The rebellion swiftly ended after Calahan’s death, his loss breaking the will of the Alumus believers. As the banners of the Great Lords rose over the battlefield, General Todo and Zacheri mounted a fierce counterattack. Surrounded and leaderless, the Alumus forces lost all resolve, quickly dropping their weapons and surrendering.

Hours later, Prince Hector sat at his brother's desk looking over the casualty reports, his chin resting on one hand.

“Drake, what are your thoughts about the rebellion?” he asked, frowning as he continued to read the report.

“Calahan’s rebellion is understandable, the rumors and reports about the strife between Alumus and Gera are well known. What concerns me the most in this situation are the actions of the eastern Lords,” Lord Leora replied, standing in front of Hector.

Nodding in agreement, Hector coughed, tasting blood. Although he had rested as much as he could in Lundale, the stress and strain from the past couple of days had caused some of the poison to leach back into his body. I should be able to remove the leached poison, he thought, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. Even without the Bloodstone, he had learned the trick of freezing it. Glancing up, he saw concern on Lord Leora’s face.

“I’m fine,” he said, hiding the handkerchief. “I just need a couple more weeks to recover fully. More importantly, the timetable around the rebellion is concerning. It took three days for most of the Great Lords to hear about it. Yet, according to this report, the Southeastern Lords mobilized their troops to the capital’s borders within five days but didn’t send them in. For that to be possible, they would have had to learn of the rebellion on the very day Calahan rebelled.”

Lord Leora grunted; he understood what Hector was trying to say. “Either the Southeastern Lords knew of the rebellion beforehand and did nothing. Or they were directly involved in the rebellion.”

“Exactly.”

“What can we do about it?”

Shaking his head, Hector looked down at a message on his desk. “At the moment, nothing. They sent us a message explaining that they couldn’t send aid because they were defending our borders against the Kingdom of Kandula. However, one thing is certain—the Great Houses of Bovera, Para, and Galra have created an alliance. They can no longer be trusted to protect our borders. They suffered the most under my brother. I always thought they could defect to Kandula.”

A grave silence filled the room, the two men feeling the gravity of the situation.

“So. It is war, then?” Lord Leora broke the silence, stating what Hector was thinking.

Standing up, Hector walked to the window; his eyes looked out. The sun was setting, painting the horizon the color of blood and fire. If this wasn’t a sign of what could happen, he wasn’t sure what was.

“No, not if we can help it,” he said, picturing the capital burning. “At the moment, our armies are too weak, if they receive support from Kandula, we will lose.”

“If not war, what is our option?” asked Lord Leora, walking up next to Hector and sharing the view with him.

“If they are considering defecting to Kandula, we can appease them by sending them aid and reparations,” Hector regretfully said, wishing there was another option. They were running low on funds. “Once Princess Milina is crowned, we can have her officially apologize to them on behalf of House Salizia. With my brother dead, if the benefits of staying with our Kingdom are better than that of Kandula, they will not defect.”

Turning and walking back to the desk, he sighed heavily.

“What are your thoughts, Drake?”

After a moment, Lord Leora hesitantly spoke, his voice a low rumble.

“A discontent can be satisfied if there is something they want. But this incident does not feel right to me. If Bisconti’s discontent grew into something more… something like ambition, he would not be satisfied with respiration. He will want more. He may even want to replace House Salizia as the Royal House.”

Hector sat, digesting what Lord Leora had said. His mind felt slower than usual. Was he correct? Did Bisconti’s dissatisfaction turn to ambition? Had the once Great House of Salizia fallen so far that the other Great Lords would consider replacing them altogether?

Feeling the heavy guilt of his house's sins on his shoulders, Hector rubbed his temples. He felt the headache that had been threatening to assault him come with a vengeance. In the seven thousand years since the founding of the Vanura Kingdom, House Salizia had led the other Houses, yet it was all falling apart under his watch.

Keeping his head from moving too much, he winced before changing the topic back to Calahan’s rebellion. “There is one more report that doesn’t add up.”

“My lord?”

Reaching for the report, he handed it to Lord Leora, allowing him to read it for himself.

