Luckily for Leif, and for everyone else, nothing terrible happened the next day.

  He remained spooked by the nightmare, unsure whether he’d even dare sleep the following night. But when he finally did, the only thing his mind gave him was the palace garden and Idun scolding him for forgetting to trim the overgrown branches. That, strangely, was what made him relax. For the next few days, he swore off anything foraged from the forest and ate only what they’d brought with them.

  Hesitantly, Leif decided not to reveal anything he saw and heard in that dream yet, not even to Serena. Idun, the Sacrament, Elleina… there would be a time to talk about them, perhaps once they were back in the capital. He intended to ask Idun directly about the dream. After all, Elleina herself, if she was real, revealed that the visions he saw were memories of someone close to him. If true, then only his mother held the answers.

  The change in his mood didn’t go unnoticed. Edmund found the sudden caution endlessly amusing, wondering what could possibly make the nature-loving Alvarynn refuse nature’s own produce. Serena brushed it off as Leif simply being careful, refusing to say more about what had happened while they were searching for the road. The prince didn’t press, and at last the journey continued without interruption.

  The group finally reached Danuville’s border on the thirteenth day, a bit delayed by the incident.

  Damien went ahead to meet the guards. After introductions and the usual scrutiny, they were permitted to approach Danuville proper on the other side of a short bridge. Damien presented their forged passports to the guards on the other side, declaring them travelers from Fornalés, Aurelith’s southwestern neighbor. They’d had to falsify even their place of origin. Claiming they were from Aurelith outright would have been the quickest way to sour the guards’ mood before they’d even set foot in their lands.

  When questioned about why they were coming in from Aurelith’s direction, Damien didn’t miss a beat. He claimed it was simply the shorter route to Danuville after selling their wares in the capital. The explanation was plain enough and, more importantly, boring enough that the guards accepted it. After a final look over their papers, they were waved through. From the border, it took two more days to reach their true destination: Danuville City.

  At first, nothing seemed different. The road remained the road. The hills remained hills. Even the traffic felt ordinary, until the city finally rose ahead of them. No words were needed to tell them this was a far different city from Aurelith. The souring expressions on the men as they approached the gates said everything before anyone spoke. The combined smell of stale fish, tanneries, and what seemed to be stagnant canals hit them all at once.

  Gualter coughed once, then again, the sound turning pointed. “Um… is it… supposed to smell like that?”

  “Well,” Aristide said carefully, “I… guess?”

  Damien shot them both a look. “We’re at the city gates,” he warned under his breath. “Don’t make faces. Don’t react. If you look like you’re judging the place, they’ll find a reason not to let us in.”

  Edmund glanced at Serena and Leif, both strangely unaffected by the air. “How are you two holding up?”

  Serena and Leif exchanged a quick look before answering.

  Leif shrugged. “I don’t smell anything weird.”

  “Me neither,” Serena agreed, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

  Gualter leaned closer to Edmund and whispered, “Another Alvarynn thing, I believe. They say their noses… naturally filter the air of unwanted odors. Makes any place tolerable.”

  Edmund lowered his voice. “Are you sure? Or is this another one of your theories?”

  Gualter shrugged, eyes still on the looming gate. “Maybe they just don’t care.”

  As always, upon reaching the gates, Damien stepped forward to meet the guards. He showed the same papers, delivered the same story, gave the same names with the same practiced confidence. The guards barely gave them a second glance. Nothing seemed suspicious enough to slow them down. They were waved through, and what greeted them inside was exactly what they’d expected, judging by the smell.

  Just beyond the walls ran a canal, its water the color of old ash, sliding past in a slow gray ribbon. Thankfully, a metal screen covered it from edge to edge.

  No risk of anyone slipping in or dropping anything valuable into whatever that was.

  Strangely, they saw children playing by the canal. The gray water and the stink seemed not to bother them at all.

  The wagons kept moving. Edmund peeked out, and at first glance, the layout wasn’t so different from Aurelith’s residential streets, but that was where the similarities ended. Trash littered the walkways. Homes sagged and leaned, their wood warped and their stonework cracked. The roads were uneven, scarred with exposed potholes that wagons had to crawl around rather than cross.

  “Brace yourselves, everyone,” Elias muttered. “We’re now in no man’s land.”

  “Shh,” Lyam hissed immediately, leaning in. “You’re going to offend the locals.”

