The two cousins made their way toward the port, their footsteps muffled by the cold, compacted dirt beneath them. The night stretched endlessly around them, a vast emptiness barely held at bay by the flickering glow of Mario’s gas lamp. The dim light cast long, wavering shadows on the uneven ground, occasionally catching on jagged rocks and the brittle remains of dry grass.

  Ahead, Emilia walked a few steps in front of Mario, her cloak billowing slightly with each hurried stride. He could tell she was eager to move faster, but the oppressive darkness surrounding them forced her to hold back. Beyond the reach of their lantern, the world was an abyss, the faint outlines of distant structures barely visible against the horizon.

  The air was sharp with the scent of salt and damp earth, carried inland by the sea breeze. In the distance, the faintest glow of the port’s lanterns flickered like scattered stars, their golden hues reflecting off unseen waters. The rhythmic crashing of waves against the docks provided the only sign of life beyond their own presence, a steady pulse in the otherwise silent night.

  Neither of them spoke as they walked, the only sounds accompanying them were the distant crash of waves and the soft crunch of their boots against the dirt path. Every now and then, Mario caught the faintest sound of Emilia’s sighs—subtle, measured, as if she wanted to say something but held herself back.

  He didn’t press her. The silence didn’t bother him, nor did the awkwardness that hung between them. If she had something to say, she’d say it. Until then, he was content to let the night and the steady rhythm of their steps fill the void.

  They arrived at the outskirts of the port town, where the entrance stood unguarded. During the day, sentries were stationed at the gates, but at night, the port chief clearly didn’t see the need. Unlike the wealthier, more bustling ports, this one had little reason to fear brigands or pirates—there had never been an attack in its history.

  It wasn’t a major trading hub, nor was it situated along any significant shipping routes. Under the chief’s unambitious leadership, the port maintained only a modest trade with the Dawn Kingdom’s capital. As a result, no foreign vessels had ever graced its docks, leaving it quiet and relatively untouched by the outside world.

  The path gradually transitioned from packed dirt to a well-maintained stone-laid road, a sign that they were entering the heart of the port town. Simple houses lined the way, modest in size and design. Most were built from a mix of wood and stone, with thatched or shingled roofs that sloped steeply to withstand the coastal winds.

  They were arranged in an orderly yet practical manner—clusters of homes stood closer together near the main road, while others were spaced farther apart, likely belonging to fishermen or traders who valued a bit more privacy. Wooden fences marked small yards, some with fishing nets hung out to dry, others with carts or barrels stacked neatly beside them.

  Closer to the port, the houses became slightly larger, some featuring small storefronts or workspaces on the ground floor, where merchants and craftsmen would conduct business during the day. The faint scent of salt lingered in the air, mixing with the distant, ever-present sound of waves lapping against the docks.

  As they entered the center of town, the two made their way toward an unassuming building nestled between a small bakery and a storage shed. Its entrance was tucked discreetly to the side, away from the main street. The wooden door was reinforced with iron bands, worn from years of exposure to the salty air.

  Emilia stepped forward and knocked firmly. A moment later, a gruff voice responded from the other side, as if the man had been expecting someone.

  "Who is it?"

  Emilia leaned in slightly and answered in a hushed tone,

  There was a brief silence, then the sound of metal sliding against metal as a latch was drawn back. A second lock clicked, followed by the slow, deliberate turn of a key. Finally, the door creaked open just enough for a wary eye to peek through the gap.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The man pulled the door open, the secret code Emilia had given proving effective. The door was just wide enough for Emilia and Mario to slip inside. "Come in," a man said gruffly, stepping aside to let them enter.

  He was an older man, perhaps in his late fifties or early sixties, with a wiry frame that suggested he had once been stronger in his youth. His face was lined with age and hardship, his tanned skin weathered from years spent braving the coastal winds. A short, scruffy beard covered his jaw, streaked with gray, and his dark eyes, though tired, were sharp with suspicion. He wore a simple woolen tunic, patched in places, with a thick belt cinched around his waist. The scent of salt and faint traces of tobacco clung to him.

