The Sin of Humanity

The scene returned to the restaurant where Mihon and Youray had been. They had finished their meal, paid the bill, and were about to leave.

At that moment, the eyes of Raiven's group fell upon the red insignia adorning Mihon and Youray's chests.

One of them said dismissively,

— I've never seen that banner before… No wonder we've never heard of them. Must be a new faction.

Another added mockingly,

— Looks like they're just getting started… Poor fools, thinking it's easy to be a rebel.

As Mihon and Youray approached the table where Raiven and his group were seated, Raiven spoke in a scrutinizing tone, his gaze fixed on Mihon's face:

— What's your name?

Mihon cast a cold glance at him, then continued walking in silence.

Jack stood up angrily:

— You bastard! The leader is speaking to you!

But Raiven held his arm and stopped him.

Youray tilted his head slightly and said in a tone devoid of any emotion:

— You're lucky he caught you... And let it be known, I don't recognize any laws in this city — or in this entire world. If you want to know someone... you must introduce yourself first.

Raiven's men sprang to their feet, furious.

— You bastards! Who do you think you are?!

But a firm voice interrupted them:

— I am Raiven Bethorn.

Mihon paused, turned, and looked at him, saying:

— And I am Mihon… It was good to learn your name. We'll meet again… in better circumstances than these.

Raiven's followers sat down one by one, as if a single glance from their leader had sealed their mouths shut — they swallowed their anger and fell silent.

Mihon and Youray left the restaurant and resumed wandering through the streets of the city.

In the royal family's palace, activity never ceased. Servants ran in every direction, for the upcoming event was of utmost importance. The palace, vast and luxurious, was adorned along its corridors with grand paintings and intricate carvings, housing a countless number of rooms.

In one of those rooms, dark and shadowed, a nobleman stood before another man kneeling on his knees.

The standing man spoke in a low voice,

— Is everything proceeding according to plan?

The kneeling man replied,

— Yes, my lord. Everything is under control. I have summoned them; they will arrive within two days.

— Good. Prepare a place for them to stay until the festival day arrives.

— As you command.

The nobleman asked,

— To which class do they belong?

— Class (C)... highly skilled professionals in this kind of mission.

Though their features were obscured in the darkness, the tone of the standing man carried an air of dignity and nobility.

In one of the city's streets, two young men were strolling and talking about the upcoming festival. The first had sharp features, black hair, and blue eyes, wearing dark blue clothes and tall white boots. The other had a youthful face and brown eyes, dressed similarly. They were none other than Amis and his friend Ramber.

Ramber said, — Who do you think will inherit the throne among the five princes? And who do you want to inherit it?

Amis replied indifferently, — I don't care who it is... What matters to me is that he serves the kingdom's interests.

Ramber chuckled, — A liar! Look who's talking about the "kingdom's interests"! You only carry out your missions reluctantly, and if it weren't for the commander protecting you, you would have been dismissed long ago... Tell me, Amis, do you do this because you don't truly belong to this land?

Before Amis could answer, a steady beep interrupted: "Tin... tin... tin..."

Amis took out a small device shaped like a sunflower, pressed a side button, and a different paper slipped out; from the device came a voice: — Amis, go with Ramber to the Grand Square, near the fountain. There's someone causing trouble.

Amis responded, — Understood.

He then turned off the device and set off with Ramber.

In the grand hall of the palace, adorned with wooden and metal statues, the King of Randor sat upon his majestic throne, surrounded by a long table flanked by luxurious chairs.

The king spoke to the man standing before him:

— Is everything prepared as I ordered?

The man replied:

— Yes, Your Majesty. The soldiers will arrive within three days, and the knights are spread everywhere to handle any external threat that might disrupt the festival.

The king nodded and said:

— This festival will host many important figures... I do not want any incident that could embarrass us in front of them. I rely on you, Felix.

The king was in his fifties, wearing a golden crown studded with colorful jewels, a red robe embroidered with golden and blue hearts, tight white trousers, and spotless white shoes.

As for Felix, he was in his forties, of a sturdy build, with a brown beard leaning to the right, dressed in a black suit decorated with blue stripes.

Felix bowed and said:

— If you have no further orders, Your Majesty, I shall take my leave.

Then he bowed with discipline and quietly left the hall.