In the quiet, the young King rose from the chair that was not his and made his way toward the bay window.

  "With thirteen suspects, we can safely say this is a promising start. Believe me. We will find this shadow hiding within our walls," he said, leaning slightly forward to observe the Orchard of Queen Hel?a lying below, his golden fingers tapping the glass with a pensive grace before finally asking in a voice that mingled gentleness with gravity. "Ashengard to the West with this cursed powder... But who is striking us from the East? Who is orchestrating all of this? An unknown militia? Val Drath? Hem?os?"

  "Without wishing to contradict you, Your Majesty, I believe that if the Val had made the slightest move, you would be the first to know — would you not? Moreover, given what we know about what is happening at Fort-Ombre — which is to say, nothing — I could not offer you a better answer," his knight replied with respect, under Ardahm's approving gaze.

  He slid his right index finger across the map, showing his superior the expanse of underground water that fed all of Istalith.

  "But there is one other thing I believe I know, Your Majesty. For Solheim to fall, destroying our economy will not be enough — our army is already heavily equipped, and we would remain impregnable. However, if as I believe their goal is to weaken us little by little, their next strike could very well target the Lake of Infinity. At the very least, that is what I would do were I in possession of deflagration alchemy."

  With a graceful pivot, Hagen III turned to the paladin.

  "And that would be a meticulously calculated strategy... Our soldiers scattered across the country — such an attack would only be made easier for our enemy. Should it succeed, the kingdom, deprived of its water and unable to import it swiftly, would inevitably descend into revolt. A revolt that would have every chance of giving rise to civil war and weakening us further still. At that point, the enemy would have every leisure to attack us — or simply come and collect our ashes. But that will not happen."

  By virtue of his extraordinary empathy, the King believed he sensed a disturbance — or rather a doubt — in the Vaan Hart's mind.

  "I can feel your mind pulled in two directions, knight. What is on your mind?"

  He clenched his jaw, the echo of the battle and the devil woman's final words rising in his memory. But he chose to keep that to himself, judging those words still too uncertain to be shared here. Instead, he replied, his voice steady but tinged with shadow.

  "Nothing, Your Majesty — fatigue, most likely. But the deduction you have just made is sound, and the enemy's next move could well prove fatal to us."

  "IT IS DECIDED!" the N'zonki roared, his fists striking his desk once more. "Kwame and a battalion of S-rank soldiers will reinforce the Lake. With him there, the place is secure. I have blind faith in my second — he is far too impulsive and reckless to be this shadow. I will personally lead the investigation to root out this serpent?s, Your Majesty. And if you will permit me, I would like to send one of our Pillars to Fort—"

  But before he could finish, Siegfried cut him off, a fierce flame burning in his gaze.

  "With all due respect, Captain, this is our mission to carry out. You gave us this assignment, and that is precisely what we will do. Squadron VIII will uncover what is being plotted in the East."

  Behind him, Juuh'ma, Mei, and R?chard stepped forward, their footsteps heavy in the hall — a silent wall of support, their eyes burning with the same resolve.

  The King watched the scene, a glimmer of amusement crossing his face despite the danger hanging over his kingdom, and then he broke into a light, warm laugh.

  "Ardahm, how could you refuse such fire?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with benevolence. "You will go to Fort-Ombre, knights — but not before tomorrow. First, and this is an order from your King, tend to your wounds, eat, rest — you have more than earned it, you and your companions. We will have a carriage prepared for you, along with everything you need to survive in the desolate lands. It will be at the Eastern Gates tomorrow morning, before the third light."

  The young King took a step toward the exit, ready to leave, but stopped and turned to the captain.

  "Before I go, I would like to know one thing, Captain."

  "Of course, my King."

  "This 'girl' of whom knight Vaan Hart is said to be the echo... who is she?"

  Ardahm raised his eyes, and a faint smile crossed his face at the memory of his former second.

