Raven felt her heartbeat quicken as the carriage finally rolled onto the streets of Veralt.

She should have been here a week ago. That much she knew well. Their delay had not been from poor planning or hesitation, but from the chaos that had swallowed the kingdom after Lord Arzan became king. The roads had been clogged with convoys of minor nobles who didn’t accept the change of royalty fleeing in panic, dragging their wealth and families behind them as if the crown itself were hunting them. In truth, a small force had been sent after some of them, and in the clashes that followed, several key roads were damaged or destroyed. The carriage had been forced to wait, reroute, and wait again.

The kingdom itself had not yet recovered from the war. Whole regions were still unsettled, and it had taken time just to reach the roads leading into the Sylvan Enclave. Once they had passed through it, the journey became easier. Not fast, but easier. The road toward Veralt was wide and mostly intact, though it was crowded almost beyond reason.

Veralt had been declared the new capital, and even an uneducated peasant knew what that meant. Capitals grew. Capitals attracted gold, power, and opportunity. Over the next few decades, Veralt was bound to expand, and everyone wanted to be there at the beginning.

Rumors traveled faster than the carriages. Raven had heard them repeated at every stop along the way. Lord Arzan was paying well for guard recruits. He was rebuilding the army from the ground up. He was opening free apprentice programs. He was funding education for commoners who had never held a book in their lives. Whether all of it was true did not matter. Enough people believed it.

By the time the carriage reached the city gates, the roads were still packed. They were allowed through only because the guards recognized them. Even then, the streets beyond the gate were overflowing with people.

Raven leaned closer to the carriage window and looked out.

She saw long wooden tables set up along the streets, covered in food, with no one standing guard over them. People gathered around them freely, laughing and eating as if there were no shortages left in the world. Some were already drinking alcohol, cups raised high even though the morning sun had barely climbed the sky. The smell of bread, meat, and spice drifted through the air.

When the carriage passed the main square, the noise grew louder. Music echoed between the buildings. People were dancing in the open, moving without care, without fear.

It was as if the city had never left its celebration phase. The coronation should have taken place days back, yet Veralt still felt alive with festivity. Raven had lived in the city for nearly a year, but even she had not expected it to be like this.

She guessed that the migrants would appreciate it. A festive mood made uncertainty easier to bear, especially for those searching for work and a place to belong. Laughter and music could soften fear, even if only a little.

As Raven continued to look out of the carriage window, the twins were already on their feet behind her. Finn let out a low whistle before speaking.

“Damn, I missed a good thing,” he said. “I bet it would have been fun to be here during the coronation.”

Finnigan grinned and shrugged. “I’m sure we can still find a lot of interesting stuff to do. The celebrations might go on for a few weeks more.”

At that, Gorak huffed, his voice cutting through their excitement. “Don’t forget we still have to report back to Lord Arzan. You two can go off after that.”

His words were enough to pull Raven back to reality. She turned away from the window, the sights outside no longer able to distract her. The carriage was slowing now, edging closer to the estate. If she judged the route correctly, they would arrive in ten minutes.

Raven frowned, her thoughts turning inward. Just thinking about what would happen when she finally met Lord Arzan made her chest tighten. She had spent the entire journey preparing herself for this moment, repeating what she needed to say and how she would say it.

In the end, she knew she had very little choice. And even if she did, she would have gone through with it all the same.

As the carriage rolled forward, Raven steadied her breathing and forced her shaking legs to remain still. She replayed her words again and again in her mind, holding onto them until the carriage finally came to a stop and Finnigan opened the door from the other side.

The twins were the first to step out of the carriage, followed closely by Gorak. As he moved down, he paused and looked back at Raven.

“You okay?” he asked.

Raven nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said, forcing the words out. “Let’s go meet Lord Arzan.”

She stepped down after him. For a few minutes, they remained where they were. The twins moved ahead to speak with the gate guards. Gorak stayed back just long enough to thank the coachman.

The man smiled nervously and asked them to put in a good word for him in front of the king if they could.

