The Thallerion forces had withdrawn, a decision Matheros found perfectly logical, given King Xerxez of Ossibuz’s decree. To wage war while still steeped in the throes of grief was folly, a path that would surely dull a warrior’s blade. A confrontation with the Thallerions this very month would only cripple Xerxez’s fighting spirit.

“Xerxez,” Matheros urged, their voices echoing within the Thallerion throne room, where Xerxez sat upon his regal seat. “Let us not plunge headlong into conflict. Reflect on this: it bodes ill for a warrior still cloaked in sorrow to face a new war.”

“Six months,” Xerxez sighed deeply, the words heavy with resignation. “Six months hence, Pyramus descends upon Thallerion.” His voice, now a resonant boom, carried an ominous premonition of a perilous trap laid by Ossibuz.

“If the Corvus entity truly observes us, knowing this precise date,” Matheros stated, “then our preparation must be absolute.”

“Indeed, that is my fear,” Xerxez confessed, his frustrations with the Ossibians and their protector, Corvus, bubbling to the surface. “It is futile to plan now if their eyes already track our every move.”

“We must simply evade the crows,” Matheros offered, a relieved exhalation escaping him. “Entities, as I understand, are bodiless; they cannot traverse locations without inhabiting a human or animal form.” A collective sigh of relief passed between them, though the age-old tales remained mere conjecture, their certainty wavering.

During their discourse was interrupted by a guard, who presented an invitation from the kingdom of Thartherus. Its king extended an invitation for Xerxez to attend his birthday celebration the following month.

“King Driother himself invites you to his domain?” Matheros questioned, seated beside the throne.

“Aye, the gifted king,” Xerxez affirmed, a faint smile gracing his lips. He recalled King Driother’s daughters, all of them vying for his attention. Yet, upon his arrival, it was Peronica alone who truly captivated his heart. King Driother had even quipped that if Xerxez found himself torn among his daughters, he would gladly embrace him as a son-in-law. Driother’s daughters were kind; Xerxez knew there were six, yet whenever he visited Thartherus, he only ever saw five.

“Will you accept the King of Thartherus’s invitation?” Matheros pressed, noting Xerxez’s somewhat labored breathing.

“For the sake of alliance, I cannot refuse. However, we must first deliberate on the impending war.”

“So, you now concur with Matar’s six-month postponement?”

“My reasoning is thus: hasty decisions, especially when they boast an entity against us, will only bring us hardship. I refuse to see my parents’ fate repeated.”

“Why not once more wield the dagger you discovered in the stream? The elders claim it to be Orion’s,” Matheros suggested.

“I have concealed that relic. There is naught to gain by awaiting Orion’s return.”

“Do you truly no longer trust Orion?” Matheros’s question hung in the air, but Xerxez merely rose.

“Let us cast that entity from our minds,” Xerxez declared, striding from his throne towards the outside. “Accompany me to the Rigil district.”

Indeed, a considerable time had passed since Xerxez had banished Orion from his thoughts, yet some nights, the entity’s voice echoed in his mind. But it was a mere whisper, a ghostly remnant of his contempt for entities. In Xerxez’s heart, he seemed to repudiate the entities’ presence, causing the voice in his dreams to dissipate like an ephemeral illusion.

The elders of Thallerion spoke of a time when Orion’s entity bestowed weapons upon the chosen warriors of old. Yet, with Orion’s disappearance from their collective memory, their martial ardor waned. The very dagger cast into the stream, unbeknownst to Xerxez, possessed the power to weaken entities, forged in Orion’s own might. Orion’s unique gift was the ability to conjure weapons from pure thought and imagination. Should a warrior desire a bow, one would instantly materialize—not of earthly make, but glowing with ethereal energy.

Alas, humanity had grown reliant on the entities’ power. Orion, in his wisdom, chose to vanish, intending for mankind to utilize his weapons. Instead, fear and cowardice gripped the warriors, silenced by the absence of the entities’ voices in their minds. This was the genesis of the Thallerion warriors’ decline. For the new generations, Orion had simply abandoned and forgotten them. Xerxez harbored a deep resentment towards the entities, for Orion had forsaken Thallerion.

Yet, that voice in his dream—Xerxez still believed in his heart that it was Orion, guiding them, preparing them for the Moonatorians’ arrival. But what could ordinary mortals hope to achieve against the Ursa, against a formidable foe like King Hedromus?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep