Olympia — Temple of Calindra

  Isaac landed in the temple courtyard.

  The moment his boots touched stone, servants and acolytes hurried into position. Heads lowered. Knees hit the ground.

  “My king…”

  Isaac lifted a hand. “Please. I need to speak with the Supreme Guardian.”

  The servants bowed deeper. “Yes, my king.”

  He walked through the halls without slowing, the scent of incense and clean herbs mixing with warm candle smoke. The temple felt calmer than the rest of Olympia—like the walls themselves were trained to keep secrets.

  He reached the medical wing.

  When he stepped inside, the room froze.

  Then Freya looked up.

  For half a second, her eyes widened—then she smiled like she’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.

  “Dismissed,” Freya said immediately.

  The healers and attendants didn’t question it. They bowed and slipped out, closing the door behind them.

  The silence lasted a single heartbeat.

  Freya crossed the room fast and wrapped her arms around Isaac.

  Then she kissed him—bold, clean, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Isaac pulled back with a surprised laugh. “Whoa—”

  Freya laughed too, eyes bright. “I’m happy you finally accepted my invitation,” she said, still holding him. “Seeing you here… it makes me happy, my dear.”

  Isaac’s smile softened. “Is Calindra here?”

  Freya moved to a table and poured him a drink, the liquid clear and cold. “Not yet. Lady Calindra will arrive tonight. We’ll have a small meeting.”

  Isaac took the cup. “Good.”

  He drank. The cold helped, just a little.

  Freya watched him over the rim of her own cup, amused. “But I don’t think you came here for Lady Calindra.”

  Isaac exhaled once. “No.” He looked at her. “I’ll be gone for a few days.”

  Freya’s smile slipped—just slightly. “What?”

  “I’m traveling to Osireon,” Isaac said. “I need their full approval for Verdantia.” A pause. “It’s a promise I made to Elara.”

  Freya’s expression softened again, almost fond. “Little Elara…” she murmured. “I understand.” She tilted her head. “What do you need from me?”

  Isaac didn’t hesitate. “Watch Mia while I’m gone. Keep an eye on her.” His tone was gentle, but serious. “You know how she is.”

  Freya smiled like she already did. “I understand. I’ll be watching.”

  Isaac nodded. “Thank you.”

  Freya stepped closer again, lowering her voice. “When you return…” her smile turned playful, “I want something from you.”

  Isaac raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

  Freya leaned in, teasing. “I’ll tell you when you’re back.” Her fingers brushed his sleeve lightly. “Just… come back soon, my love.”

  Isaac smiled. “I’ll return as fast as I can.”

  Freya sank to one knee, formal now—but her eyes were still warm. She kissed Isaac’s hand with slow respect, then looked up at him smiling.

  The king of Olympia turned to leave.

  And behind him, Freya’s gaze followed like a promise.

  A Few Days Later

  Derek stood at Olympia’s docks, watching the waves slap against the wood like the sea was impatient.

  He looked out over the ships, the ropes, the lanterns swinging in the wind—then his eyes caught a bar tucked between two warehouses, its sign crooked, light leaking from the cracks.

  He went in.

  The place smelled like salt, sweat, and cheap liquor. Sailors laughed too loud. Dice rolled on tables. A musician played something half-drunk in the corner.

  Derek slid onto a stool and ordered a drink.

  One turned into two.

  He leaned back, letting the noise wash over him—until something on the wall made his eyes stop.

  A painting.

  Mia.

  Not just any sketch—someone had painted her like a saint. Beautiful. Calm. Untouchable. Her eyes looked like they were watching the room even in oil and color.

  Derek’s mouth curled.

  He lifted his glass toward the painting like a toast.

  “Mia…” he murmured, almost fond.

  Then his smile sharpened.

  “Soon,” Derek said quietly. “I’ll see you very soon.”

  Isaac stood at the bow of the ship, staring at the horizon like it might answer him.

  The sea was calm, but his mind wasn’t. Wind tugged at his cloak. The sun sat low, painting the water with a dull gold that reminded him too much of Paradise.

  Footsteps approached behind him—light, familiar.

  Anabelle stopped beside him, hands behind her back. “Everything okay, Zac?”

  Isaac didn’t look away from the horizon. “Yeah, Bela. I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

  “About what?” she asked gently.

  He exhaled once. “Whether these approvals will even happen.” A small, tired shrug. “It’s not simple. Honestly… this could be a waste of time.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Anabelle watched him for a second, then smiled like she refused to let him sink.

  “My king,” she said, voice warm, “you’ll get them.” She tilted her head. “The strongest king on this planet is going to stand in front of their leaders in person.” Her smile widened. “It’s impossible for that to fail.”

  Isaac finally let a faint smile show. “I wish I was as powerful as you think.”

  He looked back out at the sea.

  Anabelle stepped closer. “I don’t need to exaggerate,” she said. “What you’ve done… no one else in this world has done. And no one will.”

