Jakob – POV

  We were on our way to the first city near the Shabalin–Slalanese border, the city of Nara. I don’t know much about the place other than the fact that Dianne and I passed by there once, a long time ago, on our way to Kizah. Back then, it was just another stop along the road, a city with walls that seemed to scrape the sky and markets that smelled of spice and sweat. Now, however, Nara loomed before us as something more; a threshold, a test, perhaps even a trap.

  Thankfully, our journey toward the city was safe. That was no small blessing, for we carried three wagons full of mead. Mead; sweet, golden, intoxicating; was both our fortune and our burden. We could make a great deal of money selling it, but several problems arose immediately. To whom do we sell? We must be careful. We don’t know the nuances of mead trading in this region. Another concern gnawed at me: were these goods meant for someone else? Someone powerful, perhaps? If so, then we were walking into a web without knowing who spun it. Too many things remained unknown, and ignorance was a dangerous companion.

  I was still pondering these issues when Jennie rode up to me; her horse’s hooves crunching against the gravel.

  “My lord, we have arrived,” she said, her voice steady despite the fatigue of travel.

  “Thank you, Jennie,” I replied, lifting my gaze to the immense walls of Nara. They rose like cliffs of stone, ancient and unyielding, casting long shadows across the plain.

  “We should camp outside the walls,” I added. “Inform Anda to look for a suitable place.”

  “Yes, my lord,” she said, bowing her head before turning her horse.

  As I watched her ride off, I exhaled slowly. Time to learn the art of mead trading. Time to step into a world of coin, contracts, and whispers; where blades were hidden behind smiles and fortunes rose or fell with a single bargain.

  Dianne – POV

  The bloodshed we had left behind still clung to me like smoke. It brought back memories I had tried for years to bury: the attack on my family’s castle, the screams echoing through stone halls, the sight of my parents cut down before my eyes. Servants and soldiers alike had died that day, and I had survived only by chance.

  I shook myself, forcing my mind back to the present. What happened earlier; our clash with the merchants and their guards; was necessary. We had to kill them. They would have done the same to us. Yet necessity does not erase the weight of memory.

  My musings were interrupted by Anna, one of our servant girls. She approached timidly, her hands clasped before her.

  “Milady… we have arrived,” she said softly.

  “Thank you, Anna. Inform me when we have settled into a campsite,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm, regal, unshaken.

  But inside, I knew this was only the first taste of what was to come. There would be more bloodshed. More trials. How I wished Nathan could have been born during the height of the Shaxaian Empire, when it was strong and united. A prodigy child like him would have been celebrated, nurtured, supported by the empire’s vast resources. Now, however, the empire was fractured; its glory dimmed. All I could do was help him become what he was meant to be. And for that, I did not have the faintest clue.

  Jack – POV

  I wanted to join the fight. When the merchants and their bodyguards drew steel, my blood surged with the desire to prove myself. I wanted to see if my skills were enough, if I could stand shoulder to shoulder with warriors and carve my place in the world.

  But my parents forbade me. Instead, the task was delegated to Nathan’s demons, the Hellblazers. At first, resentment burned in me. I felt caged and useless. Yet when I saw the carnage unfold, when I saw men torn apart with terrifying efficiency, I realized the truth: I wasn’t ready. My stomach churned, and I vomited until my throat burned. A sign of my na?veté.

  Now, I am glad I wasn’t involved. But I know the time will come when I must step up. Maybe not now, but someday. I will grow; I will harden and help my family.

  Serena – POV

  I regretted leaving the wagon too soon. The blood and carnage were unbearable. I almost vomited when I saw Jake do the same. Mother had warned me, but I hadn’t listened.

  I wonder how Nathan can stand it. I looked at him during the slaughter, and it was as if the blood meant nothing to him. He stood calm, detached, almost regal. I will have to ask him about it soon.

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  But dammit, I can’t erase the image of Krizek walking around with that severed head dangling from his grip. I know he is Nathan’s minion, bound to our cause, and would never harm us. Yet the image has been seared into my mind. Is it a sign of things to come? If so, then I must steel myself even more.

  Christine – POV

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Nathan. He was amazing. He didn’t flinch when confronted with murder, didn’t falter when blood soaked the ground. I saw the man who killed my parents fall beneath his demons, and I was glad. Justice had been done.

  I would have gladly killed him myself if I were older, stronger. But Nathan and his family made it possible. Correction...our family now. I look forward to the day when my services will be used for the glory of House Mayweather–Abensberg. I look forward to the day when I take up that name as my own, when Nathan marries me.

  Anda – POV

  Nobles are cold-hearted indeed. The way Lord Jakob ordered the Hellblazers to kill the merchants and their bodyguards was chilling. I had heard stories of nobles fighting and dying, of commoners crushed beneath their feuds.

