A Tamia's Tale, first book: Omen of Death

A knock resonated in the hallway. The young princess had brought flowers, freshly handpicked from the garden. That was all she could do in this situation. Ever since her bodyguard failed, that was all her mind wandered to. There was no life besides her dear, sickly father.

Taking a deep breath, with a smile ready to be shown to him, she pushed the knob down. The door creaked slowly, letting a fresh breeze lift her shriveled hair up. Spring had come, the beautiful sun was out more often and she purposefully picked up the first daffodils and orchids that bloomed early. They were delicate and bright, perfect for his weak eyes that were barely seeing her face.

“Father,” she called out softly, stepping inside. The room still smelled of herbs and incense, in the hope of pushing away the curse of the king. She approached the bedside, placed the bouquet on the table by the window, and then sat down near him.

Humming a simple song he used to sing her when she was little, she arranged the flowers neatly, so that he could see them without moving. “I brought you some flowers, I know you love to walk in the garden, so…”

Something was off. She didn’t finish her sentence, instead, she looked at him intently. Was he sleeping? His chest wasn’t going up and down as usual, and while he never moved, there was still some air coming out of his mouth once in a while.

But this time, there was nothing. Only the complete silence.

“Dad?” her voice trembled, a lump in her throat forming slowly.

There was no answer. Even Morgann had stopped breathing. She had become so still in the hope of hearing the faintest sound coming out of his body, but nothing. Not even the slow brush of the sheets as his chest heaved up and down. Not even the faint sound of his halting breath. No, she was hallucinating. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be.

“You left… Didn’t you…” The words slipped from her lips as she found herself drained of all energy. Her limbs felt powerless, all that was left was silence. Her mouth was glued as her jaw clenched instinctively, her own chest felt like it was going to explode.

But nothing happened.

She didn’t cry, her body wasn’t shaking. There was nothing, but silence.

A knock on the door resonated through the room, and a person entered with a plate full of food.

But nothing happened.

The woman was talking to her but she wasn’t listening, the plate fell down on the floor as cries resonated through the castle.

Yet, she heard nothing.

All that was left, was a deafening silence.

The bustling market of Sora. A jewel of this country that was once the epicenter of all trades happening in the Inner Tamia. Jewels, exotic perfumes, medicine, everything could be found there, and even more since the country was now reopened to the world.

Though the priority of the available places on the market place was given to the people of Sora, there were still occasionally some merchants coming from Fyr or Ryuuji, to trade goods and make some profit. While the market had almost died down after the events that transpired two years ago, the amazing communication skills of Safaran Sora allowed the free passing in the city of all merchants from all horizons, giving a breath of fresh air much needed for the economy.

Tapestries of the north, swords from the south, even religious figures from the holy city, the market was now brimming with new products that the richer population of Soraians were eager to buy every week.

But that’s not what Luka was hoping to find in this crowded place, zigzagging between stands and people stopping by to check the goods. He was followed by the two idiots who kept staying with him for some reason, though he didn’t necessarily dislike their presence. After all, he needed a guide for all of this mess.

“Leave it to me!” Viktor puffed his chest in arrogance. “I know this place better than anyone. My brother and I used to walk around here to check some magical items,” was what he said when Luka asked for his help.

Of course, Saki was never too far from Viktor, and so she decided to tag along. While Luka wasn’t a fan of asking for help per se, he quickly realized that this market was far bigger than the one he was used to back in his world. Malls and grand commercial hubs, yes, but markets? They were far smaller back in his world. This one was spread out in both the high city and the lower city, from both sides of the main road to the border of the river and the small alleyways where some merchants found the bright idea to install their stands.

“Who the hell thought that not assigning specific places to merchants was a good idea?” Luka grumbled as he deftly avoided a group of running children.

In other words, it was utter chaos. The only rule seemed to be that a merchant needed a license to sell their wares; beyond that, they could set up shop anywhere they pleased.

“Safaran is the one who came up with the idea,” Viktor explained. “Though you still need a license to sell.”

“Anyone could sell some illegal things here, and no one would know. How can you arrest someone in this crowded place?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Viktor laughed. “Selling without a license isn’t just risky; it’s downright dangerous. The other merchants will take matters into their own hands if they catch you. Trust me, you don’t want to cross them.”

“Ah, right… Everyone uses magic here…”

Which made Luka wonder how come there were not many crimes in this city. Sora was known for having the highest density of mages on the continent, and yet, there were almost no crimes except some brawls or common misconduct.

It was as if everyone here had embraced peace itself.

Yet, if someone even stepped out of line, they were harshly punished, and not necessarily by the current government, but by the people.

“So, what are you looking for?” Saki asked, still unaware of the purpose of all of this.

“I lost the eternaüm for my gun,” Luka replied, his tone serious.

Viktor’s eyes widened in shock. “YOU WHAT?” he exclaimed, drawing the attention of nearby merchants who shot them curious glances.

“I don’t know how it happened, okay? It was during my journey to Ryuuji…” Luka defended himself, though Viktor was already readying his fist for a correctional beating.

“Damn man, do you even realize what you lost?” Viktor exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You know what kind of things someone bad could do with that?”

“You’re the one who told me it was hard to control,” Luka pointed out.

“Yeah! But still! You could’ve bought the castle with that!” Saki nodded furiously, her expression shifting from concern to outrage. “And now you’re just wandering around with no plan? What if someone finds it?”

