A new morning dawned. The streets of the imperial capital were still damp from the almost torrential rains of the preceding night. The large gates of the city garrison swung open, and a large regiment imposingly marched out of them. They were sealing off the city. It was probably a little too late for that, but they wouldn't want to be accused of not even trying to find her.

"Stand at attention!", the commander gave the order, and all the men immediately halted yet stayed in formation. " Here I have a simple sketch of the person we're looking for. She is to be arrested ALIVE, if at all possible! Get in line and take a good look at the face. I want you to memorize it. After that, teams of four will be formed to comb the city. We'll search absolutely everything, every house, every cellar, every room, every cupboard; don't leave a single thing out! We're going to leave no stone unturned to catch this culprit. Have I made myself clear?" - "Yes, Vice Marshal!", the soldiers gave back. Ulrich immediately corrected them, "From now on, that is Supreme Marshal to you. Well then, let's go. Salute!"

The men followed the order and then lined up to take a look at the wanted poster. It was a lady with short, black hair and a rather narrow, oval face who was depicted on it. Even though she had far fewer wrinkles in this depiction than was actually the case, it was very clear that this was supposed to be Petra Vogt. Yes, the lady would now be hunted all throughout the city and soon throughout the whole empire. The emperor had ordered this because, according to him, she was behind the events of the previous night. Many of the inhabitants of Meglarsbruck had not even gotten out of bed and had not yet heard about the dramatic events of the last couple of hours.

It was a shocking event for many. The Melgarion Palace, which had even survived the Holy Revolution unscathed, now lay largely in ruins. According to His Majesty, saboteurs had infiltrated the complex and set fire to it. "It was definitely the Alethics' fault again!", was what most of the military thought. They had never gotten over their bitterness over their loss of power as a result of the revolution. The army was working around the clock to show them "their place", but this latest act of political violence would only lead to more oppression.

"We will destroy these disgusting heretics! They obviously didn't want it any other way!", said Ulrich, after he had swung himself into the saddle of his horse. Although his orders had been to search all the houses without discrimination, he himself was one hundred percent aware that the soldiers would be applying double standards here.

Wham! The door was forcefully yanked open after the occupants had opened it a notch to see who had knocked at such an early hour. Immediately afterwards, the troop stormed in. Major General Alexander Kuhn remained standing near the front gate and, as the commanding officer, had to deal with the questions and complaints of the residents who had been caught off guard. "We have nothing to hide. It was completely inappropriate of you to push my son down like that! There is absolutely nothing we are guilty of." - "That's what they all say until we find out what 'skeletons' they are actually hiding in their closets," the young man replied bluntly and with an implacable tone in his voice as he rolled his eyes. He had no sympathy or even pity for these Alethics. They had his father on their conscience! He would never forgive them for that! That was also the reason why he had immediately volunteered to help with the search operation.

In the meantime, the soldiers searched the whole house. They went into every nook and cranny, rummaged through the attic and cellar, and even ransacked all the cupboards and drawers. The lady of the house was about to go up to them and say something, but her husband grabbed her by the arm and stopped her from making such a foolish mistake. When she turned to him, a shake of the head and a serious look was all he gave her. She certainly had understood him. Standing up against injustice here wasn't worth risking her family's safety. In the end, nothing was found. A single “suspicious” book could be discovered under the stairs. It was, of course, confiscated. That was it. The men left again without showing even a modicum of decency, as they didn't even say their goodbyes. They immediately moved on to the next house.

And so, the day dragged on for an impossibly long time. Several women who looked similar to the hastily drawn mugshot had been arrested, but every single one of those detainees had to be set free again as they had been unjustly accused. After what felt like an eternity, Alexander returned to his mentor to report on the lack of success in their mission. As he approached him, however, he saw Ulrich talking to a man he did know by appearance, but who he couldn't really identify in a hurry. He had short, well-combed black hair and wore glasses. His robes were very lofty, which indicated that he was a person of great authority. Clothes make people. However, in his ignorance, Alexander had not even been able to recognize the Imperial Chancellor by his rather distinctive appearance.

