Erise was awake the entire night. Except for the brief interlude of “visiting” her half-sister at dawn, she was reading various letters from the other members of the Six Kings. Well, now that she was the ruler of Tiw, only five Kings remained.

“Andrew,” Erise called.

“Yes, your highness.” A young, hard-faced knight bowed his bald head. His skin was dark as the night, and its luster gleamed against the moonlight. He was the only one who stayed by her side for the entire night.

Erise threw the letters on her desk. “Are you sure these letters are from the same people? Their flattery almost made me puke,” she complained.

Andrew brought a finger to his chin, pondering seriously. “With all due respect, the pattern is obvious. They want to pamper you while you are strong.”

Erise shook her head. “The King of Thur'si and Tyr have been training their armies ever since I took the throne. Do they think I am blind?”

“Look at the silver lining, your highness. The other kings have recognized your authority," Andrew said.

Erise shrugged. "The Prophets know about Fia and Sura...it's not a surprise the mage kingdoms don't want conflict. However, we are still fighting a two-front war."

“If Conqueror Titus can do it, this battle is not even worth your concern,” Andrew said. “You are a crazier warmonger than he ever was, after all.”

Erise chuckled. “I don't know if that was flattery or stupidity,” she said.

---

The time was almost noon. In the training grounds, Fia had just finished her endurance training. Per her request, the field was filled with climbing obstacles and wooden mannequins. Since she could not enjoy such luxuries in the past, she gladly took advantage of them. After climbing a set of ten tall walls, she ran for an hour and rested. Finally, she practiced the dagger skills that she picked up from the streets. Although Sura had offered to teach her, she had no interest in power that was not completely her own.

Fia was exhausted, but she was also relieved, maybe even happy. This place was one of Erise's rare gifts to be grateful for. Since she did not have the energy to think about anything else, she could now feel the mana around her. In her eyes, the strange particles resembled the ashes of corpses.

She remembered the Prophets. They were the instruments of their gods, and no one could oppose their authority. After Titus massacred most of their descendants, however, the original line had disappeared into oblivion. In their place, a new group emerged: mages. Raised as war machines for the Prophets’ armies, the wielders of mana found a new purpose in serving Titus. After their master died, those who fought alongside the Conqueror controlled what remained of the Seven Kingdoms. The common people still called them Prophets--they could not tell the difference.

Fia was a War Rat. There were many like her: some were stronger, while others were faster. However, only she could survive against the mages, for she had a power of her own. In the bloody battlefield, her anxiety and fear disappeared. Only then did she resemble Titus: ruthless, courageous, and immune to the power of mana.

Fia did not have the strength to help others but only herself. Erise picked her as the Prophetess only because the throne required one. As a future Queen, she could not have equals. Her last Prophet was her fiance... she killed the man because he dared to covet her crown. Death after death, only her half-sister was there to take the unwanted position.

“Sura,” Fia murmured.

Yes? A familiar voice echoed in her mind. The skull was left purposely at her desk, but he had still followed her with his consciousness.

She sat down on the ground, brooding. “How do I bless Erise in the ceremony?” she asked.

Traditionally, the Prophets would kiss the ruler on the forehead and anoint him with mana. However, the mages also performed a “miracle” to incite fear… and love.

“So fear it is,” Fia concluded. “She had long lost the meaning of love.”