“I’m aware! Still, I can’t do anything! Besides, it’s not my problem if someone uses it for something else, I just need a replacement so that I can defend myself.”

Both of the idiots sighed in unison, shaking their heads like disappointed parents.

“Alright,” VIktor’s fist came down, but as a pat on Luka’s shoulder. “I have an idea, all you need is crystallized mana, right?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“And with what money are you going to buy that?” Saki grinned devilishly.

“I gained some by working for Mister Galterr at the tavern,” Luka replied, puffing out his chest a little as if that would bolster his case.

“Yeah, you think this salary is going to buy you what you need?” Viktor stifled a chuckle.

The tavern worker dropped his shoulders. “Wait, it’s that expensive?”

“Don’t worry,” Viktor patted Luka on his shoulder repeatedly. “I’ll buy you one.”

“I really wouldn’t want to—”

“Shut up!” he shushed him, placing a finger dramatically to his lips. “I don’t want to hear any whining. I wouldn’t want you telling your world that Sora is a dump. I’ll show you some hospitality.”

“I’ve never intended to say that… Besides the fact that I almost got killed multiple times, a lot of people are nice here,” Luka defended, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice.

“Shush! Not another word…” Viktor continued, waving his hand dismissively as if to sweep Luka’s concerns away.

Saki chuckled softly, shaking her head at Viktor’s over-the-top theatrics. Luka simply sighed and followed the actor until they arrived at the stand he was looking for.

“There! This place has all you need!” Viktor smiled, puffing out his chest.

“Sir Faeborne! Are you here for your special liquor? I’ve got a fresh new sto—”

“Shut up! Not in front of everyone please!” Viktor interrupted, his face turning red as he waved the vendor’s words away.

The vendor, a portly man with a thick mustache and a beret, looked taken aback for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Aye, my lord! So what did you come here for young lads?” He gestured to a myriad of objects, ranging from stones and jewels to bottles of wine and other instruments.

Luka raised an eyebrow at the suspicious selection. “It’s not very… Specialized?”

“Au contraire!” Viktor smiled. “This is the perfect man for what you need, trust me,” he gestured to the vendor. “Show me your pebbles, old man!”

“I’m not that old…” “I’m not that old…” the vendor huffed, crossing his arms, but a playful smirk cornered his lips.

“Then stop calling me young and show me the stuff!” Viktor insisted, his tone a mix of impatience and excitement.

The vendor sighed theatrically, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Alright, alright!! Just for you, my lord.” He reached behind the counter, rummaging through various boxes before emerging with a small pouch filled with glimmering balls of crystal. “Mana condensers, right from the now-gone city of Magia!”

Luka leaned in closer, the glow of the crystal balls reflecting in his eyes. “They are so… round.”

Viktor nodded vigorously. “See? These are top-quality Mana condensers. They were used by Archimagus Krain and my brother still uses some for his research. Stable, can hold a large quantity of mana, the top of the top!”

“Are they… safe?” Luka asked, his curiosity mingled with a hint of apprehension. “I mean, are they difficult to handle?”

“Nah, they’re not like eternaüm,” Viktor dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. “Like I said, they are stable. So no risk of it exploding in your face. The only downside is that it holds way less energy than the thing you had before,” he then took out a pouch from his vest and handed it to the vendor. “I’ll take one, please!”

“Thank you for your purchase, my lord,” the vendor accepted the pouch graciously. “I hope you won’t blow up the city with it.”

“Who the hell do you take me for?”

“You have… A certain reputation here.”

“Ah!” Viktor spat. “Just a bunch of ignorant fools,” he said dramatically. “Now, let’s go my dear friends, we have a gun to try—”

“I don’t think so.” Out of nowhere, from the crown, a voice came from behind, refined and authoritative as it grabbed Viktor by the shoulder.

The trio turned to find a tall man in a crisp uniform, adorned with an insignia that spoke of his rank. His expression was stern and his piercing gaze settled on Viktor, radiating an air of authority only enhanced by his majestic white mustache.

Viktor’s face went pale upon recognizing the man. “Sir… Marsh…”

“Good morning, everyone,” the man said with a strut, analyzing the trio with his monocle. “Good morning, sir Luka.” he bowed slightly with respect.

“Uh… Good morning,” Luka replied, caught off guard by the unexpected arrival of such a figure. The last time he had seen this man was at the council, and it was the first time they had properly met. He was the eldest son of the Sora family and the elder brother of the king.

The head of the military adjusted his monocle with delicate precision. His sharp gaze shifted back to Viktor, who was now fidgeting like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Can I ask what you just bought?”

“A mana condenser…” Viktor admitted.

“That was quick!” Saki said, shocked.

“You know that your brother would be disappointed in you if he knew that,” Marsh added, a smirk tugging his lips.

“Leave my brother out of this. It was for Luka, not me.”

Marsh raised an eyebrow and glanced at Luka. “Is that so?” He then sighed slightly, patting Viktor on the back. “No matter. It’s only illegal because you’re not allowed to buy it but it’s also the vendor’s fault for selling it to you…” His gaze turned toward the vendor, who bowed his head, beads of sweat forming on his brow. “I suggest you be more careful with who you sell to, my friend,” Marsh warned, his tone sharp yet composed. “You never know what kind of trouble these young men can stir up.”

“Yes, Sir! I’m sorry!” the vendor stammered, glancing nervously between Viktor and Luka.