  Isaac glanced at her. The confidence in her eyes was steady.

  They shared a quiet smile.

  Anabelle hesitated, cheeks warming. “So… my king… you—”

  A voice interrupted from behind them.

  “My king!”

  A soldier hurried up, tense. “We’re nearing the docks. But we also detected two warships approaching.” He swallowed. “They’re sending a royal message. It’s… General Lorian.”

  Isaac’s expression sharpened instantly. “Lorian?” His eyes flicked, pupils tightening as his vision pushed beyond the normal—scanning the horizon.

  Anabelle frowned. “Why send the highest general out to open sea?”

  The soldier held out a sealed message. “He says he wants to receive us… and escort us in.”

  Isaac stared toward the distant shapes in the haze. “An escort,” he murmured.

  He didn’t like the word.

  He exhaled, controlled. “Accept it. Tell him I’m waiting.”

  “Yes, my king.” The soldier bowed and rushed off.

  Anabelle’s smile was gone now. “That’s strange,” she said quietly. “An escort out here… It feels like they’re hiding something.”

  Isaac didn’t deny it. “Yeah,” he said. “But for now… we’ll accept his terms.”

  Anabelle nodded once, though her eyes stayed cautious. “Yes, my king.”

  Suddenly, the ships slowed.

  Then stopped.

  The sea went strangely quiet—no cannon fire, no warning horns—just the heavy tension of two warships holding position like they owned the water.

  A boarding ramp dropped.

  Elite soldiers crossed first, disciplined, silent, armor polished like they were walking into a ceremony. Behind them came the man himself.

  General Lorian.

  He stepped onto Isaac’s deck without hurry, eyes scanning, posture perfect. Then—right in front of Isaac—he dropped to one knee.

  Isaac’s brows lifted a fraction. Yu watched from the side, intrigued, her head tilting slightly like she was smelling something off.

  Lorian bowed his head. “Great King Isaac. It’s good to see you again.”

  Isaac kept his face calm. “Good to see you too, General.” His gaze moved over the elite guard. “I see you haven’t changed.”

  Lorian smiled faintly. “I could say the same of you, my king.” He rose slowly. “Please—Lord Oceros himself insisted we escort you to the docks. A carriage is waiting. It will take you straight to him.”

  Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Interesting.” He let the silence hang for a beat. “What’s the reason for such a large escort?”

  “With all respect,” Lorian said smoothly, “Lord Oceros is concerned for your safety.” He gestured toward the horizon, like pointing at an invisible threat. “As you know… we’re close to the Wormhole.”

  Yu’s eyes sharpened at the term.

  Lorian continued, voice still polite. “And there have been incidents. Pirates. Raids. We’re working to eliminate them.”

  Isaac studied him. The words were clean. Too clean.

  “I see,” Isaac said. Then he nodded once, accepting—without trusting it. “Fine. Take me to your lord.”

  Lorian bowed again. “Yes, Great King. Thank you for your understanding.”

  He turned and gave a short command.

  His battalion moved instantly, escort positions forming like a wall around Isaac’s path.

  As they guided him toward the ramp and the waiting shore beyond, Isaac watched every face, every hand, every step—while Yu stayed close, quiet, and smiling like she already knew this was going to turn into trouble.

  Olympia — Outer Streets

  Safira and Moon walked with the crowd like they belonged there.

  Cloaks. Simple clothes. Dirt on their boots. Two travelers under a sky full of banners—nothing special.

  But Safira’s eyes never stopped moving.

  “Olympia…” she muttered, studying the gates ahead. “Didn’t expect this.”

  Moon let out a soft laugh. “There’s no better place than this,” she said, amused. “Trust me.”

  She watched the people, the stalls, the guards, smiling like she was enjoying a festival instead of a mission.

  Safira didn’t smile. “What’s the target’s name?”

  Moon’s tone stayed light. “Derek. Leader of the Renegade Clan.” She glanced at Safira. “Ever heard of them?”

  “No.” Safira’s patience was thin. “Let’s finish this quickly.”

  They passed a statue of Isaac—stone carved tall and proud, the crown, the stance, the legend turned into marble. Safira’s gaze softened for half a second.

  Then it hardened again.

  Moon looked up at the castle perched high on the peak and smiled too—different kind of smile. Colder.

  A guard stepped into their path, spear angled.

  “Stop. Names. And your reason for visiting.”

  Moon didn’t hesitate. Her voice turned sweet and harmless instantly. “Oh—good sir, we’re just travelers.” She bowed her head politely. “My name is Felicia.” She touched Safira’s shoulder like they were family. “And this is my sister, Safira.”

  Safira’s eyes flashed.

  Moon kept smiling like she hadn’t just lit a fuse.

  “We’re only here to visit,” Moon continued. “We won’t stay long.”