  As the wagons rolled deeper in, vendors shouted from cramped stalls, and every so often, a resident casually tossed scraps onto the roadside without even looking to see where they landed. Serena peeked out from behind the wagon’s curtain, curious despite herself. The people’s features were nearly similar to those back home… same kinds of faces, same kinds of clothing, but something about them felt harder. Most wore permanent scowls, and even the ones calling out to sell their goods sounded angry while doing it.

  “Oh, put your hood on,” Leif murmured. “Remember, they don’t like seeing Alvarynn around here.”

  Serena obeyed. It was cold anyway, so the hood was more comfort than inconvenience. The wagons kept moving until they reached an inn yard with enough space to stop and breathe. There, they disembarked, careful not to invite the wrong kind of attention. As agreed, Edmund went to see Minos first.

  “This is where we part ways, I believe,” the prince said, hesitation tugging at every word. “It was… um… a pleasure…”

  Minos offered his hand at once, noticing the struggle with obvious amusement. “No need to pretend I didn’t cause trouble,” he said smoothly.

  “Disregarding that incident,” Edmund replied, “you weren’t the worst company… for us, at least.” His gaze flicked toward Filandra as he said it. She had climbed down as well, stretching her legs beside the wagon.

  Filandra’s eyes met his. “Thank you for saving me back there. I was really looking forward to collecting my full compensation from this tightwad.”

  Edmund glanced at Filandra, then back at Minos, weighing the situation in silence. Minos had lost plenty of companions, or so he’d claimed, and if that was true, Edmund could guess why. The man’s indifference wasn’t occasional. It was a habit. Edmund could already see the pattern repeating. Another “opportunity,” another cave, another moment where Filandra would be expected to fend for herself while Minos kept his hands clean.

  There was only one solution Edmund could think of.

  “Minos,” he said, “about your offer… to give us Filandra...”

  He paused just long enough to make it land. “We’ll take her.”

  Filandra’s eyes widened, then brightened so fast it was almost comical. “You—you will?”

  “I can’t risk you getting eaten by something,” Edmund replied, casting Minos a pointed look, “the next time your employer decides to trespass into another cave.”

  Filandra let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-gasp. She clapped her hands, then all but launched herself at Edmund, hugging him and thanking him repeatedly before she caught herself and stepped back, cheeks flushed with excitement.

  Minos smiled with the grin of someone who’d just completed a fair transaction. “A great choice. I guarantee she’ll be of great use to your household.”

  “And reduce the number of people you have to employ and pay,” Aristide cut in, having come to offer his own farewell.

  Minos’s smile twitched. “Well… you know,” he said, lifting his hands in a helpless gesture. “Business is tough after losing nearly everything.”

  Leif and Serena came to say their goodbyes as well, and the moment Serena learned Filandra would be staying with them, she didn’t quite know what to feel. Filandra’s attention snapped to her immediately, followed by that familiar fast-paced blinking she always seemed to do whenever Serena was in her line of sight.

  After gathering her belongings, Filandra moved what little she had into one of the prince’s wagons. Minos climbed back into his own after, and with a flick of the reins to set his horses in motion, he turned one last time toward Edmund.

  “It was an honor traveling with you,” he said, his grin as unfaltering as ever. “I look forward to meeting you again in the future.”

  His gaze slid to Leif and Serena, lingering for a heartbeat too long before he urged the horses forward. They watched his wagon disappear into the crowded street.

  “I feel bad for his assistant,” Aristide murmured.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about him,” Filandra said, almost dismissively. “There’s a reason he survived so long with Minos.”

  When pressed, she explained that the assistant wasn’t just useful. He was indispensable. And, apparently, a terrifying fighter on top of it.

  With that settled, the group headed inside the inn to check in, presenting themselves as traveling merchants. Gualter, committed to the role, lingered near the desk a moment longer than necessary and began talking with the staff to get a feel for the local accent and mannerisms.

  “Had to come through Aurelith, yeah?” the receptionist asked, eyes narrowing with casual suspicion. “Ain’t get jumped by thugs, did ya?”

  “Um… no,” Gualter replied carefully. “There weren’t actually… any, I would say.”

  The woman barked a short laugh. “Not any? Whole bloody kingdom’s crawlin’ with ’em.”

