Chapter One: Whispers of the Wind, Old Friends
Above the night sky, the Milky Way flows.
Under the moonlight, the night scene of Ethanbel Royal City is vibrant, with bustling roads illuminated by flickering lights. People come and go, and carriages flow like a river, making it intoxicating to lose oneself in the atmosphere.
On the banks of the Sabel River, fishing boats finish their work, gently swaying with the waves as they dock. Fishermen disembark, hauling in their nets full of struggling fish, scales glinting in hues of yellow and red under the lamplight, while the fishermen laugh heartily, eyes gleaming with joy over their harvest.
To the south of the riverbank, a lively marketplace is overcrowded. The aroma of food wafts through the air, and a portly uncle selling Morlm sausages is shouting his lungs out, with nobles’ servants lining up non-stop at stalls, all on orders from their masters to buy treats for their new lady companions. Such errands are common gossip among servants, and if they bump into someone familiar, you can count on some teasing, gossiping about whose master might be up for a double date tonight.
Not far from the tavern’s entrance, a woman in revealing attire clings to a man just as he tries to enter. He hesitates, looking morally upright but clearly amused, before reluctantly being led in by her.
Inside the tavern, the noise reaches a crescendo—voices calling out, laughter, chest-thumping bravado, all mingling with the smells of sweat and dried fish. It’s enough to send any self-respecting noble from the Royal City running for the hills, yet for the city dwellers, it’s the best hangout for night-time escapades. Any juicy news typically leaks out from here, sometimes even faster than the “official” channels.
Of course, the truth behind the gossip is always under scrutiny.
“Come on! Down this drink, and I’ll throw you a bombshell…”
At a table, a rough-and-tumble man, feeling buzzed, raises his cup while drinking alongside his rowdy companions. He slams down a hearty pint of beer, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “You’ve all heard about the chaotic royal infighting back in the Valen Empire, right? That Skarlij mutt and the dog-eat-dog action?”
“Who hasn’t heard?” another chimes in, an arm draped around the waist of a lovely companion, chuckling. “The rumors are everywhere! Didn’t they say the Northern Army was already at the royal gates, only to be stopped by the Fourth Knights? That Skarlij was poisoned by his lover, so I thought it was all over, but from your tone, it sounds like there’s more to the story?”
“Do tell, do tell…”
The tales of highborn nobles feuding and displaying their dirty laundry have always tickled the city folk, and the request for another round of drinks quickly follows for the storyteller.
As the drinks are served, the man takes a sip, scanning the faces at the table with a mischievous glint, building up their suspense. “Who told you Skarlij is dead? He’s not only alive but engaged in a tussle with the Fourth Knights! And I heard… well, just heard, mind you.”
He leans in, lowering his voice with a conspiratorial flair, and the table leans in closer.
“A couple of days ago, a friend of mine who just came down from the north claimed he witnessed the scene! Upon being thoroughly enraged by the Church, Skarlij marched single-handedly to Moon Mountain Gorge, unleashing the Power of Order like a divine being, creating an ice mountain that came crashing down, obliterating the entire Knights!”
“……”
The man’s bubbly enthusiasm catches fire, but at such an outrageous tale, interest from his companions swiftly fizzles out.
“Pfft~”
A plump woman, dressed like a housewife, can’t help but roll her eyes. “That acquaintance of yours wouldn’t be Douglas, would it?”
“If so, what a coincidence! I know that guy too! Last year, he went to the southern borders of the Empire, supposedly hauling grain for the army. He came back this September, and since then, he’s been spinning tales about the Church provoking the Deity and granting Skarlij divine favor, effortlessly sweeping through Moon Mountain Gorge to Chielis City, leaving a trail of corpses… pure nonsense! And you believe this?”
“Couldn’t be possible, right?” another middle-aged man pipes up, “No one believes in that divine nonsense anymore, do they?”
“Exactly! I haven’t prayed in ages! I heard some punks broke a stained glass window at the church a few nights back, and the cleric Michaele showed up next day with a lump on his head, rushed in and out, and the ceremony looked like a half-hearted joke…”
“Who did that? That’s just mean!”