Frowning deeply, Lord Leora voiced his opinion. “According to this, an unknown Warrior took a group of warriors and left the capital, heading towards the Maliri Manor. We can assume that their targets were the princesses. Since then, Maliri only reported that they were attacked by mercenaries dressed as Salizian soldiers. None of them were stronger than that of an Arcane Knight.” Looking up from the report, he asked. “What happened to the unknown Warrior?”

“That is another question we must find an answer to,” replied Hector, covering his mouth as he started coughing. Each cough caused his head to shoot with pain. He tasted iron in his mouth.

“Are you truly healed?” Lord Leora asked, lifting his hand as he stepped forward.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, I truly am fine,” Hector lied, waving his hand at Lord Leora. “I was cured by the Healers of Lundale. I just need some time to rest. Although… how the assassins acquired the poison is also a question we need an answer to.” Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, he continued. “The poison has no color, taste, or scent, nearly undetectable. The Healers theorized that it was created by a powerful Wretchling warlock when they were still around. However, after multiple tests, they concluded that the poison is not artificial.”

“Not artificial?” echoed Lord Leora, his voice rising. “What kind of creature can produce a poison that potent?”

Looking around cautiously, Hector leaned in close to Lord Leora. “I was told by Queen Ilistina that within their archives, there are mentions of a Green Dragon, one who can create a poison such as the one I was poisoned with. They believe this is the origin of the poison.”

“A Green Dragon?” Lord Leora slowly repeated, his eyes narrowing in doubt. “From what I understand, there haven’t been any historical records of them since the founding of our nation. Are they sure?”

“Nothing is absolute,” admitted Hector, looking up at Lord Leora. “I, too, find it hard to believe the Elves, but they have no reason to lie to me. We must assume in the meantime that what they say is fact. Drake, I need you to investigate this. Any rumors or whispers of a Green Dragon or its poison must be investigated. There is a dark shadow working against us. We must find what it is and eradicate it before our Kingdom is destroyed.”

The sound of metal hitting metal rang out in the blacksmith shop. Morning light streaming through the windows illuminated the dust particles in the air.

Pulling the red-hot metal out of the furnace, June frowned as he started to hammer, sweat dripping down his face.

“What are you making?”

Grandpa Veston’s voice made him jump. He had not heard the old blacksmith walk up behind him. As a peak Arcane Warrior, it was unimaginable for him to miss a normal person standing near him, yet Grandpa Veston seemed to do this almost every day.

“I'm making a practice saber for Princess Elina,” he replied, wondering not for the first time how Grandpa Veston could sneak up on him.

Anyone who wasn’t raised by Veston might have thought he was an Arcane Warrior or Knight, but June knew better—he knew that Grandpa Veston did not have a crest.

“You're making a weapon for another person?” Grandpa Veston asked, his bushy eyebrows lifting slightly. This was the first time June had decided to make a weapon that was not for himself.

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“Yes.”

June pressed his lips together in a line as he studied his work. “I’ve seen you make weapons for years, so I should know how to make one. But it's a lot harder than I thought,” he finally confessed.

Laughing at June’s frustration, Grandpa Veston sat down, scrutinizing his work.

“When creating a weapon, there are two things you must never forget,” he said. “First is the quality of the weapon—never sell a defective one. You do not want someone to die because the weapon you made broke. Second, you must consider whether the weapon you are creating suits the person it is meant for. You could acquire a pure Elven blade or even one of the Twelve Legendary Weapons, but if it does not suit you, you will never be able to draw out its full potential. Know your customer.”

Taking on an extremely serious tone, he continued. “When in a life-or-death situation, having a weapon which hinders you can be worse than not having a weapon at all. Most people will blindly fixate on what is in their hands, trying to use it even if they do not know how to. As a blacksmith, the worst thing that can happen is if the person you made a weapon for dies because your weapon prevented them from drawing out their full potential.”

Seeing the seriousness on Grandpa Veston’s face, June nodded, gulping.

“I understand, Grandpa I won't forget.”

Smiling once again, Grandpa Veston rambled on. “The Salizian Royal Family uses a unique martial system—one that relies heavily on circular momentum created by swinging an extremely large saber. Honestly, their marital system is extremely difficult to master. From what I know, only the founder has ever reached the level of an Arcane Grandmaster. I suspect that something was lost when passing the martial system down through the generations. Make the saber around one and a half times heavier than a normal saber, and keep in mind that they like to keep moving once the fight starts.”