  At that, several of the knights subtly stiffened, teeth gritting as they forced their faces to remain neutral. Smiling merchants, nothing more. Luckily, Damien finished checking them in without further trouble, and the group made their way upstairs. The four youths were assigned the same room, with the knights and soldiers split among the neighboring ones to keep watch. They dropped their belongings, rested just long enough to shake the road from their bones, then headed back out, except for Filandra. She decided to stay and organize their things.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Outside, they split into two groups. As planned, the soldiers immediately made for the nearest tavern. Damien started to protest out of habit, but Edmund allowed it with quiet insistence. If they wanted the disguise to hold, they needed to look like ordinary travelers who drank, laughed, and blended in. The soldiers cheered and made their way. Meanwhile, the four youths and the knights headed for the town square.

  They moved at an unhurried pace, occasionally stopping at shops and stalls to inspect local wares, food, and produce, taking in Danuville one careful glance at a time. Most striking were the shopkeepers: eyes perpetually narrowed or openly glaring. Theft must have been common here, and no one seemed willing to be caught off guard. They also had no patience for window-shoppers, shooing people along if they weren’t going to buy.

  As if Danuville wanted to prove the point, a commotion rose not far ahead. When they looked closer, they saw a man chasing a boy clutching pears, most likely snatched while the shopkeeper’s attention was elsewhere. Moving on, they eventually started coming across beggars, sadly, of all ages. Elders were slumped against walls with bowls set out in front of them. Younger ones drifted between pedestrians, asking passersby for coin or food.

  At one point, a girl in a tattered coat tugged at Serena’s cloak and held out her hand. Serena reached into her satchel, took out one of the apples they’d bought earlier, and placed it in the girl’s palm. The girl bowed and murmured her thanks before hurrying across the street, where she split the apple with a smaller boy, perhaps her brother.

  “How awful,” Serena murmured, after looking at the other children begging.

  Despite their desire to help, Damien urged them not to, worried it might draw the wrong attention. Reluctantly, the group moved on, doing their best to ignore the beggars. Damien kept the lead, eyes never leaving the road. “Most of the Calyssian States are like this,” he said. “Not just Danuville.”

  Across the street, Edmund caught a glimpse of a man walking strangely, as though he were half-asleep. His movements were sluggish, and he was either ignoring passersby or speaking to them in a mumble, his eyes unfocused.

  “Opioid, perhaps,” Aristide said, his gaze following his brother’s. “I heard its use is spreading here.”

  “Why would they be using something that makes them act like that?” Leif asked.

  Aristide kept his gaze on the man a while longer. “I guess for some of them… it’s the only way to escape hardship… when it becomes too much and they see no way out.”

  The group moved on and reached the town square at last. There, they saw wagons of varying hauls moving about, either simply crossing the square or stopping to sell their goods. Some were broad, flat carts stacked with split firewood or sacks of grain tied down with rope. Others were narrow two-wheelers that bounced hard enough to make their owners walk alongside, one hand on the frame to keep the load from tipping. Vendors claimed space like they owned it.

  As they walked, they suddenly heard a voice speaking loudly. Turning in its direction, they saw a man in cleric’s clothing, shouting while holding a book at his side. Curious, they moved closer. It was then they heard what he was shouting much more clearly:

  Work diligently, be charitable, keep the scales in balance. The Twin Goddesses will reward them someday.

  The group approached him and asked what he was preaching about.

  “Greetings, strangers,” the cleric said. “I am a member of the Church of Gullveig-Hnoss, also known as the Twins’ Church.”

  He then showed them his pendant, shaped like a balanced scale. “I’m just here for my afternoon routine,” he continued, “to make sure our people remember the lessons imparted by the Twins.”

  The princes and the knights, keeping their disguises, went on to speak with him innocently. Innocence, however, came naturally to Leif and Serena. They had no knowledge of what the Church was about and had no need to pretend.

  “You are tourists, I presume,” the cleric guessed.

  The group admitted it. At least, that part was true. Suddenly, the cleric clapped his hands once, a bit louder than it should have been. “You’re in luck,” he said. “I also happen to provide services to tourists as well.”

  “You’re also a tour guide?” Aristide asked.

  “Correct,” the cleric answered. “For a small fee, of course, to support our church’s funds.”

  The group discussed it, and after finding the cleric reasonable, and since they were here to learn more about the state, they accepted his offer. The cleric decided to end his preaching there, put his hat on, and began the tour, but not before introducing himself.

  “My name is Paul, by the way. Please, don’t linger and fall behind.”

  “The church,” he began as they walked, “was once the state religion of Calyssia, back when it was Durandal, and the dominant faith in Ambria during the Kingdom of Beldomagne’s age.”