“Wait, it’s illegal?” Luka asked, genuinely confused at the situation.

“Why, of course,” Marsh replied. “Only authorized people can buy these stones.” He sighed once more. “I will look the other way this time. I have business far more important today.”

Viktor shot Luka a nervous glance, his bravado deflating a little. “Uh, thanks, Sir Marsh. We really appreciate it!”

“Just don’t make a habit of this,” Marsh warned, his gaze shifting back to Viktor. “You’re fortunate I trust you, but others may not be so lenient.” He straightened, his imposing presence commanding respect. Turning his heels towards Luka, his tone became far more serious. “Now, I have business with you, Sir Luka.”

Both Saki and Viktor looked at him in disbelief. “What the hell did you do?” Saki whispered urgently in his ear, her eyes wide with concern.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing of the sort,” Marsh assured, his voice steady. “’Tis a mere conversation I wish to have with him.”

Luka felt a knot form in his stomach. The last thing he wanted was to go back to the castle, he only had bad memories and his time there was already far away. He was much better off staying in the lower city, training with his master, and talking to his new friends.

“What about?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the unease coursing through him.

“Just follow me,” Marsh replied, turning on his heel and gesturing for Luka to walk alongside him. The sharp click of his polished booth echoed through the market as he moved away from it.

“It’s best if we leave you alone,” Viktor murmured to him. “He didn’t seem to ask us to be here. Good luck!”

Luka nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation as he followed Marsh through the bustling market. The vibrant colors and sounds of vendors hawking their wares faded into the background as he concentrated on the imposing figure leading him away.

They soon arrived in front of a big house in the higher city, one that was unfamiliar to Luka. Marsh knocked at the door, and the entered, signaling Luka to follow him.

A chill ran down his spine. What if it was a trap? How could he know? But his worries were soon swept away when he saw a figure step out of the door. A young girl, about three years old.

“Uncle Marsh!” the young girl said, waving her arms in the air to welcome the army man. The sight of the small girl, with her innocent smile and cheerful greeting, was a stark contrast to the weighty atmosphere he'd been feeling. The girl dashed forward, her tiny feet pattering against the floor as she hugged Marsh's leg, clearly overjoyed to see him.

The stoic military figure who had such authority just moments ago softened instantly. A warm smile spread across his face as he crouched down to pat the girl’s head gently. “Good morning sweetheart,” he said with a chuckle, his voice uncharacteristically tender. “How are you?”

“I’m good! Daddy made some cake today!” she giggled, bouncing excitedly before turning her curious eyes to Luka. “Who’s that?”

His eyes blinked. Even though there were a lot of dark-skinned people in the market earlier, the fact that this girl was meant…

“Is Jason your dad?” Luka asked. Did he mention he had a kid? That was the only explanation he had.

“That’s right,” Marsh explained. “Jason is from Steamveil, though the country was swallowed by the sand not long ago…” the man’s face soured as he remembered what happened. “He came to Sora when he was young to escape from his family back there. He had… A lot of family issues. And his life was in danger.”

“So he built his life here…” Luka muttered to himself before flashing a bright smile at the little girl. “Hello there, my name’s Luka. I’m a friend of your dad.” He crouched down and extended his hand toward her, hoping to break the ice.

The girl beamed up at him and took his hand, her grip surprisingly firm for such a small hand. “Your daddy made cake? What flavor?” Luka asked, intrigued.

“Lemon!” the girl giggled with shining eyes. He could tell she was salivating just thinking about it.

“Well, I hope I will get some,” Marsh added.

The small girl pouted, placing her hands on her hips. “No! It’s all for me!”

“You need to share, Sonia,” Jason’s deep voice echoed from the kitchen. The big man emerged, ducking slightly to avoid the doorframe as he glanced at Marsh.

“Uncle Marsh, what a surprise!” Jason chuckled, playing along with his daughter’s name. His gaze turned to Luka, though a bit confused. “And Luka too, I see.”

“Jason, we need to talk,” Marsh whispered, hoping for him to take the hint.

Jason’s expression turned serious as he immediately understood what was happening. With a smile, he turned towards his daughter. “Could you go and help mom? She is preparing the lemons for the cake.”

“Alright!” Sonia chirped, skipping off toward the kitchen.

Once they were alone, Jason’s features hardened slightly. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and sighed. “What’s going on, Sir?”

Marsh cleared his throat, straightening his back while looking at Luka. With a grand inspiration, he blurted out. “The king is dead.”

Jason’s eyes closed momentarily, a look of resigned acceptance crossing his face. While Luka stood there, still not understanding why he was here in the first place.

“This morning, while his daughter the princess came to visit him, he was already gone,” Marsh continued, his voice low and somber. Though the man looked grand and majestic, Luka felt it was hard for him. The lump in his throat couldn’t be heard, but it was there. “We knew he didn’t have long but…”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Luka whispered. He knew the men were related, that was all he could do. He had never seen the man nor talked to him nor was he attached to the king to feel somewhat a loss.

“Thank you,” Marsh replied, a slight nod acknowledging Luka’s sympathy.

“I suppose the funeral will be held today,” Jason sighed, his expression growing solemn. “It’s customary to honor the fallen king as soon as possible, especially in times like these.”

“Yes, the ceremony will be held just before lunch. Of course, you are both invited.”

