Late in the evening, after the shocking attacks, the royal family finds themselves back in the castle—exhausted but unharmed. Riffin Champell, the officer from the Merchant District, has accompanied the royal family from the marketplace to the castle. It was the least he could do after the tense situation in the marketplace was finally defused earlier that evening, ensuring the safety of the royal family.

  Butler Stewart and the housekeeper Suse were deeply concerned when they heard the explosions and shocked when they learned about the attacks. They were all the more relieved to greet the family safely back at the castle. Dinner, however, faded into the background, overshadowed by mourning for Stiham, who succumbed to his injuries. Much to the dismay of Chef Recaprio, who, while understanding the family's lack of appetite, was the only one upset about the events after seeing his efforts once again go unappreciated.

  In Vyncent's room, the lights were dim. He and his father exchanged serious glances and a few words. Edmur worried about the future of the kingdom, but even more so about the future of his family. Meanwhile, Joane took the lead in talking with their daughter after the maids had prepared Lina for bed. Lina hadn't yet come to terms with Stiham's death, but her mind was already overwhelmed with countless other thoughts.

  "I'm so sorry," Lina begins, panicked. "There was this boy. I..."

  But before Joane could respond, she asks Suse and the maids to leave the room so she could speak with her daughter privately. Lina is exhausted, but her mind remained wide awake. Once the door closed, she starts again.

  "The chain... Father's gift... There was this boy... I ran into him... I think he took it," she says, breathing heavily and gripping her blanket nervously.

  She blames herself for losing such a significant heirloom and fears her father's disappointment, as well as the potential consequences of the loss. Tears welled in her eyes until Joane wrapped her in a firm embrace, an instinctive gesture that calmed Lina down.

  "What matters to me and your father is that you're safe," Joane says firmly. "A chain can be replaced, but you cannot."

  Joane's eyes glistened with tears as well, prompting her to end the embrace before her own tears could spill onto her daughter.

  "Are you hurt?" Joane asks.

  "Besides this bump, I'm fine," Lina sniffled, pointing to a slight swelling on her head.

  Joane brushed Lina's bright red hair aside to examine the spot. A small smile tugged at her lips.

  "Looks like that boy had a real hard head," Joane says with a grin, which brought a smile to Lina's face, lightening the mood.

  "He really did," Lina laughs, wiping away the last of her tears.

  But her good mood is short-lived.

  "On the way back, I overheard Father talking," Lina says, worried. "Will I never be allowed to leave these walls again? I just wanted to see the sea and the Sacred Green Tree."

  "We'll work it out," Joane reassures her daughter. "Trust me, I'll speak with him. Don't worry." She kisses Lina's forehead.

  However, Joane's words aren't enough to fully put Lina's fears to rest.

  "I've positioned soldiers in the hallway. They'll guard your rooms for now. We'll handle everything else tomorrow. Goodnight, my love."

  And just as Joane is about to leave the room, a familiar face suddenly burst in.

  "I heard what happened, Miss Elmhart. I hope you and your family are well. It must have been terrifying," says the girl with her shoulder-length, dark brown hair and arched eyebrows.

  "You're late, Cecie," Joane replies. "You two can talk tomorrow. Lina is going to bed now."

  "There's a reason I'm only here now. Lina—something happened."

  "A lot happened today, Cecie," Lina groans.

  "It's about Mister Red," Cecie says. "Right after I helped tidy up your room with him, I let him out into the back garden. But he hasn't come back yet. That's never happened before."

  "Mister Red..." Joane begins, then corrects herself, "That animal is a squirrel, not a dog that comes when called. It's not a pet."

  Although Lina normally has a completely different opinion, she is too exhausted from today's events to engage in the discussion.

  She turns onto her side, her back to Cecie.

  "My head is pounding."

  "But Lina—"

  "You can leave!" Lina makes it clear.

  Cecie leaves the room with her head lowered, not needing to be told twice.

  Joane is shocked by her daughter's brief outburst but understands that this is a difficult time for her. She, too, leaves Lina alone, her mind filled with worry, coupled with thoughts on how to protect her daughter from further dangers. However, Joane knows she cannot afford to show any weakness now. She needs to discuss with her husband how they can give their children a sense of safety and normalcy in a world full of uncertainties.

