The celebrations in Fort Aegis were a sight to behold.

From the moment the gates had opened and the soldiers marched in, it was as if the entire stronghold had transformed into a festival ground. Banners waved from the walls, laughter echoed off stone, and the scent of roasted meats filled the air. But beyond the revelry, there was something more—recognition. Every soldier, no matter their rank, was treated like a king.

At the heart of it all stood Viscount Redmont, flushed with pride and animated by the thrill of survival and victory. He led from the front—not in war, but in reward.

Each of his soldiers received generous gifts: parcels of land, pouches of gold, and gilded weapons. For some, it was the greatest wealth they’d ever touched. And he didn’t stop there. The Church, too, was shown gratitude. A substantial donation was promised, one so generous that Bishop Maurice spent the entire evening grinning like a man who had just found a second sun.

Even Kai’s soldiers, those from Veralt, were not forgotten.

The Viscount offered them weapons, gold, and a standing invitation—should any of their families ever wish to relocate, land and shelter would be waiting. It wasn’t quite as lavish as what he gave his own men, but Kai didn’t mind. Rewarding his people was his responsibility. And he already had plans—plans that would make every one of his soldiers understand that their suffering, their survival, had not gone unnoticed.

Because truly, nothing Kai had experienced—not the fief wars, not even the beast wave—had demanded so much.

Back then, he had been defending. He could choose where to dig in, when to strike. But in the plague lands, they had been the attackers. Every step forward had been a gamble with death. The land itself had turned against them—a single touch could kill. Strategy alone hadn’t kept them alive. Resolve had.

Throughout the celebration, Viscount Redmont barely left his side. The man kept a goblet in one hand and a string of thank-yous in the other, offering his gratitude over and over.

He promised to support Kai at the upcoming assembly. He swore to be his shield in the Sylvan enclave. And, in true noble fashion, he even tried—half-heartedly—to arrange a betrothal between Kai and his daughter.

Kai accepted all of it… except the betrothal.

His polite refusal was met with visible relief from the young lady herself, who looked far more interested in her wine than in the idea of a political marriage.

Thankfully, Knight Cais had taken over the duty of reporting their battle, giving the Viscount a clear picture of what had transpired. Kai had no need to go into details. But he did make one thing clear: Magus Elias had been a key part of their victory.

He didn’t elaborate further—just enough to make sure that credit was given where it was due. That small piece of information—Elias’s involvement—had clearly surprised Viscount Redmont.

He had stilled for a moment, goblet halfway to his lips, his brow lifting in a quiet flicker of disbelief. After all, Elias didn’t have the best pv the reputation. It was enough to raise questions, and dangerous ones at that.

But Kai had been prepared. He explained only what was necessary and made one request clear.

“Don’t include it in your reports to the crown,” Kai had said.

The Viscount had hesitated. But only briefly. The look in Ka’s eyes made him understood.

The moment that detail made it into royal hands, someone—some petty noble or power-hungry rival—would twist it into something else entirely. Kai’s position in the kingdom was already balancing on a knife’s edge. Elias helping him could easily be painted as conspiracy. A collusion with a foreign power.

And Kai didn’t need that. Not now.

Redmont had heeded his request. No oaths, no ceremony—just a look and a quiet promise. It was enough.

The Viscount had wanted the celebrations to stretch for days. He had even begun planning contests, feasts, and a formal banquet. But Kaii had no interest in staying.

He had spent too many days stuffed inside enchanted plate armour, too many nights on broken ground, his spell structure always ready in one hand. The music and cheering were pleasant… but they weren’t rest. Not the kind he needed.

So, once everything was settled, he called Killian aside.

“You’re in charge of the men,” Kai said. “Let them enjoy themselves. Get them moving in two days. Return to Veralt.”

Killian’s expression was half-smile, half-concern, but he nodded without question.

And with that, Kai left.

His mana reserves were full now—fuller than ever, thanks to the stabilizing of his new fourth circle. When he took to the skies, his body rose like a shadow drawn into the clouds.

The air was cold, cutting against his face. But it was freedom. Flying had always been a joy, but this time, it was something else too. It was escape.

The wind roared past him, and the world below blurred. He crossed the stretch between Fort Aegis and Veralt in under two hours—a record for him.

When the stone walls of his city came into view, he allowed himself a breath.

A few guards on the ramparts looked up in surprise. One or two even knocked arrows, reacting more out of instinct than sense. But someone must have shouted his name, because the bows dropped before the string was pulled.

He didn’t slow down. He didn’t land at the gates or seek out an Enforcer to get reports. He glided over the rooftops, found his castle, and landed on the balcony outside his room.

The window was unlocked. The maids had been keeping the place clean. He slid it open, stepped inside, and didn’t even bother to take off his boots. His bed was made.

