In the grand halls of the royal castle, where towering stained-gss windows bathed the chamber in hues of golden light, King Andrel sat upon his throne. Beside him stood Festus, a seasoned Royal Knight cd in his gleaming armor, ever vigint. A steward entered, bowing deeply, and presented a sealed parchment.

  “Your Majesty,” the steward announced, “a troubling report. Several knights who were recently bestowed their titles have vanished without a trace."

  The King’s expression darkened. “How many?”

  “Six, Your Majesty. All from different regions, but the disappearances are simir—no signs of struggle, and their st known locations were near major trade routes.”

  The king nodded grimly. “Ensure this matter is investigated discreetly. Send trusted knights to uncover the truth. This could be the work of brigands or something far more sinister.”

  The steward bowed and withdrew, only for another herald to enter moments ter. “Your Majesty, Count Von Vienar requests an audience.”

  A flicker of annoyance crossed the King’s face, but he concealed it swiftly. “Bring him to the Raven’s Study.”

  The Raven’s Study was a secluded chamber at the castle’s eastern wing, its walls lined with ancient tomes and maps of the kingdom. A single arched window offered a sweeping view of the capital, while a roaring hearth cast dancing shadows on the polished floor.

  Count Von Vienar, a tall man with silver-streaked bck hair and an impeccably tailored dark blue coat adorned with his house sigil, a coiled serpent, entered with calcuted grace. He bowed low, his sharp, foxlike eyes gleaming with faux humility.

  “Your Majesty,” the Count said, his voice smooth, “it is always an honor to bask in your presence.”

  “Count Von Vienar,” the King replied, his tone cool, “your visit is... unexpected. I trust all is well in your nds?”

  “Indeed,” the Count said, stepping closer to the table where maps of the northern borders were unfurled. “ Vienar nds prosper, as always. The nds are fertile, and our people thrive. My house remains ever loyal to the crown.”

  A small smile tugged at the King’s lips. “Loyalty is a virtue your house has always been known for.”

  The two men exchanged polite, hollow words about the state of the kingdom, but the air was thick with tension.

  Finally, the Count brought the conversation to a more personal matter. “Your Majesty, there is one thing I’ve been meaning to discuss. Your daughter, Melissa.". ” He paused, watching the king’s expression. “I recently heard she has been chosen as the next High Priestess.”

  King Andrel’s lips twitched ever so slightly. Though his expression remained composed. House Vienar was only now hearing of it? It had been two years since the selection. He regarded the Count carefully. “Interesting. Word must travel slowly to Vienar nds.”

  Count Von feigned surprise, pcing a hand on his chest. “Ah, well, I have been so occupied managing my nds that I only recently came across the news.”

  The king kept his face impassive, but inwardly, he scoffed. Who would believe such a flimsy excuse? He then gestured for the Count to continue.

  “What a pity,” the Count said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Such a pure lineage she has. I had hoped our houses might unite through her. But as, the Church’s meddling had other pns. To think, the next Holy Priestess herself—a rare honor, though it did leave my son, shall we say, in an awkward position.”

  The King’s fingers drummed on the table, but he said nothing.

  Count Von Vienar chuckled softly. “Poor Aric. He has become the ughingstock of noble circles after the engagement was so… abruptly terminated. It seems the young princess was resolute in her decision. Quite the wilful one, isn’t she?” Count Von csped his hands behind his back, his gaze shifting from the maps to the king. “It is a shame, truly,” he mused, his voice carrying the weight of calcuted regret. “If only the heads of the great houses and the royal family had come together in unity, the kingdom would know true peace.”

  King Andrel studied him carefully, his expression unreadable. Ah, so this is the game he wishes to py.

  “The great houses,” the king repeated, his tone measured. “And the royal family.” He leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers tapping idly against the armrest. “Tell me, Count Von, do you believe such unity is still within reach?”

  Von offered a polite smile, though it did little to mask the sharpness in his eyes. “Of course, Your Majesty. House Vienar has always been willing to work toward the kingdom’s stability.”

  The king’s gaze darkened slightly. “Stability,” he echoed, his mind already dissecting the count’s words.

  Festus, who had been silent until now, bristled with barely contained rage. He stepped forward, his voice a sharp bark. “Is that a threat, Count Von Vienar? Are you implying—”

  The Count raised a hand, feigning arm. “Oh no, Sir Festus! How could I ever threaten the king? Perish the thought. I merely wished to assure His Majesty that my house bears no ill will over the broken engagement. After all, the match was arranged from birth. Such things happen in noble circles, do they not?”

  After a pause, Count Von spread his hands. “Had our families been bound by stronger ties, imagine the strength Pentra would wield. A kingdom truly unshaken by internal quarrels.”

  The king raised a hand, silencing Festus before he could retort further. His voice was steady but cold. “Count Von Vienar, I appreciate your reassurance. Let us leave past grievances where they belong and focus on the future of Pentra.”

  The Count inclined his head, a serpent-like smile pying on his lips. “Of course, Your Majesty. For the good of the kingdom, always.”

  The tension in the garden was palpable. King Andrel finally spoke, his tone measured but firm. "We are finished here, Count Von Vienar. Should you have further matters to discuss, you may petition the court as any noble would."

  The Count gave a deep, overly courteous bow. "As you wish, my King. May Lumara’s light continue to shine upon your reign."

