Brisena walked with steady steps down the grand corridor of the Whiteheaven Imperial Palace. Towering pillars lined each side, adorned with golden carvings that shimmered under the warm light of the setting sun. At the end of the hall, massive doors bearing the imperial crest stood wide open—she was expected.
"Brother, what urgent matter made you summon me to the palace?" Brisena asked, her tone curious, her sharp eyes softening as they met those of Prince Xaverius, seated in his wheelchair.
Prince Xaverius offered a faint smile, though the weariness etched on his face was impossible to hide.
"My beautiful sister, I haven't seen you in almost a year. Where have you been?"
Brisena sighed before answering.
"I've traveled far, Brother. Mother entrusted me with an important task. I've seen many things out there. The world is vast and extraordinary."
"Truly? Tell me everything you've experienced," Xaverius asked, his voice lit with interest.
Brisena smiled gently and began recounting her long journey—her relentless search for Rogg and Robb, the perilous adventures across the wide continent of Megido, and how they had defeated Lagosh, one of the most formidable beasts they had ever faced. She also spoke of the breathtaking beauty of the land of Rhazab, painting vivid images with every word.
Prince Xaverius listened intently. At times, his eyes sparkled, but soon, tears rolled down his cheeks. With tender affection, he reached out and gently caressed his sister's head.
"How I envy your freedom, little sister," he said, his voice trembling.
Brisena looked at him with sympathy.
"Don't say that, Brother. Everyone walks their own path, shaped by fate."
"And where are your brothers now? Rogg and Robb?" Xaverius asked, curiosity lighting his eyes again.
"They're in Smokeland," she replied. "They're preparing to compete in the Knight's Altar tournament among the Doliex clan."
A gentle breeze passed through the palace gardens, filled with blooming flowers. The atmosphere was grand yet serene. From a distance, Nyx and Elandra—Brisena's loyal guards—watched over the surroundings with sharp vigilance.
"There's something I want to ask of you," said Xaverius suddenly.
"What is it, Brother? Tell me," Brisena responded, intrigued.
The prince took a deep breath.
"One day, if Rogg ever descends from Smokeland… will you arrange for me to meet him?"
Brisena frowned slightly.
"But you're the First Prince. You've always remained in the palace, distant from external affairs. Why do you wish to meet my brother Rogg?"
Xaverius looked at her with eyes heavy with sorrow.
"There are so many things I wish I could say to Rogg. But I know I can't pass those words through you. Have you ever felt the sadness I carry, Brisena? Ever since you left without a word, I've had no one in this palace to talk to. Even before you met him, I knew of Rogg—from Magnoli, when he first arrived in Blacksand. As a man… and as a prince… I've felt utterly alone. My condition is constantly dismissed by the nobles around me. What I need is a friend, someone I can speak to—not out of duty, but from the heart. I ask only this of you. Please… fulfill this request."
Brisena fell silent, the weight of her brother's emotions pressing down on her. Then, in a calm yet resolute voice, she replied,
"Very well, Brother. I will ask him to meet you. But know this—he won't be permitted inside the palace. I'll let you know the time and place, and it will be your responsibility to arrange the location and ensure his safety."
Relief washed over Xaverius's face, and he smiled with genuine gratitude.
"Thank you, dear sister. I truly appreciate it."
With her duties at the Whiteheaven Imperial Palace complete, Brisena prepared to return to Smokeland. This journey now carried more than just responsibility—it bore a promise. A vow to bring together two brothers, bound not by time or familiarity, but by blood and destiny.
Along the dusty road cutting across the vast plains toward Smokeland, Brisena and her two guards, Nyx and Elandra, moved swiftly. The sky burned crimson in the distance—a sign that evening was descending into dusk. Their horses galloped with steady strides, slicing through the wind that carried the scent of dry earth. But their momentum came to an abrupt halt when a group of black-clad soldiers suddenly blocked their path.
Brisena frowned as she recognized the leader of the troop—Thaldrim Covaltris. A middle-aged man with a cunning face and a smile that made anyone uneasy. He wore a long black cloak embroidered with the emblem of the Doliex tribe, and a curved sword hung at his side.
"Lady Brisena," he greeted, his tone laced with mockery. "How are you, my lovely lady? You've grown up quite a bit—and even more beautiful, I must say."
Brisena exhaled slowly, her heart instantly clouded with disgust at the sight of him. Yet she knew Thaldrim wasn't someone to be taken lightly. As the influential Minister of the Doliex Tribe, his position commanded obedience, even though his reputation as a scheming and power-hungry man was no secret.
"What is it, Minister Thaldrim?" she asked flatly, maintaining a calm expression.