The request made Raven’s thoughts stall for a moment. It still felt unreal. The baron they had once worked for on an extermination job had become the king of the entire kingdom in less than two years. No matter how many times she thought about it, the scale of it refused to settle properly in her mind. She supposed fate simply moved differently for some people, especially someone who actually could make his own fate.

It did not take long before one of the guards returned and opened the gates for them. They were escorted inside without ceremony.

The estate was alive with movement. There were far more people than Raven had ever seen here before. Some stood in small groups across the grounds, waiting quietly. Others moved around urgently, walking fast as if already late for their duties. The guard guiding them acted as though none of this was unusual.

As they went deeper inside, the crowd only grew. People lined the inner halls and corridors, sitting along the walls or standing in tense silence. Many of them glanced up when Raven and the others passed, their faces filled with open curiosity and envy as the group was led toward the stairs.

Gorak finally spoke, unable to hold back his curiosity. “Who are all these people?”

The guard answered easily. “A mix of merchants, young men here for guard exams, and those applying for bureaucratic roles. There are also a few minor nobles hoping for an audience with Lord Francis, for one reason or another.”

Raven frowned slightly. “Lord?”

The guard smiled at her. “Yes. He was granted the position of count, along with the role of grand chancellor of the kingdom. But he still works the same as always.”

They all exchanged looks after hearing that. No one needed to say anything out loud. Things really had changed in a very short amount of time.

After climbing three floors and passing through corridors crowded with people on every level, the guard finally stopped in front of a closed door. He turned slightly and spoke in a calm voice.

“Please go inside. Lord Francis will be waiting for you.”

Gorak frowned. “But we are here to see Lord Arzan.”

The guard did not argue. He simply said, “Just go inside,” and turned away before they could ask anything else.

Left with no other choice, they looked at one another again. Gorak reached out, opened the door, and stepped inside first.

They were immediately met with a room filled with people. Desks were packed closely together, each one covered in parchments. Men and women moved between them, scribbling notes, reading documents, and exchanging papers in low, hurried voices. The sound of quills scratching against parchment filled the air.

Their party carefully moved through the room, drawing a few curious glances, and made their way toward the far end. That was where Francis sat.

The old man looked no different from the last time Raven had seen him. His posture was the same, and his expression was the same. The only difference was the stack of documents in front of him. An apprentice stood beside his desk, handing him parchment after parchment. Francis barely looked at them before signing, his quill moving with practiced speed.

They stood there for a while, waiting.

Finally, Francis raised his head. He paused mid-signature, frowned slightly, and stared. “How long have you been standing there for?”

Gorak answered honestly. “A few minutes.”

Francis let out a breath of relief. “That’s good. I’ve had people stand there for an hour before I noticed them. There’s been a lot of work lately, and I’m still behind, even with my apprentices helping.”

Gorak glanced around the room and nodded. “I can see that. Congratulations on your noble rank and your new position. We heard about it.”

Finn nodded from the side, glancing between them. “Yes. I’m not sure if we should bow.”

Francis waved the thought away at once. “There’s no need. Although I am a count now, I’m acting in the position of chancellor at the moment, and that means my noble rank takes a backseat in front of paperwork.” He gestured faintly at the desk. “Either way, I’m sure you all have a lot to report.”

Gorak nodded. His posture stiffened for a brief moment before he spoke. “We do. I know you were waiting for elven support during the civil war, but none arrived.”

Francis nodded calmly. “Yes, but that is fine. The princes were not opponents Lord Arzan could not handle on his own.” He paused, then added, “Still, we were about to send another envoy to check up on all of you.”

Gorak inclined his head. “We were delayed because of the road conditions after the war. There was also unrest in Sylvastra.”

Francis’s brows furrowed immediately. “What unrest?” His gaze moved over the group. “You did not bring any elves with you. Is everything all right there?”

