her heels and delivering a lateral strike. Evan responds with a dodge and then attempts a direct counterattack, but the young girl swiftly sidesteps and executes a quick feint, momentarily deceiving him.

    As Evan adjusts his position, the crowd around them watches in silence until one of the men, in a low, admiring voice, whispers, "Evan is very skilled. He''s managed to withstand at least a hundred strikes from Miss Liliam."

    Another man, also dressed like Evan, nods in agreement. "Yes, and it seems he can resist even more... Look, they''re still evenly matched, even after so much time has passed since the duel began."

    The sound of swords clashing fills the air again, and a third man, with a tone of curiosity mixed with apprehension, whispers, "Can Evan really defeat her?"

    Before anyone could respond, a fourth man, older and perhaps more experienced, speaks with a somber certainty: "It''s impossible... None of us have been able to defeat her before. I recognize that Evan is the strongest among us, but even so, he is not stronger than Miss Liliam. Watch closely; Evan is no longer attacking as he did before. Now, he''s more focused on defense."

    With these words, all the men around them fall silent, their eyes fixed on the ongoing fight. The duel between Evan and Liliam is still a display of balanced skills, but the last man''s words linger in the air, suggesting that, no matter how hard Evan fights, victory may be slipping from his grasp.

    In contrast to the serious face he maintained during the duel, Evan knew he was exhausted. Each movement seemed to require monumental effort, and his body cried out for rest. However, giving up was not an option. He could not and would not show weakness.

    Born and raised in a small fishing village, Evan''s fate seemed sealed from birth: to follow in the footsteps of his father and grandfather, living off fishing. However, his heart longed for something more. Since he was young, he had dreamed of becoming a knight, a defender of justice and honor. He would listen to stories from the older fishermen about Baron Oliver, who recruited a handful of soldiers every two years. It was said that the most outstanding aspirants were designated as squires, which made the nearly impossible mission of becoming a knight merely a matter of time and dedication.

    With this goal firmly in mind, Evan spared no effort. During his years in the village, he trained alone, imitating the movements he saw during the rare visits of the soldiers from House Kamaiura. When he finally reached the required age, he enlisted, determined to give his best. In the training field, his effort did not go unnoticed. Evan received various compliments from the knight instructor, who saw in him an unyielding determination and growing skill. These compliments further fueled his desire to continue, to prove that he, a simple fisherman, could achieve the dream that seemed so distant.

    Even tired, he forced himself to continue, to maintain the pace, to not give ground. Each strike he delivered and each defense he managed to execute were testaments to his determination.

    As Evan continued to block Liliam''s attacks, a part of his mind clung to a piece of information he had received weeks before. It was a rumor, but there was something about it that seemed true. It was said that Baron Oliver''s daughter, Liliam herself, challenged all the newcomers at the end of their training. Those who could withstand her strikes or even defeat her had better prospects in House Kamaiura.

    This information had spread among the aspirants like wildfire in a dry field, and Evan knew he couldn''t waste this opportunity. If he could withstand Liliam, if he proved his worth in front of everyone, then his dream of becoming a knight would be closer. Therefore, giving up now, with so many eyes on him and so much at stake, was unthinkable.

    Evan tightened his grip around the wooden sword. Even though his body was at its limit, he refused to yield. He knew what was at stake. If he could prove his worth here, perhaps the dream that always seemed distant could finally start to become a reality.

    Evan stubbornly continued to resist the next attacks, even as he felt his body weakening with each new strike. His movements, once precise, were now starting to lose coordination. His arms trembled, and his vision, blurred by the effort, could no longer keep up with Liliam''s agility. With every mistake he made, with every defense he failed to execute, the pressure increased, but Evan forced himself to continue. He knew he was at his limit, but the thought of giving up still did not cross his mind.

    Then, suddenly, Liliam stopped. She stepped back, lowering her wooden sword with a cold smile on her lips. "You managed to amuse me for so long, but now you''re so slow that it''s getting boring," she said, her childish voice contrasting with the sharpness of her words.

    Evan felt a chill run down his spine. Before he could process the statement, he saw Liliam advancing again. Something had changed. The speed she had shown at the beginning, already fast, had slightly decreased with fatigue throughout the duel. However, now, as if she had deliberately conserved her energy, she returned to the attack with renewed ferocity, as if the duel had just begun.

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    Evan, frightened and already exhausted, could barely defend himself against the blows coming his way. Each of Liliam''s attacks was faster and more precise than the last, and Evan''s sword, which had previously managed to block her strikes, was now little more than an ineffective shield. He tried to retreat, attempting to gain some space, but she was relentless, giving him no room to breathe.

    Finally, with a fluid and powerful movement, Liliam delivered a strike that caught Evan by surprise, knocking his sword out of his hand and sending him crashing to the ground with unexpected force. The baron''s daughter, who was half Evan''s size, had defeated him. The world seemed to pause for a moment as he stared up at the sky, breathless and defeated, the reality of his situation finally settling in.

    Still on the ground, with a forlorn expression, Evan felt the weight of defeat on his shoulders. His mind was clouded with exhaustion and frustration. Suddenly, he heard someone calling his name. The voice was firm and serious, but the sound seemed to come from nowhere in particular. Confused, he remained lying down for a moment, trying to understand what was happening.

    Then, the voice called him again, clearer this time, and something inside Evan compelled him to react. With effort, he got up, his senses still dulled by the shock of defeat. But as he stood, the scene around him began to fade, the image of the Mbara''ba training grounds disappearing like a dream dissolving in the morning light.

    Evan blinked several times, trying to adjust his vision to the new environment. He was in a cabin, with rustic wooden walls and a floor covered by scattered blankets. Around him, other men were beginning to rise, clearly waking from sleep, just as he had. The familiar smell of the cabin and the sound of bodies moving on the wooden floor confirmed that he was awake.

    Looking around, Evan noticed a man walking away from him, clearly satisfied to see him awake. The man, dressed in simple, practical clothing, was moving toward another who was still asleep, gently touching him to wake him as well. Evan took a deep breath, the relief mixed with the confusion still present in his mind. The transition from dream to reality had been abrupt, but the call had brought him back. Now, he was back in the cabin, among his comrades, but the impact of the dream was still alive in his heart.

    Despite the impact the dream had left on his mind, Evan quickly got up, accustomed to the military routine that was now part of his life. He donned his thick leather clothing and adjusted his cloak to protect himself from the biting cold that still persisted in that northern region of the kingdom. He grabbed his sword, feeling the familiar weight in his hands, and folded the blanket he had used to sleep, storing it efficiently, as he had done hundreds of times during training.

    As he stepped out of the cabin, Evan was greeted by the sight of a large farm, an unusual sight in this part of the north, where the barren soil rarely allowed anything beyond arid lands and sparse forests. This farm, however, was different. It was one of the main suppliers to the castle of Mbara''ba, a feat that made it not only a rarity but also a constant target for bandits and raiders. For this reason, Baron Oliver maintained a significant contingent of soldiers and knights there throughout the year. Their presence had proven even more crucial after the incident that had occurred a few days earlier.

    Walking toward a barn, Evan couldn''t help but recall the recent events. He opened the door and was greeted by a scene that had become familiar in the past few days: dozens of rough-looking men, many of them injured, tied together on the cold dirt floor. They were the remnants of a mission that was initially supposed to be simple but had turned into something much more serious.

    It was supposed to be a routine mission, an opportunity for the novice soldiers to gain experience and prove their worth. Evan vividly remembered Baron Oliver speaking with authority, but also with a dose of encouragement, saying that he would personally lead Evan and the other recruits on their first official mission. The task was to capture bandits who had infiltrated the lands of the Kamaiura house.

    In the initial skirmishes, Evan admitted to himself that he was nervous, adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins. However, as the confrontations progressed, his confidence grew. These bandits, who initially seemed threatening, soon proved to be little more than desperate, untrained men. Many of them were drunk, armed with knives, relying more on intimidation than any real combat skills. They were used to scaring and robbing local fishermen for a few copper coins, but they were unprepared to face trained soldiers.

    Evan averted his gaze to a small group of bound bandits who seemed to be in worse condition than the others. One of them, a man with an old burn scar on his neck, looked directly at Evan, his eyes wide and jaw clenched, as if still trying to intimidate him despite his condition.

    As he stared at that specific group, Evan felt a mix of anger and sadness welling up in his chest. These were the bandits responsible for the caravan attacks, a more skilled and organized group than expected. From the start, the soldiers suspected they were facing a greater threat, but Evan and his comrades never imagined that the leader of that gang would be in the midst of a metamorphosis.

    A chill ran down his spine as he recalled the deadly fight against the bandit chief. The leader, during the battle, was a ferocious creature, and Evan had faced the greatest challenge of his life. Fighting alone against an enemy beyond his abilities was the moment he came closest to death. If not for the quick intervention of his comrades, he probably wouldn¡¯t be there to remember that nightmare. Evan shook his head slightly, trying to dispel the dark thoughts that had haunted him since that night.

    Suddenly, a loud voice interrupted his reflections, calling all the novices. Evan, recognizing the authority in the voice, abandoned his thoughts about the fight and hurried to approach the owner of the voice.

    The man who was calling them stood imposingly, dressed in thick animal hides and some pieces of metal armor over them, bearing the emblem of the Kamaiura house. He was clearly a knight of the house, his posture and presence exuding authority and respect.

    Evan quickly positioned himself in one of the organized rows in a square in front of the knight. Along with 46 other novice soldiers, he maintained an exemplary posture, his body straight and his gaze fixed, awaiting orders. The silence was absolute, only the sound of the cold wind cutting through the air.

    It was then that Evan noticed a familiar figure emerging from the largest house on the farm. Baron Oliver, with his usual serious expression, slowly walked toward the group. The baron stopped next to the knight and, without saying a word, looked directly at Evan. The baron''s piercing gaze cut through the row of soldiers and fixed on him, as if evaluating his spirit, his determination, and the weight of the experiences he had carried since the recent battle.

    Evan felt his heart race slightly but maintained his unwavering expression under the baron''s gaze.

 The will to sculpt ones own path

    City of Mbara¡¯ba

    Lucios was sitting cross-legged on a small rug, his hands clenched into tight fists, gently touching each other. His eyes were closed, and his body radiated apparent tranquility. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, the air expelled from his body causing an almost imperceptible distortion in the beam of light streaming through the window, as if the very environment was reacting to his exhalation.

    After the conversation he had with the old Antoine two days ago, Lucios decided to stop worrying about how Baron Oliver¡¯s daughter treated him. Old Antoine¡¯s words made him realize that his energy was being wasted on concerns he had no ability to resolve. Since then, he resolved to focus entirely on his training in the Path.

    He opened his eyes but remained still, his mind immersed in deep thoughts. He felt the subtle change in his body; the potion he had taken a few days ago had finally worn off. Closing his eyes again, Lucios focused his attention on his Vital Center. The familiar sensation of energy flowing within him enveloped him, and he realized, with a mixture of satisfaction and determination, that the progress made in the past two months was equivalent to what would have taken almost a year to achieve before advancing to the metamorphosis stage.