  "The one-eyed man was speaking of my former right—"

  "You are speaking of Dame H?lda H?lw?nd, Captain?" the King interrupted with great curiosity.

  "Yes, Your Majesty," he confirmed, then turned to the paladin. "She used to speak to me often of two young ones who would be the future of our army. Was that you?"

  "I did not know she spoke of me that way. But yes, Captain."

  "I better understand now why two of my lieutenants have sung your praises."

  "What a mentor to have been chosen by," the King marveled, his gaze resting on Siegfried. "I dare hope you are aware of the gift Solar?s gave you, knight?"

  From his place in rank, the chief of Squadron VIII stood straight.

  "I only came to realize it far too late, Your Majesty."

  "And why is that?"

  "When we were young, we were simply glad to have someone who saw more than wretched Suburb children in us. Besides, Dame H?lda never spoke to us of her own exploits. We only learned of them after her death, during our training," he said with a sigh, his gaze resting with quiet melancholy on his half-cape.

  "We?" the King prompted.

  "Yes, my King. Dame H?lda taught us the art of war according to our abilities — my N'zonki brother and I," he replied calmly, gesturing toward Juuh'ma with his hand.

  "Hehehehehe. What is this I hear? A Green-Eye and a Stone-Skin, brothers?" he exclaimed, before continuing in a voice barely above a whisper, speaking almost to himself. "Why has Fate finally chosen to unite these two peoples? I cannot wait to find out."

  Once more, he looked the knight in the eye.

  "But let us return to your mentor, knight. Know that Dame H?lw?nd was a legend — one of, if not the greatest Blade of Solar?s that Solheim has ever known in all its history. Her death was a tragedy for the kingdom, but I am glad to learn she left us an heir — someone who carries her echo within him, as Lieutenant Dragar would say."

  A Green-Eye? Siegfried thought, inclining his head in gratitude to his King.

  From the corner of his right eye, the Merciful glanced at his captain.

  "And why was I not informed that one of my squadrons was composed of a Noohrikane, a N'zonki, a Desrosiers child, and a Green-Eye?"

  "I did not see the need to inform you of it, my King..." Ardahm replied, head bowed.

  Hagen III gave him a friendly wave of the hand as a sign of forgiveness.

  "I suppose the knowledge of our history matters little to you N'zonki," he sighed. "And the other lieutenant who praised him is none other than Alessi, is that so?"

  "Absolutely. His lieutenant had recommended him to me for the Fort-Ombre mission — a sound judgment, he said."

  "And why were you not there, knight?" the Merciful asked, benevolent yet probing.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  His enormous arms crossed, Ardahm answered on his behalf.

  "When the squadron departed for the mine, the horn of Solheim sounded. Knight Vaan Hart judged it right to turn back and defend the kingdom."

  "A noble choice. To defend one's land above all else..." the young King murmured with a smile, a glimmer of respect moving through his eyes.

  He approached the Green-Eye, his golden cape grazing the floor, taking his hands between his own with an almost brotherly gentleness.

  "Vaan Hart Squadron, I commend you. You have given us a serious lead, and we must follow it — with caution, but without relenting. Solheim owes you much. Your devotion is a light in these shadows. I, Hagen III, thank you."

  He held Siegfried's hands a moment longer, then released his grasp, his gaze sweeping the knights one by one.

  The young King then moved toward the Stone-Skin.

  "Captain, I am counting on you. Find me this traitor and bring him to me!"

  Before leaving, he moved toward Plume, still perched on R?chard, and gently scratched her neck with a teasing laugh, murmuring:

  "Your father would be proud of you, young Desrosiers. You too, little messenger — you did excellent work."

  Then, in a fluid motion, his golden cape rippling like a wave, the King left the room with a rare grace, leaving behind him an aura of majesty and warmth.

  Ardahm turned to the squadron, a discreet smile carving into his rugged features.

  "Well done, knight. All of you. The carriage will be ready before the third light tomorrow. Make the most of this rest — you have earned it. May Solar?s see you!"

