The third round of the Pre-Selection of Ruler in Realm of light, the Trial of Manner, was fast approaching.

  After the Trial of Combat, the candidates were granted a full week of rest. Nothing at all was disclosed about the final round, so Ferir spent that entire week buried in the library, reading every book he could find on noble etiquette and aristocratic rituals.

  He kept hoping that some form of improvement would appear. Instead, all he gained was a deeper hatred for those convoluted rules that made it hard to breathe just thinking about them.

  At one point, Ferir had almost asked Arvil for help. But after catching a glimpse of Arvil’s workplace, which had degenerated into something indistinguishable from a landfill after just half a day without Ferir around, that thought was erased from his mind forever.

  The most anxious of all was Hanarn.

  On the morning of the examination, she paced back and forth endlessly, checking over and over if there was anything left to prepare.

  After Ferir had reassured her for the eighteenth time that he needed absolutely nothing, she finally shifted her attention to criticizing her son’s outfit instead. Ferir was forced to change clothes dozens of times before she finally selected one set she deemed dignified enough for him to step into the Palace of Light.

  “Mom, stop packing. I told you, I don’t need to bring anything.”

  “How can you bring nothing? You haven’t even eaten breakfast yet. There are sweet potatoes and water here. If you get hungry, just…”

  Ferir swallowed his complaints back down, resigning himself as he accepted the bundle of roasted sweet potatoes his mother stuffed into the cloth pouch at his waist.

  Only after she was finally convinced there was nothing left to add did she step back, inspecting her son from head to toe, brushing off a few imaginary specks before giving a firm nod.

  “That’ll do.”

  That was all Ferir had been waiting for. He bolted straight out the door.

  “I’m heading off!”

  Hanarn stood beneath the eaves, smiling as she waved. She kept watching until his figure disappeared into the crowd flowing down the street, only then letting her hand fall.

  Ferir ran at full speed, weaving deftly through the crowd along the Main Road toward the gates of the Palace of Light. His heart pounded wildly, the rush of blood only feeding his curiosity. Each sharp breath made him realize just how excited he truly was.

  The meeting point was the northern gate of the Palace of Light. The gate stood apart from the residential district, separated by a deep moat with only a single broad bridge spanning it.

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  A line of guards in full armor stood rigidly on either side, spears angled forward in perfect formation, creating an air that discouraged anyone from drawing too close.

  Ferir bent over with his hands on his knees, panting hard, a flicker of panic rising as he wondered if he had arrived too late.

  “Ferir Hakken?”

  A low, heavy voice sounded from behind him, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

  Two figures in white robes embroidered with the crest of the Grand Temple had appeared without warning, parchment scrolls in hand. Ferir quickly held out his numbered tag.

  “That’s me.”

  The woman glanced at the tag, then lifted her gaze to take in his disheveled state.

  “You’re the last one. Please follow us.”

  With that, the two of them strode forward without hesitation. As the trio advanced, the guards drew back their spears in perfect unison, the movement crisp and impressive. The massive gate slowly creaked open with a thunderous sound.

  The two figures in white did not break stride as they entered, while Ferir scrambled after them, flustered and slightly out of breath.

  Beyond the towering gate and the outer wall lay another network of broad roads, paved with smooth stone and offering an astonishingly open view. Soldiers still stood guard along both sides, and behind them stretched rows of meticulously trimmed trees, not a single branch allowed to grow out of line.

  The great towers of the Palace of Light were still visible in the distance, far enough that they would need to travel a long way yet before reaching them.

  A carriage had already been prepared. One of the white-robed figures lifted the curtain slightly, gesturing for Ferir to climb inside.

  It was the first time in his life that he had been treated with such formality, and the experience left him feeling more than a little intimidated.

  Someone was already seated inside the carriage, apparently another examinee. She was a young woman with neatly tied brown hair and a serious expression. Though undeniably beautiful, she did not look like a noble at all, Ferir thought.

  Some woman had passed the Trial of Combat that many man had to concede defeat. They must have put in far more effort.

  History itself bore witness to numerous eras in which the Ruler had been a woman, and those rulers had proven time and again that physical disadvantage did not mean weaker leadership. Under their guidance, the Union had never fallen behind any man’s rule.

  The girl gave a small nod of greeting when she saw Ferir enter. The moment he settled into his seat, the sound of a whip cracking rang out from outside, and the carriage lurched forward into motion.

  Ferir pulled aside the curtain and looked out the window. The memory of his disastrous first visit to the palace was still vivid enough to leave a faint unease in his chest.

  But this time, he told himself, things were different. He was not here as someone’s attendant or an afterthought. He had been invited as a guest.

  As the carriage neared the end of the long main road, the magnificent outline of the palace finally came into view. At the far end stretched an enormous courtyard built in perfect symmetry, a towering fountain standing at its center. Trees and statues surrounded it, arranged with deliberate care, creating a scene so grand it felt almost unreal.

  Just as Ferir thought he was about to step into that noble courtyard, the carriage abruptly changed direction, circling around the left side of the palace complex instead. It rolled into a beautiful garden and came to a stop before a small building nestled among the greenery.

  It was only “small” when compared to the towering spires of the palace itself. By ordinary standards, it was far larger than most mansions in the city.

  The structure was built in a light, elegant style, blending seamlessly with the surrounding nature, as though it were simply another element of the garden.