    Lucios then concentrated deeply, feeling the energy in his heart beginning to pulse with renewed strength. He carefully directed it, allowing it to flow slowly into his lungs. As the energy spread, his lung capacity expanded, as if the very air around him were denser and richer. Each breath became deeper, allowing him to absorb more oxygen and feel a renewed vitality. The sensation was of growth, as if his lungs were becoming stronger, capable of sustaining a longer and more vigorous life.

    The energy continued its course, spreading to the other organs and the digestive system. It was as if hot oil were being poured into long-stuck gears, lubricating them and allowing them to function smoothly and efficiently. His organs, once burdened by constant effort, now worked with unprecedented efficiency, as if all the accumulated fatigue was being expelled, replaced by a sense of renewal.

    Next, the energy flowed into the muscles of his torso. Although he felt the increased strength, a significant portion of the energy dissipated, escaping his control and dispersing into the air. The muscles contracted and relaxed, filled with a new power, but Lucios knew he was still far from mastering this power completely. When the energy reached his limbs, the challenge increased; most of the energy was lost, escaping like steam, leaving only a trace of its potential to strengthen his arms and legs.

    Finally, the energy penetrated his bones. The effort to maintain the flow was almost unbearable, and he felt that almost all the energy escaped before it could merge completely with the bone structure. His bones vibrated with the intensity, but the energy waste was palpable, a reminder that he still had much to learn and master.

    Lucios maintained the energy flow for a few minutes, his body trembling with involuntary spasms as sweat trickled down his skin. Each second felt like an eternity until he could no longer sustain the effort. The energy diminished, and Lucios collapsed from his meditation position, falling to the floor, exhausted, his limbs extended and his body weakened. He had tested his limits, and now, absolute fatigue took over every fiber of his being.

    After a long time sprawled on the floor, Lucios sighed deeply, slowly getting up. His gaze, laden with complexity, reflected the mix of emotions that consumed him. As he rose, the only thing echoing in his mind was an overwhelming homesickness. Images of the start of his training flooded his thoughts, taking him back to when he was only seven years old.

    He remembered being surrounded by his two older brothers, who laughed at him after he failed to answer a simple question about the hereditary training technique of House Apurina. Sir Owen, the stern teacher, had silenced the brothers with a severe look before turning to Lucios. "This is the third time you¡¯ve made a mistake," Owen said calmly but with authority. "Making mistakes in the Technique of the Last Light training can cause problems in your body in the future."

    Adrian, the older brother, laughed and, with disdain, added, "What good is it for him to learn the correct sequence if he doesn¡¯t even like to train?" He pretended to punch Lucios, who shrank back in fear. Adrian pulled his arm back and mocked, "See? He¡¯s a coward." The comment was followed by laughter from Lucam, the second older brother.

    Sir Owen, with a firm voice, interrupted the mockery: "That¡¯s enough. The lesson is over. You may go now." The brothers, relieved to escape the lesson they found tedious, wasted no time leaving. But, as they walked away, Lucios heard Sir Owen¡¯s voice calling him to stay, which made his heart sink with discouragement.

    Before Sir Owen could utter a word, Lucios, feeling the crushing weight of expectations and accumulated frustration, erupted in words. "I already know what you¡¯re going to say," he began, with a voice that intended to be firm but betrayed underlying tension. "But why does it really matter?" He paused briefly, as if trying to gather confidence, before continuing, his voice still holding a challenging tone. "I¡¯m a noble, aren¡¯t I? I¡¯ll always have soldiers around me, protecting me, serving me... So why should I care about becoming a great warrior?"

    But as the words came out, the structure of his argument began to crumble. "I mean... I... I¡¯ll always have someone to... to fight for me, right?" His voice, which had started with resolve, gradually became a jumble of disjointed and incoherent phrases. "So, why... why do I need to be strong? It doesn¡¯t make sense... I... I just don¡¯t understand!" He finished, almost out of breath, the words tumbling over each other, his voice wavering and childish.

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    Sir Owen remained silent for a brief moment, his eyes reflecting deep thought. Then, with calm firmness, he spoke: "Don¡¯t be mistaken, young Lucios. Although nobles are above common men, it doesn¡¯t mean there aren¡¯t difficulties in their path. On the contrary, the paths of nobility are full of thorns."

    Sir Owen stepped closer to Lucios, his eyes locked on the young man¡¯s, as if wanting to drive his words deeply into his mind. "Common people walk a road paved by the noble they serve," he continued, his voice gaining weight with each word. "These roads are like carefully delineated trails in a dense forest, where every tree and every stone has been removed to ensure that the path is as easy as possible. Even if the journey is long or challenging, they have the assurance of a firm ground beneath their feet, and if they stumble, it¡¯s just a matter of getting up and continuing."

    Lucios could almost visualize these roads, wide and flat, lined with trees offering shade and protection, traveled by people moving forward with a sense of direction and purpose, unafraid of what might lie ahead.

    But then, Sir Owen changed his tone, his voice becoming graver, almost like a warning. ¡°But for nobles,¡± he said, ¡°there is no paved road. The forest has not been cleared. Nobles are the first to enter it, without a map, without a guide, with nothing but their own strength to forge a path. You must create your own path, and that means cutting down trees with your own hands, crushing stones and thorns, and walking over treacherous terrain where a fall can be fatal. Every step is a choice, and every choice carries the risk of a hidden trap, of unstable ground that can give way at any moment.¡±

    Lucios felt a shiver run down his spine as he imagined this wild and unexplored forest, where every movement required effort and courage, where a mistake could mean falling into an endless abyss.

