The towers of Feldenvost cut the sky like spears.
The capital of Garnafall didn't try to be beautiful. It tried to endure.
Stone walls layered with iron reinforcements surrounded the city, banners hanging heavy in the still air. Soldiers lined the streets, disciplined, alert. This was not a place that relaxed—not while the war still breathed.
Ken felt small walking through the gates.
Not weak.
Small.
"This city always feels like it's judging you," Ishren muttered. "Pretty sure it's winning."
Bran ignored him, eyes scanning instinctively.
Maelis stayed quiet.
Lyra led.
They were escorted straight to the inner keep without delay.
No ceremony. No pause.
That alone told Ken this wasn't good news.
---
The audience chamber was colder than the outside air.
Two figures waited.
One sat upon a raised chair carved with the crest of Garnafall.
Lord Halvren of Feldenvost.
Beside him stood a man in dark armor, posture rigid, gaze sharp.
General Vortain. Commander of Garnafall's armies.
They didn't waste time.
"You held the bridge," the Lord said.
No praise. Just confirmation.
Lyra inclined her head. "Yes."
General Vortain's eyes moved to Ken.
"You ended it."
Ken didn't deny it.
The Lord gestured to the table between them.
A map lay open.
Not the border. Not the front.
Tyrandel.
The name hit the room like a blade dropped on stone.
Ken felt his stomach tighten.
"You're being sent here," the Lord said.
Ishren let out a dry laugh. "Let me guess. Small chance of survival."
The General nodded. "Generous estimate."
Ken stepped closer to the table.
"Why us?" he asked.
The Lord didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached beneath the table and placed a sealed object upon the stone surface.
A long case. Black metal. Runes etched deep and worn with age.
Ken's breath caught.
He recognized it instantly.
Not by sight.
By memory.
"That's…" he started.
"The Lance of Belphegor," the General said.
The room went quiet.
Ken swallowed.
"That was my father's weapon."
Both men looked at him.
"Hayden Lane Elyoss," the Lord said. "Hero of Garnafall."
Ken nodded. "He disappeared."
The Lord's expression hardened.
"Yes."
No explanation followed.
"Your father vanished during a deep operation twenty years ago," General Vortain continued. "No body. No confirmation. No final report."
Ken clenched his fists.
"And the lance?" he asked.
The General shook his head.
"That's the problem."
He tapped the map.
"The weapon resurfaced in Tyrandel."
Lyra frowned. "Resurfaced how?"
"No one knows," the Lord replied. "There is no record of it being captured. No witness to its transfer. One day, it simply… appeared within Ankalyon territory."
Maelis spoke quietly. "So even Ankalyon may not know why it's there."
"That's our assumption," the General said.
Ken stared at the case.
"So my father disappears," he said slowly. "And his weapon ends up at the heart of the enemy."
No one contradicted him.
The Lord folded his hands.
"There were fifty warriors known as the Absolues," he said.
"Each of them brought the fall of an entire people on their own."
Ken had heard the stories.
He'd never thought his father was one of them.
"When they succeeded," the Lord continued, "their weapons were marked. Empowered. Not by training. Not by bloodline."
By achievement.
Ken's jaw tightened.
"And no one knows what power that lance holds?" he asked.
The General shook his head. "Only that it was strong enough to make Hayden Lane Elyoss feared."
Silence stretched.
Then Ken straightened.
"I'm going to get it."
The General studied him. "You understand this is likely a suicide mission."
Ken nodded. "I know."
Lyra turned sharply. "Ken—"
"If I want to be a hero of Garnafall," Ken said, voice steady, "then I don't get to wait for answers."
He looked at the Lord.
"If that lance is there because of my father," he said, "then leaving it in Ankalyon's hands is worse than dying."
Ishren scratched his head. "Well. That's inconveniently inspiring."
Bran stepped forward. "I didn't swear to protect this land so I could play it safe."
Maelis nodded once. "The shadows already point inward."
All eyes turned to Lyra.
She looked at Ken for a long moment.
Then she exhaled.
"If we go," she said, "we go together."
The Lord leaned back slowly.
"You would walk willingly into Tyrandel," he said, "with no support, no extraction, and no guarantee the weapon even responds to you."
Ken met his gaze.
"Yes."
The General straightened.
"Then Garnafall will not command this mission," he said.
"We will record it."
A pause.
"As a voluntary strike."
Ken felt something settle in his chest.
Not destiny.
Decision.
Somewhere deep in enemy territory, a weapon waited.
No one knew why it was there.
No one knew what had happened to Hayden Lane Elyoss.
But Ken knew one thing.
If he wanted to be a hero of Garnafall–
If he wanted to walk the same path–
Then this was where it began.