The morning mist hung low over the city as the sun began its slow ascent, casting a golden hue over the growing expanse of buildings beyond the outer walls. Tamiron stood as his gaze fixed on the expanding city, lost in memories of events that had transpired five years prior. Despite the morning’s serene beauty, a heaviness settled in his chest.

His fitted green tunic and black overalls caught the sunlight, the fabric shimmering as he breathed in the cold morning air. The sleeves, longer than his arms, bore slits to accommodate his iron limbs when needed. Running his fingers through his freshly cut hair, he turned reluctantly from the view and made his way back to his chambers before heading to the throne room.

As he walked through the awakening palace, life stirred around him. Servants went about their morning tasks, pulling back the curtains one by one to allow the warm rays of the sun to flood the palace interior. The marble pillars, adorned in the traditional green and gold of the Empire, stood tall, while the walls bore intricate murals depicting the unity of the Trasidar Kingdoms.

Entering the throne room, he was greeted by a heavy silence. He was the first to arrive. Approaching the grand throne, adorned with four magnificent golden horns fit for the empress of the Trasidar Empire—his sister, Queen Empress Tamara—he couldn’t help but pause, taking in its imposing presence.

“It’s not too late to assume your rightful place, Brother,” a voice suddenly echoed through the vast chamber. Tamiron turned to see Tamara, wearing the crown of four horns, accompanied by her Lady of the Court, Emerys, along with the Queen Empress’s Court and the Imperial Council.

He remained silent, his head bowed as they made their way to the throne. His eyes briefly met his sister’s, and she offered him a reassuring smile. “You know I can’t, dear Sister,” he finally answered, his fingers gently caressing the armrest of the chair the guards had brought in for him.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Tamiron,” Tamara replied softly.

He averted her gaze, his hands tightening on the chair’s arms. “So, where is the Records Master?”

The grand doors of the throne room creaked open once more, and an old man slowly made his way towards Tamara. He was clad in a white cotton garment with ruby-colored stripes, appearing as if it hadn’t seen water in weeks, if not months.

His hat was equally unkempt, and on his shoulders, he wore red pads with a ribbon, tasseled with various colors, attached to the left pad and trailing down towards his belt. The ribbon confirmed his identity as the head of the Empire’s great libraries, a master of wisdom and knowledge regarding the empire’s existence and history.

Stopping in front of Tamara, he bowed deeply, while the guards left a cart piled with old books behind him. “Your Grace,” he greeted her, before turning to the other council members and offering a respectful nod, though not as low as the one he gave to the Queen. When his eyes met Tamiron’s, a brief pause ensued. Then, he beamed a smile at Tamiron and proceeded to show his respect to him as well.

“Regent Tamiron,” he said, repeating the gesture.

“Master of Books and Knowledge, Torentyia Zubalnor, at your service, my Queen,” Emerys presented him to the court.

Torentyia cleared his throat before addressing Tamara. His eyes flickered with amusement as he noticed the suppressed giggle on his sister’s lips.

“Enough pleasantries now, Master Torentyia. We all know you are not this tame,” Tamara said, her smile betraying her amusement.

“Recordsmaster would be fine, your Grace. It would be rude of me to be my old self in front of the Queen Empress and the Prince Regent,” Torentyia replied confidently, rubbing his short grey beard as he smiled at the Queen, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“By the way, Recordsmaster, are you ready to accept the post of Master of Wisdom and Knowledge my father offered you years ago? A place is waiting for you in the council,” Tamara inquired, but the old man just laughed and shrugged it off.

“I am fine, your Majesty. The Imperial Capital is not for me. I’d just get bored. And I’m sure some of your councilors won’t like me either,” Torentyia chuckled, casting a mischievous glance at Ferrier, who clearly had some issue with him.

“Is this old man for real?” Ferrier muttered, but Moselei quickly silenced him with a sharp look.

Tamara cleared her throat, regaining everyone’s attention. “A shame then,” she said, gently tapping her fingers. “I do believe you’ve received my message in advance, the reason why I summoned you here?” she asked Torentyia, to which he responded by clapping loudly before darting towards the cart piled high with books.

“I am well aware of that, my Empress, and I came prepared,” Torentyia said gleefully as he continued to dig through the books, tossing them onto the floor in search of a particular one.