"The funeral will, of course, take place on a befitting scale. I have already been notified about the appropriate preparations being made," came from His Excellency in the most refined diction. Also in formal language, but a little less highbrow, Ulrich then said, "I'm only sorry for the widow he's leaving behind. She was barely even responsive as it was." With a slight nod of his head and a cool expression, Peter signalled his understanding, whereupon the military man continued, "Unfortunately, I don't have time to deal with such sentimentalities here. My mission is clear: to ensure the stability of the country and to track down and root out traitors and assassins! Basically, just business as usual."

The head of government now had something to add. He drew a touch closer to his interlocutor and began speaking in a low voice, "You hold the position of Supreme Marshal on an interim basis. In the current situation, your skills are useful to the empire. But do not think that this means you can circumvent the proper procedures! There is a prescribed order of succession in the army, but there are also laws. And the law states that the Supreme Marshal must be approved by the Sovereign." The tone in his voice was firm and refined.

Ulrich replied in an equally animated tone, "At the moment, I'm the only one here who can fill the shoes of the hero of the revolution! Your political games are of no interest to me whatsoever. And neither will they interest the army!" The man was quite self-confident, this was not a bluff. Nevertheless, one thing was clear to him: it had been stipulated in the founding documents of the empire that the head of the army was appointed by the emperor. Even the members of the Imperial Diet would not dare to violate those documents, which they themselves had signed by mutual agreement at the time. With his actions here, the intermediate Supreme Marshal was merely trying to show that he had the army's backing until His Highness's return in order to present Wenzel with what appeared to be a fait accompli, giving him the feeling that he could only agree to this, if he did not want any more disorder in the country. Of course, this was all just speculation on Ulrich's part. He did not know exactly how things would turn out or when His Majesty would actually return to the capital.

Peter had a very sour reaction to this. "From what I've heard, you only joined the revolution very late, and at a time when the tide already seemed to be turning. Opportunists are not the ones who can guarantee a glowing future for a country." The words thrown at the veteran were harsh. The anger they aroused was obvious from the addressee’s face. At that moment, the son of the man who had been martyred tonight suddenly came stumbling into the scene. The Imperial Chancellor immediately moved away from his counterpart and spoke at a normal volume again, "The court's relocation is proceeding without a hitch. Rest assured that the Imperial Guard has this matter perfectly under control. Well then, I must be on my way again. We shall be seeing each other again soon, Honourable Marshal!" He made the appropriate farewell gesture and strode off. Only then did the clueless Alexander step up to deliver his report.

Amoroso Di Alduino took an oblong object the size of a finger from his breast pocket, put it in his mouth and lit it at the tip. He inhaled the smoke and then skilfully puffed it out again. As grumpy as he almost always was, Lucius stood next to him, staring at him in displeasure. "Don't you pollute my air with your stinking stuff here!", he rudely hissed at the curly-haired man. Fulco's cousin only responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He didn't care too much about this poison dwarf's opinion. He suspected that the accomplice of Petra's was just jealous, because he couldn't afford such luxury goods, which had to be shipped in from across the South Sea at sinfully high prices. He was wrong in this assumption, but that didn't matter anyway. In any case, Lucius would certainly have found a reason to show off his typically surly mood.

Then a cloaked lady suddenly appeared, coming down over the hilltop. "Well, at last! I was beginning to think I wouldn't find you at all!", she announced. On the back of her emaciated nag of a horse, she speedily clambered down the steep slope zigzagging towards them. The two gentlemen knew, of course, that she was Petra. Di Alduino replied, "My apologies, but there was no other way. The city was sealed off until today and I have learned that you have been declared an outlaw. It would be foolish for you to enter the capital under the current circumstances." The woman immediately responded "What? Outlawed? Really? What do they think I've done?" She now looked at Mr Cornel and directly addressed him, "In your letter, you wrote me that something had happened in the Imperial Palace. What makes the regime think that I have got anything to do with this? Oh, never mind. You'd better tell me what really happened first!"

"When I wrote the message, I didn't know exactly what had happened. That's why I could only pass on rumours that I had heard. Shortly afterwards, the soldiers sealed off the city and searched intensively for you, yes, you. They also paid a visit to me and the, er..." he hesitated briefly, as he couldn't remember his first name, "the Sir Di Alduino here. Logically, there was nothing to be found in our place. Later, when I was finally in a position to leave the house again, I was able to see for myself what had happened. The Melgarion Palace has burnt down. Apparently, our puppet masterminding with the princess has borne fruit. I know that she is the one who caused this."