  Now, only Lina and her thoughts remain in the room. First, the many explosions. Then the attacks on her entire family. The many injured and dead, including Stiham—the royal guard.

  And all of it because of her family? All of this—because of her?

  Then there's the lost forehead chain, her collision with that boy, and now Mister Red's disappearance. She just wants this day to be over already—her 14th birthday, which was supposed to be the best day of her life but has instead become the worst. The day that was meant to decide her future—for better or worse.

  Will it end the same way the next time she leaves the castle? Will there even be a next time?

  The footsteps in the hallway and the voices outside her door fade. Lina closes her eyes and tosses and turns in bed. So many questions swirl through her head, and even more theories.

  "It must have been terrifying," echoes in her thoughts. Why does that particular sentence stick with her so strongly? Because it was terrifying? Or maybe, because it wasn't?

  What would she say if someone asked her about it? "Yes, it was... at times. But it was also—exciting," if the day hadn't been overshadowed by Stiham's death.

  Just before her mind drifts off to sleep, she becomes aware of the door opening slightly and then closing again. Footsteps follow, making no effort to be quiet. They get closer and closer. Is this a dream? A nightmare? Could it be one of the Crimson Crusaders, come to kidnap or even kill her?

  Someone pulls aside the curtain around her bed. If Lina grabs the candlestick beside her and strikes the intruder, she can flee to the hallway where the soldiers are stationed.

  But what if the soldiers have already been overpowered?

  It's now or never!

  She grabs the candlestick and prepares to strike.

  "Yo," greets the intruder.

  "Vynce?!" she cries out, stopping her strike just in time before she hits him.

  Lina is more startled by the sight of her brother's face than Vyncent is by her sudden, half-executed attack.

  "I almost hit you. What are you doing here?" she asks, still shaken.

  "As if you could," he replies arrogantly. "I came to ask if you want to join me in my battle plan," he answers her question.

  "Not interested," Lina replies flatly. "I just want to sleep."

  "I can see how well that's working for you," he remarks, but Lina ignores him expertly.

  "I know you're having the same thoughts as I am," he continues. "And you definitely want to know what happens next."

  "We'll find out tomorrow or in the coming days," Lina responds, uninterested.

  "I'm not waiting that long. Father is furious, and he's shaken by Stiham's death. Add to that these recurring attacks. Something needs to be done," he explains. "That's why he's summoned the four officers for a meeting. They're bound to arrive any minute now to decide the next steps."

  "Then why are you here?" Lina asks, annoyed.

  "Your bedsheet is longer," he says. "I need a partner for the plan. And someone to watch my back."

  "My bedsheet?"

  "If we climb out of your window, we can sneak into the back garden. From there, we can eavesdrop on the dining room behind the veranda."

  "And what if I stay here?"

  "Well. If I get caught, you're kind of an accomplice. Your room, your bedsheet, and you didn't stop me."

  "That's blackmail!"

  "Do you think so?"

  "Vynce, I don't want to get in trouble because of you. I'm already concerned about being trapped in these castle walls for the rest of my life," Lina says. "And what if we get caught or the soldiers in the hallway raise the alarm because they can't find us? Wait, how did you even get past them?"

  "I told them I was going to your room and that they shouldn't ask questions or come in until I came back out," Vyncent replies as if it's obvious, and he remains unfazed. During Lina's brief monologue, he has already started making a solid rope out of her bedsheets. Lina watches her brother.

  'He's definitely done this before,' she thinks.

  "Instead of just watching dumbly, you could also help me. Then it will go twice as fast.

  Now that Lina is helping, it doesn't take long. They knot the sheet to the nearest bedpost and throw it out the window to rappel down from the third floor.

  Vyncent, who climbs down first, finds the knotted bedsheet to be stable. After reaching the ground, he quickly checks that the coast is clear and disappears from Lina's view.

  After a few seconds, he returns and waves Lina down. Lina then skillfully climbs down as well.

  "Do you do this often?" Vyncent asks, astonished, as Lina lands safely on the ground.