He watched, amused by the old man’s enthusiasm, as Torentyia clasped his hands loudly and surveyed the books. “Now, where should we start?”

Tamara rose from her throne and addressed the Queen Empress Court and the guards in the room. “Please leave. We have a matter to discuss,” she ordered, and the guards and courtiers, except Emerys, promptly exited the room. With a giggle, Tamara cleared her throat. “Recordsmaster, you haven’t changed one bit, to be quite honest.”

“Well, you were one of my most impressive students back in the south. The fact that I taught the Queen Empress of the Empire was certainly news for me. I immediately started to write a book about this age, or this particular year for that matter,” Torentyia replied, still searching through the cart until he finally settled on one particular book. It was dusty, large, and the letters on its spine were faded.

“Before I get started, I am still bound by the oath I made to the Late King, Madarick Lluch IV, that the information I’m about to reveal remains only with us. So now, this oath extends to all of you,” he said, his tone serious. Everyone present agreed, and he began.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Recordsmaster, why are the books you brought in such poor condition?” Tolous inquired, stepping closer to the cart, curiosity piqued.

“Because they were kept hidden, under orders from the late King,” Torentyia replied quickly, surprising everyone in the room.

“And why is that?” he suddenly asked, his curiosity evident as to why his father would order such a thing. As he recalled, like his sister, their father values knowledge and books were kept in its best condition as possible.

“It is because these books are, uhmm, how should I put this? Oh, who am I kidding — they are forbidden. They were banned by your father,” Torentyia confessed as he continued to flip through the pages until he found what he was looking for. He looked at Tamara, confusion mirrored on both their faces.

“That can’t be right. The late King valued knowledge; he made sure libraries throughout the towns and cities had books that could be used and read by the masses,” Ferrier disagreed.

“Ah, if you ever found out what’s written in the books I hold, you might want to burn them — or me. Or both, to be honest, you see,” Torentyia joked, his smile somewhat ridiculous. “Here it is,” he said, then approached the queen.

Tamiron walked closer to the cart and randomly picked up a book, listening intently to the recordsmaster.

“The tomb that the Prince investigated in the Agun’Der mountains is none other than the secret tomb of the Red Prince, his majesty, the Emperor of the Trodonar Empire, Lord Arvales — well, he was technically a prince back then. He was not fully crowned, but since the death of their father, there wasn’t any time to hold the coronation, especially with the war raging between the Trodonars and the Trasidars,” Torentyia revealed in one swift declaration.

“Wait, hold on. You are going too fast,” Tamara interjected, trying to digest what she had just heard. “I heard his body was greatly wounded and bludgeoned by our forefathers, and that his body was thrown into the sea?” Tamara seemed to disagree with her former teacher, her disbelief evident. “You even taught me that,” she added.

“That is precisely what the late King wanted you to think and wanted me to teach you!” Torentyia exclaimed with glee. “Now you see why these books I brought should be burned in their blasphemous glory! The books I brought here contradict what the general public was made to believe!” He laughed as if he had hit a gold mine. “You have no idea how much it pained me to teach this without having a literal heart attack every time. I’m just glad I got this off my chest after all these years! I won’t die with regrets now.”

“These books that you are talking about — all of these were written by you,” Moselei said in disbelief as he looked at Torentyia.

The Recordsmaster only smiled, a heartbreaking smile. “Again, as ordered by the late King,” he replied.

He felt a surge of confusion. Why would his father do this? Flipping through some of the pages of the books Torentyia had brought with him, he found heresies in all of them. He took a deep breath as he slowly realized that the Empire was built, in part, with lies upon lies. “I order you now, as the Prince Regent, to waive all of the late King’s orders with regards to these books,” he suddenly declared, causing Torentyia to pale at the sight of him.

“As you wish,” the recordsmaster stuttered. His brows furrowed as he noticed that slight shock Torentyia got everytime he talked.

Tamiron hid his surprise and simply walked over to the books. “Going back to the original reason why I am here — and the fact that the Prince Regent ordered me to waive the late king’s orders — that tomb that was hidden for a long time was built under the orders of the late King himself,” the recordsmaster explained as he pointed to a particular page in one of the books before handing it to the queen, who was clearly stunned by what they were just finding out.

“Why did he order it built?” he suddenly asked. Torentyia hesitated before answering.

“You see, it is common courtesy for fallen lords to be buried in their own tombs, your Highness,” Torentyia answered.

