?The tavern was nearly empty, save for the rhythmic sound of tearing meat and heavy chewing.
?A large man sat hunched over a table that groaned under the weight of his meal. This was Vahram. He wore his armor like a second skin, and a massive greatsword rested against the bench beside him—an ever-present companion.
?Across from him sat a woman shrouded in heavy layers. Her face was hidden, but a cascade of dark purple hair spilled free, catching the dim lantern light like spilled wine.
?Vahram tore into a mountain of roasted meat with the single-minded focus of a soldier at rest. Grease slicked his chin.
?“Seems like he really does have a good apprentice after all,” Vahram mumbled, crumbs flying with every word. “Defeating a sixteen-year-old boy while she’s only eleven? And here I thought the old bastard was exaggerating just to save face!”
?“Swallow before you speak. You are old enough to be a grandfather.”
?Her voice was sharp, like a mother scolding an unruly child, though her bearing suggested she was his equal in age and rank.
?“Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled, scratching his head with greasy fingers before taking another shameless bite. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, eh?”
?She sighed, the sound heavy with long-suffering patience.
?“Still, I should add—her opponent was no ordinary boy, either. They say the two of them took down an Isengrim before the duel.”
?Vahram froze. A chunk of meat dangled from his hand, forgotten. His eyes widened.
?“Really? An Isengrim? That’s… impressive. Maybe he’s right about her after all.”
?“About what?”
?“He thinks so highly of her… believes she could even surpass King Laius. I told him he was going senile. Talking nonsense.” Vahram chewed thoughtfully. “Maybe I was wrong.”
?The woman leaned back into the shadows, her tone quiet, tinged with curiosity. “Now I wonder about that.”
?“You wonder too, don’t you?” Vahram grinned. Then, his eyes drifted back to the bone in his hand, his expression turning philosophical.
?“I’ve never eaten Isengrim meat. I wonder what it tastes like. It’d be a shame to die without trying it.”
?The woman muttered under her breath, “We are talking about the future of the empire, and you are talking about meat…”
?“It could taste like a regular bear, I suppose. But still, it’s magical, intelligent… wouldn’t it make sense if it tasted better? Or—wait—maybe it’s worse because of the mana!”
?He laughed loudly at his own musing.
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?The woman ignored him, shifting her gaze toward the tavern window.
?So Elda’s kid lost, huh? she thought, watching the rain streak the glass. I wonder how she feels about that. Maybe she’s even glad. Who knows?
?“I have to taste it, after all!” Vahram declared triumphantly, slamming his fist on the table.
***
?Far away, in the cold grandeur of the throne room, King Charles sat in silence.
?A messenger knelt before him, head bowed low.
?“So, you’re telling me she not only defeated an Isengrim, but also beat the Viremont heir in single combat?”
?“Yes, Your Highness!” the man said with a crisp salute.
?Charles leaned back on his throne. His fingers drummed against the gilded armrest—a restless, hollow sound.
?“No wonder Louis couldn’t defeat her…”
?First Louis, then the bear, now his older rival. The girl wasn't normal.
?“What is the point of training such an ambitious hero? What are you plotting now, Sylas?”
?After a long pause, he waved his hand dismissively.
?“Go. Learn more about this girl. And watch Sylas closely. I want to know if he sneezes.”
?“As you command, Your Highness!” The messenger saluted once more and retreated hastily.
?Charles lingered in the silence of the vast room. Slowly, he rose and walked toward a golden statue standing near the window. It was a depiction of the First Emperor, sword raised in eternal victory.
?In the dim moonlight, the gilded figure gleamed with a brilliance that felt almost mocking.
?“I came and went, conquering everything I touched,” Charles murmured, his voice low and bitter. “And yet… I have everything but an empire.”
?A soft clap echoed behind him. His aide stood there, applauding politely.
?Charles did not turn. His gaze remained fixed on the golden face of his ancestor.
?“Once, the whole world hung on his words… and now, neither he nor his empire remain.”
?He turned slightly, his eyes cold and calculating.
?“Send a message to the Evarard Manor. For Julian Evarard.”
?The aide bowed deeply. “I’ll see to it at once, Your Highness.”
?Charles’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile.
***
?“Let’s see what the other side has to offer.”
?“Seems like our worries about the Viremonts were justified.”
?The voice was quiet but cutting. A man with long black hair stood by a window, looking out at the sprawling city below. He wore a simple black robe that seemed to swallow the light.
?“They’ve been searching for a hero for years—and now they’ve found one. She might even be more promising than you. Don’t you think so?”
?He spoke to the reflection in the glass.
?Behind him stood a figure shrouded in a white cloak. Only a glimpse of green hair was visible beneath the hood. The figure didn't move, standing as still as a statue.
?“Promising or not, it doesn’t matter,” the cloaked figure replied. His voice was calm, laced with a faint, aristocratic disdain. “What matters is the soil she grows in. Under that man, no one can shine.”
?The black-haired man turned, leaning against the window frame.
?“If you say so. I’ll believe those words—for now.”
?A voice rose from the figure in white. “Now—tell me if you can give me what I want. I didn’t come all this way for idle chatter.”
?The man in black didn't answer immediately. He waited, letting the silence stretch.
?“Unfortunate… you’re the only one asking for such a thing.”
?“Is that a problem?”
?“We are unlikely to involve ourselves unless the situation changes. As you can see, there is not enough merit in taking such action. You are not the only one who wants something.”
?“And you speak so highly of yourself…” the cloaked figure growled low in his throat. His anger was palpable.
Calmed himself down and added, “Then there’s no more need for words.” His voice is still threatening in a way.
?When the man turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder.
?“Rest assured—I’ll contact you if the wind shifts.”
?With that, he was gone.
?Left alone, the man in black turned back to the window.
?The view did not open onto the grand main square of the capital. Instead, it overlooked the slums—a scattering of shabby houses and dark alleys.
?But beyond the crumbling rooftops, the night sky stretched wide and luminous.
?“For a place like this,” he muttered, a small smirk touching his lips, “the view isn't that bad. Not bad at all.”
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