  “Beldomagne’s very constitution itself,” he continued, “was based on the faith’s teachings, its words converted into law by a member of House Archambault before they even became royalty.”

  Aristide began asking questions, feigning ignorance. He started with the faith’s teachings, and the cleric answered proudly. “To be diligent and charitable, to work hard and share. Those are our core principles, as mandated by the Twin Goddesses. Those who adhere to them are said to be rewarded with bounty.”

  He went on to lament how unfortunate it was that the state’s worsening condition discouraged honest labor and charity, how it kept people from practicing their faith to the fullest, trapping them in this season of hardship.

  They eventually reached the church itself: a humble structure, with a balanced scale carved above the door. The interior was lit by torchlight. A priest was dusting a vase near the aisle. He told the group to sit wherever they wished and pray quietly, until Paul mentioned they were on a tour. At that, the priest simply nodded and invited them to take their time looking around.

  Paul showed them the statue of the Twin Goddesses, a few old relics preserved in the church, one of which caught Aristide’s attention completely, and several old texts.

  “Most of these are replicas. The originals were either lost, stolen, or burned along with the Temple of Balance.”

  “What is the Temple of Balance?” Serena asked.

  “It used to be our largest place of worship, located in Eostre, Beldomagne’s old capital. Both are sadly in ruins now.”

  “Why are they in ruins?” she pressed.

  That was when the princes and the knights stiffened, jaws tightening. A few looked away, suddenly very interested in anything else nearby. Only Leif and Serena kept their eyes on the tour guide, wholly unaware of the truth.

  “Henri Aurelien…” Paul’s voice sharpened with fury. “Nearly four centuries ago, after the Rucaldian Empire conquered Beldomagne, they appointed him as governor. The accursed Aldanan turncoat burned the Temple and the capital after looting them. Then he had our clergy hunted down, making sure the faith was crippled.”

  “Why… would he burn them and… hunt the church members?” Leif asked, genuinely, utterly shocked.

  Paul’s gaze stayed on the relics. “Rucaldia knew how difficult it would be to keep the region subjugated if it ever stood united. So, Henri’s first task as governor was to destroy Beldomagne’s soul, to make sure it could never form a resistance.”

  Leif and Serena turned to Edmund and Aristide, hoping, despite the disguise, that one of them would deny it. Neither prince would meet their eyes.

  “Could—could the Aureliens… really do something like that?” Serena asked.

  “It’s well documented,” Paul replied. He began recounting the family’s history after that, more specifically, all the atrocities they’d committed across Ambria.

  “And when they realized Rucaldia was about to lose the Great War, that snake of a bloodline turned on the empire, joined the Alliance, and helped drive them out,” he went on. “Then, as if betraying two nations wasn’t enough, the thugs had the audacity to crown themselves kings.”

  “Of course, we Calyssians, and most of Ambria, do not recognize their rule.” While he spoke, the cleric drifted toward another section of the gallery, showing them an ornate bottle of water, a faux golden hoe, and a few other replicas. “No one but their fattened and disillusioned followers in Aurelith recognizes that imaginary crown and title. That’s why they only rule that mudhole… and not all of us.”

  Leif and Serena stayed close. The rest followed, feigning curiosity, but kept their distance so their faces wouldn’t betray them. Paul continued, explaining each relic, what it was meant to represent, and how House Archambault had begun as a peasant family, rising gradually over centuries into nobility and finally royalty, raising Durandal and Eostre alongside them.

  “House Archambault shed blood and poured sweat to build this nation. Those Aurelien thieves have no right to claim their legacy.”

  Silence followed as the group let his words settle. After a moment, Damien stepped forward and asked if Paul could show them the rest of the district now that they were finished with the church, or rather, before he lost control and shove the relics down the cleric’s throat. Paul agreed and guided them outside. Leif and Serena hung back, staying close to the princes.

  “Are you both okay?” Leif asked.

  The two princes gave him a solemn look, then nodded. Being called thieves that bluntly wasn’t easy to swallow. Not wanting to risk their disguises, Leif and Serena didn’t press.

  Outside, Paul led them along the main roads, pointing out parts of the district and some of its landmarks. He deliberately avoided the streets where beggars gathered and the drugged drifted, not wanting them to harass his clients. As they walked, he explained how the Silent Decades had devastated Calyssia’s economy, pushing the country closer to the brink until, inevitably, he circled back to the Aureliens again.

