The first thing Kai did after leaving Amyra’s astral realm was tell her to rest. Her soul had handled the strain better than most would, but it was still best to give it time.

Once she was settled, he returned to his chambers and locked the door behind him.

He didn’t even bother changing out of his robes.

Within minutes, his desk was covered in parchment, and he was scribbling furiously—sketching out every line, every shape of the soul inscription from memory. His quill practically was at war, attempting to replicate each twist of the formation exactly as he had seen it floating behind the mana circle.

The room was silent, only the sound of ink scratching paper and his occasional muttered thoughts.

It reminded him of those early nights at the Sorcerer’s Tower, back when he had first reached the fourth circle. With extra mana to spare and the arrogance of youth on his side, he had stayed awake night after night, building his own spell structures from scratch—something that would be his, something no one else had ever made. Back then, even if progress was slow, he moved forward every day.

But now?

Now, he was stuck.

The inscription he’d seen inside Amyra’s soul was beyond anything he had ever studied. Beyond what any book in the Tower had ever described. Aside from a faint summoning structure embedded near the center, the rest of it was alien. Fragmented. Unreadable. It made him feel like a novice again.

Decades of study, he thought bitterly, and I’m still not good enough.

But giving up was not an option.

Not when this—this miraculous, maddening inscription—was the only key he had found that could resist dead mana, absorb dead mana, even purify it. He couldn’t abandon it, not when people were still dying from corrupted magic and fiend exposure. If there was even the smallest chance he could replicate this—adapt it—then it was worth every sleepless night.

And so, through the night, Kai worked. Copying. Analyzing. Rearranging. Trying to match unfamiliar glyphs to known arcane roots, pulling every forgotten memory from the Tower to the surface. But when morning arrived, and a knock sounded on his door, he had made… no progress.

No breakthrough. No deciphered pattern. Just more questions and a growing headache.

The knock came again. Then a third, louder one.

Kai finally opened the door, blinking at the harsh morning light—and found Killian standing there.

Killian’s eyes widened the moment he saw him. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Kai’s voice was dry. “I don’t think dark circles form after just one night.”

“It’s not just the circles,” Killian said with a subtle frown in his always-stoic face. “It’s your hair. And your face. You’ve got that frustrated look—the same one my men get when they’re stuck, no matter how much they train.”

Kai sighed and cast a quick [Refresh] spell on himself, feeling the tightness in his eyes ease slightly. “It’s similar,” he admitted, stepping back to let Killian in. “What do you do with them?”

“Usually?” Killian said, walking in and glancing around the cluttered desk. “I find out what they’re doing wrong. Then I show them the right way.”

Kai snorted faintly. “I wish someone could show me the way.”

His expression dimmed, suddenly reminded of someone, the spell’s cool clarity doing little to ease the weight pressing on his chest. His thoughts turned to his master—the one who had always been there with a nudge, a word, a correction at just the right moment.

But now, there was no one.

Only him.

Only silence.

And for a brief moment, he wished his master was there to say something—help him.

Killian caught the shift in his eyes and spoke gently. “What’s wrong, Lord Arzan?”

Kai glanced at him, then back at the half-finished inscription sketches on the table. “I found it,” he said. “The method Amyra uses to purify dead mana.”

Killian blinked. “Isn’t that—” he said slowly, “—the best news we could’ve asked for?”

“It is. But I don’t know how to replicate it. I barely even understand it. The inscription is far beyond my level.”

Killian looked over the notes again, then shrugged. “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

Kai gave him a tired look. “I don’t think there’s a single positive in what I just said.”

“It’s a wall.”

“A… wall?”

“Yeah,” Killian said. “It’s a wall you need to overcome. In training, we hit them all the time. Points where nothing works, and it feels like there’s no way forward. But you keep trying, and eventually… something clicks.”

He looked at Kai with a nod of understanding.