“One and a half?” questioned June, his voice rising. That was much heavier than what he had made. “She asked me to make a lighter weapon for her because she was having trouble with the wooden practice saber.”

“Don't overthink it, boy,” Grandpa Veston laughed, standing up and walking to the back of the store. “If she is going to learn her House's Saber, she will need a heavier weapon than normal.”

Returning with a large wooden plank, he crudely carved out a handle, the pieces of wood shavings falling on the floor June had swept last night.

“I’ve only seen one person use the Salizian saber to fight years ago in a tournament,” he said, walking to the middle of the room. “Watch. I don't know the forms or the way they rotate their Aether, but at least I can show you what it looked like.”

Smiling, Grandpa Veston started to move, the wooden plank moving the dust in the air, creating swirling patterns in the morning light.

Wide-eyed, June stared at what was happening. He had never seen Grandpa Veston move like this. The old man moved like a master swordsman, someone who had studied this style for decades.

“Grandpa! Where did you learn to fight like that?” he exclaimed, putting down the saber he was working on. It had cooled down.

Multiple creases formed at the corners of Grandpa Veston’s eyes as he smiled. “Boy, how many times do I need to tell you? Once you learn how to move, it is very easy to copy what you see.” Putting the wooden plank down, he continued. “All I did was to move in the way I saw and in the way I thought would be the most efficient. Truthfully, without the proper forms and correct way to move the Aether, everything I just did was superficial. You can’t fight like that. But it should give you a rough idea of how the saber should function. Don't keep gawking at me, boy, and get back to work.”

Looking down at the saber, June knew he had to start from scratch. It was unfortunate, but after what he had seen, he knew he could do better. Taking a deep breath, he placed what he was working on to the side. “I’ll make you into farming tools later,” he said.

Retrieving wrought iron from the back, he once again started to forge the practice saber for Elina, this time with one and a half times the weight.

As June worked, he found himself lost in the rhythmic motions of his hammer, the beating of his heart synchronized with the clash of metal. As long as he could remember, he had always fallen into a trance-like state whenever he concentrated on something hard, his whole world becoming consumed by what he was doing.

Breaking away from his work, he looked out the window. The morning sun had risen high, and his growling stomach told him it was time for lunch. Almost as if on cue, Elina and Shina walked in, their cheerful expressions causing the room to feel livelier. June had promised Elina that he would help her with her bowmanship after lunch.

“Good morning,” Elina said, walking in. She was dressed in her training gear.

“Good morning, Elina. I was just starting to work on your saber. I think it will be done in a couple of days,” June said, putting the blade down.

“How wonderful!” Elina exclaimed, running up to him and looking at her saber. “I can’t wait!”

“Grandpa Veston and I were just about to make lunch. Would you like to eat with us?” June asked, starting to clean up the mess he made.

“Thank you, but I just had lunch with my sister. Rose and Anna are helping her sew training gear—ones that fit us better. I came here a little early to prevent being caught. I hope I am not a bother.”

“You’re not a bother.”

“I would love some lunch, thank you for offering me some,” Shina pushed her way into the conversation, cutting in between June and Elina as she sat down, her tanned hands clasped in front of her in anticipation.

“Ah, if it isn't the Princess and Shina!” Grandpa Veston came out from the back of the shop. He had heard the voices of the visitors.

“June, go clean up, Shina and I will prepare the meal.”

“I will?” questioned Shina, her smile fading and being replaced by a frown.

“Princess, I hope you don't mind waiting until we finish lunch?”

“It's my fault that we are early, please eat lunch,” Elina replied, a happy smile on her face. “For some reason, this shop makes me feel at ease. It’s so different from the castle. It’s lovely.”

“I am glad you feel that way. Please sit.”

As June rushed to the back of the store to wash himself and Shina started to help Veston with lunch, Elina walked around the workshop, looking at the weapons and farming tools that decorated the walls. Coming across a black hoop amongst the weapons hanging, she frowned in thought. Considering it was with the other weapons, she deduced it must be one, but she could not figure out how to use it.

“Master Veston!” she called. “What is this black hoop?”

Tottering over to look at what she was pointing to, Veston smiled.

