In that brief span of time, we managed to discover a significant amount of information that I would gladly tell Pitties, so he may, on his part, maneuver his agents to better fit how the Enemy fights. How he planned to initiate contact remained a mystery, but I hoped he would do so sooner rather than later. My heart had grown heavy from Caffria, and every passing moment felt stretched out. We needed to leave as soon as possible.

More hours slipped by as Florencia and I delved into our theories, dissecting the facts we had gathered. But despite Florencia’s piercing logic, and my instinctive sense of how the Enemy worked, our pursuit yielded no more progress.

We were stuck with our current understanding, and we both thought that our next step had to be interrogating another thrall or host, preferably one more inclined to talk. But to do that—to make a demon talk and lay bare their secrets—would require me to increase my psychic strength and command of it. I had to be able to hold the resisting demon inside the prison of flesh and muscle for much longer than I was able to in that damp cellar and to hurt it more.

With that understanding, I signaled the waiter to replenish our drinks, ordering a cup of mulled wine with citrus peels for myself and Flo. The evening’s chill had settled in, and some patrons had already left the cafeteria. Many tables around were empty now.

Florencia turned to me. “So what do you make of the letter we found in Veneiea?”

“Honestly, I don’t have the faintest idea. I can’t understand a single word written there.”

I saw Florencia’s face wrinkle from thinking, and she said: “There’s something about that letter that’s been haunting my thoughts. But I can’t connect the dots. It’s maddening.”

“I don’t sense anything.”

“No, there’s something hidden there. I know there is.”

“I believe you, Flo. I just said that I sense nothing. But I’m sure you’re right—”

“Ah, you see, Jonas, I’m always right,” said Florencia playfully, and a smirk appeared on her lips.

“It certainly makes my life a lot easier,” I returned the playful smile.

“Oh, how I wish someone would make my life easier,” said Florencia, and beneath the table, her leg merrily bumped against mine. In that fleeting moment, I could vividly imagine the carefree life with her that she fantasized about earlier. It could’ve been a simple day, filled with joy, unburdened by the weight of our grim mission that seems to be only beginning.

But then, all of a sudden, we saw Jace Vialisios emerging through the bustling crowd on the wharf of the Vardurran.

As he stormed closer, we noticed the subtle changes in his appearance. His coat, once a light shade of blue when we left the capital, now was darker. His long brown hair was combed over his head perfectly, and his goatee, with a fashionable split by the corners of his mouth, was meticulously trimmed.

But it was his small silver pendant that hung from his neck that drew my attention. It was the same one that I saw back in the Yasman Lodge headquarters all those weeks ago, before Scorro. Jace had said then that he adorned the pendant—the Eye of Eki—with additional runes, simply because to him, it looked better this way.

Only now, Jace wore this openly.

He took a chair and sat down in front of us, eyes full of fury and a tempest of energy came with him.

“I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed, and people turned their heads. “This is outrageous!”

“Calm down, Jace,” I said. “What’s going on?”

When Florencia and I took the day off and walked around in the city, blissfully ignoring the encroaching darkness, Jace decided to spend the day scouring through the library, to decipher the letter that we found in Veneiea. There were many libraries in Caffria, some ancient, others contemporary. He went with the safest option and visited the oldest one, called in the old Lienor tongue, the Arraemoniom.

There, Jace spent most of his day combing through the labyrinthine sections and endless shelves, poring over countless volumes that some were so brittle that they fell apart in his hands. Yet despite his efforts and dedication, he found nothing noteworthy, with only elusive fragments of information buried in a passing sentence.

It was only through sheer luck that he chanced upon an old lady who had a well-read look about her. He chased her down, and they sat down for a meal and drink at a cafe near the library. There Jace asked her about the letter and passed her the note, only for the dignified woman to throw it back into his face.

“She truly and deeply felt insulted that I’d ask her about something so taboo as Canan or Hexen. In her own words, she referred to those lands as ‘the cursed countries’,” said Jace.