“You were a Fifth Circle Mage in your past life, right, Lord Arzan? That means you’ve always been in control—always able to plan things ahead since you were starting over. But this?” He motioned to the inscriptions. “This is your first real challenge in a long time. So treat it like one. Push through. Break through.”

Kai stared at him, then slowly—grudgingly—smiled.

A wall, huh?

Maybe it wasn’t a failure. Maybe it was just something he hadn’t climbed yet.

Kai nodded at that—admittedly a little surprised that Killian had offered such wise words this early in the morning. The man looked like he belonged on a battlefield, not speaking philosophy with sleep-deprived Mages.

But he was right.

Up until now, everything Kai had faced had been within the bounds of his past knowledge. With how less developed magic was in this era, most of what he did came easier than it should have. He was moving in a familiar ground, solving problems that, while frustrating, were still predictable.

But this inscription?

This was something else. A true unknown. A challenge that gave no clear answer, that made him think, adapt, and rethink everything he knew. And, though he hated to admit it—it was exciting. Just finding that one summoning glyph hidden in the web had given him a rush he hadn’t felt in years.

But the problem is time.

He didn’t know how much of it he had left. Not just in the grand scheme of things, but with the plague, the fiends, the Archine Tower Mages—everything moving at once. He wanted to crack the inscription now, but rushing would only ruin it. And ruin him.

So, wanting to shift the topic, he looked at Killian, knowing why he was here. “Is Corwin ready?”

“Yes, Lord Arzan. You can leave anytime you want. But… you sure you don’t want to take a few Enforcers with you?”

Kai shook his head. “I’m just going there to inspect the plague first. Depending on what I find, we’ll need to start gathering a force to deal with it properly. That’s when I’ll need the Enforcers and the Mages.”

He turned back to his desk, taking the notes he’d poured his night into and sliding them into a drawer. With a flick of his fingers, a soft pulse of mana sealed it shut—layered with a locking spell sensitive enough to reject even accidental tampering.

Once that was done, he turned back. “Let’s go. I’m sure you didn’t come all the way here just to knock on my door three times.”

Killian chuckled. “You know me too well. Yeah, there’s a few things.”

They stepped out into the hallway, the morning sun spilling in through the high windows. As they moved, Killian finally spoke.

“First of all—the princess left.”

“She didn’t tell me she was leaving.” Kai’s feets slowed down, waiting for the Knight’s reply.

“She left about an hour ago,” Killian said. “Said since you’d be busy checking on the plague, it made sense for her to head to the capital ahead of you. I wanted to call you, but she asked me not to. Said it’s better to meet later when you go for the assembly.”

“I think she’ll be a major help.”

“Hope so,” Killian muttered. “We’ll need a lot of it.”

They continued down the corridor, boots echoing on stone. Kai thought over Amara’s absence. He had grown into a habit of eating breakfast together with her and since today he had been busy with the inscription studying, he had missed it. He wondered if she felt bad about it.

Maybe it would be good to send a letter apologising. As he was thinking that, Kiliian spoke again, bringing his attention back to him.

“And… my men found the ritual site.”

Kai’s eyes narrowed. “So it was a teleportation ritual.”

“Yeah.” Killian looked grim. “It was right in the sewers. Took a while to find—was hidden under one of the older maintenance sectors. But the circle matched the diagrams you gave the Watchers.”

Kai nodded to himself. That had always been the most likely answer.

“Any idea who made it?”

“No,” Killian said. “We brought in two people who were assigned to do regular surveys of that section. According to them, they didn’t see anything. One of them claimed a few others had access too, but…” he frowned, “I think they know more than they’re saying. Ansel’s interrogating them now. Said he’s confident he’ll get the truth out.”

Traitors. He hated the word, hated the rot it brought. But it wasn’t surprising. Veralt was growing too quickly. And with growth came cracks. Cracks others could slip through.

“I just hope we get the surveillance system working soon,” he muttered. “I don’t want to deal with this again.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Killian grunted in agreement. “More Mages sneaking in would be a disaster. Especially with you gone.”