    ¡°If you, as a noble, fall,¡± Sir Owen continued, with an increasing intensity in his voice, ¡°there will be no road to catch you. There will be nothing to soften your fall or to help you rise again. And when you fall, Lucios, when a noble falls, it¡¯s as if the whole world is watching, but not just to see if you will get up. No, it¡¯s as if the world is hungry, eagerly waiting for any sign of weakness, ready to pounce on you. It¡¯s like a pack of wolves circling a wounded prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. They don¡¯t just watch but prepare to devour every piece of what remains of you, tearing away pieces of your dignity, your honor, your legacy.¡±

    He paused, allowing the words to sink deeply into Lucios¡¯s mind, before continuing with a grave voice: ¡°Many do not rise, and when they fall, their failures become food for those who observe them. Their names are lost in the shadows of history, erased, forgotten, while those who devoured them move on, satisfied, leaving behind only shattered dreams buried with them.¡±

    The silence lingered, heavy with Sir Owen¡¯s words, as Lucios felt the gravity of the responsibility he had never before understood.

    Sir Owen stepped closer and, with a softer yet equally powerful voice, said: ¡°The tool you will rely on most to create your own path is strength. Not just physical strength, but the strength of spirit, the unwavering determination to continue, even when the forest seems impenetrable and thorns tear at your skin. Having strong subordinates is important, yes, but even more important is having great strength of your own, for without it, your subordinates will see you as weak, and a weak leader does not deserve to be followed.¡±

    Finally, Sir Owen pointed out, ¡°Take your father, Tiberios, as an example. He was the eldest son, yes, but despite that, his inheritance was contested by the old knights of his father, who favored his younger brothers. Tiberios had his flaws; he was not the most charismatic, nor the most scholarly. In fact, he also lacked the innate skill for court intrigues, and his patience often wore thin quickly, making him rash in moments of tension.¡±

    Sir Owen paused, looked up, and sighed. He then fixed his eyes back on Lucios and continued. ¡°But he was the strongest. When the time came, he used that strength to forge his own path through the dense forest, overcoming his brothers and the expectations of the house¡¯s knights, and earned the title of count. He faced the unknown, took risks, and prevailed. It is this strength, Lucios, that you need to cultivate if you wish to create your own path in this world.¡±

    Sir Owen¡¯s words had remained etched in Lucios¡¯s mind ever since, like a constant echo, a reminder that the path he would need to tread would be difficult, arduous, and full of dangers, but that strength was the key not only to survive but to prevail.

    The scene shifts back to Lucios, now in his room, his eyes showing renewed determination. He focused his thoughts, resolved to continue and strengthen himself. He approached a small chest on the floor of his room. Inside, there was a simple dagger with a leather handle, a worn book, and some bottles with yellow liquids, alongside other empty bottles.

    Lucios glanced briefly at the dagger, recalling its significance, but soon directed his attention to the potions. He picked up one of the filled bottles, uncorked it with a decisive motion, and brought it to his mouth, ready to drink the liquid, when he was interrupted by a firm knock on the door.

    A feminine voice followed the knock, announcing: ¡°Young noble Lucios, the master sent me to inform you that he wishes to speak with you in his office.¡±

    Lucios felt initial astonishment at the unexpected knock on the door but quickly composed himself upon recognizing that the voice belonged to one of the servants working in the castle. However, a quick reflection alarmed him. The only person in the castle referred to as ¡°the master¡± was Baron Oliver himself, which meant that he had already returned. Knowing this, he responded firmly to the woman outside his room: ¡°I will go to meet the baron immediately.¡±

    Lucios, who had already put the potion back in the chest, approached the door and opened it, revealing the figure of a middle-aged servant dressed in simple clothes outside the room.

    Lucios, with his torso sweaty and still bare, showed a developing body but with well-toned muscles. Still panting from the exertion of his training, he spoke nervously, ¡°Show me the way.¡±

    There was a brief silence, and then the woman¡¯s voice sounded again: ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better to take a bath first, Young noble?¡±

    Lucios, realizing he was still dressed in his training clothes, just a loose pair of pants, far from the noble attire expected, felt a look of embarrassment on his face. He looked timidly at his toes before responding, in a tone almost hesitant ¡°A bath would be good.¡±

    Seeing the young man¡¯s embarrassment, the servant managed a concealed smile and said, ¡°I will request that a bath be prepared for you.¡± Lucios nodded in agreement, and she quickly left.

    In no time, Lucios found himself in another room of the castle, immersed in a bathtub. The steam from the hot water rose around him, providing a moment of tranquility before the meeting with the baron.

 The Knights Apprentice

    Lucios adjusted the belt around his waist, feeling the soft leather against his skin as he pulled the sleeves of his best tunic, trying to hide the slight tremor in his hands. The gray tunic, with its delicate blue embroidery that shimmered in the soft candlelight, was the only ceremonial garment he had brought with him to Mbara¡¯ba. It had been carefully stored for special occasions, and he wanted to make an impression. Most of his belongings, however, had been left behind at his grandfather¡¯s mansion in Sucundo, abandoned in haste when he had to leave without raising suspicion.

    Thinking of that event brought back a glimpse of the uncomfortable journey he had to endure, and for a brief moment, Lucios wondered why those pirates had attacked him at sea. What were they after? But before his mind got lost in theories, he forced it back to the present, to the dilemma before him now. Although he had been at the baron¡¯s house for a few weeks, this was the first time he had been summoned personally.

    Soon, a young soldier silently approached. He stopped beside him, slightly tilting his head before speaking in a respectful, soft tone, ¡°The baron awaits you, young noble.¡±

    The cold stone corridor seemed narrower than usual, and the distant sound of servants at work barely reached his ears. However, as he walked toward the baron¡¯s office, the initial nervousness tightening his chest began to ease.

    With each step, he reminded himself of who he was, heir to a lineage that carried the weight of generations of tradition. The nervousness gave way to controlled serenity, as if he were putting a firm mask over his emotions. His shoulders, once tense, subtly relaxed, and the irregular beating of his heart began to sync with his steady steps. When he reached the door, he looked up, now calmer and more focused, reflecting a quiet confidence in his posture and the slight gleam of determination in his eyes.

    ¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­

    Meanwhile, the scene cuts to the baron¡¯s office a few moments earlier.

    An eighteen-year-old young man, with impeccable posture, was serving a glass of wine to Sir Patrick, the head knight of the Kamaiura house. Sir Patrick was seated across from the baron, both in the midst of a serious conversation.

    ¡°¡­All the captured bandits have already arrived in Mbara¡¯ba and are ready to receive their sentences,¡± Sir Patrick reported in a soft tone. ¡°Additionally, Girma has just returned. He said that after a few days of tracking the bandit leader, they clashed in a confrontation. Despite managing to shoot a few arrows at the leader, he still managed to escape, jumping into one of the arms of the Akua River.¡±

    The young man, Evan, who had just served the wine, now stood by the door in absolute silence, attentively observing the scene, listening to the words exchanged in the center of the room. His eyes moved from Sir Patrick to the baron, absorbing every detail of the discussion but not daring to interrupt.

    The baron, with his fingers intertwined on the table, thought for a moment about the bandit leader. His expression was serious, but the sharp glint in his eyes revealed a calculating mind. ¡°Lucky fellow¡­¡± he murmured, breaking the brief silence. ¡°I doubt he¡¯ll become a problem again in the future.¡±

    After a brief pause, the baron adjusted his posture and calmly spoke again, ¡°As for the captured bandits, interrogate them. Those who don¡¯t have blood on their hands will do forced labor in the fields. As for those who do, they will be hanged.¡±

    The baron paused again, his fingers lightly drumming on the solid wooden table. He raised his eyes to Sir Patrick, his demeanor relaxed, as if the matter were nothing more than a formality. With a slight wave of his hand, he spoke, almost nonchalantly:

    ¡°Dedicate more effort to the group that attacked the caravans. I want a detailed report on them,¡± he said, in a disinterested tone, as if merely passing along a routine message.

    Sir Patrick, however, did not share the same lightness. His eyes shone with focused intensity. To him, this was not just a detail to be resolved but a critical point. He nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on the baron, and responded in a soft but serious voice. ¡°That was already my intention. After all, a bandit in the metamorphosis stage in the northern lands is very strange.¡±

    Despite the controlled and low tone, there was an undeniable determination in his words, as if dedicating more energy to this interrogation was, to him, the most obvious and natural thing to do. The baron¡¯s lightness contrasted with the gravity Patrick placed on the matter, showing that the knight was keen on the details, looking for any clue that could lead back to the bandit leader who had escaped.

    With the matter of the bandits concluded, Sir Patrick shifted in his chair, his gaze focused on a new topic that seemed to trouble him. With an almost imperceptible sigh, he commented, ¡°The boy from the Apurina house is taking too long. The servant was sent to summon him at dawn, and so much time has passed, and he still hasn¡¯t arrived. It seems he needs one or two lessons about not keeping his elders waiting.¡±

    Patrick¡¯s voice, though soft, carried a veiled and severe critique. His eyes then rested on Evan, who stood still by the door, and without hesitation, he ordered, ¡°Evan, go after him and hurry the boy.¡±

    Upon hearing the order, Evan felt a wave of discomfort. His gaze, usually calm and observant, instantly shifted, revealing a slight, contained panic. A few weeks ago, obeying an order from the head knight of the house would have been incontestable. Sir Patrick¡¯s authority was clear, and his word, law. However, since he had received the honor of becoming the personal assistant and squire of Baron Oliver a few days ago, the dynamic had changed. Now, theoretically, he should only take orders directly from the baron, and any other instructions would have to be sanctioned by him. Confused about how to act without disrespecting any authority, Evan merely diverted his gaze to the baron, seeking guidance.

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    Baron Oliver, always attentive to details, immediately noticed the dilemma unfolding in Evan¡¯s silence. He also understood the hidden meaning behind Patrick¡¯s request. Oliver, for his part, saw no need to prolong the tension. With his characteristic calm, he gave a slight nod and spoke, his voice firm. ¡°Go and bring the Apurina boy here.¡±

    The clear and direct order brought immediate relief to Evan, who finally felt the weight of indecision dissipate. He straightened his shoulders, assuming a confident and firm posture, as his new role demanded. With a determined and respectful voice, he responded to the baron, ¡°Immediately, my lord.¡±

    Evan bowed slightly in a gesture of respect, his eyes now carrying the certainty of someone who knew exactly what to do. He then turned smoothly, his boots echoing on the floor as he left the room. The door closed softly behind him, leaving Sir Patrick and the baron alone again, while the young man hurried to carry out the task assigned to him.

    As soon as the door closed behind Evan, silence filled the office for a brief moment. Sir Patrick, still gazing at the polished wood of the door through which the young squire had exited, broke the silence with a comment that carried the weight of a veiled critique.

    "It was a hasty decision to accept that boy as a squire," he said bluntly, his voice controlled but revealing the discontent he had harbored for some time.

    Baron Oliver did not seem bothered by the observation. He maintained his relaxed posture, fingers interlaced on the desk, and after a moment of reflection, responded calmly, his voice measured, as if he had already considered this matter many times before.

    "I''ve seen the boy in action," he began, his eyes softening for a brief moment, almost as if recalling a distant memory. "He has talent."

    Sir Patrick''s dismay became even more evident as he listened to the baron''s simple response. His lips tightened, and with a slightly more serious tone, he continued. "Since your return, the news that you accepted a mere soldier as a squire has caused a mixed reaction among the house''s knights," he said, frowning. "Many of them are displeased."