When Petra heard this, she burst into almost ecstatic joy. Her resulting laughter was shrill and disconcerting for the two who witnessed it. But they said nothing. Her exuberant glee drowned out any critical consideration of the dubious story her co-conspirator had served up to her. How had he been able to send the letter to her BEFORE it was made impossible to leave the city? Why did Lucius not know that the palace had been destroyed while he was putting this to paper, even though the fact that Viktoria had been the perpetrator was immediately clear to him? Such discrepancies were now swept away by the exhilaration generated by the lady's delight over this event.

Finally, however, a single sober thought occurred to her: "Where is Achaz?" Her supposed ally immediately replied, "He came to the metropolis with me because we were able to convince the young witch to take action against her father. But a large crowd of people formed and, unfortunately, I lost him amidst all the clamour and tumult. I'm sure he's somewhere with his, ahem, girlfriend. We'll find him eventually." Incredibly, Petra readily accepted his explanation at face value.

In the meantime, Amoroso just stood by and listened to the two of them without comment. He had never seen the boy they were talking about, but obviously wasn't interested enough in the matter to comment on it. The deceitful man, who was the only one who knew what had actually happened to Achaz, was internally cracking up about this. "They're making it too easy for me!", he thought to himself. "Well then, what should we do next?", he then asked. To this Petra said, "We must carry on with the plan, just as it has been drawn up. The next step is to gather our troops in Camenia and lead them to Ordania."

This finally prompted a question from the gentleman Di Alduino: "I assume that the emperor is still alive. Does his condition not have any bearing on your plans?" Lucius responded, "Yes and no. We can't take him out, only his adopted daughter can. And I assume that she will do this very thing. In the meantime, we are concentrating on what we are capable of, which is the introduction of a new Alethic armed force that will assert our interests in Ordania." - "That was the plan anyway," Petra interjected and continued, "Achaz is also in the loop on this. He knows where the Free Lancers' camp is. If we go there, he'll find us."

This rationale was very much to Cornel's satisfaction. Which is why he agreed with her and added, "The boy is good when it comes to orienting himself. I'm convinced he'll be able to locate us. Provided he's with the girl, there's even less reason to worry. Even if he doesn't show up right away, he at least knows where to find us."

Petra was unaware of the perfidy in these words. Nevertheless, her seemingly complete lack of concern for her own flesh and blood was a little surprising even for Lucius. She simply agreed with him on all of this and even by herself urged to congregate with Etzel as soon as possible and proceed with their plans without delay. "Makes sense," the man noted and then gave her the argument he had actually intended in order to persuade her to head south. "As there will soon be wanted posters of you all over the place, it's probably better to get out of the country anyway."

So, it was unanimously agreed. They would move to Camenia and from there they would begin to destabilize the empire even further. Chaos had already been sown. Evidently, Lucius had succeeded in his diabolical stratagem without suffering any harm himself. It was a masterstroke that no one would or could ever find out about.

The imperial retinue pushed forward, past vast fields on rolling hills. The call of the buzzard was carried along by the wind. The horses trotted along at a leisurely pace, while the men sitting on them were sweating out rivers due to the midsummer heat and their thick armour and jerkins. "Where's Paul?", one of the guardsmen asked his colleague. He replied, "He's in the vanguard. His Highness has sent them ahead to lock up and secure Greifenburg in advance." - "Ah, I see," returned the guy, who obviously hadn't been paying much attention to what had been going on.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

The guy riding next to him then said, "From what I've heard, messenger birds have been sent out all over the empire to start crackdowns everywhere. Apparently, this is primarily about one person." - "Sounds pretty excessive, if you ask me," his counterpart replied to that. But the other countered straight away, " Not at all! Did you see what happened to the Imperial Palace, dude! His Majesty is definitely right here!" The addressee could only agree. In their minds, it was impossible for the Chosen One to be mistaken. Because of these "wrong" thoughts that had just occurred to him, the man would now be beating himself up for a while. Doubting his Holiness was a sin!