  The guard eyed them for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. Stay as long as you want. Just don’t cause trouble. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Safira said through her teeth. “Thank you.”

  They walked past.

  The guard turned away.

  Safira’s hand shot out, grabbing Moon by the hair.

  Before Moon could react, Safira smashed her face into a stone pillar.

  Moon hit the ground hard, blood running from her nose.

  People nearby glanced over, but Safira moved her cloak and body like a wall, hiding the violence in plain sight. A traveler’s argument. Nothing worth dying over.

  Safira crouched slightly, voice low enough for Moon alone.

  “Don’t do that again,” Safira hissed. “You said my name.” Her grip tightened. “You could’ve ruined everything, you stupid bitch.”

  Moon coughed once, blood on her lip.

  Safira leaned closer. “When this mission is over… I’ll tell the Mother exactly what you did. Every detail.”

  She released Moon and walked away, furious but controlled.

  Moon stayed on the ground for a second, wiping her face. Then she smiled.

  Not hurt.

  Not afraid.

  Smiling like this was part of the script.

  “Not much longer,” Moon whispered to herself, standing back up as if nothing happened.

  Osireon — Royal Docks

  The moment Isaac stepped onto the docks, the noise hit him like a wave.

  A massive crowd was already waiting—packed shoulder to shoulder along the pier, banners raised, voices screaming his name like he was a miracle that had walked out of legend.

  “LONG LIVE THE KING!”

  Isaac kept his face calm, but his eyes stayed sharp as he moved through the corridor of guards. Lorian’s elite formed a perfect shield around him.

  Anabelle leaned closer as they reached the carriage. “Impressive,” she murmured. “That’s a giant crowd for such a small country.”

  Isaac glanced at her and gave a faint smile. “People like symbols.”

  Yu didn’t speak. She watched the crowd with that quiet, possessive calm—like she was counting threats and admiration in the same breath.

  They entered the carriage. The doors shut. Wheels rolled.

  And Osireon’s royal palace rose ahead—stone and gold, high walls, clean banners, guards in ceremonial armor lining the steps like statues.

  The carriage stopped.

  Isaac stepped out first, then helped Anabelle down. Yu followed, eyes already scanning the balconies.

  Isaac lifted a hand and waved.

  The crowd outside roared louder.

  They climbed the palace steps and passed through the gates into a grand hall—bright, polished, full of painted history.

  Waiting at the center stood Lord Oceros and his family.

  Isaac stopped a few paces away and bowed his head in respect—measured, royal.

  “Lord Oceros,” Isaac said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  Oceros smiled broadly, arms open. “King Isaac… the pleasure is mine. My people—and my family—have been longing for your visit.”

  They walked side by side, guards trailing at a respectful distance.

  “Come,” Oceros said proudly. “Let me present my beautiful wife.” He gestured toward a graceful woman in an elegant dress. “Susan.”

  Susan offered a warm smile. “Great King… thank you for honoring us with your presence.”

  Isaac inclined his head. “The honor is mine, my lady.”

  Oceros turned, pride sharpening. “My son—Dorian. The future Lord of Osireon.”

  Dorian stepped forward with a confident smile, too polished to be innocent. “It’s an honor, King Isaac. I’ve heard so much about your… spectacular achievements.” His eyes flicked briefly to Yu, then back. “I hope we can become business partners in the future.”

  Isaac returned the smile, calm and unreadable. “Thank you, Prince Dorian. I hope so as well.”

  Oceros beamed and moved on. “And finally… my beautiful daughter.” His voice softened. “Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth stepped forward with a shy smile, cheeks faintly warm as she looked up at Isaac.

  Isaac took her hand gently and kissed it—formal, elegant.

  “Princess Elizabeth,” he said, voice smooth. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

  Elizabeth’s smile widened, still shy. “The honor is mine… Great King.”

  Isaac released her hand and glanced to his side. “And these are my companions—Anabelle… and Yu.”

  Anabelle bowed politely. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  Yu offered a small smile. “Very good to meet you.”

  Oceros clapped his hands once, delighted. “Wonderful! Come—let us sit. I prepared something for you.”

  Isaac hesitated only a moment. “With respect, Lord Oceros… we’re on a tight schedule. I was hoping we could speak about the diplomatic matter tonight.”

  Oceros’s smile didn’t fade, but his eyes sharpened just slightly. “Please,” he said warmly, almost insistently. “Accept my invitation. I prepared it with care.” He lowered his voice like it was a personal favor. “In the morning, you will have my full attention regarding diplomacy. I promise.”

  Isaac studied him for a beat.

  Then exhaled.

  “…Fine,” Isaac said, controlled. “I accept.”

  Oceros’s smile returned fully. “Excellent.”

  Lord Oceros and his family led Isaac, Anabelle, and Yu deeper into the palace—toward the dining hall—while the sounds of celebration outside continued, loud enough to feel like a warning.