“What?” Luka blinked. “Why would I be invited?” He cleared his throat, realizing he might have overstepped. “I mean, no intention to be rude or anything, but I don’t think I deserve to be invited at all…”

Jason raised an eyebrow as well, confused. “That’s true. The princess is the one that kicked him out of the castle, so why…”

“It was a request from the king himself. Before his death.” Marsh interjected, knowing how much of a bombshell that was.

Luka’s eyes widened in disbelief. “He what? I don’t even know him! We never met!”

“True,” Marsh nodded. “But he especially demanded that you attend his funeral. He even wrote a letter to you. Well… He didn’t technically write it, but it still counts.” With that, he pulled a small envelope from the interior pocket of his uniform and handed it to Luka.

Luka took the envelope, still not believing what was happening. What was even going on? A letter, for him? With a deep breath, he broke the seal and carefully unfolded the letter. His eyes scanned the neat handwriting, and his face decomposed.

Was this a joke? It had to be a joke, even if it was a bad one.

“What does it say?” Jason asked. Seeing the young man’s frown told him this was bad news.

“There is only one single sentence. Please protect my daughter, signed Albius Sora.”

He turned the paper, but everything else was blank. Everyone stood silent, at loss for words.

“This makes no sense, it’s stupid,” Luka spat out, feeling anger rise within him. “He doesn’t know me, and out of all people, he would ask ME to protect his daughter?” He started fuming, gripping the letter tightly. “As I recall, there was a certain someone that was from my world. Didn’t he kill many people? I could be like Desmond and—”

“The king trusts you,” Marsh stated, interrupting Luka in his rant.

“Well, this makes no sense! I’m sorry but why would I care about the words of a dying old man?”

Jason uncrossed his arms. “Please, don’t say that about—”

“But that’s what it is!” the young man threw his hands in the air, feeling like he couldn’t contain it anymore. “I’ve never met him! Nobody trusts me here! Not even you two, I bet,” he said, pointing at the two men. “You’re just keeping an eye on me to see whether or not I am up to something.”

He exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself down. But it only heightened his anger and confusion further. Everything was going great, recently. Apart from the menace of the Empire looming over the country, all he had to do was train with his master, wait for her to find a way to send him back home, and everything would be alright.

“I refuse,” Luka stated, looking Marsh dead in the eye. “I don’t care about his last will, in fact, I don’t care about this place at all. I thank you all for your hospitality, but—”

“Please,” the army man pleaded. “I know your position, but—”

“No!” Luka cut him off, his voice shaking with frustration. “You don’t know anything. I just recovered from a fatal wound that I got, mind you, because I tried to help.” His breath was ragged, and he could see the two men were unusually patient with him, which only irritated him further. “I didn’t ask to be here. All I want is to go home, back to my world. Besides, this makes no sense. This request is crazy.”

Jason, despite the tense atmosphere, smirked and shook his head, stifling a chuckle. “I think I know why he asked you personally.”

Luka turned on him, his frustration boiling over. “You think? Then why? Do you all want another reminder of what happened with Desmond? Huh?” His voice rose as he jabbed a finger into his chest. “First off, why in the hell would you give me his clothes back then? I still don’t get it.”

The two men exchanged a look but said nothing.

“When I first arrived, the clothes you gave me were his,” Luka continued, yanking at the collar of his jacket with a furious motion. “The first thing you do to someone coming from the same world as the guy that screwed you all over is give him the stuff that monster left behind? What is wrong with all of you?”

There was a brief silence, and then Marsh, to Luka’s surprise, allowed a small, wry smirk to tug at the corner of his lips. “The king personally instructed us to give you those clothes if they fit.”

Luka’s anger faltered for a second. “Wait… what?”

“It was symbolic,” Marsh added. “Desmond wasn’t always the monster you were told of. He was very appreciated by the king, he helped this very kingdom. For a time, he was the most trusted person around here,” the army man sighed, thinking of simpler times. “The king was persuaded, even to this day, that Desmond did what he did because he didn’t have a choice. Yes, he murdered precious people, but in the mind of a lot of people here, he was a good person who lost his way.”

“I believe the king thought all this time that it was his fault for Desmond’s betrayal. So this time, he wanted to succeed… With you.”

Luka stood there, even more confused. The image he’d built of Desmond, his predecessor, the villain that caused the fall of the knights of Sora and the death of Wrimbo and Ilys, suddenly seemed less bleak. “Still…” he sighed, feeling his anger subside.

“The king doesn’t know you?” Jason smiled as if reading Luka’s mind. “That’s true. He never met you, not even once. But he did see his daughter often.”

“Huh?” Luka furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of Jason's words. “What does that have to do with me?”

“After you left for Ryuuji, she had high hopes for you,” Jason continued. “She said something that surprised me.”

“‘For some reason… he reminds me a little bit of Wrimbo,’ she had said,” Marsh added.

Luka’s heart skipped a bit, his face reddening a little. “Me? Like Wrimbo?” he echoed with incredulity. “Maybe I have some traits in common, but I’m clearly not like him.”

“That, we agree on it,” Jason chuckled softly.

“Anyway, that’s probably why the king trusted you,” Marsh interjected, his tone serious once more. “He trusted his daughter’s judgment of you, perhaps.”

“That’s the reason why he gave me this letter? Still…”

Stupid. All of it was stupid. Luka couldn’t believe it. This simple letter lacked any common sense. He didn’t want to go to this funeral, nor did he want to even honor the last will of the king. In fact, he couldn’t care less about all of this.