  When we signed up with this noble house, we knew the risks. They were fighting to claim lands, to earn recognition. The odds were stacked against them. Yet there was something about this family...something that whispered of greatness. Especially the children. Especially Nathan.

  Will we survive? I don’t know. The bloodshed we witnessed was a harbinger of things to come. But if the gods grant us their blessings, we may rise to heights commoners could only dream of.

  Jennie – POV

  The massacre was terrible, but it was necessary. If the merchants had their way, we would all have been killed...or worse, for us women.

  I am glad we tied our fates to this noble family. Lord Jakob demanded payment in life and coin for the attempted rape of one of our servant girls. That was the spark that ignited the battle, and it ended with the merchants dead.

  It showed me that this family will defend us, not discard us. I had been apprehensive about joining them, but now all doubts have vanished. Only resolve and loyalty remain. May the gods preserve House Mayweather–Abensberg.

  Belle – POV

  The incident convinced me further that joining House Mayweather–Abensberg was the right choice. The way they defended the servant girl was something I had never seen before.

  I will bind my family to this house. I will send word to my kin to join us wherever we end up. The road is uncertain, unsafe, but if this family succeeds, my own family may finally find peace.

  Stanley – POV

  Damn, those Hellblazers are a different breed. They killed without hesitation, without remorse. When I saw Krizek walk around carrying the head of a mercenary, I was sold to this noble family’s cause. Not because of the brutality, but because of the assurance: if all comes crashing down, I will have ruthless allies at my side.

  Jake – POV

  I am convinced we did the right thing. Kill or be killed. I have taken lives before, long ago, but this was different. Lord Jakob didn’t hesitate, and the Hellblazers carried out the deed with chilling efficiency.

  No gloating, no glee...only precision. Well, except for Krizek’s grin as he carried that severed head. I wonder what kind of life breeds such men. What horrors did they endure to become so cold-blooded?

  I am glad they are on our side. There will be more bloodshed. The Shaxaian lands are not known for peace. But with the way things are going, I can see us succeed. If we do, I will send for my family to join us.

  Nathan – POV

  Dammit! All this bouncing around is seriously cramping my beauty sleep. How is anyone supposed to grow up properly with all this jolting and rattling in the wagon? Every stone on the road feels like it’s conspiring against me, every rut a personal insult. I swear, if noble heirs were meant to endure this kind of torture, then history has lied to me. Perhaps this is why so many noble children look perpetually grumpy in portraits, because they spent their youth being shaken like dice in a cup.

  Maybe I should learn how to ride a horse. Jack is already riding one, looking smug as ever, and I can’t let him get too far ahead of me in skills. Besides, we already have plenty of horses. It would be practical, wouldn’t it? Riding would spare me from the indignity of being tossed around like a sack of grain. And if I’m honest, there’s something undeniably heroic about arriving on horseback, cloak billowing, rather than stumbling out of a wagon with bed hair.

  Speaking of horses, another thought strikes me: perhaps it’s time to invest in proper armor and tabards for our men. Right now, they look like a ragtag band of mercenaries, which is fine for intimidation, but not for legitimacy. Armor gleaming in the sun, tabards bearing our crest...yes, that would lend weight to our cause. People respect symbols as much as swords. If we are to carve out a place in a fractured land, we must look the part.

  “My lord, we have arrived,” Tina said, her voice cutting through my musings.

  “Thank you, Tina,” I replied, stretching as if I had just awoken from a nap rather than endured a miniature earthquake.

  As I watched Tina exit the wagon, another idea struck me...one far less practical but infinitely more amusing. French maids. Hehehe. Imagine our servants properly dressed, uniforms crisp and elegant, a touch of flair that would make our household the envy of others. It’s not just about aesthetics; presentation matters. A well-dressed servant reflects the dignity of the house they serve. And besides, it would be fun.

  Maybe we could even acquire a proper butler in this city. Someone dignified, with impeccable manners, who could announce guests with gravitas and keep everything running smoothly. I’ll have to ask Mother about it. She might roll her eyes, but I know she understands the importance of appearances.

  My inner anime is projecting right now, painting vivid scenes in my mind: servants in immaculate uniforms, knights in shining armor, banners fluttering as we march into cities. It’s ridiculous, perhaps, but isn’t greatness often born from ridiculous dreams? If we are to rise above the chaos of these lands, we must not only fight well, but we must also look unforgettable while doing it.

  And so, as the wagon creaked to a halt before the walls of Nara, I resolved that our family’s future would be built not only on blood and steel, but on image, spectacle, and the kind of flair that makes legends linger in memory.