The room was dimly lit, the flickering light of a single oil lamp casting long shadows across the stone walls. The air was heavy with the scent of aged wood and the faint tang of metal, a reminder of the countless weapons that had passed through these halls. Balthar sat across from Julius, his muscular frame tense, his scarred face a mask of skepticism. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that only decades of shared history could create. When Julius dropped the bombshell—Aestro Zentus is alive—Balthar's reaction was immediate.
"Nice joke, man," Balthar said, his voice rough and dismissive. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now get to the point."
Julius didn't flinch. His piercing gaze remained locked on Balthar, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded letter. The parchment was worn, its edges frayed, but the seal was unmistakable—a crest Balthar hadn't seen in decades. It was the mark of Aestro Zentus, the hero who had united the empires and fallen to the Abyss Walkers.
Balthar's breath hitched as he took the letter, his calloused fingers brushing over the broken wax seal. He unfolded it carefully, his eyes scanning the elegant script. The words were brief but earth-shattering.
"To Julius Damas,
I am alive. The spear that struck me did not end me. I have spent years in shadow, uncovering truths too dangerous to share here. The Abyss Walkers are but the beginning. A greater darkness approaches, and Thalorien will not survive without us. It must be a shock for you, but it's the truth. If you want the safety of the Empire, meet me at the Shrouded Grove, three nights from now, beneath the crescent moon. Come alone.
— Aestro Zentus"
Balthar's hands trembled slightly as he finished reading. He looked up at Julius, his golden eyes narrowing. "You really believe this is from Lord Zentus and not some trick by the Abyss Walkers?" he asked, his voice low and cautious.
Julius leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "I have a feeling it's from him," he said, his tone steady but laced with urgency. "Think about it—where did his corpse go? We never found it."
Balthar frowned, his brow furrowing. "I think our Emperor made it clear that the Abyss Walkers took it, no?"
Julius didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied Balthar, his gaze piercing. "Do you remember," he began slowly, "when the Lords tried to convince the Emperor that we should go and find Lord Zentus's corpse? They were told to remain silent… but they went against the Emperor in open rebellion to search for it."
Balthar's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "And they faced the consequences of their choice."
"They were assassinated," Julius said, his voice sharp and unyielding. "And at that time… you were the commander of the Shadowraths."
The room seemed to grow colder as the weight of Julius's words settled over them. Balthar froze, his hands tightening around the letter. "What are you trying to say?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Julius's gaze was unrelenting. "Were they your men who assassinated the Lords?"
Balthar hesitated, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I just followed orders," he said finally, his voice strained. "They were traitors. They tried to buy my loyalty."
Julius leaned back in his chair, his expression cold. "A tragedy for them," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "They didn't know you were already bought."
Balthar shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. "I will not have my honor questioned by the likes of you!" he roared, his voice echoing through the room.
Julius remained seated, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Balthar's fury. "The likes of me?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm not questioning your honor, Balthar. I'm denying its existence. Regardless of what you say, I'm going to the Shrouded Grove."
Balthar stood there for a moment, his fists clenched, his chest heaving with suppressed anger. Finally, he exhaled sharply and turned away. "Fine," he said, his voice cold. "I will train the kids. You can do whatever you want."
With that, the two men parted ways, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air like a storm cloud. Night deepened, and the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, signaling the start of a new day.
The young nobles awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside their windows. In the boys' room, Ilis was already up, shaking Finn awake. "Finn, wake up already," Ilis said, his voice tinged with exasperation.
Finn groaned, his face buried in his pillow. "Ah… Grandma, the stew is amazing…" he mumbled, still half-asleep.
Vold, sitting on the lower bunk, smirked. "What is bro yapping about?"
Before anyone could respond, the door swung open, and **Alistar** strode in. Without a word, he smacked Finn hard on the back, jolting him awake.
"THAT HURTS!" Finn shouted, clutching his shoulder.
"Wake up already," Alistar said, his voice calm but firm. "They're calling us for breakfast."
The group quickly got ready and made their way to the dining hall, where Pege was already seated with Cerscei and Seraphine. Pege introduced the newcomers, and the atmosphere was light—at least until Vold tried to impress Cerscei with a poorly timed joke, earning him a cold stare. Meanwhile, Seraphine's attention was firmly on Alistar, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity.
As they ate, the door creaked open, and Balthar entered. His presence immediately silenced the room. He stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed and his expression grim.
"Eat all you want," he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Because this will be the last meal you'll enjoy."
The room froze, the weight of his words sinking in. Finn, mid-bite, choked on his food, coughing loudly as the others exchanged uneasy glances. The training was about to begin, and none of them were ready for what lay ahead.