Thaldrim flashed a smug grin. "Why so distant, my dear? I'm a respected minister now. It's my duty to look after all members of the Doliex tribe—including you."
Nyx, standing beside Brisena with a tense face, clenched his fists. "Princess, give the word and I'll end him right now."
"No, Nyx," Brisena said firmly. "You won't be able to defeat him."
Thaldrim chuckled quietly, clearly enjoying the tension. "Ah, my fierce little lady—still pretending to be a fearless warrior. I do admire your charming bravado."
Brisena stared him down. "I never asked for your protection, Thaldrim. I have every right to stand where I please and face what I must—without your interference."
Thaldrim smirked. "As stubborn as ever. That's what makes you so captivating. But enough pleasantries. We share the same destination, don't we? Come, ride in my carriage. I've prepared a comfortable seat for you."
"No need. Thank you," Brisena replied firmly. "I'm more than capable of riding."
Without waiting for a response, she tugged her reins and urged her horse forward. Nyx and Elandra immediately followed, leaving Thaldrim standing there with that ever-scheming smile still plastered on his face.
Thaldrim waved toward one of his guards. "Inform all Doliex knights that their minister is returning. I'm going to claim Vermithor from them. Tell them to prepare their best fighters."
Hearing those words, Brisena pushed her horse to gallop faster. Nyx and Elandra exchanged alarmed glances.
"Lady Brisena, is it true the elders will offer Vermithor—your grandfather's legendary axe—as a reward for this tournament?" Elandra asked anxiously.
"I'm not sure," Brisena answered, her expression grim. "But if Thaldrim has caught wind of it, then something big is definitely in motion. He's returning to take part in the fight and claim that legendary weapon for himself."
Nyx nodded with fierce determination. "If that's true, we can't let him win."
Brisena tightened her grip on the reins. "We have to reach Smokeland as fast as possible and warn Rogg, Robb, and Vuuxi. This battle is no longer just about honor. It's about the future of the Doliex tribe."
Minister Thaldrim Covaltris raced his carriage along the rocky path to Smokeland. The sun was nearly swallowed by the western horizon, painting the sky in fading hues of orange and deepening purple. Thin smoke rose from the small villages along the way, adding a dramatic backdrop to his journey.
Behind his carriage, the Doliex tribe's most elite assassins followed on swift horses. Many had served as his loyal guards for years, witnessing the full extent of his cunning and cruelty. Though he was known for deception and manipulation, Thaldrim was still respected as one of the greatest warriors Smokeland had ever produced. His name was etched into the annals of many historic battles, including the border wars that led to his appointment as minister.
But not everyone welcomed his presence. The Doliex elders often grew uneasy with his ambitious and tradition-defying ways. Still, the Whiteheaven Empire upheld his position because of his unwavering loyalty to the crown.
Inside the lavish carriage, Thaldrim grinned with satisfaction. He knew his return to Smokeland would shake the tournament that so many were anticipating. The grand prize, Vermithor—the legendary axe once wielded by a Doliex forefather—could not be allowed to fall into the hands of another. The weapon carried immense historical significance and was believed to bring luck and power to its wielder.
One of his mounted guards rode closer to the window and spoke with concern. "My lord, will we still be eligible for the draw before the battles begin?"
Thaldrim scoffed arrogantly. "I am the Minister of Doliex. As long as the battles haven't started, we have every right to join the draw."
His voice dripped with unshakable confidence. "No one in Lumindale would dare deny me entry."
The guard seemed reassured, but Thaldrim wasn't finished. He sneered and added, "Let Brisena deliver the news that we're entering the competition. It'll buy us time—and rattle their nerves."
The guards chuckled quietly, understanding exactly what Thaldrim intended: to stir chaos in any situation he could exploit to his advantage. They quickened their horses, racing toward Lumindale before sunset and before the registration closed.
Meanwhile, Brisena—still en route to Smokeland—felt something amiss. The sky had grown darker, and a thick fog was creeping through the forest surrounding them. Nyx, riding ahead, suddenly slowed his horse and looked back.
"Lady Brisena, do you feel that? Something's not right," he said warily.
Brisena nodded. "I feel it too. It's too quiet. This isn't normal."
Elandra, trailing behind, added, "Maybe it's just the fatigue from traveling... but we should still stay alert."
Brisena pressed her heels to her horse. "We have to reach Lumindale before Thaldrim. I won't let him stir chaos before we can warn Rogg and Robb."
The three of them sped through the darkening woods, bracing for whatever awaited them in Smokeland. A great battle loomed, and Brisena knew that Thaldrim's arrival was not merely a threat—it was a warning to her entire home.