Magnoli was no ordinary prince.
As the fifth son of the Whiteheaven Empire, he held no province of his own like his elder brothers. While the other four princes managed imperial territories under official mandates, Magnoli chose a different path—diving headfirst into the underground empires of lawless cities like Blacksand and Patisia: brothels, gambling dens, and illicit trade of all kinds.
"My mother despises me," he once confided in a subordinate. "And because of that, I'm free to do whatever no one will dare supervise."
Empress Xienna had indeed refused to grant Magnoli a territory—not without reason. His reckless lifestyle, scandalous reputation among nobles, and his obsession with gambling made him a blemish on the imperial lineage.
Yet Magnoli was no fallen prince groveling in the gutters. He was sharp, masterful in the art of disguise and strategy, and possessed a brilliant mind for business. In fact, he had become one of the most influential merchants along Whiteheaven's coastal regions.
When he witnessed with his own eyes how Rogg toppled both Borjong and Barugu in a single night—with strength and fearlessness that defied human limits—Magnoli instantly understood: this man was no mere warrior.
"What did he say?" Rogg asked coldly, addressing Magnoli's translator.
The translator relayed the prince's offer. "He's offering you wealth and power beyond imagination. Everything you've ever dreamed of... and more."
Rogg's gaze sharpened. "Power? I only want one thing: return the Migase slaves and end the slavery. That's it."
After hearing the translation, Magnoli burst into laughter. "Brilliant," he replied. "Tell him I agree. And I know exactly where the tribal slaves are being sold. Take him with me."
But that friendly tone was misread.
Rogg's hand gripped the shaft of his spear. "If he's the one behind it all… I'll kill him myself."
The translator raised both hands quickly. "No! He's not involved. He only knows the location! He's not part of the trade!"
Hearing that, Rogg eased back slightly. "Fine. But if he's lying, I won't hesitate to end his life."
Magnoli brought Rogg to one of his brothels in the heart of Blacksand. There, they saw women—most of them war captives—working as sex workers.
"Not all of them were forced," said Magnoli, lounging in a lavish private room. "Some were given the chance to live better here than under barbarian rule. I offer protection… and wages. Though modest."
Rogg scanned the room, eyes razor-sharp, noting every detail. "Wage or not, they're still trapped. What's the difference from slavery?"
Magnoli didn't answer immediately. He simply raised his wine glass. "At least they're not being tortured. And they have hope… however little."
Rogg didn't respond. He knew full well that even without chains, they were far from free. But for now, he chose silence. He still needed Magnoli.
After a long conversation, they returned to Magnoli's mansion—a grand structure filled with carved walls, crystal chandeliers, and servants in ornate attire. Rogg remained unimpressed. But he understood—this place held valuable information.
That night, on the balcony overlooking the city as night fell, Magnoli spoke without turning.
"I want you to come with me to Patisia," he said suddenly. "There's an arena match coming soon."
Rogg narrowed his eyes. "Why would I go? To be your bodyguard? I'm not for hire."
Magnoli smirked. "I don't need a bodyguard. I need someone whose mere presence spreads fear. You'll protect me… and in return, I'll make sure you see exactly who's involved in the Migase slave trade. Many of them will be there—nobles, merchants, and slave owners alike."
Rogg paused. "I don't care about other nations. My focus is the Migase."
"And I'll help you find them," Magnoli cut in. "But I need you by my side. I have the access. You have the force. Together, we can use both."
Rogg exhaled. "Fine. But if things go south, don't expect me to protect you. I'm not laying down my life for you."
"Deal," Magnoli replied. "And as a sign of good faith, I'll fund your warriors. They'll be watching from the people's gallery."
Rogg looked at him, calmer now. "We leave at dawn. We're hunting Migase. Don't play games with me, Magnoli."
The prince only nodded, smiling broadly. "I'm not playing, Rogg. I'm shaping history."
Through a long and meticulous search using Magnoli's network of informants, Rogg finally found a lead on Pragyan and Nakhsa. The two had gathered dozens of freed Migase tribespeople—some rescued through diplomacy, others through bloodshed. As expected, their actions had earned them the label of fugitives under imperial surveillance.