Raven frowned and stepped forward. She knew this was the moment she had been preparing for. Still, she could not bring herself to speak of it in front of Francis. Her voice remained steady as she said, “Nothing is all right in Sylvastra. But before I explain what happened, where is Lord Arzan? I was commanded to tell this to him personally.”

Francis frowned in return. “He is not here right now.”

“What do you mean he’s not?”

“He is in the Ashari Desert,” Francis replied. Then he added, “Can you not simply tell me? I will inform him, but first I need to know what is going on.”

Raven shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you. The elders told me to trust only Lord Arzan with this.” She met Francis’s gaze without wavering. “You need to call him back. I’m sure he would want to hear this himself.”

***

Veridia had wondered about the end of her life many times throughout her years. The thought came more often these days, lingering longer than it used to. When she was younger, she had always imagined herself dying to another Mage, or perhaps to a powerful beast. That had seemed fitting, even honorable in a way.

After she became a tower master, her resentment toward Regina had shaped those thoughts into something sharper. She had believed her life would end in a battle against her, spells tearing through the air until only one of them remained standing.

Fate, however, had chosen a different path.

Now, Veridia knew her life was likely going to end on a bed in the middle of nowhere, far from any tower or battlefield. She lay here, fighting her own broken Mana heart, trying again and again to fix what was failing inside her.

She groaned as she pushed mana into her heart, guiding it carefully, trying to fill the cracks and keep the mana stable within her body. As always, it did not work. A sharp jolt of pain struck her chest.

Her entire body shook, and she let out a low grunt, forcing herself to breathe slowly until the pain dulled. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with a trembling hand.

Part of her wondered where she was going wrong. Another part told her that she already knew the answer. She just could not accept it.

She was not Arzan. She did not know how to truly fix mana organs. She was only acting on the knowledge that such a thing was possible. For months, she had tried everything she could think of, and every attempt had failed. There was no method she could grasp, no hidden technique she could force into existence.

It simply was not possible without being able to connect to her astral realm. Every attempt she had made to reach it had ended in failure.

And yet, Arzan had managed to do it.

The more Veridia thought about that, the heavier the thought became. Her chest tightened, not from pain this time, but from realization. The more she considered it, the more convinced she felt that her suspicion had been right all along.

Arzan was not what he appeared to be—he was someone else.

Even Valkyrie would not have such knowledge, and if she did, she would have already spread it. The woman was not someone who hid anything that could benefit Mages across the world. Arzan, however, was clearly not like that.

And Veridia had no way to pressure him into fixing her. There was nothing she could trade with him. From the reports she had received, he was now the king as well. Maybe it was that fact alone that kept Veridia from giving in to the urge to take her own life. He had killed Regina and taken the throne.

Veridia had already known something like this would happen when she had fought him. Still, she regretted not being there to witness it. She had wanted to see Regina’s face as she died, to see that cold expression finally break.

Instead, Veridia had been little more than a spectator during the civil war.

That was not entirely true in some ways. She had sent her apprentices to different cities, burning supply chains and putting pressure on Regina’s forces. But on the larger scale, those actions had meant very little. Her only true blow during the civil war had been when she left the capital burning.

Since then, her focus has shifted. She needed to recover. She needed to fix her heart so she could regain her strength. But trying to repair it with her own knowledge had become impossible.

When Veridia looked down at her sickly, dying body, she knew her efforts would never come to fruition. She was missing something fundamental, something that could not be brute forced.

Maybe that was why she had been sending her apprentices all over Lancephil, gathering every scrap of information they could find. Anything that might give her leverage. Leverage against Arzan, something she could use to make him fix her.

As her thoughts reached that point, the door to her room suddenly opened. Loras walked in, looking at her the way he always did. Before he could ask how she was doing, Veridia snapped.

“Don’t stand there like that. Why are you here? Another letter came?”

Loras straightened at once. “Yes, Master. I believe this time you should check it.”

Veridia frowned. “Why? What’s in it?”

“You should see for yourself,” Loras said, handing her the letter.

As Veridia took it, her gaze lingered on the seal, and she wondered what it could possibly contain.

***

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