Elder Parsmir walked back and forth inside of his office. The room was made of marble and his footsteps echoed inside. His time as lower management in the War Council was exhilarating and acceptable, until his brother Molov was killed for antiwar sentiment. With Molov's legacy, Gryfor, living so far away, he felt more further away from family.

His entire family had already died long ago. An Aura practitioner had to understand that such would occur. Eventually, all that he cared about, all he loved, all he remembered died to Time's grasp.

And he? He lived on, his memories kept each person alive inside of his mind. Although Aura cultivation gave one a long life, it came with the misery of being apart from those you consider close. Molov my friend, it seems your son is still vengeful.

Through his many years of living and training Gryfor, he had long ago learned of Gryfor's gestures and mannerisms. It wouldn't be a stretch to call him Gryfor's second adoptive father after Molov's untimely passing.

Parsmir looked out of the window of his office, seeing the various districts of the Alberdan capital from his skyline. The building he was in, the War Council Headquarters, had 13 floors each at least 8 feet tall. This creation had existed since the beginning of the Alberdan Empire, each dynasty of a royal family adding another level.

In all the years of war and conquest, this building had never been destroyed. In between layers of marble, special forms of various metals were covered with Designs to prevent destruction, and the whole building had several security layers.

Through Parsmir's window, he could see the middle-class stroll back and forth on the streets, occasionally at awe of the passing noble and helping the street poor. His eyes focused on one particular child who walked back and forth, her arms outstretched like a bird, laughing on the path of the market street. He sighed.

If only they knew that such peace was truly fragile, and their best supporter had already been killed off. Molov had maintained peace for several generations, many spanning from before Parsmir. It was Molov that guided Parsmir through the office politics of the War Council, helping the young Eugun Parsmir rise from mail clerk to his current position.

Now with his friend dead, who would protect the denizens of Alberdos from suffering another tragic war?

His heart cringed at his memory of the last great war between Alberdos and Madrag. Through that war the Seafoam Federations and Leafwind Kingdom came to be. In all four regions arose four mighty powers that fought for control, eventually earning the respect of one another. Leafwind, the smallest of the four, had fallen not long ago. If our ancestors knew of our betrayal, would they leave us to live in peace? The four mighty powers were at first rivals, but became friends.

However, the change of time will always give rise to conflict between kingdoms. And when it was discovered the Leafwind Highlands had a valuable treasure, all the other nations on the Madrag continent couldn't help but feel greed. And to this greed did Leafwind fall, now called the Great Basin Province.

Through the years, Parsmir had tried to advance without Molov, but those war hawks in the higher levels always worked to prevent a second Molov from returning to power. Parsmir understood this well, and continued to try and fail each time at the election of elders.

His anger couldn't help but rise. They think no one knows of how their hands are in the pockets of those armory suppliers and weapon Creators, but Alberdos is not blind at all. Under their lust for wealth, those pro-war elders sought out any means to instigate a war between Alberdos and the other three nations. Molov had stopped all their tactics, only to fall to another.

Without a dove of peace among them, the War Council under thos elders were able to start a war without restraint. In Alberdos, the royal family was the final supporter of all actions from any of the councils. Who knew that behind the scenes the current emperor was so easy to control with gold?

A few creases grew on Parsmir's forehead. He knew that Gryfor had terrible encounters with nobles in his past, and knew of Gryfor's deep distaste of the nobility. He didn't want Gryfor to die like Molov, at least not before Parsmir was able to guarantee Gryfor would live on whether he succeeded in assassinating the Emperor or not. Only then would he deploy his own forces to help Molov's living legacy win back the will of the people.

Alberdos had lasted long, but each new dynasty would replace the old through either bloodlines or internal power struggles. Parsmir had his own connections, and with them he could very well start a coup d'etat. The problem? Success in the plan was at best 10%, including the current Gryfor.

A knock came at Parsmir's door, heavy against the wooden planks. Parsmir rose from his seat and went to open the door, a messenger standing in front of him.

The young messenger had a ragged breath, his clothing a bit out of shape. Clearly, he had sprinted his way to Parsmir's office just recently.

"Elder, the young noble of the Faulkner family, Eric Faulkner, has begun to to travel for the Darkthorn Prison now!" The young messenger spoke rapidly, his words barely distinguishable. Thanks to being an Aura Saint level 10, however, Parsmir had no difficulty hearing the messenger speak.

Elder Parsmir's forehead featured a few more lines across his brow. He was contemplating the possibility of the child Mona Aurum being taken by the young master. It is high, in fact guaranteed. I will warn Gryfor of the coming noble caravan.

"Thank you for your service. Send Verel my regards." Elder Parsmir said a few pleasantries before closing his door. He quickly spread his Aura throughout the hallway, his room, and outside the window. Good. No one was spying this time.

It became second nature for Parsmir to search for any spies hearing his news from the messenger. If those old men from the upper echelons of the War Council found out Parsmir had a concern, it would become their desire to make it his fear. Such were the dirty tactics of those men.

Lifting the Transmitting Creation up once again, Parsmir kept his Aura spread out, isolating the sound waves around him by one foot. He activated the device, prepared to tell Gryfor of the arriving young noble of the Faulkner family.

*****

The caravan near the North Gate of the capital of Alberdos had a grand number of participants. No fewer than 500 guards and 1500 servants were accompanying Eric Faulkner as he strove to go towards Darkthron Prison. From dancers to chefs to entertainers to security, he had practically all he needed to ensure no bandit would dare touch his property.