    The baron closed his eyes, as if savoring the simplicity of the moment before diving into what he knew would be a complicated conversation. He didn¡¯t seem concerned, and when he spoke again, his voice had a relaxed, almost uninterested tone. "Will these opinions be a problem?"

    Sir Patrick let out a heavy sigh, one that carried not only frustration but also the resignation of someone caught in the intricacies of internal politics. He ran a hand over his chin, clearly exasperated, before responding with a question that sounded more like a lament. "Why are you making my life so difficult?"

    There was a bitter lightness to his tone, as if he were on the verge of surrendering to the situation. He then proceeded, explaining the true depth of the issue. "Since Russel advanced to the metamorphosis stage and was promoted to knight, all the knights in the house have been fighting for their sons to be the next chosen as his squire."

    He paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on the baron, searching for any sign that his words were being taken seriously. "I¡¯ve had to waste time in dozens of meetings with each of these knights, all with sons of the right age, all of them, directly or indirectly, making requests for me to convince you to take one of their sons."

    Sir Patrick paused, as if recalling with exhaustion all the conversations he had endured. He shook his head slightly, disappointed. "I even made a list for you. I put on it the names I thought were the most promising, young men with good records and potential." His tone turned slightly accusatory, though still composed. "And don¡¯t tell me you didn¡¯t read the list... because I saw you open the document in front of me, three months ago."

    He crossed his arms, staring at the baron with an expression that mixed weariness and frustration, as if already knowing that his carefully crafted list had been ignored or, at the very least, set aside. To Patrick, this was not just an individual decision by the baron, but a move that affected the internal politics of the house.

    Baron Oliver kept his eyes closed for a few more seconds, as if contemplating Sir Patrick''s words. Then, with a deliberate movement, he opened them, his gaze fixed on the knight commander in front of him. The previous lightness disappeared from his face, replaced by a sharp expression. His eyes, now as sharp as blades, conveyed an unshakable authority as he straightened his posture in the chair. When he spoke, his voice was firm, carrying a tone that brooked no argument. "My decision is final, Patrick."

    There was a brief pause, where the baron allowed the weight of his words to sink in. He leaned slightly forward, the intensity in his gaze unchanged. "Control their tempers..." he continued, his tone more severe now. "Come up with some excuse for my choice of the boy. You¡¯re very good at making those things up."

    What might initially have been an informal suggestion now carried a clear order. The baron knew that Sir Patrick, with his experience and influence over the other knights, was perfectly capable of calming internal tensions. And he made it clear that he expected this from him, leaving no room for negotiation.

    Sir Patrick, for his part, did not show any immediate reaction. He remained still, absorbing the seriousness of the baron''s words. The atmosphere in the office seemed to grow denser, with anticipation hanging in the air. Finally, he lowered his head slightly, in a respectful gesture, acknowledging that the baron was no longer open to discussions on the matter.

    When he looked up again, the change in his expression was noticeable. The previous discontent had disappeared, replaced by a calculated calm, almost resignation. Sir Patrick, with his meticulous nature and discipline forged in years of leadership, knew when to accept an order without further delay. He nodded subtly, and his voice came out controlled, methodical, without any trace of unnecessary emotion. "As you wish, my lord."

    The tone of his response was soft but firm, as if he were concluding a task. He knew what was expected of him, and even if the baron¡¯s choice did not please him, loyalty to the house and its leadership came first. Sir Patrick had the skill to manipulate the internal dynamics among the knights of House Kamaiura, and though he preferred another choice, he was prepared to handle the conversations and calm tempers, as he always had.

    Just as the heavy tension between Baron Oliver and Sir Patrick began to dissipate, both heard a knock on the door. The sound echoed through the office, interrupting the serious exchange of glances between the two. The dark wood of the door creaked slightly as it opened, revealing the figure of Evan. The young squire maintained a firm posture, despite his quiet steps as he entered the room. He bowed his head respectfully before speaking.

    "Young noble Lucios Apurina has arrived, my lord," Evan announced, his voice clear and respectful, though he couldn¡¯t completely hide a slight tone of anxiety.

    Sir Patrick and the baron exchanged a quick glance but said nothing. The baron, maintaining his serious demeanor, turned slightly to Evan, who stood near the entrance, waiting. His voice was firm and decisive. "Bring him in."

    Evan bowed in obedience, and with a quick movement, turned to carry out the order.

 Words of Commitment Part 1

    Lucios entered the room with steady steps, his eyes quickly taking in the presence of the two principal figures. He had expected to see Baron Oliver, but the sight of Sir Patrick standing beside him made him adjust his posture slightly. The baron, always imposing, displayed a slight smile suggesting good humor. Sir Patrick, on the other hand, held a rigid and observant expression, studying Lucios with an intensity that was almost unsettling. Known for his ability to notice subtle details, the knight seemed capable of seeing beyond the confident facade that Lucios worked so hard to maintain.

    Suddenly, Lucios heard the sound of the door closing behind him. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder and noticed that the young soldier who had brought him there remained in the room, standing silent and still in a discreet corner. This unexpected presence made him hesitate for a moment. "Strange," he thought, but seeing that the baron did not question the soldier''s presence, Lucios deduced that the young man must be someone of talent, perhaps an apprentice under Sir Patrick¡¯s guidance. The idea that he might be evaluated not only by the knight but also by the trainee added an unexpected weight to the encounter.

    While keeping a firm posture, Lucios noticed his breathing wavering slightly, something only Sir Patrick seemed to pick up on. The knight¡¯s attentive eyes caught every small sign of tension, like Lucios¡¯s clenched hands or the subtle irregularity of his breath. The baron, for his part, maintained a friendly, receptive look, projecting warm hospitality.