Meanwhile, the imperial couple were in their carriage, accompanied by a larger number of guards than usual. Amalie had already been looking out of the window for some time now, without saying a word. She just watched the landscape slowly drift by in silence. Her daughter was all she could think about at the moment. Worried, her husband took a close look at her weary-looking face. She didn't make a pretty sight, but was still relatively composed given the circumstances. Wenzel was also nervous, but not nearly as shaken as his darling was. He had seen and experienced far worse things during the war. Thinking back to the sight of the innumerable lifeless bodies strewn across the battlefield outside Greifenburg only made him realize again the reason for his callousness. Nevertheless, inwardly he was extremely worried about Viktoria, of that there was no doubt. Witnessing terrible things that happened to some stranger was one thing, but with your own family it was a completely different story. Occasionally, his hands began to tremble unprompted. "Hmm. Maybe there's a lot more emotion left in me than I'm trying to make myself believe," he thought. "No. I can't soften up here! I'm the one who has to stay strong and focussed in this situation."

Eventually he addressed his wife again, "I have already issued my instructions that in the event of my death, you would become regent and the role of finding a new emperor would fall to the Imperial Guard." Amalie only answered him with a quiet, "Mhm." She understood very well that this was a testimony to his great distrust of the army and the Imperial Diet. He only really trusted his most loyal subordinates to find a worthy successor, i.e. a person with magical powers. This of course implied that Viktoria was no longer seen as a successor, which no one had yet decided, not even Wenzel. Nevertheless, this terrible thought was now eating its way into Amalie's mind. Her husband continued for the time being:

"So much has gone wrong. I believe that a new system is needed to integrate magicians into the societal and power system in the future. But I really don't know how. The country and the way its inhabitants think are so contradictory. On the one hand, the ruler is revered, almost deified by some, but on the other, children who are different from the rest are seen as possessed by the devil and are made to disappear. How could I possibly solve this?" He sighed briefly and looked over at his sweetheart, who was now listening to him attentively. Then he spoke, "How can I help Viktoria? What exactly did I do wrong? Was I too strict?"

At that point, a single tear began to run down his wife's cheek, and he embraced her. "It's definitely not your fault, believe me," she let out tearfully. "She's just been fooled by those villains. The sooner we find them, the better. I want you to destroy the traitor and her son! Back then she managed to escape and look at what damage that has done!" These were extraordinarily heinous words from his wife, but the emperor knew that she was right. The boy and his mother, the traitor and her offspring, were behind Viktoria's inconceivable deeds. They had manipulated their daughter, and he would have to make sure they paid the ultimate price!

"I promise," Wenzel replied, "I will find that bitch and her offspring and get rid of them!" It was clear to both spouses that their little girl could only be with these two. If they found the Vogts, they would also find Viktoria. They both quietly settled back again and let time drift by for a while as the carriage rolled on.

Amalie remembered her friend Flora, who was not part of the court and therefore did not accompany her on the move to another city. Her thoughts also wandered over to Irnfrid. She also had stayed behind, firstly to attend her husband's funeral, but also because she really was in no position to travel at the moment. The emperor's wife had always considered the lady to be quite tough, but the state in which she had seen her after the incident had also made Amalie very worried about her. She would get over it, that she was sure of. After all, Irnfrid still had the rest of her family. Nevertheless, she would have to have an intimate conversation with her about the events in the foreseeable future. It had all been a terrible accident, at least that was what her husband had told her. And he most definitely would not have made that up.

In the meantime, Wenzel, sitting next to his beloved, was brooding over something else. When Viktoria had so senselessly attacked him, she had done something he had never seen or even heard of before. She had created a lightning bolt. It was just another reminder of how little he actually knew about magic. The loss of his many years of work pained him greatly, but he would get over it. Viktoria was his priority now. Still, he couldn't get the position of her fingers out of his mind so quickly. It was certainly yet another aspect of the art of magic that he simply did not yet understand. The girl, all on her own, had discovered a new application of magic. This was not only owed to the huge mana reserves that the sorceress possessed. No, the position of her fingers, possibly even her body posture, certainly played a role in it too. In what felt like his last moment on earth, he had also seen the image of Melgar in front of him. He wondered what that had been all about?