“But why hide it?” he pressed for an answer.

“I am sorry, your Grace. But that I cannot answer,” Torentyia said, bowing his head.

He closed the book he was holding and looked at Torentyia. “I command you, Recordsmaster,” he said as he approached him slowly.

“Tamiron,” Tamara called out to him. He looked at her, and she shook her head. He backed away and returned his attention to the books, noticing a familiar crest.

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“What is this? I saw this in the tomb,” he asked Torentyia, handing him the book.

“Ah, the great horns. The Trasidians are by far the strongest race in the entire continent of Arumar. But there were those that were stronger — the Trodonars,” the recordsmaster explained.

“How so? They were just like us,” Tolous asked curiously.

“As I taught her Majesty the Queen Empress, the Trodonars fashioned and raised themselves to be the strongest race in the entire continent. A matching symbol of that was indeed needed, hence a much larger, more imposing set of horns of power was fashioned, based of course, on the symbol of the Great Animos Freigurd.”

He thought about it for a second, then glanced at a banner of the Trasidar Empire hanging just above the ceiling.

“Now you get why the Trasidar Empire has four horns, my Regent?” Torentyia asked him, and he looked at him, realization dawning.

“The Trodonar insignia in the tomb is the same insignia that was hidden within the Trasidar insignia all this time. It is basic proof that it is the tomb of Lord Arvales himself,” Torentyia explained, clasping his hands together again. “If people were to find out, especially Malatur’Aren discovering the tomb, it would not look good for the rest of us, or for them, for that matter,” he added.

Just like his sister, he was speechless.

“So all this time, the Trasidar insignia with four horns was not a symbol of unity of all the thirteen kingdoms under the empire, but of two empires in one. The Trasidars and the Trodonars, hence the four horns,” he realized, the pieces falling into place.

“No, it is indeed a symbol of unity, my Prince. The colors that we had in the insignia are the colors of all the thirteen smaller kingdoms that make up the empire. Huertian, Go’Renhor, Remolussium, Geronimad, La’canilenoir, Francineil, Sein’miguelisia, and Rosalessium, their colors and insignias well built within Barceneim’s own insignia as the head of the former Trasidar Kingdoms, the Trasidar United Kingdoms, against the threat of the east — the Trodonar Empire, made up of Malatur’Aren, Pinedran, Gregoridon, Napareim, and the easternmost portion of the Huertian region. The largest horns, after the old war, when King Madarick finally united the empire and crushed the Trodonars, he accepted the rebel kingdoms and merged them, uniting them under one banner,” Torentyia explained, pointing at the map painted on the ceiling and then at the insignia on the floors and banners.

“Do you see now the significance of Lord Arvales’ tomb? The Trodonars weren’t really defeated; no! They were accepted into Trasidar territory upon the Lord’s death,” the recordsmaster stunned everyone in the room.

“The Empire wasn’t built in a day. It was a very long process made short by your father, as it ended with the incorporation of the Trodonar territories. They are the biggest chunk of the Empire, my liege. Until today, your father made good of his promise to never again let those new territories be threatened. They were to be treated equally. Much frowned upon by some of the former lords, and Menoich, of course. Your father was a herald of peace, and I was very proud to work with him,” the recordsmaster added.

It all made sense now. The significance of the raid that had happened.

“What you said. They are not in the books in the Imperial Libraries or schools,” he pointed out as the recordsmaster grinned. “This kind of information would be far too dangerous for sympathizers. It could well be a spark. It might even ignite the fires of civil war,” he realized.

“An Empire at war with itself will crumble, my Regent,” the recordsmaster said solemnly.

This was bad. A war among them would bring the continent to ruins. If these bandits were attacking tombs across all the kingdoms, this couldn’t be just a one-man effort. Discord among his people, and it all started because of him. If this bandit raided this tomb, then the other tombs were of great importance as well.

They were symbols, he realized. They weren’t just mere parts of history. They were leaders of old fires that had long been extinguished.

“So his body, or whatever remains of it, is a rallying point,” he uttered, gaining everyone’s attention. He then looked at all of them. “I view this as an act of rebellion, not just against our empire, but against all of Unibeltrasia,” he explained.