Two guards that we recognized from yesterday passed us, and they nodded in acknowledgment before hurrying away quickly. Farther away, in hushed tones, I overheard them mutter the words “damned mages” before turning the corner.

Then, Jace took the letter he was desperately trying to decipher from his pocket and put it on the table. He set it right in front of Florencia’s sword, that she had leaned against the wall of the cafeteria.

The sword always intrigued me, and as the letter from Hexen or Canan or Ksiorak lay on the checkered tablecloth, my eyes were drawn to her sword again.

Despite its age, it was made with supreme artistry. The scabbard’s weathered leather was ancient, and the straight hilt of the blade had a hundred scratches on its surface, yet was utterly unbent. And the initials of its former owner, ‘JV’, were etched darkly upon it and swallowed all light that shone upon it. It was something I’d never seen before. As Jace rambled on about his misfortunes, I wondered where did Florencia say she got that weapon that seemed to complement her powers?

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“She said that nobody in their right mind speaks those languages,” Jace continued, whispering loudly, though none dared to eavesdrop. “Or even would admit knowing how to read them. She even found my mere suggestion utterly insulting. I couldn’t believe it! How ridiculous! Why should a true scholar care about the whims of trends and fashionability? She said it would be a miracle if anyone would admit to knowing that cursed language, and then ran off. The whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth.”

After muttering the words “ridiculous” and “baffling, utterly incomprehensible” many times, he calmed down and ordered some tea for himself.

“Jace,” I said. “I’m sure we will translate the letter, but try to forget it for now. We’ve learned much in a very short amount of time. Don’t let it sour your mood.”

“Ugh!” Jace exhaled. “You’re right. Maybe I wanted to distract myself with this… nonsense. I needed something, anything, to take my mind off that cursed apartment.”

Florencia and I both understood what he was going through very well. I could hardly get the scene out of my mind. The totality of that horror refused to fade into memory, and I could not guess for how much longer I had to bear that gruesome image with me.

After sunset, the three of us went back to the tavern, set our horses away into the stables, and joined Iskander and Jaxine for dinner.

We had to discuss what our next move should be, and Jaxine, of course, demanded we set off for Lottie the next day. Florencia reminded her rather firmly that we would not go before bringing Pitties up to date with our discoveries. But what ticked her off was that none of us knew when Pitties, or his messenger, would arrive.

After a light dinner, we separated and went to our rooms that had been cleaned. Two bottles of wine, very aromatic and fruity, had been set on the night table by the tavern owner, and it was good.

I turned to Florencia. “We must leave quickly,” I told her.

“What? Why?” she asked. “I thought we decided to wait until—”

“We did, but I have this strange… feeling in my heart that we have to hurry. I don’t sense it strongly yet, but I feel it all the time. I had to say something.”

Florencia fell into thought for a time. “Hmm. I can’t sense anything, but the absence of a feeling is not always a good thing. If by tomorrow you still have it, we should listen to it. You’ve never had that kind of gut feeling before.”

“I haven’t,” I said, and I was glad she listened.

“Are you going to meditate again, or just join me in bed?” she asked.

That night, my mind harbored no inclination for meditation. The notion of a grim cave tucked away in some distant realm was utterly distant from my thoughts, and Florencia and I spent a wonderful night together. But as the following day dawned, the urgency in my heart had grown, and every passing moment in Caffria felt wrong and forced.

We had a late breakfast and were standing outside the tavern, watching the crowds move along the road. Our gaze wandered over the stream of passing merchants and the workmen all coming and going, with the unending noise of beasts and rumbling wagons and talking and shouting. The warning in my heart had grown strong, and while passing the time, I told the others that we would leave for Lottie soon, and we would spend today making everything ready to leave quickly.

But when it was not even midday, a messenger came for me. He was a young boy, late teens perhaps, and wore dark, official-looking clothes that ill-fitted him.