  "I should be asking you that!" Lina snaps back.

  "Shh. Not so loud."

  "This is your fault!"

  Vyncent ignores her, noticing something.

  "Damn it," he mutters in frustration, "If someone sees the bedsheet, it'll be a short outing."

  "What do we do..."

  Before Lina can finish her sentence, Vyncent grabs the bedsheet and pulls on it forcefully.

  "You can't seriously think that..." Lina begins, but Vyncent takes action. He quickly and energetically rubs the bedsheet against the window frame, making it thinner and thinner until it finally tears with one last effort.

  The bedsheet falls to the ground, with a part remaining in Lina's room.

  "That was my favorite sheet," Lina says, speechless.

  "I'll buy you a new one," Vyncent responds cleverly, hiding the torn bedsheet in a bush.

  They then sneak towards their destination, always on the lookout for the guards. It's not too difficult for them, as they know every possible position of the stationary and patrolling soldiers down to the meter and the time, allowing them to reach the veranda swiftly and unnoticed. The tall evergreen bushes scattered around the castle garden make it easy for them to hide from the guards. They quickly find a spot from where they can observe the veranda very well.

  The dining room is brightly lit amidst the surrounding darkness. There, they see their father alone on the veranda, staring into the distance with a dark expression. The light casts a long shadow into the garden.

  "Why is the garden so sparsely populated today?" Lina asks.

  "Probably because the soldiers still have a lot of work in the city or because Father simply wants it this way today," Vyncent replies. "This makes things a bit easier for us," he adds while surveying the surroundings.

  "It doesn't seem to have started yet," he whispers.

  The meeting and discussion are taking place on the ground floor of the castle, in the coral-painted dining room.

  Riffin Champell sits visibly tense on one of the gray four-legged chairs at the long dining table, on which various fruits are arranged in bowls. He nervously fiddles with his wedding ring, and the long wait for his fellow officers only heightens his anxiety.

  Standing behind him is Stewart, primarily with one hand behind his back while holding a bottle of wine with the other.

  Joane lies comfortably on the gray single bench, which usually seats two. In her hand, she holds her usual tulip-shaped glass, this time filled with red wine. Next to her is a small round table with a silver platter of orange candies, which she is enjoying.

  Riffin glances briefly over his shoulder. He thinks the same thing as Lina and Vyncent.

  'For someone who almost lost their children today, she seems remarkably calm.'

  In stark contrast to her husband. He is not only disturbed by the attacks but also visibly angry. He is currently still on the veranda, trying to cool off and waiting for the arrival of the officers.

  The only other people in the room are the two royal guards, Adwar and Piersym. They have been by Edmur's side since his coronation and are thus considered not only the first but also the most loyal guards of His Majesty.

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  The room is in complete silence, interrupted only by Joane's slurping and continuous chewing of the candies.

  Then their attention turns to one person.

  A rather tall, well-dressed woman with short black hair and an oval face enters the room.

  She is the officer from the Whitepool District—Annet Walurg.

  Despite her entrance, the room remains silent. Without exchanging a word with anyone, she sits down on the nearest chair, directly opposite her colleague Riffin, whom she avoids looking at. Only a friendly nod between Joane and her serves as a greeting to the meeting.

  She crosses her arms in front of her chest and quickly begins to bounce her foot up and down with her legs crossed.

  The already tense atmosphere intensifies when a man with a pronounced double chin and a fat face enters the room with penguin-like steps.

  He wears a large brown coat that cannot be fastened at either the top or bottom button due to his round figure. As he enters, he takes off his gray felt hat.

  This is the officer from the Shinemore District—Barder Echothed.

  Barder scans the room. His labored breathing and heavy footsteps drown out the sounds Joane makes while eating and drinking. He sits down at the dining table and reaches into a bowl of cherries. After grabbing a handful, only three cherries remain at the bottom of the bowl. Only after stuffing his mouth does he notice his colleague sitting hunched across from him.

  "Oh, Riff, my boy! I didn't recognize you without your badges. Have they taken them all from you after what happened today?" he bellows into the room, hitting Riffin with a mix of spit and cherry bits on the forehead.

