A brown teddy bear.
The Captain's expression turned grave. In a heartbeat, the man who had been lounging under a tree became a soldier again, fully alert and in command.
"You there!" he barked, pointing at the man who had woken him moments ago.
"Y-yes, sir!" the young man stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.
"What's your name?" the Captain asked sharply.
State recruitment was a national event in Vraxen. Every year, tens of thousands from every corner of the kingdom apply. Only about a thousand make it in. For many, the State—the law, order, and military might of Vraxen—offered the only path to stability. A place in its ranks meant prestige and comfort for one's family. These recruits were then divided and deployed under various captains across the land.
"Aden, sir," the recruit answered nervously.
"Good. Aden, set up the tents. We're camping here tonight."
Aden gave a quick nod, turned, and headed toward the supplies.
The Captain then looked at Ember, who was still crouched near the teddy bear embedded in the earth. Her dark hair hung over her masked face, her wide black eyes looking up at him, troubled.
"Dig deeper. Keep going until you find a corpse," he ordered, his voice cold and precise.
Though clearly shaken, Ember nodded and resumed digging.
Turning away, the Captain sat back beneath the tree, but didn't close his eyes. Instead, he pulled out a scroll and began writing a letter. Once finished, he tied a red ribbon around it.
The ribbon shimmered faintly, and the letter floated upward like a balloon, rising above the trees of the Green Forest. A crow swooped in from the sky, snatched it mid-air, and soared in the direction of Pearl Town.
The Capital – Royal Embassy, Great Palace
The Great Palace of Vraxen, home to the Gilbert royal family, stood as a marvel of wealth and power—its walls lined with white marble, its halls adorned with gold. Tonight, it was alive with music, laughter, and elegance.
Inside the Grand Hall, nobles from all cardinal directions had gathered. Champagne flowed freely, couples danced under sparkling chandeliers, and the aromas of the Capital's finest cuisine filled the air.
A raised platform stood at the far end of the hall. Upon it sat two towering golden thrones—one occupied by King Robert Slate III, the other by his queen.
Flanking them were royal courtiers and two guards clad in pitch-black armor, each wielding a blade forged from Valyrian steel—lighter, sharper, and deadlier than any other.
Unseen from below, the hall also featured a secret second floor, where elite archers lay in wait, hidden in shadow, ready to silence any threat before it reached the King.
A courtier stepped forward and bowed. "My lord, the food has been thoroughly tested. Shall we serve?"
Robert nodded.
Soon, two maids entered: one wearing a dark blue dress that complemented her golden hair, the other in green with flowing brown locks. They carried silver trays bearing delicacies for the King and Queen.
King Robert wore a black suit embroidered with subtle silver patterns. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his deep blue eyes—piercing and calm—caught the gaze of one of the maids.
His Queen, seated to his left, was draped in an elegant red-and-black gown. Her pale, porcelain skin and flowing white hair made her the jewel of the court, admired silently by many.
Once the royal couple had finished their meal, the courtier returned with a bottle of the finest champagne in Vraxen. He poured a glass for the King and stepped back.
"My lord—it is time."
Robert rose, lifting the glass gently in his hand.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat.
"My dear souls of Vraxen," he began, "I trust you've all enjoyed tonight's festivities. I thank each of you for the gifts you've brought from your homelands."
He paused briefly, then continued.
"I imagine most of you already know the reason behind this grand occasion—many of you traveled weeks to get here. But allow me to say it aloud, for history's sake."
A beat of silence followed.
"Tonight marks the first coming of age of my son—William."
Applause broke out across the hall.
In Vraxen, this sacred rite was known as "The Steps to a King." At sixteen, the heir to the throne was required to travel across the nation, visiting each major city and township. At every stop, he was to live among the people for three days—learning, listening, and observing.
The journey spanned nearly a year and was meant to teach the heir what no tutor in the Capital could. To be king, one had to first become a man of the people.
Robert continued, "I trust you will welcome my son with open arms. Teach him the truths your books cannot. Mold him not into a prince, but a future king. Raise him through the year to be the man our kingdom needs."
Another roar of applause filled the hall.