    Internally collecting himself, Lucios set aside any trace of insecurity. He felt his mind sharpen, his body relax, and, with a confidence that only years of training could provide, he began to speak. ¡°Greetings, Baron Oliver,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°I, Lucios of House Apurina, wish to express my gratitude for your hospitality. I have greatly enjoyed my stay at House Kamaiura these past weeks. The honor of being among you is something I will carry with me always.¡± His speech was polished, perfectly rehearsed, as if he had repeated those words thousands of times, every inflection meticulously controlled.

    As Lucios proceeded with his speech, he noticed small changes in his listeners'' reactions. Sir Patrick, who had initially kept a neutral expression, began to show a faint approving smile, as if satisfied with Lucios¡¯s performance. His eyes sparkled, appreciating the care and well-placed rhetoric. The baron, however, seemed to move in the opposite direction. Oliver''s initial smile slowly faded until his face took on a more serious, impatient expression. Before Lucios could finish, the baron interrupted him abruptly.

    "Enough! I can''t bear to listen to these rehearsed presentations anymore," Oliver said, his voice echoing through the room. "All this noble tradition of speaking in circles exhausts me."

    Lucios was stunned. The unexpected interruption left him momentarily speechless. Even Sir Patrick, who until then had seemed to appreciate the speech, looked unsettled by the baron''s blunt words.

    The baron, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort his abrupt interruption had caused, kept an impassive expression. Without bothering to soften the tense atmosphere, he simply gestured to a nearby chair and spoke directly, ¡°Sit down, boy.¡±

    Lucios hesitated briefly. Noble etiquette advised him to wait for a formal and courteous invitation, but the baron¡¯s tone made it clear that he was not interested in formalities. Deciding that it wasn¡¯t worth insisting on tradition in front of Oliver, he let go of his instincts and sat down, as commanded.

    Wasting no time, the baron leaned slightly forward, fixing his eyes on Lucios with an expression that suggested he had already made up his mind. ¡°You have been here in M¡¯baraba for some time,¡± he began, his voice laden with intent. ¡°So, what are your impressions of my daughter, Lilian?¡±

    Lucios felt his heart race, but he quickly composed his thoughts. Following the protocol taught by his tutors, he began a polished speech, full of compliments. "Upon meeting Lady Lilian, I was deeply impressed by her radiant beauty and her unmatched grace. Her eyes shine like stars, and her smile lights up any room¡­¡± He intended to continue, reciting praises that sounded as familiar as rehearsed greetings. However, a quick glance at the baron¡¯s face revealed something he hadn¡¯t expected: the same look of disinterest he had noticed earlier. The more Lucios spoke, the more the baron''s smile faded, as if the carefully chosen words lost all effect in the face of Oliver''s increasingly monotone expression.

    Realizing the need to adjust his approach, Lucios interrupted his own words and, after a brief pause, resumed in a more direct tone, abandoning the empty flourishes. ¡°Lady Lilian is unlike any other noblewoman I have met,¡± he said, now with palpable sincerity. ¡°Despite being a lady, she is exceptional at fencing. I admit that, in many ways, she is even better than I am.¡± A slight smile appeared on his face as he recalled the challenges he faced. ¡°Besides, she has a strong, fiery temper. In all the time I¡¯ve been in M¡¯baraba, I¡¯ve exchanged only a few words with her. I¡¯ve never had the chance for a real conversation, and honestly, I get the impression that she hates me.¡± The now raw, honest words captured the baron¡¯s attention, who tilted his head, intrigued by the unexpected turn of Lucios¡¯s response.

    As Lucios spoke, the baron observed the young man with growing interest, appreciating the shift in demeanor. Lucios''s sincerity was rare among Lilian¡¯s suitors. Where others sought to impress him with rehearsed speeches and calculated gestures, he now saw a young man bold enough to admit the challenges he faced with his daughter. However, a shadow of concern crossed the baron¡¯s expression. Lilian seemed to grow more distant with each passing day; with her first suitors, at least, she had gone through the courtesy of conversation.

    Now, she didn¡¯t even bother to hide her impatience. "Is my daughter becoming insufferable even to those who should be eager to court her?" thought the baron. Oliver feared that her constant refusals and tempestuous behavior might end up driving away all potential suitors and jeopardizing her future. Yet, at the same time, he couldn''t help but feel intrigued by the effect Lucios seemed to have on her; perhaps there was something more there.

    ¡°That sounds like my daughter,¡± said the baron finally, with a slight laugh, and a spark of challenge danced in his gaze. He paused for a long moment, as if deeply reflecting, before continuing with a graver tone. ¡°Taking your words as truth, I would say you don¡¯t wish to continue with this marriage proposal, do you?¡± There was a hint of challenge in his voice, as if testing Lucios''s intentions, probing what lay behind all that determination.

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    Lucios lowered his eyes for a moment, as if reflecting, but deep down, the answer was clear and bitter: it would make no difference if he said he didn¡¯t want the marriage. He still remembered his father, Count Tiberios''s harsh words, who, upon receiving Lucios¡¯s first attempt to refuse, had been categorical in saying he would rather disinherit him than accept any dissenting opinion. For Tiberios, the alliance with Baron Oliver''s house was non-negotiable, and Lucios understood that any resistance was futile. However, as he stared at the ground, a new doubt arose in his heart: did he, deep down, want this marriage to happen?

    The answer, at first, seemed obvious. No, he didn¡¯t want it. The mission felt like a punishment, a veiled rebuke for every time he defied his father''s expectations. He felt shackled, caught in a political game he wished to avoid. However, in recent weeks, something within him had changed, something he was reluctant to admit. There was a strange magnetism in Lilian, something that stirred in him a desire for challenge, a spark he had never felt before. And now, in that moment, he was resolved. He raised his gaze, his eyes shining with newfound and overwhelming determination, meeting the baron¡¯s with an intensity that was nearly disarming. ¡°The more she tries to pull away, the more I wish to win her over,¡± he declared, his voice ringing clear and unwavering, without a trace of hesitation. It wasn¡¯t the mission imposed by his father that drove him, but a pure, blossoming desire, the genuine yearning of a young man who, for the first time, had met someone who would not easily be molded.

