The evening sky dimmed, leaving behind smoke drifting from a battle only hours old. The metallic tang of blood still clung to the air. In the eastern courtyard, the funeral was a modest affair. Graves were dug in haste. The fallen of Valoria, wrapped in the kingdom's banner, were lowered one by one into the earth.
Arthur stood before the rows of fresh mounds. His cloak was plain, his head bowed. When all eyes turned to him, he stepped forward.
"My brothers and sisters… today we stand before heroes who gave everything for Valoria. They were not just soldiers. They were fathers, sons, and brothers to their families. To those they leave behind, I offer my deepest apology, for I was not able to protect them all. But their blood will not be spilled in vain. On behalf of Valoria, I vow this: their sacrifice will be the foundation of a new world we will build together. As long as I draw breath, their struggle will never be meaningless. And to the children of Valoria—the children of those who fell today—I promise you will not grow up in darkness. You will learn, you will grow, and you will carry on their legacy."
The silence broke into sobs. Some soldiers knelt, others drove their blades into the soil in solemn salute.
---
Hours later, the council chamber brimmed with voices. Nobles, generals, and mages of the Tower filled the round table, torchlight painting tense shadows across the walls.
Arthur let the silence linger before speaking. "We all know the war has only just begun. The question is: can the treasury sustain it?"
Erel Vadison, head of the Economic Council, rose slowly with his ledger in hand. "Your Majesty, revenues are stabilizing. Demand for cold chests has surged. Farmland yields are up thanks to mana-driven plows. And rune sales have brought in considerable gold."
Arthur closed his eyes for a moment. To him, it was like staring at a web of code: each council a node, each coin a data point. Complicated, layered, but with enough discipline, the system would run.
"Then," he said at last, "use that stability to settle our debts. Ensure families of the fallen are compensated. Their children must be schooled through the academy, and if they wish, recruited as soldiers after graduation."
"It will be done, Your Majesty," Erel answered firmly.
Arthur turned to Hadrick, head of Intelligence. "Any word from the trackers?"
Hadrick shook his head, his face grim. "None, sire."
"Then use every eye, every ear. I want the cult's lair uncovered."
"As you command."
Arthur's gaze shifted to the diplomats. "Reach out to the neighboring kingdoms. Tell them we are not fighting ordinary men."
From his sleeve, Arthur produced a new rune scroll and slid it across to the Tower's representatives. "This one combines two elements—fire with lightning, water with earth—provided they do not conflict. I want these replicated."
An elderly archmage accepted it with trembling hands. "Your Majesty, the pattern is highly complex. It will take us time."
Arthur's reply was little more than a murmur, almost to himself. "I know. But make as many as you can, as quickly as possible."
The chamber fell quiet. Then Duke Reynard rose, his voice steady. "Your Majesty, allow our houses to reinforce the northern border. Valoria must not face this storm alone."
Other nobles followed suit, offering men and steel. Arthur regarded them one by one, then gave a single nod. "Valoria thanks you. The people will remember."
The council adjourned, yet Arthur lingered, watching torchlight dance across stone. The further I walk this path, the heavier the world stares back at me.
---
That night, Arthur summoned Marcel to his study. Maps sprawled across the desk, ink notes scattered over them.
"Marcel, see that every plan moves forward. Track Erel's finances. Watch Hadrick's reports. Press the Tower to attempt the rune combinations. Record every noble who commits troops to the borders."
Marcel bowed. "Understood, sire. All will be carried out."
Arthur studied him for a long moment. Should I wait for the next report, or hone myself further? Waiting meant suffocating uncertainty. Training meant readiness for whatever came.
He rose. "See it done, Marcel. I will enter seclusion. Disturb me only if we are attacked… or if the cult is found."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Arthur closed the chamber door. Silence swallowed the room as he took his stance. What once had been a single dance of the blade was now two. The Dual Blade Dance. Twin katanas whirled like wings of steel, his breath steady, qi pulsing in his core.
---
Days later, word of Valoria's battle spread. Not only by official envoys, but through merchants, spies, even wandering bards who sang of "flames upon the eastern wall."
In the Solvarian Empire, the Iron Hall thundered with shouts. Generals slammed spear butts to the floor until the Emperor raised his hand. "A war of fire will consume the continent. What we need are shadows." His gaze swept the hall. "Kaelen Drovos. Step forward."
A sharp-eyed man with dark hair knelt.
"From this moment, you are no longer a general of the field. You are a merchant. Slip into Valoria. Find and seize their secrets. The blueprint must be ours."
The man bowed low. "By your will, I will not return empty-handed."
In the Thalor Empire, the crystal tower filled with archmages debating the rumor of Valoria's crossbows—said to rival the speed of casters. "If true, it shatters the very dominance of mages!" one cried. "It mocks the traditions of magic!" thundered another. Younger mages, however, whispered among themselves: "Perhaps this is simply evolution we cannot stop." Cracks began to form within Thalor.
In Veyloria, the Golden Hall of merchants buzzed. Some tallied the profits of cold chests and runes, while rivals shouted warnings. "Valoria will become too dangerous a competitor!"
The scent of continental war grew stronger.
---
Meanwhile, in Valoria, the tracking party pressed deeper into the Grimhollow with their hounds. Mist swallowed every step. Trees bent unnaturally, whispers curled at their ears. Days passed, yet the paths only circled back on themselves. Torches dwindled, supplies ran thin, despair gnawed at their resolve.
A laugh echoed faintly, mocking. A light ahead only led them back to where they started. Zagan's aura brushed their senses, but always just out of reach, like a shadow dancing beyond sight.
From outside, their torches appeared to wander aimlessly, looping again and again. They had been trapped for days within the cult's illusion.
At intelligence headquarters, Hadrick waited in silence. Day after day, no word arrived. His eyes grew red from sleepless nights. At last, he took a cloth once belonging to one of the missing scouts and pressed it to the nose of a fresh hound. The beast whined, then barked, catching the trail.
Hadrick drew a long breath. "So be it. I will find them myself."
Cloaking himself in a travel cloak, hand gripping the leash, he stepped into the night. The mist of Grimhollow swallowed him whole.