Kai let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and fell forward into the mattress. He didn’t think of Elias, or Redmont, or even the royal court. He didn’t think of assemblies, politics, or the future.

He thought of roots tearing through stone. He thought of poison in the air. He thought of death—narrowly avoided—and the way his men had looked when they saw the sky again.

And then something deeper, quieter, overtook him. It wasn’t fear or guilt.

Just exhaustion.

His breathing slowed. The world dimmed.

And before he knew it, Kai was asleep.

***

Kai woke to soft rays of sunlight spilling through the high windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the golden light.

He blinked, disoriented for a moment as he stared up at the stone-carved ceiling above his bed, unfamiliar only because it had been so long since he last saw it. A beat passed before he let out a quiet yawn and slowly sat up, pushing the blankets off.

The silence was… pleasant.

No shouting. No marching. No sickness in the air. Just the faint chirping of birds beyond the balcony and the distant hum of the city awakening. He stood and stretched, cracking his shoulders, then stepped toward the bathroom. The basin inside was clean—but, of course, no water had been drawn.

He frowned, then simply raised a hand. A shard of ice formed in his palm. With a flick, he hovered it over the basin and seared it gently with fire mana until it melted into cool, clean water. He splashed it on his face, exhaling at the sensation, and wiped his hands on a nearby towel.

As he patted his face dry, a familiar thought returned. Plumbing.

The lack of it had faded to the background during his recent battles, but now that he was home—standing in a room that should have water on demand—it bothered him more than ever. He’d already made latrine pits standard for the new homes being built in Veralt, but if he truly wanted to modernize the city, plumbing was essential. Running water. Drainage. Heated baths.

Another project to add to the pile.

He shook off the thought for now and made his way to the closet. A fresh tunic and breeches—simple and comfortable—were pulled on quickly. He tied the sleeves, adjusted the cuffs, and ran a hand through his slightly messy hair before stepping toward the door.

The moment he opened it, two maids standing just outside jumped in surprise. Their eyes widened, clearly not expecting anyone—especially him—to be here.

They stared for a second too long before abruptly bowing, heads lowered.

Kai raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “You were here to clean?”

“Yes, my lord,” one of them stammered. “We… we thought you hadn’t returned yet.”

“I came yesterday. Is Siton in the office already?”

One maid straightened slightly, still flustered. “Yes, my lord. I just handed him his morning tea.”

“Good,” Kai said, nodding. “Bring some for me too. And… anything to eat with it.”

The maid nodded quickly, giving another hurried bow before retreating toward the kitchens. The other slipped into his room with a quiet apology to begin cleaning. Kai lingered at the door for a moment, watching them both, then gave a faint smile.

Was he really that scary?

It wasn’t like he barked orders or glared at people. But then again… he supposed not many people had real conversations with him. Aside from Claire, he hadn’t connected with any of the staff. And maybe that distance, combined with his status and his magecraft, made him seem like something untouchable.

He had experienced this before.

That quiet fear, the kind that crept into people’s eyes once they realized what he truly was—not a noble, not a man with a sword, but a Mage. Someone who could bend fire and water and air with a thought. Someone who could kill with a flick of his fingers.

Kai didn’t enjoy it, but he had accepted it. It came with the life he chose.

With a small exhale, he brushed the thought aside and made his way down the hall, footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. When he reached the apprentice’s office, he didn’t bother to knock.

He opened the door and stepped in.

Siton, seated behind the desk with a cup of tea in hand, looked up in surprise.

The office was far more chaotic than usual. Papers were stacked high, some teetering at the edge of the desk. Open books were scattered on nearly every flat surface—thick tomes on historical cities, scribbled scrolls of merchant ledgers, maps, letters, and even what looked like a half-finished blueprint for a windmill.

A chipped ink bottle sat next to a cracked quill stand, both smudged with fingerprints, and a Heat Stone that had long lost its glow rested beside an open scroll, half-buried under letters bearing different noble seals.

Despite Francis having left behind five apprentices to manage Veralt’s affairs, Siton bore the brunt of the responsibility. He was Francis’s hand-picked successor, and over time, he had become Kai’s de facto steward when it came to internal affairs.

The moment Siton saw him, he stood quickly, nearly spilling his tea in the process.

“My lord—Lord Arzan. You’re back?”

Kai gave a small nod, stepping inside. “Yes. I returned last night. You probably didn’t hear since I went straight to my chambers.”

“I hadn’t the faintest idea,” Siton said, bowing properly this time. “Just yesterday I sent an envoy to Fort Aegis. I was worried about the expedition. We hadn’t received any official news.”

Kai snorted faintly, moving to take the seat across from him. “Then your envoy will arrive just in time to find a celebration—and probably get drunk.”

Siton blinked. “A celebration?”

“The treant is dead. The plague is purged. We took casualties, but fewer than I expected. We won.”