Kai didn’t say anything for a moment, his mind flickering back to the attack that night. It had been dealt with, but could have caused worse destruction.

“Post guards. Focus on areas no one checks regularly—old warehouses, sewer junctions, even houses with basements. Anywhere someone could etch a ritual unnoticed. If there are more traitors hiding around the city, we need to find them before they could do anything.”

“I’ll get on it.”

Their conversation didn’t need more than that. With swift steps, they moved through the halls and exited into the courtyard where the morning sun had fully risen. The front of the estate buzzed with quiet anticipation. Corwin was already waiting with a few of the estate workers, all of whom straightened and bowed the moment they spotted him.

Kai’s eyes moved to the two horses—sleek, saddled, and clearly well-fed. He walked over and raised an eyebrow. “So we’re riding these?”

“Yes, Count Arzan,” Corwin said quickly, pointing at one of the horses with a black mane. “This one here is the fastest horse in all of Redmont.”

Kai studied it for a second, then frowned. “This… will be slow.”

Corwin blinked, confused. “I—I beg your pardon? Do you have faster horses?”

Kai smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I do.”

He raised his hand and began to weave a spell. Mana gathered quickly around his fingers, lines forming in the air—concentric circles intersected with angular glyphs, glowing brighter with each moment as wind began to stir around them. The ground trembled slightly under the pressure.

[Tempest Steed Conjuration].

The structure pulsed once—then shattered into wind.

The breeze howled. The air shifted. And from the swirling storm, a figure emerged—translucent, yet solid. A horse, taller than any of the ones standing nearby, its bodies formed from compressed air and concentrated wind essence. Its manes flowed in a constant breeze, and eyes glowed with faint azure light, flickering like calm lightning. It took a step and it sent out a soft breeze.

Corwin’s jaw dropped. An audible gasp came out of his lips. The estate workers took a few steps back, one falling over himself.

Kai walked up to the tempest horse, patting its neck, feeling the mana beneath his fingers.. “I believe we should take this,” he said casually. “We’ll be there soon.”

“I haven’t… I haven’t seen such magic before,” Corwin said, moving his hand to touch the mana creature.

“Well, today’s your lucky day. You get to ride it.”

In truth, if it were just him, Kai would have flown. It would’ve been faster, and he wouldn’t have had to deal with the company. But Corwin couldn’t be left behind, and dragging someone through the air would cost far too much mana to sustain.

This was a compromise. A very fast, very effective compromise.

Without wasting another second, Kai mounted the wind horse with practiced ease, his cloak fluttering in the breeze. He extended a hand to Corwin, who hesitated before climbing up behind him—trembling slightly as the horse shifted beneath them.

Kai looked over his shoulder. “Get ready.”

The wind surged.

With a sharp neigh, the steed took off.

Wind bled in his ears as they launched forward, the speed sudden and violent. The envoy screamed, arms wrapped tight around Kai’s waist as the city blurred around them. Buildings, courtyards, market stalls—gone in a blink. They crossed from the estate to the main road in seconds and reached the gates in under a minute.

The guards, already informed of his departure, barely had time to shout before they pulled the gates wide open.

Shouts echoed. Refugees near the entrance gasped, stepping back in awe and confusion as the wind-born steed bolted past, leaving only a rush of air.

And then they were out—leaving Veralt behind.

Kai squinted ahead, wind tearing through his dark hair. He already knew the direction, having studied the map to Redmont’s territory the night before. All that remained now… was to get there.

All the way through the wind-lashed journey, Kai could hear Corwin behind him muttering something repeatedly, his voice lost to the roar of air rushing past them. Kai didn’t try to make sense of it—whatever he was saying was between him and the spirits at this speed.

He focused instead on the land blurring beneath them.

Grasslands whipped by in waves and waves of green and gold, fading into the smoother stonework of merchant roads carved into the hills. With the wind in his hair and the thrill of speed in his chest, Kai found himself forgetting the passage of time. Even the weight of the soul inscription—the wall he couldn’t climb—slipped to the back of his mind.