  "Help yourself, Riff," he says with his mouth full, "A few extra pounds would do you good."

  "And a few less would do you good," Annet retorts, rolling her eyes.

  "I'm also pleased to see you, Anni," Barder says with his cheeks still full.

  Annet takes a sharp breath.

  "Joane, can't you just tell us why we're here so I can leave?" she says.

  "Why the hurry? Is it nicer at the other castle? Or is the company there more pleasant?" Edmur calls from the veranda, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  He then enters the room through one of the open, tall veranda doors with a stony expression.

  "This is our chance," Vyncent whispers to his sister.

  They sneak towards the veranda, keeping as concealed as possible.

  In front of the veranda, there are several small shrubbery patches. The space between them provides a good hiding place. However, it's too tight for two people, so Vyncent takes the spot beside it. Through the open veranda door, Lina and Vyncent can hear everything that is said clearly.

  "You gave me approval for this task, my king," Annet responds modestly, "Do you remember?"

  "And you're doing a good job," Edmur says, "I'm just ascertaining about your well-being."

  He stands behind Annet and places his hands on the backrests of her chair. Annet shivers as she feels as though Edmur's hands are directly on her shoulders. She stands up abruptly.

  "You think they have something to do with this, don't you?" Annet says accusingly.

  "It's just a guess. They are criminals after all. And THESE were criminal acts," Edmur replies, sitting right next to her at the table, "The Crimson Crusaders are all but wiped out. And the few who remain couldn't have acted alone."

  "The Alted family is currently in a rather comfortable position. Their interests and ambitions do not lie on a political level," Annet explains.

  "Nevertheless, they could be a great help in solving this mystery," Joane interjects from the background, "I heard rumors about Azandrol's nephew, who has been seen more frequently in the city lately. Perhaps he has... higher ambitions than his predecessors."

  "I doubt his nephew is in a position to cause a complete upheaval in the family without consulting Azandrol," Annet says, "Even if he wanted to."

  "Perhaps someone specific here could talk to him during a pleasant evening by the fireplace," Joane suggests.

  "It's really more aesthetic in winter when it's snowing," Annet adds.

  "That's enough," Edmur interrupts their private conversation.

  "Just to repeat it for you" he begins, "the agreement made back then is based on mutuality. We provided them with a platform for their activities. In return, we can buy and sell raw materials and goods around the world faster and cheaper with the help of their smuggling routes. If we demand more, they will too."

  "A really sophisticated and profitable business," Stewart notes.

  "Thank you, Stewart," Edmur responds self-assuredly.

  "It is crucial that this relationship continues. Because if the High Council believes that I cannot handle the business..." he begins, but swallows the end of his sentence to avoid invoking any trouble.

  "My King, you were the only one who accused them," Annet says, irritated.

  "As I said," Edmur clears his throat, "I was just ascertaining. But I trust your well-disposed judgment."

  While Edmur was on the veranda, he also considered a measure intended to reach the citizens, something he can no longer withhold from the officers.

  "I would like to inform you that I will be drafting a speech which you will then announce in your districts—instead of me. You have a closer connection to the citizens than I do at this time."

  The officers are not pleased with this.

  "Wouldn't it show more strength if you delivered the speech to the citizens yourself?" Annet suggests.

  "Strength is demonstrated through actions, not words," Edmur counters. "The city is in turmoil, so it is of utmost importance that you engage directly with your districts. This way, we reach more people directly, and individuals feel heard," he explains. "I was thinking of leaflets."

  Following this statement, an uncomfortable silence falls over the room. No one wants to speak, and the only one who does is waiting for the last of the four officers.

  In the meantime, Barder's raspy breathing is comparable to the snoring of a wild beast. Added to this is the gentle rustling of candies as Joane takes another one.

  "Could you stop eating that junk?" Edmur asks after a few minutes, irritated.

  "Why? You know these are my favorite candies," Joane replies. "Have some yourself—good for the nerves."

  "I'd love to have some," Riffin stammers.

  "No!" Edmur suddenly jumps up as if he's lost his mind. "I mean..."

  "You have work ahead of you—and a lot of it."

  Eyes and ears turn towards Joane. "Isn't that right, Ed?"

