"When I fix my sun at the Zenith, I shall lay my hand upon your brow, Thérion the Veiled. From that day, you shall no longer be a man. Your lineage shall carry my mark in its veins. What your blood commands, I shall have commanded before it. To contest the throne is to contest the Zenith itself."

  — Words of Solar?s, XXVII

  Revealed to Thérion the Veiled, Year 1 of the Endless Day

  CHAPTER X

  The great Western Gates came into view — an imposing architectural ensemble straddling the wide canal that led in from the sea. At its center, immense wrought-iron grates rose the full height of the arch, wide and tall enough to allow passage for the largest merchant vessels, their massive bars suspended above the clear canal waters where the Chains of Aagard?ne now lay, broken and tangled at the bottom since the destruction of the Statue. On either side of the waterway, along the paved stone banks, smaller pedestrian gates opened onto the quaysides, while on the ramparts that dominated the whole structure, armored sentinels stood watch, their silhouettes cutting against the burning sky as they scanned the horizon from their elevated posts. The ensemble formed an imposing arch carved from pale stone — a testament to the architectural ingenuity that allowed Solheim to control both the land and maritime flows into its heart.

  A deep voice descended from above as the squadron came to a halt at the foot of the gates.

  "Who goes there?"

  Siegfried removed his turban, revealing his scarred face, as the others did the same.

  "Vaan Hart Squadron," the knight called out, holding up the Solar Guard insignia.

  The gates groaned and swung open with a low rumble, and the squadron entered, the heat thickening with the salt-laden smell of maritime trade. They crossed the Western Suburbs into the Upper City, then made their way into the tower leading to Captain Ardahm's offices.

  At the top of the staircase, in the hall, an unusual tension held sway. More guards than was customary stood there, aligned in impeccable rows on either side, their golden swords crossed in a silent barrier. As the squadron approached the office door, the guards stepped forward, blocking their path. A knight, face hidden behind a light helmet, stepped up.

  "Halt, knight. King Hagen the Merciful is in a meeting with Captain Ar—"

  The doors swung open with a low creak. A majestic figure appeared.

  Every knight dropped to one knee in a synchronized clink of armor, and the squadron followed instantly, aligned and kneeling, heads bowed. King Hagen III passed before them, and at once a warm aura spread through the hall — invisible but palpable, like a refreshing breeze that drove the fatigue from exhausted bodies.

  Tall and slender, he evoked a divine figure — light armor of blinding white adorned with golden scales, a cape flowing like a cascade of pale gold, hair of an almost white blond falling in silky waves over his shoulders, a face of an almost unreal beauty, gentle yet marked by a serene authority. Barely older than Siegfried, in his thirties, his piercing blue eyes swept the squadron. His gaze paused on their dust-covered veils and turbans, their faces hollowed out by heat and fatigue.

  His mere presence seemed to revive weary souls: shoulders bent by exhaustion straightened imperceptibly, ragged breathing grew deeper, and in the downcast eyes of his subjects, a glimmer of comfort stirred. The royal aura, gentle and restorative, temporarily erased their torments, as though the crushing heat of Solar?s herself bowed before the benevolent majesty of her sovereign.

  "Rise, knights," he commanded in his warm, kindly voice.

  They obeyed. King Hagen stepped closer, his light footsteps at odds with the weight of his title.

  "Ahhhhh, at last we meet, young knight Desrosiers."

  "My King," he replied, inclining his torso with one hand behind his back.

  "How is it that members of the Solar Guard carry the dust of the lifeless lands upon them?" he observed, before his gaze lingered on the traces of blood seeping through their chief's tunic. "And why this blood, paladin?"

  Siegfried inclined his head, respectful but upright.

  "We were at Port-Foam, Your Majesty, defending it against Ashengard. With no means of return, we were forced to march to Solheim to inform the city and deliver a message from Lieutenant Dragar to Captain Ardahm."

  Hagen's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of compassion in his eyes.

  "These wounds..."

  He gestured toward the bandages with a delicate hand.

  "Sustained during my victorious duel against two enemy lieutenants, Your Majesty," he replied.

  "A mere knight felling not one but two lieutenants? A feat worthy of a child of Solar?s," the King said with a smile, a flash of admiration crossing his face. "After your meeting with Ardahm, go and see my healer — that is an order, but given with warmth."

  He took Siegfried's hand with an unexpected gentleness, his fingers warm and firm, and added:

  "Follow me."

