August 24, 2000th Howmen year. Arglohandre has been two thousand years since it was liberated from Emperor Lapunta.

The reign of King Gerrad Eighth, the 74th dynasty, the Howmen Dynasty.

Flezard, The King's Land.

The sky is overcast, the wind blows like a roar calling someone's name. The middle of the day is like midnight. The sun is completely obscured by the moon. An eerie scene enveloped all of Flezard. But perhaps, the biggest miasma place to mention is the Holy Glamgmar Palace.

Hidden deep in a moldy nook inside the Stagwall prison in the King's Land, behind those sturdy bars keep the graced a merciless death sentence. There were William the Butcher; Margravine the Crimson Maiden of the Flower Banners or Julian the One-Eyed of the Brotherhood... all had to sit still in iron cages.

The sighs, the coughs and the curses and groans of the prisoners never stopped. Only one cell remained eerily quiet. If the other prisoners tried to make as many sounds as possible to say that they were alive, and begging for a little bit of tolerance, the prisoner in solitary confinement was calm like nothing happened, or felt like it wasn't worth it because something was going to happen soon.

Footsteps echoed up the walls and back again, sounding like an army of troops in drills. Seeing the warden, the prisoners were like flies, like maggots, seeing rotting flesh, rushed to the iron bars, their limbs tried to slip through the cracks in the door and cling to their meager life, but what they received was a silently graze at their fate. The three dementors went straight to the solitary cell, not knowing if they were arriving early to escort them to the execution ground, or something else. All the other prisoners were curious as to what would happen to the man in that cell, some of them screaming and swearing because they couldn't change their fate.

In the solitary confinement, the woman sat in a meditative posture in the middle of the room, her eyes closed, silently holding her position like a statue. The bald head and half of the woman's face were destroyed to the point of losing its original shape. Not everyone dared to look at that face directly. From outside the cell door came knocking, but the woman still didn't move.

“Marga the Cloak!”

She did not answer, just continued to be silent, and this displeased the guards. The oldest man was furious, banging his hand on the door to get her attention.

“Marga! Do you listen to me or not?"

But the answer to him was still an utter silence. Despite the dementors shouting her name, after a while the woman opened her mouth:

“I need a mask. My mask."

"What?" the warden sneered. "You ordered me?"

Her eyes were still closed, her mind was still pure and answered:

“No mask, no go. Catch me, I don't work for your Royal Highness. Killing me will be of no use to you."

"How do you know?" the warden was surprised.

“Mask,” the woman said firmly, completely ignoring his question.

"You c*nt, I'm talking to you!", the woman's indifference set him on fire.

"Mask."

"Answer me!"

"Mask."

The dementor could not wait to cut off the head of that insolent woman with a sword. But he was able to hold back, the woman was still valuable. Marga the Cloak was captured during a "witch" hunt launched by King Gerrad the Eighth, guaranteed to destroy the seeds of the forces of darkness. More than thirty-six women were arrested during a vigil at the Saran shrine, which is dedicated to the goddess Floria. They were, or at least believed to be, the lost, the worshipers, the pious followers of Lapunta, as well as other forbidden religious forces. They were condemned to death, just waiting for the day they were taken to the pyre. Among them, this woman named Marga is the most worrying. While under siege, Marga was giving a eloquent speech to her fanatical followers. Only fire can burn the evils. Fire will illuminate, will drive away the evil of this sinful world.

The warden growled, turned to one of his subordinates:

“You should go get her mask. Get this over with quickly."

The subordinate silently nodded and immediately followed the instructions. The warden looked scornfully at Marga through the bars of the door and said:

“Then… according to your will!”

Marga opened her eyes. She tilted her head to look at the guards with strange eyes. Marga suddenly stood up, she walked slowly to the side of the bars, a very close distance from the warden. The warden was a little frightened, but couldn't let her see it. Marga narrowed her eyes as if secretly assessing him. Then, she said:

“Gregdy Savos…”

The warden was scared. That's his name, but the most important thing is that apart from those who work with him, Gregdy, he has never revealed his name.

"Who did you hear?"

“Oh my dear son,” Marga smiled lightly. “I know more about you than you do!”