Siton’s expression softened into a smile, genuine and tired. “That’s… that’s truly wonderful news, Lord Arzan. A blessing on the city.”

Kai leaned back slightly in the chair. “Yes. But I need to know—how did things go here while I was away? I’d like a full report.”

Siton straightened again, already moving toward the stack on his left. “Of course. Give me a moment.”

And for the next hour, the apprentice delivered.

He moved through categories—economic reports, showing the gold flow from trade routes and recent taxes collected; infrastructure updates, including the progress on the new housing district and the expansion of the southern wall; recruitment numbers, listing every Mage and Enforcer discovered in the nearby villages and towns, along with their affinity, status, and whether they had accepted Veralt’s offer of employment or chosen to remain independent.

Kai listened carefully, occasionally taking scrolls into his hand and skimming them. Numbers flowed easily through his mind. But he didn’t just listen for facts—he listened for gaps, hesitations, things that might have been missed.

And so far, Siton hadn’t disappointed.

Midway through the reports, there was a soft knock, and the door creaked open.

One of the maids stepped in, carefully balancing a silver tray. A steaming cup of tea, still swirling with heat, rested beside a small plate stacked with round, crisp butter cookies dusted with crushed nuts.

Kai gave her a small nod as she set it down on the side of the desk. Without a word, she bowed and backed out, the door clicking shut behind her. Kai took the cup with one hand and flipped another page with the other, sipping slowly as he scanned the financials.

Everything was here—clearly documented, down to the last copper spent on ink and parchment. Construction projects, trade taxes, grain stock levels, Mage commissions. The sheer thoroughness would have made most lords dizzy, but Kai appreciated it.

A few entries caught his eye.

One detailed a guard rotation system recently established to monitor the sewers which was hopefully going to keep the assassins out of the city.

Another file outlined the construction of a theatre in the town’s central square. An “entertainment initiative,” it said—one he vaguely remembered agreeing to in a moment of fatigue, more to keep some of the more restless Mages content.

And apparently, it had worked. Several Mages were now personally involved in shaping the structure with earth magic, their enchantments helping speed along the frame and seating.

Every time Kai turned a page, he could feel Siton watching him. Not obviously, but with the subtle glances of a man trying not to look too eager—eyebrows raising here, shifting in his seat there, as though trying to guess which part Kai was reading.

Eventually, Kai chuckled and set the documents down.

“I feel like I’m being watched more than the reports,” he said, giving Siton a faint smile. “Relax. Everything looks good. You’re doing a fine job in Francis’s absence.”

Siton let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shoulders loosening. “Thank you, my lord. He taught me well.”

“He did,” Kai agreed, sipping his tea. “I would’ve liked him here, but Veyrin needed stabilizing, and there’s no one better for the job. Still, you’re holding up well—and for that, I’m giving you a task.”

The apprentice straightened up, posture instantly attentive. “What kind of task, Lord Arzan?”

Kai leaned forward, setting his cup aside.

“I need the full machinery of my territory—Watchers, Enforcers, Mages, even the village chiefs. Everyone available.”

Siton blinked. “To do what, exactly?”

Kai didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for a blank piece of parchment, pulled a quill from the inkpot, and began to draw.

A peak, sharp and jagged, surrounded by smaller mountains. A winding path leading up. Then, at the summit, a tower—tall, narrow, piercing through clouds. He sketched the curve of the land around it, adding marks that would help in locating it. The image came naturally—burned into his mind ever since he had first seen it floating in the center of his astral realm.

When he finished the rough map, he slid it across the desk.

“I need to find this,” Kai said softly. “It’s not on any of our current maps. It may be hidden. But I want eyes on anything that even resembles this place. It might not even be in Lancephil, but we need to find the tower.”

Siton stared at the drawing, eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line.

“I’ll begin immediately but I’ve never seen a tower like this before,” he said. “And I’ve traveled quite a bit before coming here to serve my apprenticeship. If this exists in Lancephil… it’s not near any of the common landmarks.”

Kai’s frown deepened. “That’s what I feared. It might not be in the kingdom at all. That’s why I want everyone—especially the Watchers—looking for it. Make copies. Quietly distribute it. Have them check every report, every old ruin or isolated peak in every border region.”

Siton nodded. “I’ll handle it personally.”

“Good.”

There was a moment of silence before Siton glanced up again. “Anything else, Lord Arzan?”

Kai paused to think, rolling his shoulders slightly. The warmth from the tea still lingered in his hands, but already his mind was shifting to the next steps.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I’ll be taking it easy for a few days. The plague lands drained me more than I’d like to admit. But once I recover, things are going to move fast.”

Siton gave a sympathetic nod.

“Send an envoy to Fort Aegis. I spoke with Viscount Redmont—he’s agreed to let us have a permanent presence there. I want one of our own stationed at all times.”