“Please, mister Luka,” Marsh bowed. “At least attend the funeral. The king always had great instincts. I believe him inviting you in his last will had some meaning.”

The young man hesitated. Of course, this morning was off from his training, the timing was too great. Clenching his fists in frustration, he sighed in resignation. “Fine,” he relented. “I’ll go. But I won’t honor this letter.”

Marsh’s expression softened with gratitude. “That’s all I’m asking, sir Luka. Just your presence.” The man then turned to Jason. “Will you please borrow him some clothes? You shall be ready in an hour.”

“Understood,” Jason nodded, his demeanor shifting to a more serious one. He glanced at Luka. “Come on, let’s find something suitable for you. I know a place where we can get something that fits.”

With a sigh, Luka followed him. This clearly was starting as a bad day…

“You look good.” Jason gave him an approving nod. They were walking towards the castle, both wearing a black tuxedo that Jason had in his wardrobe. Though Luka was not used to wearing such classy clothes, he still appreciated looking good on occasion. Tuxedos of course weren’t common, and while Jason was always wearing one during formal occasions, he was the only one having these kinds of clothes.

“They are from my family,” he had said, showing proudly his collection to the young man. To Luka, they all looked the same but Jason could always tell a difference between each one.

They soon arrived near the garden, where the ceremony was going to be held. Everything was already neatly arranged, as if they had prepared it for days beforehand.

Jason placed a hand on Luka’s shoulder. “Please be respectful,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to say anything. Just being here matters.”

Luka shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the gathering crowd. “As far as I’m concerned, Morgann doesn’t want me to be here…”

“I know,” Jason replied, his voice steady. “But it doesn’t matter right now. Let’s just stay silent; it’s beginning.”

Luka nodded, feeling the atmosphere of the moment settling in. He watched as the attendees took their places, their faces somber and solemn. It was a small gathering of around fifty people, here, in the cemetery of the garden where the royal family was buried as per to tradition. The sun was bright and high in the sky as it approached noon, the heat starting to feel suffocating in this early spring. Flowers were neatly arranged around the tombs, their vibrant colors standing out against the grey and stony area.

The sound of rustling leaves and whispered condolences filled the air as the attendees approached the members of the royal family; Safaran, Marsh, and Morgann, to speak to them with compassion. For a royal palace and burial, it felt intimate and strangely modest. There was no grand ceremony throughout the city, only an announcement on the streets once the new ruler had been decided as per the dead king’s last will.

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Morgann, sitting next to her uncles and Maria, the head maid. She was wearing all black, her hair slightly hiding her expressionless face. Something stabbed Luka through the chest, like needles. He quickly glanced away, looking at the coffin where the king was installed.

In this world, embalming was fairly quick and was done by mages, which explained the speed at which the funeral happened.

“It’s for the close ones to grieve faster,” Jason had explained when Luka had asked about the speed of the preparations.

Despite everything that had happened, Luka couldn’t shake the feeling of disconnection. The modesty of the ceremony, the restrained grief—none of it matched the grandeur or drama he’d come to expect from the royal family. Instead, it felt real, human, and that somehow made it harder for him to keep his own emotions at bay.

As he looked around, he decided to check if he saw Kanami. It had been a while since he had seen her, and, after he had heard of her imprisonment for a few days, he slightly worried about her. His eyes darted to the castle behind him, and there, he saw a figure perched by a window high up in the castle.

The cloaked figure was unmistakably Kanami. She sat on the stone ledge, her dark cloak fluttering in the breeze, watching the proceedings from a distance. There was a distinct tension about her—like she was there, but not really part of the event.

Smiling faintly, he felt a strange sense of relief. Without hesitation, he quickly waved at her, which she noticed almost immediately. With a smile, she waved back, before turning her attention back to the princess.

The ceremony was about to begin.

Jason was called to approach the reading desk, his presence commanding the attention of the small gathering. He stood tall, his voice calm and measured as he began, "By the three dragons, let us begin this ceremony to honor the life of our beloved king..."

Luka stifled a yawn, already feeling regret and discomfort about attending. He shifted slightly where he stood, trying to focus but struggling to connect with the gravity of the moment. As Jason spoke of the king’s virtues, his leadership, and the legacy he left behind, Luka’s mind wandered. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't feel the same reverence that everyone else seemed to hold.

It was all so distant to him, this world, its people, everything was stranger to him.

Like he was to everyone else.

Even though he could feel some sort of empathy for Morgann, he still had in mind what she did to Kanami. He couldn’t care less about being kicked out of the castle, even if she was the reason why he was in this world in the first place.

As Jason’s voice carried over the silent crowd, Luka glanced around, catching sight of Morgann again. She sat silently, her expression unreadable, but the sadness in her posture was clear. It was as if she wasn’t even there, just like him, her mind wandering to other places.

What was he doing here, pretending to care when no emotions coursed through him? This felt wrong, even if he had agreed to attend this funeral, he felt like an impostor here.

He reminisced about his time spent in this world. What did he accomplish here? Nothing. His will to go home grew stronger by the minute, feeling a knot form in his stomach. The scent of death made him nauseous. Hearing about a grand life the man had lived, a grand life that was now over made his stomach churn.

