Reports about the existence of incorporeals on the borders of the Red Desert have increased.

Apparently, the plague has resurfaced, haunting towns and cities; more specifically, in towns and cities located in the vicinities of the red sands of the Desert.

It is not known, however, whether the increase in the number of the incorporeal apparitions is real or just a reflection of the rumors about the arrival of the "Destroyer" – The one who, according to the prophecy, will use the magic of the incorporeals and bathe the faces of the living with Tears of Blood.

I am investigating the phenomenon with particular interest. After all, only some of us will ever have the opportunity to live at such interesting times.

Excerpt from a Letter written by Xaerfim Yaerande, magician of Markav, addressed to Armenvald de Fibo

*

-Thank you both for coming.

Two individuals kneel in front of the Ancestral Tree: a dryad and a satyr. Both direct their gazes to the floor.

In front of them, the Oracle is seated on her throne. The nymph carries with her all the authority inherent in being in charge and, in the eyes of any foreigner, she would look impeccable.

-Stand up.

However, in the eyes of Ann D’Moss, the dryad, it is clear that something bothers the ruler. Something had been bothering her for several days.

-Ann D’Moss. Philippos. I called you here and dismissed all my guards because there is no one I can trust right now. You two, however, have earned my trust. And what Destiny hasn’t shown me I would like your help to discover.

-Oh, mother nymph! – The satyr steps forward. Contrary to the custom of the satyr tribe, Philippos does not walk around naked, choosing to cover himself with a coat. He walks with the help of a cane since one of his legs was irreparably wounded in battle. – It is an immense privilege to have your trust. I am convinced that I speak for both of us when I promise that we will do everything in our power to honor your desire, aware that our actions are going to help the will of Destiny.

-Raise your head. - She commands. The satyr and the dryad get up and wait in silence. - I called you because I suspect that my daughter is alive.

Ann notices that the satyr has held his breath, holding back his surprise. The dryad sighs, dissatisfied with his lack of composure.

-I had some visions that made me reach that conclusion. I did not have many visions recently, but it was enough to understand that my daughter survived and that the Destroyer's arrival is real. Even if he doesn't know it, his mere existence has already caused changes in future events.

-I thought he wasn't taking an active stance in relation to important events. – Ann intervenes.

-The young man does not yet know about his real power, nor does he use the power he discovered in the way it was originally designed. However, his mere existence was enough to change certain events. Even my Destiny can change based on his actions.

-Was he responsible for the survival of the Second Oracle?

-I suspect so. – The nymph does not seem to answer to Ann, but to her own thoughts, forming her opinion throughout the conversation. – As I said, I had some visions and I noticed some blind spots, typical of my daughter's presence. Philippos.

-Yes, mother nymph.

-I want you to organize enough groups to gather information about Nafaester on our borders. Be as discreet as possible.

-Should I call only the satyrs?

-Call Lancelot and ask for some lupines to help with the searches. If any satyrs have a trance caused by a proximity to the Lesser Oracle, let me know it immediately. However, I don't want you to look exclusively for Nafaester, but for suspicious activities of her potential allies.

-Should I look for allies of the prin... I mean... Nafaester’s allies?

-Yes. I believe she will not return to the forest now, but if she has allies who know that she is alive, they will make a move to help her. It makes no sense to look for her, as it would be impossible to find her, so it is more important and practical to look for her allies and for helpful information.

-As you wish.

-You're dismissed. Ann, you stay.

The satyr doesn't ask any questions, leaving without hesitation.

As always, Ann was the last one to leave the room. Calling her along with the others always had the same objective: That she knew what was ordered to the others and that she could have her particular orders given at the end of each meeting.

-I want you to keep an eye on Philippos. - Nida announces bluntly.

-Is something in particular raising suspicions about him? - The dryad raises an eyebrow.

-No. Quite the opposite, actually. I want to elevate his prestige, but I still feel some discomfort when I think about it.

-He is already the most prominent member of the Council.

-Yet, he acts like he's my lackey. I want him to become third in command, but he seems to run from the responsibility. – The Oracle sighs. - I understand that he wants to please me, but, sometimes, I can't help but to be concerned.

-I see... Do you want me to do this myself, or should I use the dryads?

-Use the dryads. I also want you to coordinate a thorough investigation among the Council members. I suspect that Nafaester has left supporters infiltrated in the Glade.

-It would be foolish, no? Without her around, your visions could-

-Just as my visions could reveal the conspirators, they could also reveal nothing. – The Oracle gets up and walks to Ann. – Oh, my friend. How long have we known each other?