The apprentice tilted his head slightly. “You think there’s more to be done in the plague lands?”

Kai nodded. “The plague’s been stopped. But the land is still dead. I don’t plan to claim it, but we can’t just leave it either. I want every weaver and fiend still hiding in those lands purged. Redmont’s agreed to assist if we agree to supply his men with more of our armour.”

“I see,” Siton said. “We’ll need to work fast then.”

“I know,” Kai replied. He rubbed his temple. “I’ll need to speak to Amyra about it too. If you see her, tell her I’m back and to come see me.”

Siton blinked, a flicker of surprise in his expression. “She can help?”

Kai could see the confusion there—unsurprising. He hadn’t exactly advertised what Amyra was. What she could do.

“She’s one of my apprentices,” Kai said simply. “And I’d like her involved. I’ll be busy… and need to teach her about these things.” Kai stood up and stepped toward the door. “Either way, I’ll leave you to it. And make sure I have an answer on that tower’s location as soon as possible.”

Siton nodded. “Will do, Lord Arzan.”

***

Ansel sighed, leaning back in his chair and staring at the towering stacks of paper in front of him. Then, with a slow turn of his head, he glanced at the other table across the room—also full. Reports, letters, scraps of coded messages, intercepted notes. He had been working through them for hours now, maybe days, and the pile never seemed to shrink.

He wasn’t surprised. They’d expanded fast. Too fast, maybe.

With the assembly approaching, the political game had intensified, and he’d responded in kind—recruiting new Watchers, spreading them like seeds into noble houses across the kingdom. Most of them had been deployed using Malden’s merchant network. And now, all those little seeds were bearing fruit. Every single Watcher was sending something back—gossip, troop movements, rivalries, trade shifts, family tensions. The flow of information was relentless.

And with the druidic magic embedded into their system—courier birds trained with nature-binding spells—Ansel was almost certain the Watchers were the fastest intelligence network in the kingdom. Possibly even the world.

But that also meant he had to read it all.

Well, not all—his assistants helped sort it. They skimmed the obvious clutter, categorized the useful, and passed on anything truly important or delicate to him. Still, even the filtered pieces came by the hundreds.

And he was tired.

Burnt out.

He wasn’t made for desk work. He was a field operator, a wildsman, trained to move like a ghost through trees, not to sift through scandals and blackmail material in a quiet chamber that smelled like parchment and ink. But he also understood one thing clearly.

The Head of the Watchers couldn’t afford to disappear into the field anymore. Not when Lord Arzan needed him close. Not when too many eyes were watching. Not when any misstep could tip the scale.

And Ansel had agreed to that. So he kept his mouth shut and kept reading.

He picked up another paper from the stack—this one regarding a minor count from the southern territories whose daughter had apparently run off with a commoner. Some details about how it could be turned into leverage were underlined in red.

He exhaled again, lifting the parchment—when a knock at the door made him pause.

“Come in,” he called, already expecting more work.

The door creaked open and one of his assistants stepped in.

Tlara, the red-haired hire from Veridis stepped forward with a piece of folded parchment in hand. “This just came in.”

Ansel frowned, rubbing the lines on his forehead.

“Tiara,” he muttered without looking up, “I need to get through this stack before I look at anything else. We’re already behind on northern noble reports and the merchant unions.”

“I know,” she said. “But this came from Lord Arzan himself.”

That made him pause. He glanced up, brow creasing.

“He wants us to locate a tower. As soon as possible.”

“A tower?” Ansel repeated.

He had already known Lord Arzan was back—his men had seen the Count fly overhead the night before and sent word before dawn. But a tower search? The request didn’t make sense. Not with everything else going on.

Still, he didn’t question it. Lord Arzan’s intentions were often layered, and Ansel had learned long ago not to dig too deep unless asked.

Wordlessly, he held out a hand. The girl passed the paper to him. The moment Ansel’s eyes landed on the drawing, he froze. It wasn’t the tower that hit him—not at first. It was the peaks. Jagged, narrow, drawn with the kind of precision that only someone who had seen them could manage.

He had seen them too. Many times. His grip tightened on the paper as his throat dried. Slowly, he looked up.

“You’re sure this came from him?” he asked, voice quieter now.

She nodded. “Yes. Is something wrong?”

Ansel didn’t answer immediately. He looked back down at the sketch, his heart thudding harder than it should’ve. He didn’t recognize the tower, no—but those mountains? That curve of ridge, the split valley, the forked path winding up through the stone?

He had walked those trails. Camped in their shadows. He could still feel the burning wind. The heat. The dust in his throat.

He stared at it for a few seconds longer, then finally whispered:

“This is the Ashari Desert.”

The words felt heavier than they should have.

“My home.”

***

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