Her chest was as heavy as a millstone. She cramped up again and again until her limbs sagged from exhaustion. From a soaked pillow, she looked up a little. Next to her, she then stared at her old dresser, covered in dust. The rest of the room was also dirty, and a mustiness hung in the air. How long had she been crying into her pillow? She didn't know. Probably hours. Somehow the pain wasn't getting any better. It was raining outside. That was also her fault, because she couldn't control herself. She couldn't keep her emotions in check, just as her adoptive father had tried to hammer into her over and over again.

Her thoughts became a little clearer now. It only made her recall what had happened again. It was just so terrible! How could Wenzel have done that! Immediately, tears began to run down her face once more. She buried her face in her pillow again and began to cry and sob bitterly. She had already cried so much that she shouldn't have any more water to spare, and yet she continued to weep and weep. It was impossible for her to think a single rational thought in this state. Everything just floated by for her.

But eventually there was a knock at the door. “Are you feeling any better?”, her birth mother asked in a troubled tone. As always, she was wearing a headscarf and very modest clothes with flowers embroidered on them. “No. Go away now!”, she mumbled barely audibly from her pillow. The corners of Gertrude's mouth turned down at that. She replied, “I don't know what's wrong with you either. But something serious must have happened, otherwise you wouldn't be here. If you don't talk to me, I can't help you.” Nothing came back from the depressed girl. The lady was now really worried for her. She had only visited her once in all those years. Now she had come out of nowhere and was just cowering away in her former room.

“Well, go on crying then,” she finally commented gruffly and disappeared again. After hearing the door slam shut, Viktoria looked over at it briefly. Some fresh clothes had been placed on the small drawer next to the entrance for her. She didn't know exactly how to deal with this at the moment. Her parents obviously still loved her. “As much as it can be called love when you sell your own child in exchange for release from serfdom!” the girl thought to herself cynically. She lay down again.

There was nothing but despair in her. What should she do now? She couldn't go back to the palace. But she couldn't and wouldn't stay with her real parents either. Her adoptive father would surely come looking for her soon. She had to avoid being found at all costs. So where would she go? She had no idea. The events that had happened played over and over again in her head, as if in an endless loop. “Staying here for a few days will be fine,” she finally said. Just for a few days. I need time to think about what I'm going to do. She stared up at the ceiling. Her whole world had come crashing down. She was faced with nothing, and that scared her immensely.

Sometime later, the wizard finally showed herself again. As she descended the creaky wooden staircase, she saw Hans and Gertrude sitting at dinner. The two of them only looked up briefly when they heard the girl's footsteps. They immediately noticed that Viktoria had put on the dress her mother had brought her earlier. The lady stood up briefly to pour some of the dish, which was obviously some kind of bean stew, into a plate for the adolescent. Then she placed it in front of her. At minimum volume, her daughter uttered a “thank you”. She just stared at the food and didn't eat any of it. Then she let her eyes wander over to her biological parents. Both of them had grown noticeably older. They weren't really old yet, but in Viktoria's eyes they were.

After some time of silence, her father finally asked her, “So, have you calmed down again? Are you alright now?” The teenager just shook her head in response to his brusque remark. In the end, however, she did open her mouth, “I don't want to talk about what happened. Don't worry, I won't bother you for long. I'll be out of here in a few days at the latest.” In response, the spouses both looked at each other. Her mother was just about to say something when the girl interrupted her. “Thank you for the fresh clothes. That was very thoughtful of you.” Gertrude was taken aback. She was not used to such humility and politeness from her little girl. “Your time in the imperial palace has changed you a lot,” she noted. Viktoria replied with a pained expression on her face. What was wrong with the kid?

“If they've allowed you to stay here for a few days, perhaps you can pay Isolde a visit. I'm sure she'll be pleased to see you again after all this time,” said the man at the table. At this, the princess pressed her lips together almost shamefacedly. “No! I don't want to see anyone!”, she then barked at him. Silence followed again. There was a hint of mischief on Hans' face and he spoke, “Whatever you say. The neighbours definitely have noticed that you have come for a visit.”

