In the midst of the night, after hours of travelling under a moon smothered by clouds, Rehena finally crossed the borders of the Eastern Kingdom with Barron beside her. Their journey had been tense from the very beginning. Before they even reached the city gates, they had been stopped and interrogated by the Easter kingdom's guards. Both she and Barron had disguised themselves as weary siblings seeking to settle in the East for good, forcing their voices to remain steady even as suspicion lingered in every guard's stare.
By the time Rehena, Barron, and the three knights—Robert, Joshua, and Harith—made it past the walls, exhaustion was already tugging at their bones. The three knights, dressed in plain, worn clothing to pass as commoners, kept their heads low as they moved through the crowded alleyways. In truth, they were soldiers from Renia City, once part of its respected military force before they swore loyalty to the North.
They took refuge in the cheapest inn they could find, hidden deep within the residential district where the common people lived. But there, in the narrow streets lit only by dying oil lamps, Rehena saw something that unsettled her spirit more than any interrogation could—countless homeless families sleeping on cold stone, children crying for food, and gaunt men searching for work that did not exist.
Her brows knitted as she leaned closer to the window of the small room she and Barron shared. "Sir Barron… I never imagined the Eastern Empire would neglect its own people like this. Were you truly unaware of their state?" Her voice trembled with disbelief, and when she turned, the candles flickered against her worried expression.
Barron stood across the room, his tall frame casting a long shadow against the wooden floor. Around them, the three knights sat quietly—Robert with his grey hair and sharp black eyes, Joshua with warm brown tones in both hair and gaze, and Harith, easily noticeable for his green hair and verdant eyes. They all watched silently, waiting for their next move.
"When I was still working in the Western Empire," Barron began, pressing his fingers thoughtfully against his chin as he paced slowly, "I learned bits about the East. They're rich—especially when it comes to food and trade. But their officials, even their king… they're far from honorable. Corruption thrives here."
Rehena's lips parted slightly. She turned back to the window where darkness stretched endlessly, only broken by the dim glow of the street torches. The room was lit by several candles, their flames dancing gently—perfect lighting for quiet but dangerous planning.
"I never thought the East would be so hungry for money," she whispered, her voice thick with frustration.
"The Eastern rulers are fond of raising taxes on merchants," Barron added, folding his arms. "Most traders lose their livelihoods because of it. Even commoners can hardly survive. Everything here costs more than it should."
Joshua exchanged a troubled look with Robert, while Harith clenched his fists tightly on his knees.
Barron cleared his throat softly. "So… what's the plan, my lady?"
Rehena drew a deep breath before facing them fully. "We need information about the king's first wife. They say she was skilled with herbs and healing. If she knew things… if she left something behind… it might be the key." Her voice strengthened, the candlelight catching the determination in her eyes.
"Do they have a child?" she asked suddenly, directing the question to Barron.
He nodded slowly. "As far as I know, yes. I saw him once—during the festival Emperor Harold and I attended years ago. I never spoke to the boy, but I remember him."
Rehena's heart gave a faint, hopeful beat. "Then we must find a way to reach him. He might be the only person who can lead us to the truth."
But Barron's expression darkened. He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if the shadows themselves could be listening. "I'm afraid it won't be easy, my lady."
Rehena's eyes widened slightly, but instead of fear, determination filled her. Around them, the three knights straightened, sensing that their mission was finally taking shape. The room, once quiet and dim, now thrummed with the weight of new plans—strategies that could either save them… or destroy everything.
****
Back from the heated confrontation between Celistine, the Emperor, and the two kings, the day had been consumed with a flurry of discussions among the monarchs of the Four Kingdoms. Even Emperor Harold felt a headache beginning to throb as he sought to bend Celistine to his will in every decision.
"Since the North already possesses what we require," Harold continued, fixing his gaze unwaveringly on Celistine, as if issuing a command for her to obey every plan he would devise for the near future. Celistine merely arched an eyebrow, studying him with sharp, discerning eyes.
"As you can see, my lady… I summoned you all not to quarrel, but to plan strategies for confronting the Blackthreads," Harold said, crossing his fingers and leaning both elbows on the table, while Celistine had already predicted the direction their conversation would take.
"What strategies might those be, my lord?" King Malvorn asked cautiously.
"The strategy is straightforward," Maxon began, gesturing to a map laid out on the table. "The forces of the Eastern Kingdom will march to the borderlands of Rondolf in preparation. Should the Blackthreads appear, we will position our troops there to strike first."
"Hmm… not bad," Celistine murmured to herself, crossing her arms as she scrutinised Maxon's plan, weighing whether it might convince her. Maxon, pointing decisively to the map before the four monarchs, indicated a secondary base for troop stations.
"As for the Southern Empire," Maxon continued, "their elite armies shall be stationed in Hasaner's lands. We will place our military forces there as a frontline to prevent the Blackthreads from entering the Western Empire. The Southern Empire shall act as a shield, while the other forces engage the enemy on the battlefield."