Inside of his temporary tent, Eric Faulkner was surrounded with luxury. Truth be told, the young noble disliked showing wealth and being frivolous. He had long ago fired the main secretary his father gave him.

It wasn't that the old fellow lacked skill at managing finances; the old fellow was his father's second accountant for years. Rather it was the old fogey's constant communications of the young noble's deed, not to mention his occasional thievery of Eric's holdings, that earned his his unemployment.

In his place, Eric hired another person, freshly knew from the Imperial Academy. The new scholar at first seemed shy, but like Eric his appearance was quite deceiving. This accountant not only were skilled in business matters, he was also an Aura Saint level 9 at the same age of Eric. Such a talent would send a frenzy even in the Madrag Empire and perhaps even among the people of the Placid Archipelago. And Eric had such a talent as his right-hand man.

Eric couldn't help but smile as this young accountant came to his tent. The man had a wiry build, lean and thin. His eyes, however, seemed to grasp the world in it's beauty as they flickered about Eric's tents. He sat down in front of Eric. They had long become friends.

"I didn't know you like finery like this?" The young man couldn't help but chuckle at the young master of the Faulkner family donning gold embroidered clothing. Such a thing wasn't like him.

"Do you think my father would budge? He said either I would show the 'prestige' of the family as I went to the Great Basin Province, or I would not be allowed to leave at all. It's such a pain, Athon. Trust me." Eric couldn't help but recall as his father ordered the servants of the household to appear as he commanded Eric to follow his rules. Why is it he can't see the uselessness in all this? The old man.

Athon smiled at the young noble in front of him. He enjoyed this noble far more compared to the distant one always present in front of others. If he could be like this outside, perhaps he would already have a lady of his own. Sadly he is closer to an ascetic than a lover.

"So, how long before we make it to our destination, Athon? I'd like to see that blacksmith as part of our group. His skills were very notable, but his Aura so-so. I left him there with one of our incomplete Aura techniques and would like to see his progress." Eric rose to seat in the lotus position instead of lying on his side. His eyes gleamed with anticipation at remembering Jaspen.

"Really? I am quite intrigued that a blacksmith could hold your attention. He must be of a high caliber." Athon looked at the young noble before him before returning to his hands. In his left he carried a notebook, balancing the expenses of their trip while speaking.

"It's not caliber, Athon. If he had caliber, the Alberdan Army would have spared him of captivity. He is a Mortal Blacksmith. It's not his rank in smithing that garnered my attention. It's this..." Athon rose from his place and sat next to Athon. He carefully whispered into Athon's ear, not missing a single word.

Athon revealed a look of curiosity and then shock. "A spatial Design? Of the Warrior rank?" He couldn't believe that Eric had found such a person in the Leafwind Kingdom.

"Nothing less than my sources. I thought at first his fellow smiths had a similar skill, but it was false. No worries. I treated them well to rights of blacksmithing weapons for us. As for the spatial Design, wouldn't it be in our best interest to have a natural-born spatial Design Creator?" The smile on Eric's face grew wider, revealing his delight.

"But wait, if he is natural-born, why hasn't he become famous throughout the four continents yet?" Athon felt a bit confused. How could Eric find such a talent stowed away in this small nation so close to us?

"He is still an Unaware. You know how those people are. That's why we need him. If we give him the best resources now, having spatial jewelry in the future won't be a problem. If he is already Aware now, at best we could hope for a couple storage rings still." Eric nudged Athon in the side, watching his friend's eyes flicker with a similar desire for Jaspen. While I like the talented, he likes rare treasures. I knew this blacksmith would pique his interest!

"Alright, I'll see what I can do to arrange for the spatial Designer's arrival. Now what do you want me to do about those 'bath maidens' your father hired?" Athon looked at Eric with a raised eyebrow as he read from the notebook. Lord Faulkner sure knows how to hire them. Bath maidens when Eric already has 10 attendants. Very skilled.

"What? He hired me people to warm my bed? Send them out. I have no need for a person that sleeps for money. I want no one in my life, except for a pure maiden who needs nothing more than mutual love and affection." Eric began to hug the nearby body pillow, his arms moving back in forth. Clearly he was daydreaming of meeting a soulmate.

Athon sighed. Purity can, and will perhaps never come in contact with an Alberdan noble. And if she has no noble blood, Lord Faulkner will adamantly refuse her, no matter how 'pure' a maiden she is. He couldn't help but pity the young noble he held as his friend. Lord Faulkner had made it clear before. Nobility, or never.

Athon began to leave from the tent, closing the journal describing the future expenses of their caravan. He walked to all the assigned leaders, handing out their tasks for the journey before returning to his own carriage.

Back inside the tent, Eric looked into the distance, his eyes gazing in the path of Darkthorn Prison. I can't wait until that spatial Designer blacksmith is mine. By any chance, can I find another rarity there as well?

Smiling beneath the moon, Eric was quietly served his evening meal in his tent. The food was of equal quality to the servants, by his orders of course. Occasionally he would look back to the moon, as something came to his mind.

I hope her skin glows like the moon, and her heart glows with warmth. As he remembered his father, a look of disgust covered his face. Such an animal, it disturbed my hunger.

"Attendants, come forth! My appetite has been lost. No, it wasn't the taste. Thank you." He watched as the frightened attendants came back and forth with his supper, worrying over whether their cooking was terrible. Only when they heard his words did their emotions subside.

Alone in the room, Eric walked closer to the hatch of his room, staring into the astral beauty looming of his head. Mother, I'm sorry for not being enough back then. I'm sorry. A tear slid down one of his eyes as his face quivered with sorrow, the attendants oblivious to their young master's trembling heart.