  The squadron saluted the captain with a fist to the chest, a proud smile exchanged with Juuh'ma, whose dark eyes shone with a contained satisfaction. They left the office, their steps heavy with fatigue but lightened by honor.

  At the entrance of the hall, one of the King's knights awaited them, his light armor glinting in the filtered light.

  "By order of King Hagen III, follow me," he said in a calm but firm voice, extending his arm to show the way.

  They descended the spiral staircase and stepped out into the burning air of the Upper City. The knight guided them through the white-paved streets, flanked by slender towers and murmuring fountains, until they reached a magnificent building — the Baths of the Ten Thousands, a structure of white stone with delicate arches, adorned with golden mosaics depicting the eternal zenith. Hagen had arranged for them the finest of chambers and his personal healer — a silver-haired woman with sure hands, who welcomed them with a quiet smile.

  The Baths were a rare haven: basins of warm water set into the floor, wreathed in light vapor, tables laden with simple but nourishing fare — fresh bread, roasted meat, juicy fruit — and alcoves lined with thick cushions to rest their exhausted bodies. The healer approached Siegfried first, inviting him to remove his armor and sit on a stone bench near one of the basins. She unwound his bandages with precise movements, revealing the reddened wounds at his brow, his hip, and his thighs, while the rest of his squadron shed their war garments to make themselves more comfortable and enjoy the baths.

  Siegfried winced slightly, then raised his eyes to her.

  "How long before it heals, Madame?" he asked, before adding a second question. "Could I fight, if need be?"

  The healer, applying a cool balm that smelled of flowers and m?l resin, smiled calmly and answered in a voice so soft it seemed enough on its own to soothe the pain.

  "The hip will take time to heal fully, knight — weeks, perhaps a month if you take care of it. But it will not kill you, even if you were to cross blades tomorrow. The others? Most are already closed. You are as solid as the stone of this tower."

  "Thank you. But tomorrow will suffice," he said, a flicker of relief crossing his gaze.

  She laughed softly, continuing to dress the hip with a clean bandage.

  "My King warned me you would say that. Rest nonetheless — he insists."

  Meanwhile, Mei poured herself a pitcher of water, the warm stream rinsing away the dust that had worked its way into every part of her body, before sinking into a bath. She sighed, a rare smile relaxing her features, but a question burned on her lips.

  "Juuh'ma, why did the Merciful laugh when Siegfried said you were brothers?"

  Seated on a slab nearby, the colossus dipped a cloth into the clear water and began carefully cleaning his chains, which he had already removed. He raised his head. In his gaze, the Noohrikane understood that he knew no more than she did.

  Already cleaned and seated at the table, R?chard tore off a piece of fresh bread and held it out to Plume, who pecked at it on his shoulder.

  "And you, Sieg — do you know why?" he asked, mouth full, before adding, "Did you know you were a Green-Eye?"

  "I have no idea why he laughed, and as for the Green-Eyes, this is the first time I have heard that name. It must have something to do with the eye colour of my people, nothing more."

  After thanking the healer, the paladin came to sit at the table to share the meal, joined by his brother and his specter.

  "Do you know the man the captain plans to send to the lake?" the boy asked again, refilling his friends' glasses.

  With a slight nod, Mei thanked the boy for the water.

  "Never heard of this Kané."

  The N'zonki speared a piece of meat from a nearby dish and spoke while cutting it.

  "His name is K-W-A-M-E N'zonki, not Kané, little shadow. And if I may let my clan's honour speak, I will say that if he is guarding the Lake, then you can trust me when I say our only concern will be completing our mission. And thinking on it now, I could not tell you which of him or the captain is the stronger."

  "Stronger than the captain? And here I thought N'zonki could not lie..." Mei shot back, teasing him, unable to believe what she had just heard.

  "And yet, it is nothing but the truth. If there is one person in all of Istalith I would not wish to face, it is him."