“I think you’re crossing the line a bit—there’s definitely a deity! Just the one the Church talks about is probably just a scam to squeeze our coins out of us…”
“Funny how you speak like you actually tossed coins in the donation box—bet you’ve not even given a copper!”
“I think the indulgence scrolls aren’t selling well this year either.”
“Who’s got the cash for that scam?”
The group banters back and forth, discussing matters that felt almost casual in the tavern nowadays.
Everyone’s thinking along the same lines—since the rumors started swirling two years ago and the Church’s crackdown failed miserably, they simply gave up trying to contain the chaos.
At this point, the situation has descended into full-on disorder, and while remote towns may fare slightly better, in bustling Order Royal City, whispers travel fast, and reputations have long been sullied. Whatever one does will always be labeled as corrupt.
Especially since the summer of last year when the calamities in Silgaya began to impact Ethanbel; food prices skyrocketed, taxes climbed, and every citizen found their living conditions strained, leading to resentments being projected onto the Church, viewed as a corrupt entity feasting on the public’s misery, while the new Currency Exchange profits off the suffering. Meanwhile, the Church seems disinterested in managing the fallout, letting the Knowledge Association run riot while pretending to act in God’s name but living in a gangster’s attitude…
Slowly but surely, everyone has altered their once steadfast beliefs under the influence of this swirling gossip.
“Still, I believe the Northern Army is winning. Or rather, I hope they give the Fourth Knights a real run for their money.”
“Why don’t you believe? Douglas wouldn’t lie! He saw it with his own eyes alongside the royal army!”
“Yeah, yeah…”
“Maybe you should focus on selling that batch of cloth instead of worrying about your wife; I hear she didn’t let you sleep in bed last night…”
“……”
“But what if the Northern Army truly wins?”
After a moment of silence, a voice breaks, “That wouldn’t mean the Empire is switching Emperors, would it?”
…………
“… and that’s the latest war report from the southern borders of the Empire.”
Within a magnificent palace, a group of nobles is seated around a council table, listening to an elder adorned with the emblem of the Reikmont family finish his briefing. After a prolonged silence, no one dares speak.
The assembly hall is sealed, with only those few powerful representatives at the pinnacle of Ethanbel’s hierarchy present, and not a single guard in sight, not even the palace sentinels. The oppressive atmosphere thickens.
“This confidential report, it’s confirmed to be from Chielis City, written in the Queen’s own hand?”
Finally, an even older gentleman speaks up, breaking the silence.
“Confirmed without a doubt.”
The Reikmont elder nods, passing the parchment around for others to read. As each person’s expression grows more solemn, there’s an underlying excitement beneath the surface, as if wolves have caught the scent of fresh meat, eyes glistening with unmasked, ravenous desire.
“No wonder, no wonder there was no Church presence at tonight’s council meeting…”
“The Northern Army has triumphed, utterly vanquishing the Church’s Fourth Knights! Unbelievable, ha ha, unbelievable…”
“If this is true, then the Church of the Holy will face a schism far more severe than we anticipated, and the Currency Exchange isn’t as unified as they think…”
“My friends, I propose this as our opportunity, not just for us but for the whole of Ethanbel.”
“Lord Reikmont, gathering us old fogies without ties to the Church must be for this very reason, correct?”
Some inquire eagerly, some remain silent with poker faces, quietly observing others’ expressions.
The elder of the Reikmont family takes in their reactions.
After a moment’s contemplation, he smiles and says, “In my view, this war will significantly relieve the debt problems between the royal city and the Currency Exchange.”
He pauses for effect.
“And we can use this opportunity to clean up the mess within this advisory council.”
…………
On Longdoll Street, Vilo Garden.
The night is somewhat deep; inside a courtyard entwined with roses, a boy named Barry sweats profusely, swinging a dull sword with a gusto that echoes, “Ha ha!”
