Only I deserve to rule.

Only I have the right to command.

The throne belongs to me, and so it shall be forever.

And if someone manages to defeat me,

then they will be my substitute.

Once again, Miriel was gazing out of the window of that all-too-familiar carriage that had brought her to Aldramar. The city looked lively, showcasing the prosperity it had enjoyed over the past decade. It was cold, and a light layer of mist, quite different from the nocturnal kind, enveloped the city. The leaves of the trees were coated in the dewy sheen characteristic of cool mornings, giving the city an elegant air.

Nevertheless, the young Veltharyn paid no attention to these small details, as her mind was overwhelmed by a sea of confusing sensations, leaving her unsure of what to make of it all. On one hand, her dreams had always been reliable, no matter how inconsequential they seemed; on the other, the scenario she had witnessed was exceedingly hard to believe. Do I trust my power or common sense? the young woman asked herself. I suppose they will clarify my doubts.

The carriage traversed several streets, passing all sorts of travelers driving carts loaded with goods that would later be sold in the grand market.

"Did you remember the city this way?" Drynn asked, seeking to strike up a lighthearted conversation to dispel the tense atmosphere. "When I was your age, Miriel, the central market barely had half the stalls it does now. And we never dreamed of having food from Drakmara."

"It has grown a lot, yes," Thilsa replied. "The king has done a good job governing the city, unlike his predecessor."

"Actually, it wasn’t bad before, but now Aldramar has become a beautiful city. I don’t think there’s a place in the entire Great Valley to rival this one."

"That’s because we haven’t been to Altharion," Thilsa added.

"And we won’t," her companion concluded. "But even so, I find it hard to believe there’s a livelier and more beautiful place than this in Altharion. Besides, we don’t know who lives there or what their capital is like. If they’re so powerful, why don’t they allow citizens of the Great Valley to enter?"

"Well, it’s sacred land," Thilsa replied sincerely. "It makes sense that they wouldn’t allow common folk to enter, as it prevents heretics from corrupting the place."

"I suppose," Drynn said resignedly. "In another life, I’ll try to enter. Now I’m too old."

Drynn was someone who truly enjoyed traveling. He had been fortunate as a soldier, as it allowed him to travel all over Orinthal, glimpsing from afar the border with Altharion. After retiring from the First Army, he spent many years in Saucedal, living a comfortable life as a bodyguard. However, he still longed to travel, and his greatest dream was to set foot in Altharion—that kingdom so small yet said to be as beautiful as the Moon itself, according to rumors.

Tense silence reclaimed the carriage as it continued toward the Royal Palace. Their destination was none other than visiting Miriel’s uncles, and to do so, they had to cross another border, one that separated the nobility from the rest of the inhabitants. This area lay at the end of Central Street, which divided Aldramar into two halves: Left and Right.

The most skilled guards patrolled this area, as small skirmishes often arose there. It was common for the less fortunate to try sneaking into the noble area, nicknamed Nobilis, in hopes of working for one of the Ten Families. None succeeded; all ended up in prison, never to be heard from again.

Passing through this checkpoint was difficult unless you belonged to a high-ranking family. City legislation clearly stated that only individuals connected to the Ten Families had the right to cross the border. It followed, therefore, that no hulgor could ever set foot on that land, and the vast majority of humans couldn’t either.

Surprisingly, having wealth or property didn’t help gain entry to Nobilis. The guards didn’t accept bribes as they were well-paid by the king, and, furthermore, betraying the kingdom would result in the death penalty. The noble district was thus an exclusive zone, inaccessible to the vast majority of citizens, no matter how rich they might be. If you weren’t related to one of the families close to the king, only one path remained to enter that restricted area: becoming a war hero.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The path to becoming a war hero was not an easy one. First, one had to be a general in the First Army and, additionally, achieve extraordinary success in battles. Meeting both requirements, the king would recognize their merits and bestow upon them the Medal of Honor. However, if the general lost even a small battle, their reputation would be permanently damaged, barring them from joining the High Nobility.

Four of the Ten Families had been established by war heroes: the Pasthorius, the Galattier, the Thylfiern, and the Valgarien. However, in an era of peace across the continent, it was impossible for current generals of the First Army to aspire to join that exclusive circle of nobility. In other words, no citizen had achieved social ascension in recent decades.

The Veltharyn were another family of the High Nobility, though their situation was certainly different from that of the other families. While they enjoyed all the privileges of the High Nobility, they also bore many more responsibilities. As the king’s advisors, they were tasked with aiding in the monarch’s security and using their powers for whatever the kingdom needed. Unlike the rest of Nobilis, the Veltharyn undertook dangerous missions, and it wasn’t unusual for a member to die on one of them. Such had been the case with Miriel’s father.

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After a twenty-minute journey, the carriage reached the border, where the gate was guarded by ten guards, six of whom were hulgors. They were dressed in elegant armor forged by the finest blacksmiths in the kingdom. Accompanying their immaculate armor were massive and extremely sharp swords, reflecting the enormous security expenditure undertaken by the families of Nobilis.

The three disembarked from the carriage. Before them stood a fifteen-foot-high, five-foot-thick wall, built to withstand any attack. A towering guard approached them, not intending to intimidate. He must have been six feet tall, and only his green eyes were visible as he wore his helmet in accordance with the city's regulations.

"Good morning, ladies," the guard said, first looking at Miriel and then at Thilsa. "Oh, and good morning to you as well, sir. Are you looking to enter Nobilis?"

"Only me, sir," Miriel replied, much more determined than she had been upon entering the city. "They are just accompanying me and will leave once I’m inside."

Drynn and Thilsa remained silent, closely observing the conversation and ready to intervene if they deemed Miriel needed their help.

"Very well," said the guard. "However, your face is unfamiliar to me. May I ask which family you belong to?"

"The Veltharyn."

"The Veltharyn?" the guard repeated, visibly surprised. "You don’t have their famous crimson hair, and I definitely haven’t seen your face before."

At this, Miriel handed him the documentation identifying her as a resident of Orinthal, which also indicated her family. The guard reviewed the document and returned it to Miriel once satisfied. He then turned to another guard, equally imposing, who handed him a ledger containing a list of names.

"Let’s see," said the guard as he searched for Miriel’s name. "You are Miriel Veltharyn… Yes, here you are listed as a descendant of Kurtt Veltharyn."

"Indeed," Miriel replied. "He is my father, though he passed away several years ago."

"I see. In that case, my condolences, Miss Miriel. However, you are not listed as a resident of Nobilis."

"You are correct. I live in Saecedal and am here to visit my family."

"I understand. Then please note that you must leave Nobilis before seven o’clock in the evening. You are prohibited from staying overnight here."

"Don’t worry, sir," Miriel replied. "I have no intention of spending the night at my family’s house. I have a room reserved at a nice inn, and I’d be much more comfortable there than with the Veltharyn."

"I see, Miss. You may pass."

The guard stepped aside and signaled for the other guards to open the gate. Meanwhile, Miriel turned to look at her two escorts. Both wore serious expressions, displaying evident concern.

"I’ll see you in a while. Take advantage of your free time," Miriel joked. "Wait for me here in two hours; I shouldn’t take longer than that."

"Alright, Miriel," Thilsa replied. "Don’t get into trouble. Remember, they’re High Nobility and are used to receiving a lot of respect. Try to stick to sharing your visions and asking for advice, always in good faith."

"And tell them we protect you very well," added Drynn.

Miriel smiled and prepared to cross the gate.