“Now hold on just a minute. What are we going to do with this information? We can’t base everything on this and then call it a rebellion! We aren’t even sure if this is that. We need to carefully consider this information; we can’t outright call it a rebellion. The mere idea is inconceivable at the moment,” Tolous said frantically. “Should we warn the other kings and queens?” he added.

“We can’t start a panic now. And are we even sure that this madman who raided our tomb is planning the same thing for the rest?” Ferrier argued.

“Enough for now. We will keep this information here with us,” Tamara said as she stood.

“But, my Queen, if the records master’s statement is true—”

“Ah, but it is indeed, dear councilor,” Torentyia interjected, cutting off Moselei.

“We will discuss this matter on a different day. For now, we will rest. Too much information is not a good foundation to decide what to do with it. The council is dismissed,” Tamara said, dismissing the council. They stood up, bowed, and immediately left the throne room, leaving only the Recordsmaster, Emerys, the Queen, and him.

As the doors shut tight, Tamara looked at her former teacher. “I do believe you haven’t told us everything, is that correct, Recordsmaster?” Tamara asked, her demeanor changing.

“There is much to know, my Queen,” Torentyia admitted.

“You will be given the tower wing of the palace for now. Your books will be taken there with you, and you will be taken care of like a lord,” she said, and Torentyia bowed. Tamara called the guards to help with getting Torentyia’s things.

As the recordsmaster and his books were being taken out, he called out to them, “Wait!”

The guards stopped, and Torentyia turned to him. “I have one last question. Lord Arvales’ headstone, where his name was carved, there was no last name. Do you know why, Torentyia?” Tamiron asked, but the recordsmaster only smiled.

“I’m afraid I took the oath of Lortz’Agram with your father, your Grace. I simply cannot break such an oath, for death would await me,” Torentyia said as he placed both his time-ridden hands on his shoulders. “It is for the good of both of you that no one knows Lord Arvales’ last name, not even the people. If people knew his last name, it would be the hammer that breaks our empire’s fragile unity,” he whispered to him.

He was silenced by this as they finally walked away and left the room.

He heard his sister release a huge sigh and walked back towards the throne.

“So, brother. What do you think of all of this?” Tamara asked as she returned to the throne. But he did not know what to think. He walked towards the windows silently.

“Information is dangerous in the wrong hands,” he said to her. “As Queen Empress, you need to deal with this properly. I won’t be able to help you properly because of the incident five years ago,” he added.

“Again, stop being so hard on yourself. The deed has been done. We all know you were under the influence of enemy control,” Tamara reassured him.

“But it was still me, Tamara. The people will remember that it was me,” he objected. He refused to let it go. He could not bear the thought that he could never be forgiven for the things he had done — the things he was made to do, especially to the boy.

“How is the boy?” he suddenly asked.

Confused, Tamara asked, “Who? Matthos?” as she walked to his side.

He refused to look at her and only gazed at the city outside. “Why do you ask?” Tamara said.

“I killed his parents,” he admitted.

Tamara was silent. Understandably.

“I remember the faces when I killed all of those I have killed. But I will never forget the face of his father and his mother as they died because of me,” he said as he looked at his iron hands.

Tamara could only comfort him and embrace him.

“I can feel the resentment, the anger from him towards me. And he has no fault for feeling as such. At such a young age, I showed him the realities of this world that no child should ever bear witness to.”

“I will find a way,” Tamara said.

“No, let the boy be. Let him deal with this on his own. If you force him to not hate me, he might resent you for it,” he explained to her, then walked away.

“Where are you going?” Tamara asked.

“To the library. I need to at least find out more information about the Trodonar Empire,” he said as he left the throne room and headed to the courtyard.

He left the palace and walked into the stables. Given a horse, he rode off to the city below. As he rode down a road carved at the side of the butte and down to the city, he stopped near the edge of the road, with a view of the southern side of the city. The man-made port came into view, along with the Redicoc Mountains to the city’s west. He gazed upon the golden rays that escaped the peaks of the mountains, lost in thought.

Why wouldn’t the recordsmaster give up the last name of Lord Arvales? The question nagged at him, and he was certain it would not leave his mind anytime soon, much like the rays of the golden sun setting behind the mountains.

As the sun set behind Tamara, Sevidon found himself already in the Empire, at the outskirts of the Imperial Capital. Much had changed since his last visit, as he saw the city growing beyond its walls.