His jaw clenched, trying to remain expressionless. This was all wrong, everything about it was wrong. He was like a spectator, witnessing someone’s else life playing before his eyes. That’s why he couldn’t care less about their lives, that’s why he shouldn’t have gotten involved with anyone in this world. Kanami, Viktor, and Saki were exceptions to the unspoken rule he told himself when he arrived here.

He surprised himself staring at Morgann mindlessly. There was nothing he could do for her sadness, her pain. In fact, he couldn’t care less, he repeated in his head.

I don’t care about her… He repeated, over and over in his hand, burning this thought in his head, trying to find reasons as to why he shouldn’t care, ideas on how he shouldn’t care. But the more he repeated it, the more hollow it felt. He searched for reasons why he shouldn’t care, for ideas to justify his detachment, but they all rang false.

He hated it. This place where we parted with death, with someone. This place that was unforgiving to everyone here. This place that he understood perfectly, but didn’t want to care about.

The ceremony felt like a blur. Once he blinked, the coffin was already lowered inside the catacombs, where the members of the royal family were buried. And once it was done, Luka sighed, looking around one more time.

He noticed Safaran Sora, as well as his son, Archibald. The both of them looked saddened, heartbroken in a solemn silence. Perhaps it was custom for the family to not weep during a funeral, but Luka could sense their sorrow from here. Which surprised him, considering Archibald irritated him.

Luka couldn’t help but feel a twinge of empathy as he observed their expressions. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, he couldn’t ignore the very human pain on display. Archibald’s usual bravado was stripped away, leaving behind a vulnerability that Luka rarely saw.

The ceremony followed with the members of the family taking their turns to speak in front of the attendees. The first one was Marsh.

“I would first like to give my thanks to everyone gathered here. Your presence today is a testament to the impact our beloved king had on all of our lives.” He paused, glancing at the entrance of the catacombs behind him, his voice thick with emotion. “His wisdom, kindness, and strength guided us through countless challenges, and though we mourn his passing, we also celebrate the legacy he leaves behind.”

Next was Safaran, who approached the podium with a somber expression. He took a deep breath, visibly struggling to hold back tears. “As a brother, I have lost more than a king today; I have lost my closest confidant. Together, we faced adversities that could have torn us apart, yet he always believed in me, in us.” His voice wavered as he continued, “I will carry his memory with me, guiding my decisions as I strive to be the ruler he would have wanted.”

Luka’s eyebrow raised as he listened to Safaran’s speech, the words striking him as oddly preemptive. It felt less like a eulogy and more like a declaration of his future role as king. He glanced at Jason, his confusion clear.

Jason, noticing Luka’s gaze, leaned in and whispered, "The next ruler shall be decided after all of this. But... it’s basically already set that Safaran is next in line."

Luka nodded slightly, but the thought lingered. As the plump man stood down from his speech, someone came inside the crowd, asking people to move.

As Safaran stepped down from his speech, the quiet murmur of the crowd was interrupted by a man’s deep voice. “Excuse me,” he called, gently pushing his way through the gathered attendees. His presence was commanding, his broad shoulders and imposing figure making people instinctively move aside.

“...” Luka froze up.

“Excuse me,” the man said, pushing aside gently Luka. Though no one noticed anything, Luka felt uneasy.

This voice.

It was Morgann’s turn. But as she was asked to come and talk on the podium, she refused. Though people murmured about it, it was understandable as she was the one discovering her father’s corpse earlier.

This voice…

But his mind was elsewhere. Luka stood frozen, his heart racing as the man’s voice echoed in his mind. All of a sudden, he felt like throwing up, the knot in his stomach tightening further.

With all of these feelings bubbling up inside, he couldn’t think straight anymore. His mind had become a swirl of thoughts all mixing, forming incoherent conclusions.

“Control…” he whispered. Something inside him changed instantly. The control spell, the one his master taught him, was capable of blocking off emotions and thoughts easily.

One with his body he became, and thus, his thoughts became coherent again by suppressing this overwhelming emotion.

Fear.

Out of all his memories, he remembered the voice. This memory that his mind had tried to suppress all this time. Even though he couldn’t feel fear anymore, he still felt the phantom pain of something piercing his chest, the warm blood pooling down on the floor, as well as the cold sand he felt that day.

“I shall now read the last wills of the king that decides of the heir to the throne,” Marsh’s voice boomed inside the garden.

Luka glanced at Morgann again, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Pieces of an immense puzzle started coming together in his mind at a rapid pace.

Marsh unfolded the parchment, the garden fell into an eerie silence.

She was sitting quietly, still with a distant expression.

Was he the only one aware of what was going on?

He looked back at the man who passed beside him. All wearing black, he leaned close to Safaran’s ear, whispering something to the grieving man.

Marsh’s voice cut through the silence again as he began to read. “In accordance with the will of King Sora…” He paused, his eyes scanning the parchment before continuing, “...the heir to the throne shall be none other than—”

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Marsh's hand trembled slightly, not believing what he was seeing, and his voice faltered. "—Princess Morgann Sora."

Luka’s stomach dropped. He saw Safaran’s face decomposing live, as well as the disbelief of everyone in the crowd.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Luka knew that more than anyone. Morgann stood up, confusion etched on her face. “W-What?”

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, an electric current of confusion and surprise flowing through the gathered attendees. Safaran's face paled, his eyes darting between the parchment and Morgann, as if searching for answers that were never meant to be there.

Marsh cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “It is written here… that the king believed in the strength and capabilities of his daughter, Morgann Sora, to lead this kingdom into a new era.”