“Sir? My lord is asking for you in the town hall,” said the boy with a high voice.

“Who asks me to come, and why?” I asked. I couldn’t guess that the Lord Mayor wants anything to do with me, so the request was odd.

“I was sent by our Lordship’s secretary to find you, and urgently ask you to come. Early morning, some knights came that I’d never seen before. They spoke, or more like commanded our Lordship to go with them, and when he came back, he was very upset. And these knights, sir, I’ve never seen anything like that. They looked so fancy and proud and wore only silver and white cloaks, and they had some kind of masks hiding their faces. They said something to Mr. Falgaras, the Lord Mayor’s secretary, and he commanded me to bring you as soon as possible.”

Florencia and my eyes locked in a silent agreement. With a subtle nod from her, our unspoken plan fell into motion, and we gathered horses and equipment to go to the town hall.

The others stayed behind to prepare their horses for our departure, and to buy the necessary food, provisions, and everything else that we might need.

The journey from Caffria to Lottie was going to take two to three weeks, depending on the whims of the weather and the road. To not leave anything to chance, we planned on taking many supplies with us. Most of the road to the City of Flowers was densely populated by larger and smaller villages, but there was a large section of land that was wild and untamed, and the voyage through those would take a week. To plan against any ill chance, Iskander and Jace armed themselves with ample provisions.

Our preparations were justified. For just the previous night, we overheard a conversation between some old and wise men, who promised the weather would turn foul soon.

I believed them, as the day had already been grey, cloudy, and damp.

Florencia and I arrived at the town hall in no time, the familiar facade standing as it had been those days before. Only this time, some things had changed. There were more guards marching along the gravel pathways and stone sidewalks, gripping their spears and swords with heightened vigilance.

The town hall itself was now like a hive of activity, where clerks and officials, wearing their robes and uniforms of office, strode ahead with purpose. All held stacks of papers and leather folders, and mumbling rumors of some strange knights that had temporarily taken command of the back wing, sparking more questions than answers about why they were there.

“Thank you for coming this quickly,” said the Lord Mayor’s secretary, Mr. Falgaras, who we had already met. “I have to admit that we thought you were already gone. We didn’t hear a word from you for a few days, so our Lordship was rather… pleased to guess you had left. But when those knights came and demanded to see you, the Mayor lost his temper. He’s all right now but… Anyway, please follow me quickly.”

He took us through the busy hallways, tall and wide, adorned with stone and gold trimmings and brilliant glass chandeliers and bright lush carpets. Before an old door, thick and masterfully carved, the secretary came to a halt. In an instant, I sensed a subtle radiance coming from the other side of that door, though not as bright as Pitties or Florencia. The psychic power reminded me of the men of the King’s Guard.

Mr. Falgaras rubbed his hands together, his shoulders slouched. “The Knights asked for you, but I don’t know why. Please go in, and uh, they’ll handle the rest. Good luck, and goodbye.”

He turned around and left in a hurry.

“Let’s see what this is about,” I said and took Florencia’s hand.

With confidence, I opened the door and went inside the large room.

Before me stood ten magnificent knights, all tall and heavy. In gleaming silver and steel were they clad, and flawless white cloaks draped over their left arms. On their belts, they had long swords that reminded me of the one Florencia held. But we could not see their faces, for they wore masks of polished steel, all molded into a face of a hero, exactly in the likeness of the other. And the plumes on their great helms were of white and teal-green, tied neatly together.

All of them were magically gifted, and the armor they wore was enchanted with deep runes of shining silver. Though everyone looked the same, one stepped forward, and the others gathered in a half-circle in front of me, staying perfectly still.

“Jonas Espian?” asked the first knight, his deep voice distorted behind some metallic device.

“Yes,” I replied laconically.

“We are the Knights of Coeccedus, guardians of the Mirror. The Advisor of our Majesty, the King, is waiting. Please, follow me.”

And I followed the Knights in Silver and White.