  Once they were inside, he quickly shut the door behind them, fastening the locks again with a practiced efficiency.

  Mr. Milton greeted them with a respectful bow. "Welcome, Your Highness," he said, his voice gruff yet formal. Then, straightening his back, he gave a nod to Mario. "Deputy Governor."

  He gestured toward the interior as he continued, "The wife and I have already prepared the guest room upon receiving word of your arrival."

  Emilia offered him a warm smile. "Thank you, Uncle Milton. And where is Auntie?" she asked, glancing around the modest home.

  Milton chuckled softly. "She's still asleep, and I don’t think there’s any need to wake her," he said with a small smile. Then, glancing between the two, he added, "If you're hungry, I could whip up a little something for a midnight snack."

  Mario shook his head. "No need to trouble yourself, Mr. Milton. I’ll be heading back soon anyway—Lane assigned me a task that needs to be handled immediately."

  Emilia stifled a yawn before speaking. "I’m alright too, Uncle. I think I’ll just get some rest and prepare for tomorrow’s journey."

  Emilia walked up the stairs, her steps light but deliberate. As she reached the second floor, she turned on her heel and smiled down at Mario. "Goodbye, Mario. I'll be seeing you again," she said warmly.

  Mario didn't respond right away, only managing a faint smile in return. Emilia lingered for a moment before heading toward her room, the soft clatter of her footsteps echoing against the wooden floor. A quiet creak followed as she closed the door behind her.

  Mario exhaled, then reached into his coat and fished out a small pouch. The muted jingle of coins shifting inside was accompanied by the rustle of fabric, the distinct clink of metal against metal betraying its weight.

  "This will be your allowance for the month, Meister Milton," Mario said with a smile as he handed the pouch to the older man.

  Milton shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "Please, Deputy Governor, we are no longer in the Academy. There's no need for such formalities." His expression softened into a solemn smile.

  "For me, at least, you are the one and only Meister," Mario replied warmly, his smile carrying a hint of nostalgia.

  Milton sighed as he took the pouch, setting it on the table without bothering to open it. "So, how is the situation in Lina?" he asked, gesturing for Mario to take a seat. "The last news I heard from the Doves was that you managed to turn the tides against the Duke."

  Mario pulled out a chair and sat down. He meet Milton’s gaze, "We are in the best position we’ve ever been."

  Mario leaned back, resting both hands behind his head, a wide grin spreading across his face.

  "I know that cocky smile," Mr. Milton remarked, eyeing him knowingly. "I’m not going to pry for details. I’ll let you keep those cards close to your chest," he added, crossing his arms.

  Mario leaned in, his voice low but brimming with confidence. "We’ve made a valuable ally. Lane and I are certain that great things are coming to Lina—but we’re taking it one step at a time."

  Milton cast a wary glance at him. "Alright… can you at least tell me who this ally is?" he asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

  Mario’s grin stretched even wider. "All I can say is… this ally is out of this world."

  Milton pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a weary sigh. "I just hope you two aren’t getting in over your heads with this."

  Mario chuckled, leaning back. "Meister, weren’t we your best students? Trust me, we know what we’re doing. Like I said, we’re confident about this."

  Mario leaned forward, his tone turning more serious. "In fact, I’m also here to offer you a promotion."

  Milton lifted his head, meeting Mario’s gaze with a curious expression.

  "Lane wants your expertise in Lina," Mario continued. "No—we want it. Lane, Emilia, and I all believe you could be a great asset to what we're building there."

  A heavy silence settled between them. Milton looked taken aback, momentarily at a loss for words.

  Mario gave him a knowing smile. "Alright, I can see you need time to think it over. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks—maybe sooner, depending on how things go in the south."

  He stood, giving a casual salute. "Take care, Meister."

  Without another word, Mario turned and left, his footsteps fading into the night. Milton remained seated, staring at the untouched pouch of coins, deep in thought.