The dryad does not know how to react. She couldn't remember the last time Nida had called her “friend”. Or the last time she had come close to hug her.

-I...

-You are the only member of the Council that I really trust. Since our tribes decided to stop fighting each other. When we decided to take the Forest to ourselves.

-That was... My...

-Yes, I see a lot of her in you. Mainly in your eyes. You have the same eyes. And that's why I can't distrust you. Because it's the only time I see the past. The only time I forget the future: When I see my own memories in your eyes.

-I'm honored.

Nida pulls away from the embrace and hands the dryad an envelope. Then she takes a few steps back, walking to her throne as if she can float over the ground.

-I trust you, Ann. That is why I will make my nymphs available to you. Investigate the Council and the Council’s families. Investigate the friends of the Council and the friends of the friends of the Council. And send this letter to Fiandel.

-Who should I address it to?

-Njalmar. It looks like my daughter may be inside his territory. If he still has eyes for the past, there's a chance he'll hand her to me. If he does that, maybe...

The nymph sighs.

-Go ahead, Ann. Leave. I need to be alone.

-As you wish.

Once she is alone, the nymph places her hand over her face. Tiredness and worries fills her insides.

-Maybe… - She whispers to herself. – Death is not the only option.

*

The prince of Fiandel swings the sword over his head, delivering a transversal blow right after finishing the movement that initiated his dodge.

The blade descends powerfully on the opponent's shield, which resists the impact. He tries to use the leg to advance and throw the prince off balance.

Connor notices the movement and turns his body sideways, advancing and shifting his stance to use the sword like a spear, using the tip of the weapon to cut through the gap between the shield and the arm. Instead of pushing the blade between the arm and the chest, he pulls the sword upwards, ripping the shield's grip, which falls in front of the warrior.

Connor steps forward and the opponent, bewildered, backs away. The prince steps on the border of the shield, causing it to be launched over the ground and, in a fluid movement, he kicks the metal over the opponent who, with a leap to the side, barely saves himself. However, there is no time to rest, as the prince's free hand grips the hilt arm of the sword and twists it downward, making the opponent drop his weapon and raise his hands.

-Another defeat... - The warrior with a helmet over his head bows.

-Your moves are getting better, brother.

Duke León, one of the figures of the Fiandel nobility, removes his helmet, displaying a pale smile and a face wet with sweat. His curly brown hair expands after the helmet is removed, falling over his shoulders. The prince watches him. Connor hadn't needed to wear a helmet and there wasn't a drop of sweat on his face.

-It's still not even close to being good enough. – León picks up his sword on the ground. – But I appreciate the compliment. As for you, it's hard to imagine someone who could face you, let alone defeat you.

Connor notices his father's arrival at the door of the training room and can't help but to comment:

-And yet, It's not enough for me either. There are at least three warriors in Fiandel who could defeat me with a sword, right?

The question is addressed to Njalmar. The duke, upon noticing the king's entrance, bows ceremoniously. The king beckons him to lift his head before answering:

-The sword is not your only weapon, my son. The combination of your magic and sword should be enough to battle anyone in Fiandel.

-As a son, I couldn't be more honored. As a warrior, I admit that I would like to test such theory.

-Test it against whom? Me?

-Why not? The exercise would suit you well.

Njalmar's eyes sparkle for a second. It is not a glow of excitement, but of reflection and, in a way, of deep sadness.

-León, leave us alone. I want to talk to my son.

The warrior looks at Connor for a moment, but does not dare to defy the order and backs away, closing the door behind him.

Njalmar walks to the other side of the training room. His footsteps echo through the space and he picks up an old and cracked hilt sword. The steel, however, is in perfect conditions.

-I stopped fighting a long time ago. When the territorial wars ended and Fiandel was united again under my command, I returned home, wanting to live with my people and my family until the day of my death. - He swings the sword. – It was everything I wanted: Peace to live with my beloved wife and my family.

-Father-

-Do not interrupt me. I used my body as a warrior for more than a decade, and several times I thought I was going to die. Whenever this happened, what made me keep moving was the hope that every second would serve to end the wars. No more blood and tears. No more fighting to keep my life away from the hands of death. During those days that I took up the sword with the intent of killing, I never lost hope that I was building a land of peace, where the power centered on me would be used to prevent future wars.

“That was a desire I shared with my wife. While I fought on the battlefields, she fought on the political tables. On two different fronts, with me as a king and her as a queen, we united the people, organized the armies, imposed respect on neighboring nations, and inspired fear in our enemies. When we met again, we reinforced our love and convictions. For us, strengthening Fiandel was not about the money, fame or power. It was like building a safe house, the size of the entire kingdom, where we could shelter our sons and daughters and live our lives in peace.”