  They entered the offices and the squadron fell into rank. Ardahm stood there, still before his bay window, Plume perched on his shoulder. He began to lower himself to one knee, but Hagen stopped him with a friendly gesture.

  "Rise, dear friend."

  The goldenbeak fluttered toward the young archer, who welcomed her with a moved smile, gently stroking her wing.

  "You did good work, my beauty," he murmured to her with quiet pride.

  Hagen watched the scene, admiring. Before taking his seat, he moved toward Mei, who stood slightly apart, her hood raised like a shadow over her face. With a gesture that was delicate but assured, he reached out and slid the hood back, revealing a cascade of hair of a deep black — so dark it seemed to absorb the very light of the Sun.

  "Let these magnificent locks be seen, Noohrikane woman. This darkness is the mark of your people, so wear it with pride. The common folk judge your clan wrongly, but for Solheim, you are a rare strength. Shadows that watch where light alone cannot reach. Without your art, our kingdom would be far more vulnerable, and I do not forget it."

  His blue eyes shone with a firm benevolence, and he inclined his head slightly before stepping away to take a seat in Ardahm's chair, crossing his arms with a natural elegance.

  "The knight Siegfried has a message for you, Captain."

  The paladin held out the parchment, and Ardahm broke Dragar's seal, unfolding the paper. He read aloud, his deep voice filling the room.

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  "My Captain, Ashengard possesses deflagration alchemy. I saw with my own eyes how the statue of the Ancient King fell. Dozens of barrels of this powder bound to its feet. I am ashamed to write this to you, but I did not manage to save the port. This was not a simple attack like thirty years ago. All of this was planned, my Captain. But though my failure is unforgivable, I must ask you to hear what knight Siegfried Vaan Hart has to say. This boy carries within him the echo of the girl. That same cold, calculating mind, that same fire that bends men to his will. His squadron follows him with absolute faith, a trust so deep they would throw themselves into the flames if he asked it. And I would swear they would walk out alive. Know that he and his companions are our spearhead. Lieutenant Bjornhold Dragar."

  "Deflagration alchemy..." the King murmured, fingers laced beneath his chin, pensive. "The same as the Eclipse."

  Ardahm set the letter on the desk with a measured slowness, but his fists clenched.

  "Dozens of barrels," he repeated in a grave voice. "Enough to reduce Aagard?ne to dust."

  "Is that accurate, knight?" asked Hagen, his blue gaze piercing the paladin. "Did you see this powder with your own eyes?"

  "Not mine, Your Majesty," Siegfried replied honestly, his head inclined. "But my specter's, yes."

  "Good."

  "Should we launch reprisals immediately, my King?" the N'zonki proposed in a low voice.

  Fingers still laced beneath his chin, the young King's face grew troubled.

  "Not yet, Captain. Let us rebuild the port first. Ashengard will pay in due time. However... there is one thing that concerns me."

  "What is that, my King?"

  "Why does my heart tell me the powder did not come from Ashengard?" he wondered aloud. "The people of that nation are far too simple to master any form of alchemy. My last visit there was not so long ago, and they had nothing of the sort."

  Siegfried seized the opening.

  "Your Majesty, the ore disappearing from Fort-Ombre... are we certain none of it is being used in the manufacture of this powder?"

  The King shook his head slowly, his blue gaze settling on the Vaan Hart.

  "My scholars analyzed the powder recovered during the Eclipse attack. They are categorical. No rock from Solheim can produce such a substance."

  "If it is not Ashengard, my King," said Ardahm, placing his enormous hands behind his back, "then who?"

  "With Emporium involved, it could even come from Westareth."

  The Captain leaned close to the young King's ear.

  "Shall I call upon Sel?s or the scholars of the High Fire, Your Majesty? Some of them are currently at the Academy — I could have them..."

  He was cut off by a simple raise of one finger.

  "Leave it. Sel?s is on a mission on my behalf, and I already have my own idea of how to find the origin of this powder."

  "How so, my King?"

  "Where must everything that Solheim does not already possess on its territory inevitably pass through?"

  "Through Emporium, my King. But a special unit was already sent there under Sel?s's command. Without results."

  "There must be information we do not yet have. And it is to be found at the Markets of the Two Continents. We need that information. I will therefore send one of my shadows."

  "You are not going to—"

  A second time, in the same manner, Captain Ardahm N'zonki was interrupted by his King.

  "One of my shadows will go and investigate there. That is final. Now, let us return to the matter at hand. Lieutenant Dragar commends you warmly, knight, and insists we hear you out. What did you wish to tell us?"

  For the briefest of instants, Siegfried descended into his own mind.

