Inside a large office, the commander of the southern bastion, Denmar Sarakhel, frowned deeply as he set down the communication Relic.
'He's… back?'
A village close to the border had been destroyed by a Pyrian, yet he was more focused on something else entirely.
'Zephyrion Calderalth…'
The boy who had suddenly vanished seven years ago after the incident in Pyrian territory. He had been presumed dead by the entire Ferran Empire, but who would have thought he was alive all this time?
Denmar tapped his finger continuously on the desk, the scowl on his face deepening.
"Noss."
He called out after a moment, and a man emerged from the shadows in one corner of the room, sinking onto one knee.
"My lord."
"Find out if anything interesting is going on in Calderalth. Report back immediately."
"As you wish."
"Also…"
A flash of coldness ran through Denmar's eyes.
"Call for a mandatory prayer session. Make sure the bastion is cleared."
"Yes, my lord."
The man soon left the room. And though many seconds passed, Denmar's fingers continued tapping against the desk.
'This complicates things…'
Exhaling, he cleared his table of all documents and arranged them neatly to the side. There was a need to prepare.
…
After Zephyrion's declaration, and the subsequent shock, the soldiers' attitude underwent a complete turn. Their stabbing stares vanished, replaced by stiff, respectful postures.
It was expected.
House Calderalth was one of the four Iron Dynasties of the Ferran Empire, rulers of the south. Their name alone carried the weight of unbreakable steel.
He was the second child and first son of Kastor Calderalth, heir to that iron legacy, until the accident seven years ago erased him from the world.
Now that he had returned, Zephyrion could feel the questions burning behind the soldiers' eyes.
Where had he been?
Why did he appear now?
But no one dared to voice them. Calderalth blood did not invite inquiry, it demanded obedience.
With his identity revealed, the captain immediately ordered the squad healer forward. Two vials were given to Zephyrion. Within moments, the pain in his thigh faded and the burnt flesh sealed.
The captain excused himself moments later, claiming he needed to report back.
When he returned, he ordered one of the soldiers to relinquish his mount to Zephyrion and announced their escort back to the bastion.
Within moments, the thunder of hooves against the hardened earth began to irritate Zephyrion.
He had always preferred silence, where he could hear his thoughts clearly without interference. Chaotic sounds like this often made him feel like silencing their source for good.
Yet none of his irritation showed on his face as they rode across the barren expanse.
His past time spent on the southern border had taught him that there was nothing but desolation as far as the eye could see.
The unending conflict between Ferrans and Pyrians had long since reduced the region to a scarred and restless battlefield.
Zephyrion remained silent throughout the ride. Though he caught the subtle stiffness in the soldiers, clipped whispers, and curious eyes flicking toward him and away, they didn't interest him.
His attention stayed on the captain ahead.
'He's changed.'
Zephyrion had reconstructed the earlier scene perfectly to make it fit his chosen story.
Though the captain clearly had his doubts, as Zephyrion had anticipated, the revelation of his identity should have silenced them.
No one would believe a random seventeen-year-old could stand against someone capable of destroying an entire village. But a Calderalth heir was different.
Still, the captain now avoided his gaze. His shoulders were rigid, his arm tightened around the reins with more pressure than necessary.
'He's tense. Because of my revealed status?'
It was natural for most to stiffen before someone of status, but his earlier exchange with the captain had proven he was not that kind of man. Zephyrion had sensed a trace of defiance in the man's gaze even after revealing who he was. Now the captain refused to meet his eyes.
This was something else.
The wasteland stretched endlessly ahead until a massive structure took shape on the horizon.
'The Southern Bastion.'
Jagged battlements. Iron-girded towers. The same war-forged structure that had watched over the southern frontier for generations.
'It hasn't changed.'
Zephyrion exhaled. As heir, it had been necessary for him to visit the important holdings of the South under House Calderalth. He remembered his last visit as though it were yesterday. It had been with—
His grip tightened on the reins as the image of a beautiful woman flashed through his mind.
'Focus.'
He forced the thought away, steadying himself.
As they drew closer, the watchtowers loomed overhead, their silhouettes cutting against the pale sky.
The captain suddenly shifted direction, steering them away from the grand iron-wreathed gate and toward a more secluded section of the wall, stopping before a small metal boulder.
'We're not taking the front gate.'
Zephyrion slowly glanced about.
"You said you were taking me to the bastion."
The captain lowered his head.
"…Yes, young lord."
"Then why aren't we using the front entrance?"
"For your safety, young lord. It would be best if your presence remained… less visible."
"The bastion is Ferran territory. Ruled by House Calderalth. My house."
Zephyrion narrowed his eyes.
"Should I be afraid to enter my own walls?"
"…No, young lord."
The captain tightened his grip on the reins and swallowed.
'Something about this unsettles him.'
"I apologize… it was deemed the safer approach."
Zephyrion stared at the captain for a moment.
"…I see. Then lead the way."
"…?"
The captain blinked in surprise, slightly taken aback, but quickly nodded and gestured toward two soldiers.
The two moved ahead and settled into a power stance before the boulder.
A low hum rippled through the air as they connected to the WorldPulse and began moving in perfect sync. With a heavy groan, the metal split cleanly in two, revealing a dark passage beneath.
"This way, young lord."
Moments later, the metal boulder closed behind them as they ventured deeper into the passage. The air inside was damp, the stone walls closing in around them.
The passage was only wide enough for a single rider. A faint strip of light pulsed weakly along the ceiling, barely enough to outline the path ahead.
He heard the soft clop of hooves behind him. Zephyrion didn't need to turn to know the captain had placed himself directly at his back.
'First he acts differently. Now he hides my arrival.'
Zephyrion's mind spun. The captain had claimed the purpose of the secret entrance was for his safety, yet he had been unsettled when questioned.
A man confident in his decision would not hesitate like that.
'So it wasn't his choice.'
Zephyrion was no stranger to receiving unsettling commands that forced one to act against morals. He had given many himself.
'It came from above him.'
The captain had reported to someone immediately after his identity was revealed. He was a captain, which narrowed the list significantly.
'The commander.'
His gaze sharpened slightly. It made sense. Only someone at the top of the bastion hierarchy could override protocol and enforce this level of secrecy.
'So the commander wants me unseen.'
For his protection? For politics? Something else? It wasn't enough to form a complete picture. Still… with secrecy and detours involved, the most obvious possibility had to be considered.
'An ambush? Here?'