Celistine smirked subtly, while Criston, her loyal companion, instinctively sensed the North's peril in Maxon's strategy. 'And here we go again—the North as sacrificial lamb,' she thought, rolling her eyes. When Maxon finished outlining the East and South's roles, he cast a mocking glance at Celistine.
"I beg your pardon… but what of the North?" Criston finally interjected, unable to restrain himself.
"The North will serve as the frontline, facing the Blackthreads head-on when war erupts. The Emperor intends to strike using Northern forces first, before it is too late," Maxon explained, a grin stretching across his face, mirrored by the kings of the East and South as they taunted the North's elite soldiers.
"What?" Criston exclaimed, disbelief written across his face as he turned sharply to Celistine. She, however, met Maxon's grin with a faint, knowing smirk. The three kingdoms were clearly using the North's strength while hiding behind their cowardice.
"And why, pray, is the North chosen to face the Blackthreads first? Is there any reason?" Celistine asked coldly, her tone sharp as a blade.
"Did you not claim possession of the Blackgems?" Harold asked, frowning at the North. "My soldiers, alongside the North's, will use every resource to confront the Blackthreads… as the North alone is capable of facing them." His eyes bore a feigned sincerity, though beneath it, he intended to exhaust Northern forces to their downfall.
"Since the North possesses ten advanced warships, we wish to use them to attack the Blackthreads at sea. The North's vessels are the only ones capable of meeting the enemy there," Harold added.
Criston's veins bulged in frustration. The audacity of the Emperor, using them as bait, was almost too much to bear. After the North's soldiers risked everything and achieved victory, the three kingdoms would claim all the glory for themselves. Celistine, however, merely listened, unmoved by their ludicrous strategy.
"I will not confront the Blackthreads at sea and waste my soldiers for the sake of a sinful mistress, Your Majesty," Celistine interrupted, cutting Harold and Maxon off sharply.
"What?! Whom did you call a sinful mistress, my lady?" Maxon demanded coldly, eyes narrowing as he glared at her.
"The Empress of this Empire? Minerva—the woman hiding under the name Medeya, yes? And I wonder…" Celistine leaned forward over the table, a mocking, cunning smile curling her lips as she fixed Maxon with a calculating gaze. "What might your true name be, Maxon? I bet it is as… exquisite as Minerva's, yes?" Her words were deliberate provocations, drawing Maxon's anger, though Harold intervened before he could reply.
"Watch your tongue, Celistine," Harold warned fiercely, yet she did not flinch.
"Or what? Will you kill me? Declare war against the North?" Celistine's tone was calm, but every word dripped with defiance.
"How dare you speak to His Majesty so rudely! Remember, you are merely a lady!" King Malvorn snapped, pointing his index finger at her. King Arthur of the Eastern Empire, meanwhile, remained silent, observing the drama unfold.
"Ha? Really, Your Highness? Yes, I am indeed merely a lady—the eldest daughter of the Northern Kingdom, who puts her people before corruption, taxation, and greed. Unlike you, King Malvorn," Celistine retorted, her voice sharp as a whip. She turned her words toward the Eastern King, a subtle smirk playing on her lips. King Arthur, for all his pride, merely smirked, sensing her superior knowledge and restraint; he knew better than to engage further.
"You—arrogant little bitch!" King Malvorn barked, flustered by her unrelenting provocation.
"What has the North achieved that you can simply belittle?" Harold's brows knitted in irritation.
Unable to restrain her pride, Celistine declared boldly, "Among the four continents, the North possesses a larger territory than the three kingdoms combined. We have expanded our military to twelve thousand knights. As for our food supplies? We require no kingdom's aid. Even the Duchy located on the North relies on us. So tell me, why should I negotiate with the Western Empire over the Blackthreads, which are, after all, their personal concern?" Her words dripped with scorn, inflaming Harold further.
"How dare you mock me, the Emperor!" Harold shouted, raising his hand, index finger pointed accusingly at her.
"Am I mocking? When the three of you are the reason the North has suffered?" Celistine's voice rose, her patience exhausted.
"Do not blame us if the North is weak," King Arthur said coldly.
"Weak? The North was the only kingdom to aid the late Emperor against the Great Rebellion—a war your brother himself provoked. I wonder… how fares he now?" Celistine shot back, her eyes blazing with scorn and defiance.
"Is my brother truly so powerful that he weakened the North?" King Arthur asked, attempting to provoke her. Celistine, undeterred, delivered another precise blow.
"Oh yes… especially since he chose to side with the bandits, forcing the late Emperor and my father—to fight tooth and nail. Honestly, I would not be surprised if he ends up as the next leader of their ranks," Celistine said, her voice sharp, each word dripping with contempt.
"Do you wish war against us?" King Arthur threatened, anger boiling.
"Certainly. Let us see if the North is still weak should we defeat the Southern Kingdom," Celistine said, a smirk tugging at her lips. Tension radiated from King Arthur; even King Malvorn felt the sting of her provocations.
"ENOUGH!" Harold thundered, slamming his hand on the table to quell the three. Silence fell over the chamber, even Celistine pausing as Harold's command echoed through the room.