Araki has reached the royal palay. Tall pillars loomed overhead, their marble polished to a pale sheen that caught the light spilling through heavy, golden-colored curtains. The air here was cool, touched with the faint scent of incense. A crimson carpet stretched forward between two lines of empty thrones, dozens of them flanking the walkway like silent sentinels.
At the far end, raised slightly above the rest, sat King Harald. His shoulders were draped in a deep blue mantle trimmed with silver thread. Beside him stood two figures. One was a young man with sharp features and a prince's bearing with golden hair, no older than seventeen. The other, a tall mid 30 year old knight clad in steel plate with snow white hairs, a sword strapped to his side.
Araki's boots sank slightly into the thick carpet as he approached, his eyes scanning the vastness of the throne room. When he finally stopped before the dais, he inclined his head in a respectful bow.
"It's my pleasure to meet with the king of the kingdom" Araki said evenly. "How far did I draw your attention to me, Your Majesty?"
King Harald's gaze was steady, his voice carrying a quiet authority.
"Araki… I've heard of you. The streets whisper your name louder than they do my guards. They say you see what others miss. Catch what others ignore."
The prince snorted, breaking the king's rhythm.
"Detective? He's a damn alley rat who thinks solving street scraps earns him a crown."
Araki's eyes flicked to the prince,cold, unreadable. But before he could speak, the king's voice cut through the air.
"Enough."
The room stilled. Even the knight shifted slightly, as if sensing the tension coil tighter.
Harald's next words were quieter, but heavier.
"Henry. You've had the resources of a kingdom… yet she's still gone."
Henry's jaw tightened. His eyes dropped, not in fear, but something closer to shame.
"Elira…" Araki realized, the name surfacing like a stone breaking water. "She's missing?"
Harald's expression faltered for a heartbeat, the mask of a ruler giving way to the grief of a father.
"I… I don't even know where to begin. She's been missing for two days. And every hour since has been heavier than the last."
Araki said nothing, letting the silence speak.
"I've sent my best scouts," Harald continued. "Questioned anyone who even breathed near the palace gates. But it's like she vanished into smoke."
His voice hardened again, though the strain was still there.
"And I cannot show fear to the court. Not to them, and not to the people of the kingdom. So I'll say this only once… I need your help."
Araki's pulse slowed, the king's words pressing into him like a weight. He had not expected this, least of all from a man who ruled Thalvarin with iron resolve.
Henry spoke again, voice low but edged with urgency.
"Father… you shouldn't show this in front of him. He's no noble. Just a street rat catcher."
The king didn't look at him.
"And yet none of you found her. Not with all your titles, your guards, and your bloodline."
Henry's lips pressed into a thin line. He said nothing more.
Beside them, the knight Smith remained perfectly still, though his gaze was locked on Araki. It was not hostile, but there was a wariness in it, a measuring.
Araki's eyes flickered to Smith for just a moment, and there, just under the man's jaw, he caught sight of a thin, dark mark, looking like a sword. His gaze lingered a breath too long, but Smith didn't blink.
"Your Majesty…" Araki said at last, his voice quiet but resolute. "I will find her. That is my promise, not as a subject, but as someone who understands what it means to lose."
For a moment, neither man moved. Then Harald gave a single, slow nod, and for the first time, their eyes met fully.
"Then waste no time. You will get all the information from the guards."
Araki inclined his head.
Smith stepped forward. "Araki."
He turned to face the knight.
"If you find any clue," Smith said evenly, "you are to report it directly to the Circle of Nobles, or to me, as soon as possible. Don't try to act alone."
Araki held his gaze for a moment longer before answering.Smith's voice carried the weight of steel, each word deliberate, honed.
"Your loyalty is appreciated," he said, the syllables measured, "but do not act recklessly, nor take matters wholly into your own hands."
He stood like an unshaken bastion broad-shouldered, posture impeccable, every motion deliberate, as though not a shadow in the world could unsettle him. But Araki's gaze did not waver from the man.
"He's calm… too calm", Araki thought, his inner voice threading through the quiet hum of the hall. That composure feels unnatural like a mask tailored to fit his very skin. "And that mark…" His eyes lingered on the pale, silvery seam along Smith's neck. A sword mark. "he's a Wakken."
Araki did not voice the thought. He only gave a curt nod, the kind that concealed more than it revealed, and began to turn toward the great doors.
But then he stilled.
From the far end of the carpeted aisle, a figure approached, garbed entirely in sable, the long folds of the cloak swallowing light. His face was obscured by a smooth black mask, featureless save for two narrow eye slits. Every stride was measured, silent, predatory.
Araki's shoulders stiffened.
"A swift" he realized at once. "They don't appear without purpose. And if he's here… something grave is afoot, something that concerns all seven kingdoms."
As they passed, the Swift's eyes, sharp as whetted obsidian, met Araki's for the briefest moment. The Time's like paused when their eyes met. It was a glance that carried the weight of a silent code.
The masked courier did not pause, only glided forward until he reached the base of the dais. Araki, still walking toward the exit, slowed his pace, not enough to draw suspicion, but enough to let his ears catch what followed.
The Swift halted at the first step and inclined his head just slightly. "King Harald."
The king's gaze slid toward him. Harald's cough was soft but deliberate, a moment to compose his regal mask before speaking.
"Ah… a Swift," he murmured. "You arrive when least expected."
The masked figure's voice was curt, devoid of ornament.
"I'm not here to waste time. I bear news, the Velhara Council will convene tomorrow morning by command of Orrek, King of Veldenmark."
The words were like a flint spark in Araki's mind. He stopped mid-stride, though his back remained to the throne.
"A Velhara Council…?" His pulse quickened. "That means all the kings will gather in one place. this is not normal"
Against his better judgment, Araki allowed himself one backward glance. Smith was still watching him, eyes unblinking, fixed as if on a mark in the distance. Their gazes collided for an instant, the air between them taut as a drawn bowstring.
Araki turned away again, lengthening his stride toward the open air beyond the doors.
"Still watching me, he thought. Is it suspicion? Or was he simply born with that stare that makes a man feel flayed open?"
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