  As the Count exited the chamber, Festus turned to the King, his face still flush with anger. “Your Majesty, that man is dangerous. His words drip with venom.”

  The king nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the window. “I know, Festus. The serpent always slithers before it strikes. Keep a close watch on the House of Vienar.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Festus replied, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “They will not catch us unprepared.”

  Melissa, along with her cousin Brad, Gan and her youngest sibling Fin, strolled through the bustling marketpce of the capital. They were dressed in simple, weathered clothing, blending in as best they could among the ordinary traders. They were known as Lum, a lowly trading group that sold items at a fraction of the price one would pay from other vendors. It was a strategy they had used for years, undercutting the competition to quickly move their wares.

  Today, however, they had gone a little too far. Gan had been overly generous, practically giving away precious goods for a mere tenth of their market value, and the sight of their absurdly low prices had drawn the ire of rival traders.

  "You're ruining the market, Lum!" one of the traders shouted as he stormed up to their stall. "Who do you think you are, undermining our livelihoods?"

  Gan, ever the charming troublemaker, shrugged nonchantly. "Just trying to make a living, same as you."

  The argument quickly escated. Other traders began to join in, voices rising in anger. "This is business, not charity!" one man yelled. "You're driving down the price of everything. Do you know how much it costs to run a proper stall?"

  The tension in the air was thick. As the quarrel reached its peak, a fist flew. Then another. The once-peaceful market square was suddenly alive with shouts, curses, and a flurry of fists. Melissa quickly ducked to avoid being hit, but she couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline.

  Brad, standing at her side, was already taking quick stock of the situation. "We need to get out of here," he muttered, but it was too te. A full-blown brawl had broken out, and it was spreading fast.

  Despite the chaos, the four Lum members remained calm—mostly. Gan, using his youthful energy, knocked back one of the traders with a swift shove. Fin, the youngest, used his agility to dodge and disarm a man who was wielding a broken crate. And Melissa, though typically the peacekeeper, found herself caught up in the excitement, instinctively defending her brother when another trader swung a punch in her direction.

  The Aetherium they had all been bestowed with at a young age surged through their bodies, making them stronger and faster than ordinary people. They moved with an ease that seemed almost unnatural as they outcssed their opponents.

  Within moments, the rival traders, though more numerous, began to retreat, realizing they were no match for the enhanced strength of the Lum group. But their victory was short-lived. City guards soon arrived, drawn by the noise, and swiftly arrested everyone involved in the brawl.

  The group was dragged to the town's holding cells, the tension still thick between them and the others arrested. Melissa, embarrassed by the spectacle, dressed down as much as possible, wearing the ugliest, most unattractive clothing she could find in an effort to avoid unwanted attention. It was an old trick she used to discourage the unwanted advances of young men and older ones alike. She would rather be ignored than admired.

  But despite her best efforts, people still seemed to notice her—mostly for her defiant attitude and sharp wit. Gan, ever the protective older brother (though he was younger than Melissa), noticed the looks she was receiving and moved to shield her. Whenever someone made an overture or even gnced her way too long, he would step in, his body acting as a barrier between her and the world outside.

  As they sat in the grimy cells awaiting questioning, the atmosphere was thick with uncertainty. Everyone in the cell had been involved in the fight, but it was clear that the Lum group was no ordinary group of traders. The guards seemed to be eyeing them with suspicion, though none of them had said anything yet.

  After what felt like hours, a captain arrived to investigate. His sharp eyes scanned the prisoners, lingering on the Lum group.

  "Who’s in charge here?" he demanded.

  Without missing a beat, Gan stood up, pulling out a small pque from under his tunic. It was a symbol for Aetherium—something granted only to those with a rare and sacred bond with the divine, marking them as individuals of exceptional strength and status.

  “I’m the one you need to talk to," Gan said calmly, holding out the pque for the captain to inspect. The captain’s expression shifted from suspicion to realization as he recognized the insignia.

  "This... this is a blessed mark," the captain murmured, his tone changing. "You’re among the chosen, the Aetherium Knights?"

  Gan nodded. "We are. We did not start this brawl, but we were just dragged into it. Now, we must go. Our business here is done."

  The captain hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing his options. He gnced at the others involved in the fight, who were still seething and looking for an excuse to cause trouble. Then, with a deep sigh, he turned back to Gan.

  "You're free to go, but keep your actions in check. The city will not tolerate disturbances like this."

  With that, the Lum group was released. Melissa let out a breath of relief, though she couldn’t suppress a faint smirk at how easily they had been let off the hook. Gan’s pque had worked wonders once again.

  Once free, the group made their way back to their modest quarters in the city, with Melissa still grumbling about the attention she had attracted, despite her efforts to blend in. Gan continued to take the lead, ensuring no one tried to approach her with any ill intentions.

  "We’ll have to be more careful next time," Brad said, his tone still edged with frustration. "If the guards had arrived ter, things could have gone much worse."

  "I know," Melissa said, sighing. "I just wish I could go anywhere without drawing attention. But no matter what I wear, it seems to find me."

  "You’ll get used to it," Gan said with a grin, his youthful face full of mischief. "Besides, you always manage to handle things, Melissa. Just like you did back there. Maybe you should think of it as a kind of talent."

  Melissa rolled her eyes, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her expression. "Yeah, a talent for getting us into trouble."