Safaran said nothing. Instead, he gave a cold look towards Morgann, one that sent shivers crawling down Luka’s spine. Everyone’s attention was gathered towards the princess, the next queen of Sora.

Morgann took a deep breath and, unexpectedly, she looked toward the crowd. “I shall accept his decision with honor!” she declared, taking everyone by surprise.

“Well… This is unexpected,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“That is all,” Marsh’s voice boomed again, anchoring the reality of the situation even further. “We shall now address Morgann Sora as Queen of this kingdom!”

The declaration hung in the air, thick and heavy. “The crowning ceremony shall be held in a week, at the Cathedral of Victory!” he declared. “Thank you all for coming; this closes the funeral of our dear king.”

A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd, some expressing disbelief, others curious about the upcoming crowning.

Morgann quickly left the scene, without saying another word. Jason sighed heavily beside Luka. “She clearly isn’t ready. I wonder why…”

Luka’s jaw clenched, feeling a sense of imminent dread. “She just lost her father,” he said quietly, trying to remain calm. “And now she’s being thrust into this role she never asked for. It’s a lot for anyone to handle.”

Jason nodded with saddened eyes. “Yes. I don’t blame her.”

But the man quickly glanced at Luka and saw the tension in his eyes. “Is everything alright?” he asked, his voice low.

Luka’s heart raced and he gulped loudly. “Please follow me,” he said with urgency.

Jason furrowed his brow but listened and followed Luka towards the inner garden. There, they were alone, and Luka turned around, visibly panicked.

“Do you remember the man who pushed everyone to reach Safaran?” Luka asked, his eyes darting everywhere around him.

“Yes, but…”

“I can’t remember his face,” Luka said, his tone firm. “I saw his face but whenever I try to remember him, it’s clouded.”

Jason’s eyes widened. His years of experience were telling him something was very wrong with Luka’s tone. “What is going on?”

“I remember his voice,” Luka said, his breath hitched. “That’s the man who tried to kill me back in Kaathal.”

“Wait—”

“It’s Safaran’s turf. A maid told me he had a retainer right? And he was supposed to take the throne once Albius was dead…”

“That’s impossible,” Jason said, his tone firm. “Safaran had never shown any signs of treason in decades. He could’ve done this a long time ago, why now?”

“I don’t care why. I’m sure of it. He is the traitor.”

“And now he is gone from the ceremony,” Jason sighed, glancing back toward the attendees. The bench where the man had been seated was now empty, and the crowd was starting to disperse around the castle.

“You go look for him on the east aisle, I will go look for him in the west one,” Jason ordered, looking around to find sights of Safaran.

“Sorry, but no,” Luka replied, his voice firm.

Jason turned, surprise flickering across his face. “What do you mean, no? We need to split up!”

Luka shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I don’t care anymore. I gave you the information, now I’m out.”

“You cannot be serious,” Jason said, disbelief etched on his face.

Luka took a deep breath, and while turning around he sighed. “I’m going to be late to my training. Bye.”

Jason’s expression hardened into rage as he grabbed Luka by the collar. “Are you kidding me? Do you even care about anything in your life besides yourself?”

“That’s right. I don’t care about anyone. You got me, now let me go,” Luka shot back, trying to wriggle free from Jason’s grip.

“Even Kanami?” Jason’s grip tightened with cold anger. “You would betray the trust she has in you?”

Luka’s eyes met Jason’s, and for a moment, the big man recoiled as he saw a side he never thought he would see in him. “Yeah. I couldn’t care less about ANYONE here. I’m done with this world and its people.”

As he said that, Luka’s eyes shot up, seeing Kanami walking down the corridor of the east aisle, alone while grabbing a few biscuits.

“So your demeanor of being nice to everyone is just for show? You lied to her when you told her she was your friend?” Jason pressed, disappointed.

“It seems she already had one if she talked about it to you,” Luka shot back, a smug grin spreading across his face.

Jason’s expression turned to disgust, his disappointment deepening as he released Luka from his grasp.

When the young man fell back onto his feet, he sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and relief. As Jason visibly stopped wasting his time with him and headed toward a guard to inquire about Safaran, Luka rubbed his neck and leaned against the wall, allowing the weight of his words to settle in.

The sight of Kanami walking alone was burned in his mind, knowing what it implied. He bit his lips in frustration as his fists clenched with all of his force. Even after everything he had said, he couldn’t lie to himself.

He was worried.

Without warning, he started sprinting towards the woods. Jason noticed it and turned around. “What is this idiot doing…” he muttered under his breath before catching up to him. “Stop right there!”

Morgann breathed heavily inside the woods north of the castle. In front of the tombs of her former friend, she wept as tears couldn’t stop flowing down her cheeks. It took a while, but she was now feeling the pain she had held since this morning.

Each sob felt like a release, a catharsis she had desperately needed but had been too overwhelmed to allow until now. She knelt before the stones the strength of her lower limbs leaving her. “Dad…” she cried, burying her face in her hands.

If only… If only she was stronger she could’ve saved them, him. A wave of disgust and guilt washed over her. She was disgusted of herself, for being so naïve and stupid, for not doing anything, for not deserving her title as queen.

In that moment, she wished she could turn back time, return to years of innocence and laughter, mundane moments with her loved ones.

“Are you alright, dear?” a bubbly voice stirred her from her sorrow. As she looked back, she saw the face of her lovely uncle, the one who supported her for years. One of the last remnants of the old days.