    Sir Patrick, ever observant, was momentarily surprised by the response. The baron, on the other hand, couldn¡¯t conceal his reaction. For a moment, he blinked, then burst into hearty laughter that echoed through the room. ¡°Good, good, very good,¡± he exclaimed, wiping away a tear of laughter that escaped his eye. ¡°A man ought to be like that! You know, over the past few weeks, my brother hasn¡¯t stopped praising you¡­ and now I see why.¡±

    Before Lucios could respond, the baron turned to his desk, opening a dark wooden drawer and pulling out a rolled-up parchment. Lucios immediately recognized the seal¡ªthe symbol of the Apurina house, now broken, indicating the document had already been read.

    With a casual gesture, Baron Oliver unrolled the parchment and began to speak, his tone now slightly more serious. ¡°In truth, I had my doubts about this marriage,¡± he confessed, his eyes skimming the handwritten lines. ¡°Count Tiberios has shown much generosity in this marriage proposal,¡± he continued, almost as if he were musing aloud, his gaze still fixed on the words on the goatskin parchment.

    Hearing the baron¡¯s direct words, Lucios felt a knot form in his stomach, but he held his gaze steady. ¡°I am not ignorant of my father¡¯s motives in proposing this union,¡± he began, carefully choosing each word. ¡°In fact, what he desires is the support of a strong northern noble house, to facilitate future dealings for the Apurina house in this region.¡± Though he knew this wasn¡¯t the true reason, his voice sounded so confident it was almost convincing.

    Baron Oliver crossed his arms, analyzing Lucios¡¯s response with an enigmatic expression. After a few seconds of reflection, he narrowed his eyes, as if testing the young man¡¯s true intentions. ¡°I recognize that my Kamaiura house is not weak,¡± the baron said, his voice now thoughtful and full of curiosity. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t compare to many of the great northern noble houses, which carry generations of history and accumulated power. In that case, why not choose one of those larger houses, which stand on the same level as the Apurina house? Why choose a recently enfeoffed house like Kamaiura?¡± There was a silent challenge in his words, an invitation for Lucios to justify why this alliance with a lesser-status house.

    Lucios took a deep breath, absorbing the question. He knew that political strategy was an inescapable part of noble life, and in that moment, he realized the baron was probing for something deeper. The baron wanted to know if Lucios saw beyond power games, if he was aware of his father Tiberios¡¯s plans.

    Lucios fell silent, his chin slightly lowered as his gaze drifted over the stone floor. He didn¡¯t know how to respond immediately. The weight of the question seemed much greater than his rehearsed words could cover. It was true that, compared to the ancient nobility of the north, the Kamaiura house was still a young star in the constellation of great houses, and he knew any answer he gave might sound evasive or weak. He felt a cold sweat run down his neck as the silence stretched, thickening the atmosphere.

    Sir Patrick, who had been observing the conversation in complete silence, finally intervened. His tone was calm and deliberate, as if weighing each word before speaking. ¡°I believe I have the answer to that question, my lord,¡± he said, his voice cutting through the heavy air with precision. Lucios looked up in surprise, as did the baron, who seemed intrigued by the interruption. ¡°Unlike the rest of the kingdom,¡± Sir Patrick continued, ¡°the northern nobles have an old custom: they marry their children only among the noble houses of the north. And, as Apurina is not from the north, it would be expected that it would face great difficulty in succeeding with any marriage proposal to these traditional families.¡±

    The baron leaned forward slightly, showing interest in Sir Patrick¡¯s explanation, though a slight confusion was evident in his expression; he hadn¡¯t expected the knight to defend the young man in that way. Lucios found Sir Patrick¡¯s answer clever, acknowledging the existence of the northern marriage tradition. However, he also reflected that it wasn¡¯t entirely true that the Apurina house couldn¡¯t secure a match among the northern noble houses if it wished. After all, his family was one of the old houses that had existed since the kingdom¡¯s founding, enjoying considerable prestige.

    Sir Patrick continued, now looking directly at Lucios, as if offering him a chance at redemption: ¡°The Kamaiura house, though young, is not bound by these traditions. And thus, it is a strategic, perhaps even bold choice, that your father made in proposing this union.¡±

    Lucios felt a wave of relief at Sir Patrick¡¯s unexpected defense. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure why the knight was helping him, but at that moment, it didn¡¯t matter. The tense energy of the conversation dissipated slightly, and he decided to agree. ¡°Indeed, one of the reasons for my father¡¯s strong interest in this union,¡± he admitted, ¡°is that the Kamaiura house does not feel bound to the rigid traditions of the north. This could provide us with a flexibility that other alliances might not offer.¡±

    Baron Oliver listened attentively, his eyes darkening in consideration, as if weighing every word he had just heard. In silence, he picked up the parchment again, and his fingers slowly glided over the paper, almost as if he were seeking in the written words the confirmation of a suspicion he already held. The silence between them stretched, dense and laden with unspoken meanings, while the baron kept his gaze fixed on the lines of the parchment, absorbed in his own thoughts.

    Finally, he looked up at Lucios, his expression transformed¡ªwhat had been hesitation now gave way to a solid determination, as if a long-matured decision had finally risen to the surface. ¡°In that case,¡± he said, his voice firm and full of gravity, ¡°I see no reason to oppose this marriage. However, regarding the second request that Count Tiberios made in his letter¡­¡±