Emerii stifled her chuckle as she watched Arty bring up the rear as he haphazardly wrangled his horse. Some things would never change: his inability to ride and that it would bring a smile to her face, no matter how she was feeling.

  Travel had been the easiest since she had set out from Liofeld that fateful day. When Idwyn had mentioned the roads to Zernau, Emerii had assumed there was a metaphorical statement in her words, but it now appeared she had meant it literally as well. There were many villages along the way, and many times Emerii witnessed the residents clearing the path or fixing other issues that arose.

  The weather had blessed them as well, creating a state of perfect conditions that brought them close to Znseruff in less than a week’s time. Once they had entered Zernau, there was a shift in the mood, as if the Drajin here did not worry constantly about the future.

  Joined now by some soldiers of Zernau, the Band of the Promised One stayed segregated from the rest of the pack. Even Arty, who could usually approach and befriend anyone, sensed the strange air and kept his distance.

  Despite the awkwardness, the Band of the Promised One arrived in the Zernau capital without any issues. If every aspect of their journey had been this easy, they would already be returned to Liofeld.

  Upon approaching Znseruff, Emerii realized immediately, it was the richest Drajin city she had ever seen. White towers reached toward the sky, becoming beams of light as the sun reflected off them.

  The palace was visible, would be from anywhere in the city or out. A beacon of power, of hope, and of wealth.

  “This is the most difficult Kingdom to deal with,” Idwyn said, “At least for myself.”

  Emerii’s features hardened as they entered the gilded gates, to a welcoming parade with streets lined with the residents of the city. Smiles and cheers welcomed them, transforming the winter landscape into someplace bright and warm.

  Word must have been sent ahead, but this was not a good feeling. It was not as if these people were cheering for the Band of the Promised One, not on the whole, anyway. Emerii eyed Brymoor. The Lord Prince was a problem, and the voices calling his name exemplified that fact.

  They continued their slow climb up the slanted road toward the palace and heart of Zernau.

  The inside of the palace was as extravagant as the outside. Far too many servants rushed this way or that. Royal Guard stationed at every point of interest. The decorations declared the Kingdom’s wealth.

  Perhaps if the world were not in turmoil, it would be impressive or even heartening to see fellow Drajin prosper. As it was, it severely gave the wrong impression.

  Most of their extra escort had fallen away now. Now, only the Band of the Promised One and Brymoor, accompanied by a few of Zernau’s Royal Guard, continued on. They came to two massive closed doors. No matter what waited on the other side, Emerii would grasp for the future.

  As the doors slowly began to swing open, someone announced, “The Lord Prince Brymoor of Lenda, the Truthsayer Idwyn, and her accompaniment, the Band of the Promised One.”

  Reflexively, everyone reached for their weapons, with the exception of Brymoor and Idwyn. Emerii did not even have time to process the King resting leisurely on the throne, for before them was a group of Uxsons.

  Five of them, but they had not drawn weapons. Instinctively, she knew they were not there to do combat. At the announcement, the invaders turned to assess them. Four were the standard fare, a mix of women and men who appeared more bestial than humanlike, adorned with black furs. However, the one in the middle was different.

  It was a fanciful garb Emerii had seen but weeks prior. A black uniform rimmed in gold. Yes, the woman was undoubtedly a Divine Hammer, General of the Uxsons, tool to the Dark King. Still, she was even more different. There was no axe slung around her; instead, a longsword with an oval hand guard rested on her hip. Perfect, jet black hair. Skin of a goddess, not meant for a warrior. The curvature of her body and her facial features were so striking that Emerii was left stunned.

  Their eyes met, and the end of the Divine Hammer’s lips curved slightly. An enemy general.

  But the most beautiful woman Emerii had ever seen.

  Idwyn snickered at the sight.

  The Divine Hammer turned away and bowed slightly to the King of Zernau. Without a word, she led her soldiers through a different exit.

  “Lady Idwyn, I see you are in good health as always,” Cwach, the King of Zernau, said. “Those behind you must be who I have heard so much about.”

  “I am here as well, Your Grace,” Brymoor declared.

  Cwach’s demeanor visibly shifted from lazy indifference to jubilant. “Brymoor, my boy! I thought they announced your presence, but I was so distracted by the discussion with Frieda and the arrival of Idwyn. Come to see your sister, have you?”

  “No, I was simply escorting these troublemakers.”

  Arty stepped forward. “Your Grace, what were Uxsons doing in your throne room?”

  Emerii sighed playfully with a wide grin. Straightforward as always, I couldn’t expect anything less. That was just like Arty.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The King’s eyes sharpened. The man was supposedly the same age as the King of Lenda, but he appeared far younger. His finely shaped beard and short hair framed his solid features, unsullied by wrinkles or other marks of age. There was not a single scar on his face, signifying that he was not a warrior. His outfit was that of blue, becoming a connection to the Zernau crest, the long disappeared azure jaguar.

  “Diplomacy, Promised One,” Cwach spat, “I would not expect a budding warlord to understand.”

  “Be that as it may, Your Grace,” Idwyn cut in, “After battling Uxsons in the countryside, you must understand their apprehension at seeing them.”

  “They are staying in the palace as guests. You all are welcome, but there will be no fighting here.”

  “We would not need to stay even a night, if you would guarantee us troops for the coming channao. You also set an example for Lenda, and with them, our alliance would be strengthened.”

  Cwach balked. “You know you are always welcome, Lady Idwyn. You all must be tired from your travels. I will have a servant send you to your rooms.”

  “We already spent long enough in Lenda, I would have us make our discussions this night.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Ah, I’m sure my lovely wife would be keen to see you, Lady Idwyn.” With a wave of his hand, it did not take long for a woman to appear at his side.