  “And when the Silent Decades hit,” he said, “or rather, once the other nations began to recover, the nobles the Aureliens bribed into recognizing their rule packed up and left for those kingdoms, taking their wealth and anything else they could carry out of Calyssia. Their merchant friends followed. Stores, banks, and plantations closed. Trade dried up. And now… here we are.”

  Everyone remained quiet as Paul walked them around, somewhat regretting accepting his offer. Then, out of nowhere, a man ran into them, slamming into Edmund, and both of them hit the ground. His companions nearly shouted Prince! and Highness! but caught themselves as Edmund pushed himself up.

  “Are you hurt?” Leif asked, holding a hand out to the prince.

  Edmund was thankfully unharmed. Damien hauled the other man to his feet, though he positioned himself between him and Edmund. Before anyone could ask questions, the man ducked behind the group.

  “P-please… help me.”

  Another figure approached, a younger one, around Edmund’s age, black hair tied into a ponytail. Most notably, he looked furious.

  “What’s going on here?” Damien demanded.

  “You with this thug?!” the boy snapped back.

  The cleric stepped between them at once. “Keep your hands off my clients, you dirty runt!”

  “Move!” the boy shouted. “Now!”

  Edmund kept his eyes on the boy, on the gauntlets he wore. He was armed, and dangerous. Without warning, the man who had bumped into Edmund bolted. The boy shoved past them and gave chase. Edmund, worried the man would be hurt, sprinted after them, prompting the others to follow. The man turned into another street, then cut into an alleyway, only for the boy to finally catch him. He hurled a piece of plywood. It clipped the man’s leg, sending him stumbling.

  The boy seized him by the collar and yanked him close, fist raised inches from his face. “Tell me where the seal is!” he demanded. “Tell me now!”

  “I—I don’t know! I swear!”

  The boy swung anyway, but before his fist could land, his arm was caught mid-strike, Edmund’s hand clamping down on his wrist.

  “You again!” the boy snarled. “If you’re working with this—”

  Edmund didn’t let him finish. He hauled the boy backward and shoved him away, just far enough to create space. The man tore free and sprinted out of the alley. The boy tried to give chase, but Edmund stepped between them. His opponent lunged, fist aimed at his face. The prince slipped aside and threw a counter, but the boy brought both forearms up to block.

  The impact drove him back, boots skidding on the damp pavement. His eyes widened at the weight and speed behind Edmund’s strike. Shrugging off his disbelief, the boy lunged again and again, each strike either blocked or slipped past by the prince. Finding an opening, Edmund snapped a jab into his chest, driving him into the wall hard enough to rattle the bricks.

  For a heartbeat, he was visibly stunned, eyes flaring wide, breath catching in his throat. His hands hovered half-raised, not quite guard nor lowered, an instinct interrupted by disbelief. Then his shock hardened into urgency, jaw set and shoulders squared. He dragged in a sharp breath through his nose and reset his stance with a quick shuffle, boots scraping grit. The gauntlets rose again, elbows tucking tighter than before, posture coiled and ready. It was less clean than earlier, but more intense, like he was forcing control back into place through sheer will.

  The atmosphere shifted with him. The alley felt charged, tense, and compressed. Two figures facing off in a narrow corridor while the rest of the city noise dulled into the background. But before they could continue, Edmund’s companions, along with Paul, finally caught up. The prince’s attention flicked toward them for only a moment, but it was enough of an opening for the boy to throw himself into Edmund, shove him aside, and sprint away.

  Serena rushed to Edmund first, asking if he’d been injured so she could heal him right away. To her relief, he was unharmed.

  Damien went to check on him after. “Please don’t go chasing troublemakers again like that. We don’t know what they’re capable of, or what you’re running into.”

  Edmund nodded, acknowledging the warning.

  Paul stepped forward next, apologizing for the trouble the delinquent had caused. Edmund assured him it was fine. The cleric then asked whether they wished to continue the tour. They all declined unanimously, using the incident as an excuse. Still, Edmund paid the agreed price, prompting Paul to bow.

  “Thank you, dear tourists,” the cleric said. “Despite our city’s rather… unpleasant condition, I hope you find it a pleasant stop.”

  They bid him farewell, and the cleric started to walk away, only to turn back with one last message. “Ah, I almost forgot to properly welcome you.”

  “On behalf of the State and the Church, welcome to Danuville.”