Determined to speak with the Queen Empress about Tamiron and Everess before setting off towards the Sulinhawi Kingdom, he felt his fears were warranted, especially since the start of the war. Recent developments and the lack of information about Everess’ activities in the southern regions of Shardon, coupled with the recent attacks on some of the Free Kingdom’s holy sites and forbidden areas, only heightened his concerns.

Suddenly, however, his train of thought was interrupted by his orderian owl, which flew in front of him as though trying to get his attention. He tried to shoo it away, but the owl persisted. Sighing, he chose to rest under a tree along the road. Dismounting from his horse, he tied it to a nearby tree and gave it water. Then, he sighed as he took in the elegance and beauty of the Empire’s surroundings. Instructing the owl to begin its message, he grabbed a piece of bread he had brought along the way.

The owl projected an image from a branch, and one of the Meskotav Sulin Councilors appeared.

“What is wrong, Councilor? I have urgent matters that I need to attend to,” he said as he ate. “And why are you contacting me instead of Prince Glaivel?”

“I do apologize, my Liege. But we cannot delay this matter any longer,” the councilor explained.

He nodded, resting as he listened.

“It is regarding the attack on the tomb located between our kingdom’s respective borders,” said the councilor.

He was surprised. The tomb was supposed to be a well-kept secret, as Glaivel had ensured. He couldn’t fathom how they found out about its existence until now.

He looked at the councilor, trying to appear surprised and clueless. “You've already mentioned that in the message you sent to both of us, councilor. That's why I'm already on my way there. I just need to speak to Prince Tamiron first about an urgent matter. Go ahead and report that now to the Karin and Sulin—”

“Grand Sulin King,” the councilor corrected him, and he couldn't help but feel disappointed. “Apologies.”

“Again, I'm already giving you permission to report directly to the respective Karin and Grand Sulin King. I have an idea who it might be, but I need to speak to the Queen Empress of the Empire first,” he said, Everess at the forefront of his mind. He needed to be careful about making such accusations. The Alliance was not as strong as they wanted it to be.

“But, my Liege, we cannot just inform them about this. You know how we Hawis are. The Karin might take it lightly, but the Grand Sulin King certainly won't let this stand,” the councilor argued.

The councilor did have a point. The Grand Sulin King had almost started a war with the Tigris in the past. It was over the ancient city of Tigeria, claimed by the Tigris as their own when the elves abandoned it. It became their new home and capital. His father had wanted to bury the issue, but the Tigris refused to yield. If it wasn’t for him, they would have won the war, with the Tigris added to the list of races they drove to extinction.

“Do you have any more information about the attack, Councilor?” he asked.

“Yes, my Liege,” the councilor replied, handing him some papers. “That part of the forest has been burned to the ground. We only discovered it because of the smoke. Since only the Meskotav Council is closer, we investigated together. We were dumbfounded. We've secluded the area from the rest of the kingdoms just in case,” the councilor added, looking at him directly.

He paced slowly, giving it more thought. Judging by the look on the councilor's face, he knew they had arrived at the same conclusion.

“My liege, if the Grand Sulin King ever finds out about this without proper counsel, he might go to war — no, he will go to war over this,” the councilor corrected himself, his voice deepening with concern.

He prepared his horse. “Councilor, I will head straight there now. Whatever you do, do not let news of this get out. We can’t afford another war at this point.”

“Are you sure, General? Wouldn’t it be wiser if you went straight to the Queen Empress and the Prince Regent with this information? Isn't that what you intended in the first place?” the councilor suggested.

“It wouldn’t be wise without any proof. This is an opportunity for you to help me later on with them. I will be there in two fortnights,” he said as the councilor bowed out and disappeared. He saddled his horse and galloped off in haste.

He was afraid this would happen. The current situation could spell the premature dissolution of Unibeltrasia. The delicate balance of power that had been so painstakingly built over the years was now in jeopardy.

He knew perfectly well that it would not end well for the Sulinhawi Kingdom. If the Grand Sulin King learned of the attack without proper counsel, he would undoubtedly see it as an act of aggression. War would be inevitable.

As he rode towards the Imperial Capital, the weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon him. He was racing against time, hoping to avert a catastrophe that could tear apart everything they had worked so hard to build. But with each passing moment, the threat of war loomed larger, casting a dark shadow over the future of Unibeltrasia.

End of Chapter XXIV