  She wore a fine dress of blue that accented her innocent beauty. While most certainly pretty and a woman, she bore a striking resemblance to Brymoor. Her gaze scanned the group as she obviously smiled brightly at Idwyn. When her eyes came to Eira, however, her mouth hung agape in shock. Slowly, she strode down the polished steps, a ghost possessed by disbelief. Passing her brother without a glance, she stepped to the target of her inquiry.

  “Eira…” Brodwyn said, voice quivering.

  “Lord Princess, no, I suppose you are now the Queen of Zernau. It is heartening to see you are alive and well, Your Grace.” There was a stiffness in Eira’s voice as all eyes in the throne room turned towards her.

  “I thought you were dead! I could hardly recognize you.” Tears began to spill forth freely.

  “Brodwyn, return,” Cwach commanded. At the mention of her name, the Queen jumped. “And cease your weeping. This is no way to display yourself before guests.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” She replied.

  She receded from their group and retraced her steps up to her husband’s side. Her features had already been reaffixed in stone, unyielding to the emotions that assailed her. Emerii could hear Arty grind his teeth, see the righteous indignation on his face. Still, he had enough sense to hold himself back at this moment.

  I’m surprised Royce hasn’t said a word yet, or at least whispered his displeasure to me. Mav’s too busy mumbling to himself, so I wouldn’t expect anything from him, but Royce and Arty are usually aligned.

  When Emerii examined Royce, she smirked at what she saw. There was a slight tint to his cheeks as his eyes hung on every motion of the Queen. She had never seen Royce in that state. Despite the serious situation, she wanted to roar with laughter and pat him on the back.

  “There will be more time for reminiscing later, as they will now be shown to their quarters.” Cwach snapped his fingers, and servants approached.

  Idwyn and the King of Zernau’s eyes locked for a prolonged period of time. Then she sighed. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

  The sun shone brightly on the white palace, as if by its very existence the rays of light would always land upon its pristine walls. Emerii stood on the broad walkway that overlooked the main courtyard from an elevated position. The chill of winter was beginning to waver, and soon spring would take its place.

  Below, Arty trained with Zernau soldiers. It had only been a day, but as always, he had an easy time making friends. Reversing the hostile welcome, he had integrated with them.

  Mav was there too, and the source of much laughter and intrigue. He had most certainly been roped into it by Arty, dragged along against his will.

  Emerii could only guess what Royce was up to at the moment, likely sorting out new feelings for an unattainable woman. He would usually be around Arty or stewing some sort of scheme, but after the daze he was in, she seriously doubted he would be up to the task.

  Eira was held up in her room. Damn that Idwyn for what she’s making that woman go through. Even if in some twisted way it will help her, even if this is for the best, damn Idwyn to hell. Curses, here comes the beast herself.

  Idwyn nonchalantly took the vacancy to Emerii’s left. Quietly, she observed her nephew.

  “You were uncharacteristically on the defensive yesterday,” Emerii ventured.

  “There is a problem. I am certain that Artowen will blow it away with Mav and Eira’s help. Still, it is time for me to step back for now.”

  In a pillared walkway below and to the left was a group of nobles. Whispering, only the occasional snicker could be heard. Brymoor approached, and they welcomed him. He stared challengingly toward Arty, then waved brightly at Idwyn.

  She returned the gesture.

  “The Lord Prince is part of it, is he not?” Emerii asked.

  “He reveres me as a Truthsayer, respects me as a teacher. But he thinks I am wrong for choosing Artowen. He should have been able to assist in pulling the nobles to our cause, but now he works against us.” Though Idwyn’s tone suggested disappointment, there was no hint of it on her iron face.

  “Cwach certainly wasn’t fazed by your presence.”

  “He need not be. He is the most shrewd and capable Drajin King in this current era, rivaled only by the Ruler Queen of Anheran. In martial prowess, he is not strong, but he makes up for it with his intelligence.”

  “You cannot weave your way in?”

  “Unlike Bardoo, those around Cwach only care for wealth. Gold, grain, and little to no taxes. There is no room to even bribe them, as they are content. Nor can I shift Cwach. I must rely on those I trust.”

  Without another word, she continued on without a goodbye, almost as if she didn’t see Emerii. Almost as if she were speaking to the wind. Idwyn was always that way.

  Emerii sighed as she watched the Truthsayer go. With nothing else to do, a cold sweat broke out on her neck. The clear orbs of her deity floated in her hands as she tentatively reached out, seeking information. These were training grounds, so even if someone with the ability to see saw her using her deity, it would make little difference. There was only a few ways they could know she was spying, all relying on key information or those with deities of that nature. It was not as if castles did not employ them, but her deity was an elusive one to prove spying. Besides, this was already a hostile environment.

  She heard what she was expecting: discussion, traitorous plots to align the Drajin of Zernau with the Uxsons. That Arty was not the legendary Promised One. That Welkia was a Kingdom of fools.

  Not exactly useful information, dire plots that she inferred when they first stepped into the Kingdom. Next, she sought sight in hopes of finding something more useful. Nothing resulted from reaching out to those at her furthest range, so she sought the sight of the one closest to her.

  Sharing the sight, Emerii was looking at herself. Suppressing her surprise, she slowly turned around and found the Divine Hammer perched comfortably on the contours of the white walls. She smiled at Emerii.

  God! How long has she been watching? Was she eavesdropping on Idwyn and me?

  “Good day to you,” Emerii said, attempting to hide her shakiness.

  The woman simply tilted her head.

  Perhaps she could not speak their language, or was very poor at it. Some part of Emerii doubted that, however. Perhaps swept in by her bearing and appearance, she was wary of every aspect of the warrior before her.

  Emerii grimaced.

  The Divine Hammer chuckled lightly.

  Emerii pivoted and walked away. This excursion was not going well.