  Surprised, R?chard nearly choked, swallowing the wrong way.

  "Wait, wait, wait... You're telling me you'd rather fight the captain than this Kwame?"

  "Exactly, my young friend."

  On those words, they continued to share the meal in a relaxed atmosphere, their conversations mingling with the scented vapors rising from the basins. Little by little, the fatigue of the journey and the soothing warmth of the thermals wore down their vigilance. One by one, they yielded to sleep on the soft cushions, their exhausted bodies finding at last the rest they deserved, lulled by the gentle murmur of fountains flowing in the golden half-light.

  Waking came gently when the crystal sound of the second light resonated through the corridors of the Baths. They stretched with sleepy groans, their muscles stiffened by sleep but their minds lightened by that restorative night.

  It was then that Siegfried discovered, arranged with meticulous care before him, a purse filled with bandages and balms, along with a set of new protective gear that had not been there the night before. A gift from the King, intended to replace what had been destroyed during his duel with the devil women.

  The craftsmanship immediately betrayed a quality far superior to his former equipment. Cut to an exquisitely rare standard, the ensemble was worthy of Solheim's finest masters: a supple cuirass dyed ivory, asymmetrical, bearing a single pauldron on his sword arm and leaving the other shoulder free to preserve his mobility. Matching bracers completed the set.

  Beneath the armor, a veil of pearlescent white fabric, woven from reinforced fibers, embraced his torso and arms. Fine metal scales, discreetly worked into the material, caught the light with his every movement. On both the cuirass and the pauldron, the solar symbol had been struck with restraint, engraved into the pale metal like a seal of legitimacy.

  The armor followed the contours of his body perfectly without ever impeding his movements. A network of braided leather straps ran across his chest, allowing precise adjustment. The ensemble surprised by its lightness despite its evident resilience: every piece had been designed for a paladin who favored speed, agility, and endurance over being encased in steel.

  While the others pulled on their usual equipment in silence, the knight adjusted the straps with satisfaction, one hand grazing his hip where the pain had been reduced to a mere whisper, his half-cape still proudly fastened at his waist. The squadron left the Baths and crossed on foot the six kilometers separating the Upper City from the Eastern Gates.

  There, the same carriage that should have taken them to Fort-Ombre the first time was waiting for them. At the rear, firmly secured beneath a canvas bearing the royal seal, rested the supply crates the King had promised.

  As Siegfried approached the coachman with a scrutinizing but respectful gaze, Juuh'ma circled the vehicle and unfastened one of the straps. He lifted the lid of a chest, examined its contents with an expert eye, then drew out a long veil of thick linen, dyed a pale ochre.

  He slid it over his left shoulder and draped it around his torso in the manner of the ancient generals of the southern kingdoms, shielding his neck and arm from the motionless sun. The fabric rippled for a moment in the white light, then settled against his body as though it had always been part of him.

  "You again? The roads of Solheim must be fond of you," the paladin said with a faint smile. "Could you tell me which of these beasts carried me back to the city after our first departure?"

  The coachman, chewing a dry blade of grass, jerked a thumb toward one of the harnessed zu'huns.

  "That one, knight."

  The Green-Eye stepped toward the animal, removed his glove, and laid his hand on its muscular neck.

  "Brave beast," he murmured, patting its flank gently.

  The equid turned its massive head, blowing a warm cloud of breath in appreciation.

  "Thank you again, my friend. I see the soldiers have taken good care of you, as I asked."

  The animal let out a low grunt, its dark eyes gleaming with an almost conspiratorial light.

  While their chief stroked the animal, the rest of the group said their farewells to the coachman and climbed aboard, the Stone-Skin's cloak snapping in the warm breeze. The Eastern Gates swung open, Siegfried gripped one of the handles, and the carriage set off toward Fort-Ombre, the eternal zenith pressing down on them like an unyielding gaze, their hearts swelling with duty and a fierce, quiet pride.