“That's a bow, Princess,” he answered, taking it off the wall. “If you turn it around like this and uncurl it like so.” He showed Elina that it was not a hoop but an object that had curled in on itself, creating what looked like a hoop. Carefully observing what was in his hands, Elina wondered if it was made from some sort of horn.

“How do you string something like that?”

“There are a couple of ways of stringing a bow like this, but I like to use the sitting method because I'm old,” Veston laughed, sitting down on the ground and crossing his legs. Uncurling the bow, he put one end of it—with the end curling downward on his right thigh. Next, he put his left leg over the bow. Still sitting cross-legged, with one end of the bow on his right thigh and the center section of the bow under his left thigh, he started pulling on the end of the bow that was sticking out from under his left thigh. As the two sides came closer to each other, he attached the ends with a string.

Elina stared in amazement; a very curved recurve bow was now in Veston’s hands.

Offering the bow to Elina, the old man smiled.

“Princess, would you like this bow?”

Shaking her head, Elina held up her hand in protest, her eyes studying the black bow. “I cannot accept such a lovely bow. It would be wasted on someone like me.”

Chuckling to himself, Veston continued to offer the bow to her. “This bow is special, but it is not special in the way you think. It is special because no one has been able to draw it. There is some sort of secret that has been lost to the ages. Please take it. As of now, it is just collecting dust on my wall. I believe you will be able to solve the secret.”

Locking eyes with Veston, Elina could see how serious the old man was. Feeling a little uncertain, she nodded before gingerly taking the bow from him, her hands dipping slightly as he let go. Feeling the polished cool grip, she tried to draw the bow, her arms straining slightly. Just as Veston had told her, she could not draw it.

A stubborn look appeared on her face, tilting her head back and forth, she stretched her shoulders before trying again, every muscle in her back and arms straining with all her might. Closing her eyes, she pulled as hard as she could, counting to ten before stopping in exhaustion.

Looking at the inflexible bow, she felt the corners of her mouth curl up in a grin, feeling a kinship with the bow. She, too, had an inflexible side to her personality, especially when told what to do.

“Thank you, master Veston, I will definitely learn how to use it,” she said, looking at the bow in the sunlight.

“Ah, one last thing, Princess,” Veston said, touching his head as if he just remembered something. “When I acquired the bow, I was told that only the blood of a Pegasus would unlock its secrets.”

“A Pegasus?” questioned Elina, frowning and glancing down at the Pinto Horse Crest on her hand. It was not a Pegasus, but she had always liked horses because of her crest. “I have never heard of a real Pegasus, but I will keep that in mind,” she promised him, hugging him in thanks.

Before Veston could reply, a horrible shout came from behind them, June was yelling as he came back from cleaning himself, his face and hair still damp.

“Grandpa! You can't leave Shina to cook by herself!” he shouted, running over to Shina who was happily preparing lunch. She was humming tunelessly to herself.

Elina watched in amusement as June, Veston, and Shina ate lunch, grateful she had eaten before. Shina had cut all the ingredients for lunch in uneven chunks, tossing them into a giant pot, which she put on the fire. Fruits, vegetables, bread, cheese, and jam, all mixed in a chaotic mush, topped off with a little bit of ale to help bring the meal together.

“I don't know why you are so angry,” Shina said, rubbing the top of her head where June had struck her. “It all ends up like this in our stomachs.”

“That's not the point,” he said, forcing the food down his throat. “Some foods complement each other while others don't. If you just throw everything in one bowl, then nothing compliments each other.”

Silently laughing to herself, Elina put a strange but tasty fruit Veston had offered her into her mouth, the sweet flavor melting in her mouth.

“Hey, Shina, June,” she asked. “I heard a rumor that kids have been disappearing. Do you know about that?”

An uncomfortable silence followed her question, Shina and June looking at each other before answering.

“Yes, Princess,” Shina sighed. “There have been a couple of kids that have gone missing in the farms and smaller villages. But this week, one of the kids from this village went into the woods and never came back, it's the first from here.”

Putting another piece of fruit in her mouth, Elina frowned, she had not known this information.

“Do we have any leads?”

“Nothing yet,” Shina said. “Captain Zenrom is extremely concerned and is looking into the disappearances. But Princess, this is not something you should concern yourself about, please let us handle it.”

Nodding at Shina’s words, Elina clasped her hands together, as a Princess, she wondered if it was her duty to figure out what was happening.