“Uncle…” she whispered, whipping her tears away, the warmth of his presence offering her a flicker of comfort amidst her grief.

She hugged him tightly, finding solace in his embrace. “It’s hard, I know…” Safaran cooed softly, patting her head gently. Tears fell down his cheeks as well, mirroring her pain.

“I don’t want to… I don’t want to…” she repeated, hiding her face further and further inside her uncle’s embrace.

Safaran held her closer, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. “You did nothing wrong, dear. Everything will be okay.”

With a sniffle, she calmed down as Safaran rubbed her hair gently.

“Are you afraid of the dark?”

A voice echoed inside Morgann's head, which surprised her with a yelp. A figure loomed in behind her as darkness drew closer to her sense of self. Sound, sight, everything turned to dark.

Until she heard a rush of steps and a single voice cut through it.

“No.”

A shock reverberated throughout the woods. In a surprised movement, Morgann turned around, liberating herself from her uncle's embrace.

There, she saw it. A figure cloaked in black, standing tall with his arm glowing brightly was about to strike her down.

And below, a young man in a jacket stopped the figure's fist, straining under the force of the blow.

“Finally I find you…” Luka gasped, his breath heavy with exertion as he was using all of his strength just to hold back the attack. His eyes locked onto the masked man, filled with determination and resolve.

Safaran stepped forward, his demeanor shifting instantly from grief to anger. “You! How dare you—” he shouted as he reached to grab Morgann’s arm.

“Not happening,” Jason’s voice echoed from behind as he lunged forward, grabbing Morgann and pulling her away just in time.

“You! You! Because of you, everything is crumbling down!” Safaran ranted, his finger shaking with rage as he pointed at Luka.

“Finally, I know who’s been a pain in my ass since I got here!” Luka growled, refusing to back down as he faced the masked figure.

“Tch!” the masked figure stepped back but was soon met with a fist from Luka, aimed directly at his face.

The blow connected with a sickening thud, causing the figure to stagger momentarily. Luka seized the opportunity to push forward, his adrenaline surging as he aimed another strike.

The masked figure recovered quickly, glaring at Luka with the single eye visible beneath his hood. “I failed as an assassin, seeing how you are still alive…” he said in a cold, calculating voice. With a swift motion, he stepped back and muttered under his breath once more.

“Are you afraid of the dark?”

In an instant, a dark cloud surrounded everyone, and as soon as it disappeared, Safaran and the masked man had disappeared.

“What just happened?” Morgann asked, her voice trembling as she tried to grasp the sudden shift in reality.

“Are you alright, your Majesty?” Jason asked, his grip on her tightening protectively.

“I… I think so,” Morgann stammered, still reeling from the shock. “Where did they go?”

“They must have used some kind of magic to escape,” Jason replied, his brow furrowed in concern.

“What about my uncle?” Morgann’s voice wavered as panic began to creep in. “He’s out there with that man!”

“He’s…” Jason stopped, visibly pained.

“He’s the one that’s been trying to kill me and tried to kill you two,” Luka explained bluntly. “HIs bodyguard, Julius was the masked guy.”

Morgann’s face went blank, her limbs dropping in defeat.

“Luka!” Jason shouted.

“That’s the truth,” Luka insisted, his eyes narrowing as he stared back defiantly at Jason. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a training to attend to.”

He quickly pulled out a talisman from his jacket and used mana on it. In an instant, he disappeared without leaving any trace behind.

“Your Majesty?” Jason said, glancing back at her, confusion and frustration flooding his senses. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond, her gaze locked on the spot where Luka had stood moments before. Jason sighed as he held her close, his jaw clenching in rage.

“For fuck’s sake, Luka…”

A few minutes later, on the main road, Archibald was walking down, reminiscing the events of this morning.

A few minutes later, on the main road, Archibald was walking down, his thoughts swirling around the events of the morning. The sounds of the bustling market filled the air, but they barely registered in his mind as he replayed the image of the dead king, withered and fragile.

He shook his head, trying to push away the feeling of loss. The man had been a great king, someone Archibald admired, and it had taken a toll on him to witness his death.

As he continued walking, he quickly stumbled upon a group of armed guards, their eyes locking onto him with a menacing intensity.

“Sir Archibald!” the men shouted, cutting through the clamor of the streets. Their boots resonated on the paved floor as they formed a circle around him. The commander stepped forward, sword drawn and aimed at Archibald.

“Sir Archibald Sora, you are under arrest for suspicion of treason against the crown!”

Archibald’s heart sank, disbelief flooding his senses. “Treason? What are you talking about?” he exclaimed, raising his hands in protest.

“Don’t play games with us!” the commander snapped, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. He gestured to his men. “Take him, boys!”

Archibald’s mind raced, trying to process the absurdity of the accusation. “What are you saying? What’s going on!”

“Enough!” the commander interrupted, stepping closer. “Your father tried to assassinate the now queen of Sora. You will be heard and listened to if you are innocent!”

The words hit Archibald like a physical blow, his stomach twisting in disbelief. “My father? That’s impossible! He would never do something like that!”

“You shall talk about this to my superiors. Now let’s go!”

In front of the onlookers, the guards silently chained him up by the arms and ankles and shoved him in the direction of the castle. Throughout the day, word of the attempted assassination quickly circulated, and even before the official announcement, word leaked out that Morgann had become queen…