  "It sounds more like they don't want to share with us," Barder whispers to Annet, but so loudly that everyone in the room can hear.

  Before Edmur or Joane can respond, the doors are flung open.

  A broad-shouldered man strides in quickly, as if he owns the place, but bows to Edmur and Joane at the end. He is slightly shorter than Edmur but twice as wide. His oval face is covered with a brown full beard. He wears a dark blue coat adorned with many badges and medals.

  He is the officer of the Royal District—Albes Maxwiff.

  "Apologies for my unpunctuality, my king," Albes says. "The investigations and clarifications took some time."

  "What losses have we sustained?" Edmur asks immediately, and the attendees press their lips together.

  "It's manageable," Albes replies. "56 people were found dead, including a small boy who apparently fell to the ground in the crowd and was trampled. We identified him and informed his family." Albes says this as the others briefly pause to pay their respects.

  "There are about 200 seriously injured. So far, one to two dozen have not survived. The rest are either out of danger or still at risk. Additionally, there are 300 injured, though these are mostly minor injuries. Many of our citizens and soldiers are still in shock," he explains. "There were individual skirmishes in the Royal District and Whitepool District. The majority of the fighting took place in the Merchant District, where we have the greatest losses," he continues. "The marketplace was bathed in purple, and by the end, dark red blood flowed through the streets."

  Edmur silently agrees.

  "What property damage have we sustained?" he asks next.

  "The explosions occurred in old sheds and smaller warehouses that had been cleared out beforehand," Albes explains. "Fireworks and barrels of oil were their means to the end. The sites were chosen deliberately; they led to the marketplace, precisely at the time when you were there," he elaborates. "The explosive devices in the Royal District were only triggered after people from the Merchant District had sought refuge there."

  "The area was already overcrowded because everyone from the Whitepool District and Shinemore District had come to us," Riffin adds, becoming noticeably more confident.

  "Seems like you were overwhelmed by the situation," Barder remarks condescendingly from a distance.

  If looks could kill, Barder would have already found himself in the afterlife.

  "And it seems you've spent the entire day sleeping. If you and Annet had instructed your subordinates to monitor the area transitions, we might have had better control of the situation," Albes defends his colleague from the Merchant District.

  "If Riffin has been nagging you for days about needing more soldiers to protect the marketplace, I'd like to see how you'd manage with minimal resources," Annet retorts.

  Suddenly, Barder leaps up as if he has lost half his body weight and throws his chair to the ground. His finger is pointed firmly at Albes.

  "Sorry I can't relax every day like you," he says accusingly. "You must have forgotten what it means to work properly."

  "And yet you are the one responsible for the decline in your district," Riffin mutters under his breath.

  "WHAT!?," Barder screams, his veins standing out on his forehead.

  A heated argument ensues. Everyone tries to justify themselves and blame the others. Albes and Barder are on the verge of coming to blows when Piersym from the Royal Guard steps in. Contrary to expectations, he does not intervene but simply stands there to make an announcement. His presence alone is enough to calm the tempers.

  "My King," he says in an unusually deep voice, "The soldier you requested is here."

  "He will have to wait," Edmur says, somewhat perplexed.

  "As you wish."

  After the brief commotion, the officers resume their seats at the table.

  "Did we learn anything from the interrogations?" Edmur asks Albes directly.

  "Not from the interrogations, but during the examination of a corpse, we noticed something strange," Albes replies, making Edmur look up with curiosity.

  "Initials were burned into his left forearm," says Albes. "Given the depth and strong imprint, we believe they were inflicted forcibly. The other corpses of the attackers had identical brands in the same spot."

  "Their loyalty to the princes has always surpassed any form of reason. They demonstrated that with today's actions," Edmur says, shaking his head.

  "My king," Albes continues, "The forearms of these people were not marked with the initials of any of the Four Princes. The initials were J. S. And with these letters, we only know one person in a high position."

  You don't mean...?"

  "It wasn't the Crimson Crusaders who attacked us today," Albes continues. "It was slaves disguised as our enemies. Slaves of the notorious warlord from Saharka—Jemose Sabknathu."