His sparring partner is none other than Rect, the captain of the Sword of Kanli. With his long green hair flowing, he evades gracefully, while also giving unsolicited advice, “Your angle is all wrong! You’d never hit anything like this—you’re slow…”
With a clang, he flicks Barry’s sword away effortlessly, watching as Barry plops down onto the ground, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath. Rect stifles a yawn, “Alright, that’s enough for today; take a break.”
“Captain Rect…”
Barry struggles to his feet, eyes darting to where his grandma watches from a distance. He bows deeply, expression determined, “Thank you, thank you so much. Please, I hope you’ll come to guide me again tomorrow… huff, huff, I’ll be waiting for you here.”
“Hmm, let’s see how my schedule goes tomorrow…” Rect waves his hand, yawning as he heads for the garden exit.
Barry rises, watching Rect’s retreating figure.
“… oh, wait.”
Suddenly, he seems to remember something, turning around to say, “The Northern conflict, it wrapped up recently.”
Barry blinks, puzzled.
“Skarlij scored a colossal victory, capturing the royal city and taking Keynes hostage; the City Guard and the Fourth Knights nearly got wiped out. Hmm… Your sister’s probably in the middle of all that mess; she might soon be a princess, right?”
As he continues, Rect appears a bit confused himself.
“A princess… does that even mean anything to her? It feels like it’s just giving more credit to Her Majesty the Queen. If only there was a chance for a marriage alliance… eek, no way! This mess is too complicated to be thinking about things like that! What am I even rambling about?”
“Anyway, make sure you wash up and rest well; don’t just wander off into the city…”
His voice trails off into the distance.
Leaving Barry there, lost in thought, standing silently for a long while.
…………
“Daisy, listen to me!”
“Daisy—”
In the Royal Academy dorm room 1504, a girl with a doll-like face named Sara bursts through the door, her shout startling Daisy, who is lounging on her bed at the Lakeside, causing her to jump upright in confusion.
“Daisy, listen to me!”
Sara rushes in, shuts the door, and plops down beside Daisy’s bed, her face a mix of excitement and mystery, leaving Daisy with a hundred questions, who opens and closes her mouth, uncertain on how to respond.
“What’s going on?” Daisy finally asks, taking the initiative.
“It’s Peilo’s father…”
“Hmm?”
“I overheard from my dad that Peilo’s father, Duke Skarlij, seems to be aiming to become the Emperor…”
“… huh!”
The slow-on-the-uptake girl finally covers her mouth, releasing a weak gasp after a beat.
…………
In the southern region of Silgaya, Onstan Port City.
Under the sea breeze, a merchant ship from Nogavei gently docks at the port; once the ship settles, travelers from the Eastern Continent stream off. Among the crowd, a man and woman in gray cloaks linger at the back. The man exchanges farewells with the captain, who hands him a bottle of fine rum, which he opens and takes a swig.
“Ha! This Eastern Continent liquor packs a punch, but sadly we’re heading back to the Western Continent,” he remarks, his tone laid-back.
“If you’re so reluctant, why not hop back on the ship while it’s still here?”
Beneath her hood, the woman seems to roll her eyes, bright red curls framing her face. With a swift motion, she snatches the wine bottle from his hand.
“Hey Leah, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing much.” The woman nonchalantly takes a swig from the bottle. “Just feels like you’re saying one thing but meaning another—itching to chase your little lover while pretending to be all dramatic here… I’m not happy, and you shouldn’t be either. No booze for you for the next few days.”
“Whooa, wait—”
The man attempts to reclaim his drink, “What little lover? You’re talking nonsense! Just be careful walking in the dark; you could handle her?”
She dodges, “I can take you on if it comes to that.”
Seeing her evade, the man gets even more into it, “As if you could really take me on…”
“I can take you down; just dare to hit back!”
Their playful banter quickly escalates into a full-on tussle using the Power of Order, as they pull away from the port, sparks of lightning and fire intertwining in a dazzling spectacle, speeding into the sandy woods beyond the city.
“Carlos, you b*stard, you really dare to hit me—!”
In the distance, the sound of her furious, gritted teeth can still be heard.