After the couple had finished eating, they saw that Viktoria hadn't even touched her food. “Aren't you going to eat anything?”, her father asked. “I'm not hungry,” she replied curtly. But then she wanted to find out something else. “How are you doing? What has been going on over the last few years?” It was the first question that seemed to cheer Gertrude up. “We're doing well, on the whole.” In a bright mood, she consequently told her everything that had happened in the village and what they had done and rebuilt at the homestead. Never before had the girl been interested in them or listened to them for so long. She still didn't open up about herself, but it was clear to those two that she was looking for some form of closeness with them. After that, though, she crawled back to her “cave”, and went to sleep. Slowly the rain started to subside.

It was a balmy morning and the whole travelling party had been on the road again since shortly before sunrise. They had already passed Freistadt and were slowly approaching the Kashar Lands. The famous fingers of the “Giant's Hand” could already be seen in the distance. It would not be long before they reached their old homeland. Already, some imagined the smell of salt from the Geächtetenpfann getting into their nostrils.

Amidst his clan rode one of their most important, if not the most important of their members: Ferenc. Dressed in simple leather armour without much finery, in other words, without the garb of the Imperial Guard that he had always been wearing all these years, he sat astride and trotted ahead with his kinsmen towards his homeland. For him, the years of wild adventures and great undertakings were now over. He would retire to where he came from and devote himself solely to his private life. .....Or so, he thought!

At breakneck speed and in a hurry as if death itself was chasing him, a messenger suddenly came rushing up. He was a scrawny, tall youth with brunette hair. “The commander of the Imperial Guard! I'm looking for the commander of the Imperial Guard!”, he announced. The long-bearded Kashar in question turned and approached him. “You mean the former one. And he's standing in front of you. What is it, lad?”, he said in a somewhat dull tone. But what he was about to hear immediately woke him from his stupor and made him prick up his ears.

“There's been a raid on the Melgarion Palace! Most of it has been burnt down. There is great turmoil in the capital and the court, as a precaution, has been moved to Greifenburg.” A debilitating shock ran through the audience. Many of Ferenc's equally bearded kinsmen immediately lost their breath. However, the old companion of the Chosen One reacted straight away and inquired, “Are all members of the imperial household safe?” For a brief moment, the bearer of the bad news seemed overwhelmed by the question. Finally, however, he replied, “According to my information, the imperial family is safe and unharmed. However, I cannot say the same for every important man in the empire. The Supreme Marshal has been martyred in the attack.”

Ferenc's eyes widened when he learned this. It took a few minutes to digest such bad news. While the young man stood by and waited, the veteran and his relatives and family members conferred. It wasn't long before he addressed him again, “You can turn around right now and ride back to Meglarsbruck, lad. Be sure to make haste, or I'll catch up with you on the way there! Without further ado, he had simply decided that he could not yet retire with a clear conscience. The Holy Empire still needed his service. The group turned around and headed back to the capital.

He tossed and turned. It was an unfamiliar bed, the mattress and pillows of which were different, and which also felt different. He tried with all his might to keep his eyes closed, even though he couldn't fall asleep at all. The unfamiliar surroundings of the Greifenburg Palace, as well as his never-ending worries about Viktoria, made it impossible for him to find any rest. Again and again, he rolled from right to left, from left to right. He almost started to believe that he wouldn't get even the tiniest wink of sleep until the new day dawned. At some point, however, he finally slipped away into the world of dreams.

A single man was walking along a narrow path under an open sky. It seemed to be a very odd type. His body had an almost grotesque, round, plump shape, reminiscent of an apple. He had medium-length blond hair and a plump face beaming with joy and with red cheeks. His clothes were a patchwork of different pieces of fabric with various patterns, which he had obviously sewn together in a makeshift manner. Who in the world was this weird character? In his right hand he held the reins of a donkey that was standing next to him. The blanket spread over the animal's back suggested that it was his mount. At the moment, however, he was not riding, but talking to a man who had short brown hair and wore a long coat. As an outside observer, Wenzel could not see his face, as only his back was turned to him. He could barely hear what the two were talking about.

“....special. We all are in one way or another,” was the small snippet he could hear before the wind became too strong again drowning out his words. After having said a few more things, he let out a heart-warming laugh. Then he merrily gestured goodbye to him. And with that, the strange vision ended. Once again, it was one of those visions that were particularly bizarre and almost impossible to interpret.