Nevertheless, Magnoli managed to locate their hideout. Rogg was finally able to meet them again.
"At last…" Rogg murmured as he saw them. "Five days apart. I'm glad you're alive."
"And we're glad you are too, sir," Pragyan replied, bowing. "We feared the worst."
"And these…" Nakhsa pointed to the rescued group. "This is everyone we managed to find. They were taken from various detention points—most of them were once held by the Balevad."
Rogg nodded slowly. "Good work. We need to figure out how to get them back to the Migase Valley."
"But… how?" Pragyan asked, uncertainty clouding his face. "We don't even know how far we are from it."
"Maybe we should first determine the position of Guava Valley in relation to the Migase homeland," Nakhsa suggested.
Rogg paused in thought. "Magnoli has someone who speaks Migase and knows the imperial geography. I'll ask them about logistics and the best way to get everyone home."
He drew a deep breath. "But before that… I want you to come with me to Patisia. Magnoli requested it specifically. There, you'll be able to scout if there are still Migase captives—whether as slaves, guards, or workers."
"Patisia?" Pragyan perked up. "Maybe once we get there, I can find a route leading back to Migase."
"Come with me," Rogg said to Nakhsa. "I want you to see for yourself if there are Migase women being held at one of Magnoli's brothels. If I have to, I'll force him to release them. And if he refuses… I'll make sure he regrets it."
Rogg and Nakhsa arrived at Magnoli's mansion, a grand estate straddling the border between Blacksand and Larfex. More than just a residence, the mansion was known as a gathering place for nobles and wealthy merchants, as well as one of the finest brothels in the coastal regions—managed personally by Magnoli. The place radiated a rare blend of luxury and order, something almost unheard of in lawless coastal towns.
The moment they stepped into the main hall, Nakhsa lowered his head deeply. His expression tensed, his body went rigid.
Rogg frowned. "What are you doing?"
"It's him…" Nakhsa whispered. "That's Prince Magnoli. A Prince of Whiteheaven."
Rogg turned to look at Magnoli. The man offered a casual smile, unfazed by the revelation of his royal identity.
"No need to be so formal," he said to Nakhsa. "Here, royal blood means less than good intentions. Just think of me as Magnoli—the man who owns this place."
"Forgive me, Your Highness, if I've been disrespectful..." Nakhsa murmured.
Magnoli waved him off. "No need. You're one of Balin's men, aren't you?"
Nakhsa's eyes widened in surprise. "You know Master Balin?"
"Who doesn't?" Magnoli chuckled. "He's a legend—one of Whiteheaven's fiercest warriors. Sadly, because his blood comes from a conquered tribe, he was never granted a seat on the General's Council."
"He's doing well," Nakhsa replied quietly. "Still resting at his home north of Blacksand."
Magnoli gave a slow nod. "He once bought you out of one of my establishments, didn't he? He used to talk about you often. Said he saw you as his own son."
"I… I didn't expect that. Thank you, Your Highness," Nakhsa said, voice shaking slightly.
Magnoli smiled faintly and stepped away. "You're welcome to rest here. I've prepared rooms for both of you upstairs. Dinner is already waiting."
A servant stepped forward and guided them up a polished marble staircase toward the guest quarters. This mansion was nothing like the gothic one Magnoli kept in central Blacksand. Here, every corridor was lined with elegant stone carvings, tall pillars, and lifelike statues that exuded quiet sophistication.
As they walked, Nakhsa leaned in and whispered to Rogg, "They call him the Prince of a Thousand Faces. He's a master of disguise—can change not just his appearance, but his entire demeanor to fit any situation."
"So… no one really knows who he is?" Rogg asked softly.
"Even I wasn't sure just now. But when I saw his eyes… I knew."
"And now he shows himself plainly—no mask, no pretense?"
Nakhsa nodded. "That's what worries me. If he's revealing his identity to you… it either means he trusts you completely, or… he's gambling on something far bigger."
Rogg didn't respond. His eyes wandered to the upper balcony—where Magnoli stood alone, gazing out into the night sky as darkness slowly blanketed the land.