"Your wishes are our command, Your Majesty!" someone shouted. "May Prince William become a splendid gentleman indeed!"
The King smiled, returning to his throne.
The ceremony was complete, and the celebration resumed—music swelling once more as Vraxen danced beneath golden lights.
A moment Carved in History
Royal Embassy, Great Palace — Queen's Chamber
"You may leave," said Queen Rowena Thaloré, raising her hand.
The two maids, who had just helped her into her nightgown, bowed respectfully and turned to leave.
Rowena's voice rang out again.
"Also..."
They paused and looked back.
"If His Majesty comes to my quarters tonight, inform him that I wish not to be disturbed."
The maids nodded and exited silently.
In the corridor, one of them whispered, "Did Her Majesty seem... upset to you?"
The other maid gave her a surprised look. "You don't know?"
She shook her head.
Looking around cautiously, the maid leaned in and whispered,
"His Majesty is... having an affair tonight."
The girl gasped. "With whom?"
"No one knows for sure. But rumors say... someone of low birth."
"A low birth?!" she blurted.
"Quiet!" the other hissed. "If the Queen hears us, we're dead."
Realizing her mistake, she lowered her voice. "Still... lucky woman. One night with the king, and she becomes nobility. Do you think I have a shot?"
"You wish," the other said—and both burst into soft giggles as they made their way back to the servants' quarters.
Great Palace – Outside the King's Chamber
A slender young servant stood frozen outside the king's door. Pale-skinned, golden-haired, dressed in a midnight-blue gown—Elizabeth looked every bit the picture of nervous beauty. Her black eyes darted nervously toward the floor as sweat gathered at her brow.
Next to her, the king's valet offered an encouraging smile.
"You should feel honored. His Majesty has taken a liking to you."
"Y-Yes, sir," she stammered, her voice barely audible.
"Good. Don't keep the king waiting. Just knock and enter when you're ready."
The valet disappeared into his own chamber nearby, leaving Elizabeth alone. She dabbed her face with a handkerchief and took a trembling breath.
This wasn't the first time. A few knew the truth—the king had done this before. But every girl who spent the night with him… was never seen again. Some whispered they were banished. Others believed worse.
Heart pounding, she stepped forward and knocked.
"Come in," a deep voice answered.
She opened the heavy door and slipped inside. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight through the curtains. She could barely make out the silhouette of the king, seated on the edge of his bed.
"Give me your hand," the voice commanded.
Elizabeth obeyed. He took it, tracing his fingers slowly along her trembling skin.
"What's your name?"
"E-Elizabeth," she whispered.
"A lovely name," he said. "Elizabeth, lay on the bed behind me."
"Of course, my king."
She removed her shoes, climbed onto the bed, and lay flat.
Next Door – The Valet's Chamber
The king's valet, just settling into bed, heard muffled sounds through the wall. He paused. His eyes widened as he pressed an ear to the cold stone.
He cursed under his breath.
"Damn bastard couldn't wait five minutes."
Shutting off his lamp, he dove into bed, pulling the blankets up quickly.
"Hopefully no one noticed my lights were still on."
He stared at the ceiling, silent and uneasy.
Morning – King's Chamber
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows. The head valet knocked softly on the king's door.
"Enter," came a tired voice.
The king sat on the edge of the bed, face drawn, eyes heavy with fatigue.
"My lord, Prince William departs in three hours. The ceremony begins in thirty minutes."
The king groaned and stood, stretching.
The valet stepped forward with his formal attire. As he moved to assist the king, the latter waved him off.
"I'll dress myself. Clean up the bed."
The valet turned. As he lifted the blanket, his breath caught in his throat.
Elizabeth lay motionless. Her eyes stared wide, blank and lifeless. Her makeup was smeared by dried tears. Tracks of snot stained her upper lip. Her back was covered in red welts and bruises. Cuts marked her skin. Whatever had occurred last night had left her broken in every sense.
The valet swallowed hard.
"My lord… what was her name?"
"I think… Elizabeth. Or something," the king replied as he fastened his collar.
"Erase her from the records. Make it so she was never born."
The valet bowed.
"Yes, my lord."
Without another word, he wrapped Elizabeth's body in the sheets