No beasts dared approach. Even the wind seemed to bow to the storm around them.

Eventually, the land began to change. Stone outposts appeared in the distance, followed by a long stretch of fortified earth—tall walls rising from the plains like a defiant scar across the land.

Fortress Aegis.

And to its left, nestled just beyond the hill’s curve, was the city of Redmont—close, but deliberately separate.

But his destination wasn’t the city.

Corwin had told him that Viscount Redmont had refused to leave the fortress, opting to stay near the heart of the plague zone. It made sense—the man wanted to maintain control, but for Kai, that worked out well. He hadn’t come for pleasantries. He had come to see the plague itself.

As the fortress neared, Kai slowed the tempest steed with a slight tug of mana, reducing its speed into a smooth glide. The sudden drop in momentum made the envoy gasp behind him—and finally, Kai could hear him clearly.

“…That… that was something,” the man said between shaky breaths. “I almost felt like I was going to die.” He patted his heart loudly, as if trying to calm it down.

“But you didn’t.”

Corwin coughed, straightening his robes. “Let me go ahead. If I don’t speak first, the soldiers might fill us with arrows.”

Kai nodded and pulled the horse to a full stop. Corwin dismounted with wobbly legs and hurried forward, waving as he approached the towering gates. From his position, Kai could already see soldiers lining the walls—bows drawn, eyes locked onto him.

And he knew those weren’t just arrows pointed his way—he could feel the faint tension of mana signatures. Mages. Not particularly powerful, but skilled enough to hold their ground.

Border soldiers. Trained, seasoned, Kai thought. House Redmont do knows how to grow soldiers.

He watched as the envoy spoke to one of the soldiers. The man ran up the stone steps without hesitation, returning moments later accompanied by a figure that drew attention immediately.

A tall, broad-shouldered Knight stepped into view, he wore dark plate armor with red trimming. His helm was off, revealing a square jaw.

Knight Cais—the man tasked with overseeing the fortress’s defense. He had heard of him from Corwin and even Killian had met the man before since he apparently was one of the most experienced Knights around.

Cais exchanged a few brief words with Corwin, then turned his gaze toward Kai. Without hesitation, Kai dismounted and approached.

The Knight gave a respectful bow. “Count Arzan. We weren’t expecting you today.”

“It’s fine,” Kai said. “I came to see the plague for myself. But before that, I’d like to meet your lord. I was told he’s still stationed here.”

Cais nodded. “He is. He’s already been informed of your arrival. Would you like me to take you to him?”

“Yes,” Kai replied. “Lead the way.”

As they walked, Kai kept his gaze sweeping across the interior. Every soldier they passed was alert, their gear polished, their weapons within reach. Their formations weren’t ceremonial—they were practical, tight, and silent.

Border discipline, Kai mused. Makes sense, considering the past skirmishes. Still… I’m glad Redmont stayed out of the fief war.

He could’ve dealt with their forces if it had come to that, but defending the border afterward would’ve stretched his own too thin. Especially now.

They moved through a narrow corridor built into the rock behind the walls, until Cais finally stopped at a reinforced wooden door embedded into the stone. With a quick knock, he opened it.

Inside was a modest chamber built into the natural cave structure of the fortress—rough stone walls, a desk, a map table, and behind it all… the Viscount.

Viscount Redmont.

As the man looked up, Kai immediately noticed the contrast between his reputation and reality.

His name carried weight—Redmont. His crimson hair had once been a banner of fire, but now it clung in thinning strands to a balding scalp. His face was pale, eyes sunken and rimmed with the kind of exhaustion that sleep wouldn’t fix.

Even as surprise flickered in his gaze at Kai’s presence, the man looked like he was barely holding himself together.

Not physically but mentally.

The plague hadn’t just harmed Redmont’s lands. It had wounded its lord.

***

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