  Our Majesty checks every box that defines the traitor. Though it is for those very same reasons that he was crowned. But could he be the one pulling the strings? No — no King in the world would conspire against his own kingdom... unless something greater was promised to him. But what could be greater than the kingdom of Solheim? He is already the Representative of Solar?s on Gae?a, and his kingdom is the last in Istalith. There is nothing more he could gain. In that case, even though I initially wanted this information known only to a restricted few — and he was never part of my equation — keeping him informed could prove a considerable advantage in this internal war that is taking shape. Who more powerful than HIM to help us flush out the traitor?

  He glanced toward the door to check whether guards were stationed there.

  None. The door was closed. He stepped forward, convinced he was making the right choice, and announced gravely:

  "What I am about to tell you must not leave this room under any circumstances if we wish to root out the evil that hangs over the kingdom. We already knew a traitor was hiding among us. However, I can say with certainty that this shadow resides in the upper echelons of the capital — and not among the nobility, as Lieutenant H?lw?nd believed."

  "Why do you think so?" Hagen replied, raising an eyebrow, intrigued by the knight's words.

  "Without wishing to be disrespectful to the Lieutenant — if I were to say that none of her leads have proven conclusive, would I be mistaken?"

  "No," the N'zonki replied. "But how do you know that?"

  "May I explain, my King?" he asked, gesturing toward the map of Istalith on the desk — a request granted with a simple nod.

  Siegfried placed his finger on the maritime city and began to lay out his reasoning.

  "As you must know from the message we sent you, the enemy we fought was none other than Ashengard. On the ground, I was able to observe that their true objective was not Port-Foam itself, but solely the Chains of the Ancient King. Why? Because once done, they simply retreated. That is when I understood that this attack was merely one step in a larger plan."

  His index finger moved to the port, then to Fort-Ombre.

  "Two attacks this precise, both aimed at destroying our economy, cannot be mere coincidence. The broken Chains slow our exports. Our disappearing ore slows our production. In my mind, it was clear that some entity wished to see Solheim brought to its knees. These were nothing more than hypotheses, however, until my specter delivered me the message that the late Steward St?venson wished to pass on to us. How did Ashengard come to know these locations so well?"

  He paused, letting his words carry their weight.

  "That single question demonstrates perfectly that a shadow conspired with the Northern Isles, telling them exactly where and how to strike. Someone gave them that information. Someone who knows how our kingdom functions. And I would wager that this same person may also be the one arming the Eclipse."

  "What do you make of that?" the King murmured, tilting his chair back to exchange a glance with his captain.

  A vein visible at the center of his brow, his eyes turned black with fury, the Captain did not see him. The N'zonki uncrossed his arms and brought his enormous fists down on the table with such force, heavy with rage, that the wood was heard to groan.

  "HOW DID I FAIL TO SEE IT?"

  With a gentle hand, Hagen placed one palm over the colossus's fist.

  "You simply could not have, Captain," his King soothed him. "No one could have guessed it. Calm yourself, I beg you."

  "Forgive my anger, my King. But what this man says makes sense. Not a single man from the Northern Isles sets foot on our lands. Those fellows are far too attached to their homeland."

  He exhaled forcefully through his nose, letting calm return.

  "Thirty years ago, during their attempted invasion, Ashengard never managed to push past Ashdust, and their ships had never been sighted off the Bay of the Red Crescent before today. Never. How could they have known the port, if not through information provided by a traitor? It is the only possible explanation — but who would have betrayed us?"

  "Someone with power and a sound reason, Captain," the knight replied with assurance and resolve. "Someone endowed with great intelligence, with a sharp understanding of geostrategy, the art of war, and the workings of the kingdom. A person who knows how to command, who has access to the bird communication network. And above all, a person capable of lying..."

  His eyes slid toward Ardahm, seeking confirmation.

  "The N'zonki oath... That is why you are here, and not with Alessi," the Merciful guessed before the Captain could speak. "Among all the high-ranking officers of Solheim, he is the only one you trust enough. Very well reasoned, knight. I am impressed. But my instinct tells me you know exactly where to look — am I wrong?"

  The knight lifted his fingers from the map. He rested his left hand on the pommel of his longsword, as was his habit.

  "Thirteen suspects. No more," he said, a faint note of disappointment and sorrow in his green gaze.

  "The Twelve, and your mentor's daughter — Lieutenant Sel?s H?lw?nd. Logical," the Stone-Skin deduced, approving his knight's reasoning with brief nods of his head.