  "Wait. Isn't he a warlord?" Lina whispers to her brother.

  "Yes. He's the warlord of the Velddragguallis—from the Velddragguall Empire. He rules and controls about half of Saharka," her brother explains.

  "This requires a thorough investigation."

  "These monsters!" Joane exclaims, both outraged and shocked. "It's come to this."

  "It's spiraling out of control. Perhaps we should consider involving the High Council..."

  "NO!" Edmur interrupts loudly. "The High Council has more important matters to attend to."

  "That the Crusaders are willing to do anything should be no surprise," says Albes. "The questions we should be asking ourselves are—How did they know our route? And how did they know on which day the royal family would leave the castle?"

  "It is obvious that someone leaked when Your Majesty would be leaving the castle, even though there was never an official announcement or should have been," Albes answers the questions himself.

  "You're not accusing someone from our house, are you?" Edmur asks, but Albes interrupts him.

  "We must consider all options," says Albes. "For I assert that today's attacks were not a coincidence but have been planned since our decision. Without wishing to accuse anyone... but this possibility has been on my mind for some time—a troubling thought if it turns out to be true."

  They look at each other thoughtfully but come to the same conclusion.

  "It must have been someone from this house, perhaps even from this room, who provided the Crimson Crusaders with the necessary information," Joane agrees. "A trusted person."

  "Did you hear that?" Vyncent whispers. "Someone is playing a double game."

  "But who?" Lina asks.

  "I'd like to know that too," Vyncent replies, hopping onto the veranda to listen up close. Hesitantly, Lina follows her brother with a leap and hides with him under a long wooden bench.

  "That would explain past attempted attacks, assassinations, and kidnappings," Albes ponders, rubbing his chin.

  "Alright!" says Edmur, slamming his hand on the table. "Everyone, name a suspect you believe could be responsible."

  "Barder," Annet and Riffin say simultaneously.

  "You damned—" Barder begins, but Albes abruptly interrupts him.

  "Barder is not capable of such a thing," Albes says, shaking his head. "Even though his leadership qualities and physical condition leave much to be desired, he will never be in such a comfortable position again," Albes explains.

  Meanwhile, Barder is unsure whether Albes is on his side or against him.

  "He wouldn't take such a risk," Albes continues. "He may not always be on the same wavelength as us or go with the flow, but he does not swim against it."

  But Albes doesn't stop there.

  "Let's move on to you, Riffin," he says, pausing for a moment before continuing. "Let's be honest, Riffin is the last person who would be capable of this. Your wife and two daughters live in Londeeyeof, don't they? Thanks to your position as an officer, you have been able to provide them with a prosperous and peaceful life. Even though your own situation is challenging, you only want the best for them. You love them too much to commit a betrayal that would put them in serious danger."

  "If there is someone from our ranks, Albes, then it must be you," Annet says urgently. "You have all the qualities and meet all the requirements to be a great leader. And yet you subordinate yourself." She continues, "Is it your will, or are you pursuing a greater plan? If you are passing information to our enemies, the question remains—what exactly is your plan? To help our enemies overthrow the king and then betray them? You reap the rewards and are celebrated as a hero. As a result, the High Council appoints you as the new king."

  "You've come up with a splendid theory, Anni," Barder says energetically.

  "But instead of throwing accusations around without basis, you should consider what speaks against him," Edmur adds.

  "According to his explicit statements against Barder and Riffin, he should certainly be able to provide us with as detailed reasons against himself," Annet replies.

  Attention turns to Albes.

  "You've said it yourself, Anni," he says calmly. "Will. I may not always agree with our king's decisions, but I have never considered him less. I trust the decisions of the High Council. And ultimately, it was their will to appoint our lord as king. I submit to that will."

  Annet has no counterargument and crosses her arms over her chest.

  Edmur is satisfied with the answer.

  "Now to you, Annet," he says firmly. "I have the feeling that you have been dissatisfied with your position as an officer for some time. You seem impatient, inattentive, and irritable in our presence. Would things change for the better or worse if I were to be overthrown from the throne?"

  With every word, Edmur steps closer to Annet until he is standing directly opposite her, looking down at her.