“And we both risked our lives. However, to me, it's ironic that I was the one to survive. After all, I always thought that if one of us were to die, it would be me, under the slash of a blade or crushed by the fist of a warrior. However, the entities did not want it to be like that. Despite everything, I survived. And my wife, the queen, died a death delivered by a coward and traitor, who poisoned her, thinking I could not learn to reign as a political mediator, thinking I was just a brute who only knew how to use a sword and whose kingdom would succumb to my inability as a ruler.”

Njalmar swings the blade again, imbuing it with his power. Each stride multiplied the strength and speed of the swing. Every movement raised the hairs on the back of Connor's neck.

-When I saw her dead, I knew what I should do. When I saw her face in that coffin, I understood that I has one responsibility: To not allow her death to be in vain. I needed to fulfill her life's wish. Do you understand that, Connor? Can you see her wish guiding my actions until now?

-Yes father. I never failed to notice that.

-And you know that, although I could go back to expand the territories with the use of the sword, I chose to see my children grow up in peace, until the day they could carry with them my desire and that of their mother?

-Yes, father.

-And even if you have never met her, do you still want to see the peace she dreamed about?

-Such peace, - Connor says with conviction. – is the one that created Fiandel and allowed us to prosper. It allowed the entire continent to prosper. I admire my mother's wish. I admire my father's wish. But, more than that, I want to carry such a wish with me.

Njalmar looks for doubts or lies in his son's eyes. He swings his sword even harder, menacingly, approaching the heir to the crown.

And he didn't find an ounce of hesitation in his eyes.

-So, you understand that the peace I want to achieve is not yet complete?

-You mean the way Fandel still does not rule over the other kingdoms?

-Not necessarily. I don't need to give power to a name or a kingdom. It was never necessary for Fiandel to be, alone, the most powerful nation on the continent. What I want is to create a joint command of allied nations capable of imposing an end to conflicts among other nations. A set of allies that can punish those who, due to their thirst for power and lesser desires, threaten the lives of their subjects and slow the continent's evolution.

-The way we tried with Vivre a few years ago?

-Exactly. At the time, Aetna refused a real alliance and all I got was an extremely fragile peace deal. We are currently trying to coordinate an emergency alliance to face the armies that will come from the east. However, this alliance will probably be broken once the war is over. And there's something bigger that we can work on before that.

-Do you intend to accept the marriage proposed by Nafaester?

-And to be a part of one last war as King Njalmar of Fiandel. - He places the tip of the sword on the ground and the blade cuts through the stone like butter, without even expanding the crack, sinking the sword halfway into its blade. - Before I become king of the Great Forest and you become king of Fiandel. Nafaester promised that marriages will be arranged to bind future generations from both kingdoms.

-Those are, indeed, excellent prospects. - The prince waves. - If you trust her and believe this is a war we can win before the attack from the East, I offer my full support to your decision.

-I believe it's the best plan. However, before I give her my definitive answer, there were a few unanswered questions left, wouldn't you agree?

-I don’t understand. Which questions?

-I must ask you, my son: Are you willing to live the rest of your days as king in a kingdom that will have to recover from the war with the Great Forest? Are you willing to organize the necessary alliances between the royal blood of Fiandel and that of a neighboring kingdom? Are you willing to share power over the continent with another kingdom and use everything I taught you for the peace of ours and future generations?

For a moment, the prince seems lost. He blinks fast, several times, as if the questions had caught him off-guard.

And when he finally understands that the king is serious, Connor drops his sword on the ground and kneels in front of his father, his eyes turned to Njalmar's face.

-Father, I hope that an oath is enough, as I do not think that the existence of doubts about my support for your decision is something acceptable. If the oath is not enough, I will make promises in front of witnesses and signed on paper. I allow you to mark me with tattoos and to burn my skin so you don't think I'll forget my promise. However, I ask you not to doubt me anymore.

He lowers his head, showing his neck to the king who, with his hands on the hilt of the sword, understands the offer of his son's life.

The next words come out shakily from the young warrior's lips.

-My father and king, these are the words of Connor, son of Njalmar, heir to the crown of Fiandel: As long as I live, I will protect the wish of my parents with all of my strength. I will live and, if necessary, I will die trying to reach the peace that can justify the death of my mother and the life of my father.

“These are Connor's words. This is the promise of the prince and future king. This is the oath made with my honor, protected by my sword and, if necessary, paid with my blood.”

"Long live the king."

*

*