Guard Commander Vesta stood rigid, his sharp eyes narrowing as they locked onto the boy before him.
The cacophony of the bustling Crystal City seemed to fade into a distant hum as his focus zeroed in on the pendant dangling from the boy's neck.
Could it truly be? Could this ragged, dirt-streaked slum rat before him—this boy who looked as though he'd crawled out of the gutter—possess any connection to the royal family?
The pendant glinted in the sunlight, its intricate design unmistakable.
Vesta's jaw clenched as the weight of the realization settled over him.
He had to know. He had to be certain.
His face twisted in confusion, his mind racing as he struggled to reconcile the boy's appearance with the artifact he wore.
His raised foot, which he'd poised in mid-air to smash onto Sam's head, slowly lowered to the ground as though the earth beneath him had become unstable.
A single misstep here could spell disaster for him.
"I can't say it's really him,"
Vesta muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible even to himself, "but there's no mistaking that pendant. That's the royal pendant of the Voss family. How did he get it?"
Meanwhile Sam, was oblivious to the storm of thoughts swirling in the commander's mind.
His wide-eyed innocence was almost painful to behold. He suddenly dropped to his knees, his forehead hitting the ground with a soft thud.
His voice trembled as he spoke, laced with desperation.
"Apologies, guard commander! I just arrived in the Crystal City. Please forgive my carelessness."
Sam's gaze flicked upward, catching the glint of the commander's badge on his armor. It was a symbol of authority, one that Sam had learned to fear in the slums.
What he didn't know was that Vesta, too, harbored fear for the pendant that had slipped out of his tattered shirt during his clumsy fall.
"No worries, young traveler," Vesta said, his voice smooth and reassuring, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something darker.
"It was only a simple mistake. Now… get up."
He bent down, his armored gloves grasping Sam's arms with surprising gentleness, and lifted the boy to his feet.
As he did so, his gaze lingered once again on the pendant, its intricate design gleaming in the sunlight.
He forced a smile onto his face.
It felt brittle and unnatural.
"What's your name, young man? Where are the three of you from? If you're new to the city, I can show you the best inn around. The Hallowed Oak. It's right around the corner."
Sam hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. His companions, Lue and Tirus, had moved far ahead in the line.
Their faces were pale, and their eyes wide with fear. The expressions they had on seemed to scream.
"We told you to be careful! Bumping into a guard commander? Do you want us all dead?"
Sam sighed, brushing off their concern. To him, they were just paranoid old men. The merchants had planned to separate anyway; he would meet them later after Tirus found a buyer. Turning back to Vesta, he forced a nervous smile.
"We're from the slums, guard commander sir."
A flash of disgust flickered across Vesta's face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same practiced smile he'd worn moments earlier.
"Just call me Vesta," he said, his tone light and friendly. "Grab your bag… and let me show you around."
Sam's smile widened, his earlier apprehension melting away.
He rushed to the carriages, slinging his worn bag over his shoulder, and followed Vesta without hesitation.
He never stopped to question why the man's gaze kept darting to his pendant, or why a guard commander would leave his post to guide a slum rat through the city.
To Sam, it was an act of kindness—a stroke of luck in a world that had rarely been kind to him. He was as naive as ever.
He walked with wide-eyed wonder, his head turning this way and that as he tried to take in every detail of the Crystal City.
The sunlight gleamed off the towering structures, their surfaces polished to a mirror-like shine.
The air was thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, mingling with the tang of exotic spices and the faint aroma of soup.
People moved in every direction, their voices blending into a cacophony of life.
Merchants called out to potential customers, their stalls overflowing with goods. The clang of tools echoed from nearby workshops, and the hum of conversation filled the air.
"Wooow… I've never seen so many people in one place," Sam said, his voice filled with awe. His head swiveled so quickly it seemed his neck might snap.
Vesta chuckled beside him, though the sound was hollow.
"It's a lot to take in, especially if you're new. I've lived here my whole life and even I'm amazed sometimes."
Outwardly, Vesta's smile was warm and inviting, the kind of expression that could put even the most wary soul at ease. But inside, his thoughts were far darker.
"Look at him. Gawking like a child. These are the ones I hate the most."
Sam continued to marvel at the city's wonders, oblivious to the danger lurking beside him.
Vesta walked a few steps behind, occasionally offering casual replies to the boy's innocent questions. The inn stood only a few blocks from the gate, its location strategically chosen to catch the attention of weary travelers.
Its sign, bearing the image of a majestic oak tree, swung gently in the breeze.
As they approached, Vesta's sharp eyes caught sight of the shadowy figures lingering in the alleys.
They watched with predatory interest, their gazes sharpening as they took in Sam's youthful appearance and unguarded enthusiasm.
Luckily for Sam he had a guard commander by his side, even if that guard commander had plans of his own.
The boy, completely unaware, pulled a handful of coins from his bag and began counting them aloud, rambling about how many days he might stay at the inn. Vesta only nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Inside the inn, Vesta handled the procedures with practiced ease, even escorting Sam to his room. Sam thanked him profusely, his genuine gratitude making him look even more pitiful.
"You're welcome, young man," Vesta said, his voice smooth as silk. "Rest well."
The moment the door closed behind him, Vesta's demeanor shifted. His calm facade shattered as he tore through the crowded streets, his speed and urgency a stark contrast to the leisurely pace he'd maintained while guiding Sam.
His destination loomed in the distance—a towering crystal-like structure that gleamed under the sun, its spires piercing the sky. It was the heart of the Crystal Dynasty, a symbol of power and authority.
Vesta had found the Empress's grandson.
One of the heir of the dynasty.
A descendant of the woman who stood at the pinnacle of cultivation. The Empress was a figure of legend, her name spoken with a mix of reverence and fear. Her ruthlessness was unmatched, her dominion absolute. To cross her was to invite destruction.
One might expect Vesta to race into her palace, eager to deliver the news and claim his reward. But that was not his plan. He would report the discovery, yes—but not to the Empress.
Because he knew someone far more dangerous.
Someone even more cunning.
A man who paid him handsomely for every scrap of information he gathered. A figure within the ruling family who wielded power with a subtlety that rivaled the Empress's brute force. A cultivator in the initial stage of chi energy—one of the few in the entire empire who could threaten even seasoned warriors.
Vesta was going to the Crystal Tower.
He was going to report to the Third Prince.
William Yen Voss.