  "Neither," Annet replies, standing up so their foreheads nearly touch. "But if you think I'm the wrong player in this game, don't hesitate."

  Her response sheds no light on the matter. Only Joane seems to have a hint.

  "Maybe she has found so much enjoyment in the underworld that she no longer cares about what happens on the surface," she speculates.

  Edmur has a revelation.

  "Alted," he says, enlightened, and Joane nods to him.

  "Of course," he continues. "You have feelings for him. And don't deny what I see in your eyes."

  "What do you know?" Annet turns away, embarrassed.

  'If you want to know what someone is feeling, all you have to do is look them in the eye,' says Joane coaxingly, 'The gates to the soul - they say so much more than words.'

  "Do you harbor resentment towards me because these feelings were forced upon you or because you cannot resist them?" Edmur asks.

  Annet leaves this question unanswered. Can she even answer it?

  A smile spreads across Edmur's face.

  "She is not it," he concludes with relief, glad to still trust his four officers. But their search is far from over.

  "Stewart," Joane suddenly says, as if she has hiccups, "Did you betray us?"

  Since the beginning of the meeting, Stewart has stood off to the side like a statue. With his stony face and small eyes, one might almost think he had fallen asleep.

  "Have the candies already taken effect on you?" Edmur interjects, "Stewart is my best man. I trust him with my life."

  Edmur is more certain of Stewart's intentions than almost anyone else's. For Edmur, and for his family, Stewart is a cornerstone of their lives. He looks around the room until his gaze settles on the royal guards, Adwar and Piersym. They are staring straight ahead with their heads held high. Edmur shakes off the thought. After all, the two of them had more than enough opportunities today. Instead, they defended his family with their lives. That leaves only Greynyx, the third royal guard, and Stiham.

  Edmur then slaps his fist into his other palm.

  "I had completely forgotten about him," he realizes, regaining his composure and temporarily setting aside his remaining suspicions.

  "Bring him in," he calls out, and just a few seconds later, the door opens.

  "I will inform you about the next steps in the coming days. But for now, I have an announcement to make."

  Lina and Vyncent press their heads against the window glass. A young man enters the room, and the attendees look up at him with anticipation. Although he is unfamiliar to most, he is wearing a very recognizable uniform as he steps before the king with a puffed-out chest.

  He is a sturdy fellow with blue eyes and blonde hair that he wears tousled and spiked up. He is dressed similarly to Adwar and Piersym—an open red cloak over his silver-gold armor. The royal family's emblem adorns the cloak. He carries a lance in one hand and his helmet in the other.

  A pleasant smile spreads across Joane's face. She takes a liking to the young man.

  Lina shows her excitement in a different way. Out of sheer joy, but also slight disbelief, she clasps her hands in front of her increasingly reddened face. Is what she thinks really happening?

  "After the heavy loss of Stiham today, I wanted to end the day on a positive note. The vacancy left by Stiham is significant, but I am confident that it is well filled in his hands. He already excelled with an outstanding military training. His quick thinking and heroic actions were proven today when he courageously protected and safely escorted my daughter. I couldn't be happier with his successor and I am sure I speak for everyone when I say—Welcome, Enryn Barber."

  Enryn plants the blunt end of his lance on the floor and bows nobly. He puts on his helmet and places his hand over his chest.

  "Thank you, my King! I will not disappoint you."

  Suddenly, a loud scream erupts from outside, so loud that everyone in the dining room jolts and looks out toward the veranda. It is a spontaneous reaction, as Lina is so overwhelmed by her emotions that she cannot control them. This unintended reaction draws attention to her, precisely at the moment she was trying to remain inconspicuous. This intensifies her flight response, as she is now the center of attention—exactly what she was trying to avoid. Lina runs off, visibly embarrassed, with her hands covering her face.

  She has left her brother behind, who has fallen into a kind of stupor due to the loud screeching and is now being looked at in astonishment by everyone. 'Did you listen to everything?' asks Joane.

  Vyncent awkwardly shrugs his shoulders, prompting Edmur to smack his forehead.

  "I could really use some of those candies right now," he says, "And could someone please bring my daughter back!?"