The sun had barely risen when Andy Decatry sat down at his black oak desk. The office smelled of wax and parchment. The letters were organized in three piles: urgent, important, and those that could wait. He touched the urgent pile and pulled the first scroll.
Delluzio entered without knocking. His platinum‑blue armour creaked slightly, the white tiger on his chest shining in the weak morning light. The knight's face was a mask of calm – his eyes tired, but alert.
"The defences, Delluzio."
"Five hundred soldiers positioned in Lunos," the knight replied, leaning against the doorframe. "Three hundred in Derylini. Two hundred here, at the port and on the walls."
"The knights?"
"Those who stayed are on alert. Those who left…" he paused. "They must have already reached the academy."
Andy put down the scroll. He stood up and walked to the window. The sea outside was calm, almost peaceful. Dennis Decatry Port still bore the scars of Krakeriar's attack – new wood replacing the old, cranes lifting stones, workers moving like ants.
"The portals of hell do not sleep," Andy said, his back to the knight. "Neither do the lords."
"The church of Desty remains guarded. The archbishop insists that the main Torrus‑Endra is unstable."
Andy turned. His grey eyes fixed on Delluzio's.
"The layer of the elves. If we can bring back an elven warrior…"
"It's a gamble," Delluzio answered bluntly. "The elves haven't mixed with us for centuries."
"Precisely." Andy scratched his short beard, thoughtful. "If anyone can turn the war, it's them."
"Or they could shut themselves in their layer and leave us to die alone."
"That too." Andy almost smiled. "But we have to try."
---
Breakfast was served in the private dining room, a modest chamber by castle standards. Andy disliked ostentation. A long table, six chairs, a window overlooking the inner garden.
Zayan Ban was already seated when Andy entered. The king of the Ban Islands looked older than the last time they had met – deep shadows under his eyes, his affable smile forced, his hands trembling slightly as he picked up his teacup.
Magnus Troydís arrived minutes later, his ringed fingers drumming on the table. The façade of the shrewd man remained intact, but there was irritation in his gestures – poorly disguised impatience.
"Andy," Zayan began, his voice low. "I need you to speak with the Mercius."
"I know." Andy tore off a piece of bread and dipped it in olive oil. "The crops are rotting. Your islands are starving."
"They are not my islands." Zayan raised his eyes. "They are my people."
Magnus interrupted, his fingers tapping the wood.
"The Mercius control the most fertile lands in Endomyar. The relationship between Ban and Mercius has never been good. Duke Decatry has political weight. The Mercius respect power, not friendship."
Andy looked at him. A hint of disdain, but also understanding.
"I will speak with Mercudoth. But I promise nothing."
"Your word is enough," said Zayan. "It is more than we have had."
Silence settled. Andy ate his bread, drank his tea. Zayan barely touched his food.
"I am leaving for Derylini today," Andy announced at the end of the meal. "The war is coming. The Contraranures are growing bolder. And Trussum…"
"Trussum?" Magnus raised an eyebrow.
"The great liar. He came out of the portal. He is somewhere on the peninsula. My spies haven't found him yet."
"And what does the duke intend to do?"
"Find him before he finds my children."
---
In the corridor, already on the way to the stables, Andy handed Delluzio a sealed scroll.
"Send this north. My son is roaming in Lunos. I want him back."
Delluzio tucked the letter into the fold of his armour.
"For the church mission?"
"For the mission. And for the war." Andy tightened his sword belt. "I am no longer a chosen one. I need people I can trust."
"He will come."
"I hope so."
---
The stables smelled of straw and horse. The animals were saddled, ready. Only four mounts: Andy, Delluzio, and two trusted soldiers – quiet men with hard eyes who had already proven their loyalty in battle.
Delluzio mounted first, adjusted the reins.
"You're taking so few, duke?"
"I want to go unnoticed." Andy mounted as well, with the agility of someone who still remembered the years of war. "The peninsula is full of spies. From the Contraranures, from the Derylinis, perhaps even from the king himself."
"A duke going unnoticed," Delluzio almost smiled. "You never manage that."
"I try."
The two soldiers chuckled softly. Andy did not.
---
In the courtyard, the soldiers remaining in Decatry were drawn up in formation. Gleaming helmets, spears straight in the sun. A captain in blue armour approached and bowed.
"Duke. Your orders?"
Andy spoke loudly so that all could hear:
"Protect the port. Reinforce the walls. The Contraranures are shadows, but shadows also bleed."
"And if Krakeriar returns?" asked the captain. "The juveniles…"
"The juveniles are being hunted. The father is sealed. For now." Andy paused. "But if something appears, kill first. Ask later."
The soldiers struck the ground with their spears. The sound echoed off the stone walls.
"Let's go," Andy said to Delluzio.
They left the courtyard and rode toward the port.
---
Zayan Ban was in the inner garden, sitting on a stone bench, watching the rare flowers that grew only on Decatry Island. Andy found him there, alone.
"The duke hasn't left yet?" asked Zayan, without turning.
"I'm leaving now." Andy sat beside him. "I wanted to say goodbye."
"My ancestors helped yours in the war against the Aryster." Zayan spoke slowly, as if reciting an old lesson. "Now I ask for help for my people. It is not pride. It is survival."
"I know." Andy looked at the horizon. "That's why I am going to Mercius."
"Mercudoth does not like me."
"Mercudoth does not like anyone who doesn't give him money."
Zayan almost laughed.
"I am prepared for almost anything."
"You will need to be." Andy stood up. "The Mercius do not yield without gaining something in return. It may be costly."
"The life of my people has no price."
"It does." Andy's voice was dry, but not cruel. "It always does. The difference is who pays."
They said goodbye with a handshake. Zayan remained on the bench, watching the flowers. Andy walked back to the stables.
---
Magnus Troydís watched from the castle window.
His eyes followed the small group of horsemen heading toward the port. Andy rode at the front, straight in the saddle, his silver‑blue hair shining in the sun.
"What does the duke see?" asked a voice behind him.
It was his wife, Melinda.
"I see a man on his way to war," Magnus replied without turning.
"And us? When do we leave?"
"When he solves our food problem. Or when the war reaches our doorstep. Whatever comes first."
Melinda did not answer. She merely sat down in a chair and picked up her embroidery.
Magnus continued to stare out the window.
Andy's group had already disappeared on the road to the port.
---
The sea was calm when the boat set sail.
Andy stood at the bow, watching the island recede. Delluzio stood beside him, arms crossed.
"Are you thinking about her?" asked the knight.
"I am thinking about all of them." Andy did not need to ask who. "Ana, Sara, Ariny. Alór, if he is still alive."
"Alór is your son. Sons survive."
"Sons die." Andy gripped the railing. "You have seen many die."
"I have." Delluzio added nothing more.
The wind blew cold. The bow cut through the waves.
Andy looked at the horizon. The Derylini peninsula was only a dark line in the distance.
'The Duke of Decatry was leaving for war before the war had even begun.'
The boat sailed south.