"Really?", Gregdy couldn't keep the fear in his heart, but part of him was curious about that statement. "Then tell me...", he was silent for a while, thinking, "...my death!"

Marga looked devilishly at Gregdy, then grinned at him, saying:

"My son, you won't want to know!"

“Oh,” he also faced Marga with a rather confident expression, but deep inside, the flames of fear were slowly taking over him. “I want to know deeply!”

“Hmm,” Marga closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She suddenly reached over the iron frame and grabbed his hand. Startled Gregdy quickly removed her hand, but Marga gripped it like an anchor pinned to the bottom of the sea.

Moments later, Marga automatically let go of his hand, leaving a mark on his skin. Marga looked at Gregdy with mournful eyes, shook her head and said:

"Oh my son..."

"You... what do you see?", his jaws trembled, reluctantly swallowing down his throat to reassure himself.

“What you want to know…” she replied softly, “Your death.”

“What is it?” Gregdy said eagerly.

“You have a very beautiful neck…” Marga gazed at his neck, mournfully. “You should be careful with women…”

Hearing this, he suddenly burst out laughing. Gregdy laughed like he'd never laughed before. But the most remarkable thing was Marga's facial expression. Despite being ridiculed by him like that, she maintained an unusually calm expression. Not angry, not showing any emotion. At the same time, the warden returned with her mask. An old yellow mask was half cracked on the right side, but it seemed important to Marga. Seeing the mask, she seemed more restless. Gregdy stopped laughing now, he looked at her with a grotesque look and said:

“Do you think I would believe such nonsense?”

"Oh Gregdy, never play with fire," she clicked her tongue. “But… it was your choice…”

“I don't f*cking care,” snorted Gregdy, hurling the mask inside her cell, causing it to chip a little more. He growled. "That's your mask. Cover that hideous face and follow me!"

Marga was not angry at all. She just quietly bent down to pick up the mask, then put it on. No one understood what the purpose of that mask was. Because it couldn't even cover the wound on her face. With that mask, her face was even more strange than ever.

The lock clicked, then the door swung open. The two remaining guards chained Marga's hands with an iron chain and escorted her away. On the way to Glamgmar Palace, arms stretched out endlessly begging for a last favor, but only silence answered them.

--

“They say you can see the future, witch?”

Emperor Gerrad the Eighth in the inner sanctum stood still. He stood with his head turned, looking out at the scenery outside from the top window. Rain began to fall steadily. The sculpture of Darren The Great standing in the middle of the courtyard has gradually grown mossy after these storms. His hands were clenched tightly, as if trying not to let anyone see them shaking.

In a corner, the woman slowly stepped out into the dim light of the jeweled torches hanging on the wall and the candlesticks. The woman in a yellow-brown suit with honeycomb motifs all over her body. She looked even weirder with her bald head and a cracked mask and the loss of a quarter of her chin from her left ear to her right ear, revealing horribly ruined skin.

“I am not a witch,” she replied calmly, “I am a prophet.”

"I don't care what you are. I just want to know what you see from the baby.”

A baby's ear-piercing cry was heard before it was brought in. The Emperor agitation could be clearly seen just by hearing that cry. There weren't many people in the palace, only Him, an official, the nanny and the baby with the mysterious woman. She walked over to the crying baby and raised her eyebrows. The baby suddenly stopped crying mysteriously, slowly opened his eyes to look at the woman. It was only the first few moments that took her by surprise. She noticed the baby's eyes were blue and black on each side. The black one is mysterious like the endless night, while the other one is as calm as the deep ocean. This baby just looked at it and knew it was not normal.

“His eyes…”

The woman involuntarily lamented. But He didn't say anything, He just remained silent and continued the uncertainty in his eyes. The woman smiled slightly and said:

"It's your son..."

The silence allowed the woman to hear clearly the discomfort and insecurity that was suppressed in his throat. The Emperor growled:

"I didn't summon you to talk about that."

Marga smiled lightly and said:

"You're scared."

A flash of lightning ripped the sky in half, followed by a deafening sound. The Emperor's face turned gray, angrily looking at Marga, shouted:

"Who do you think you are to talk like that?"

Marga was not afraid, she continued leisurely:

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“You are concerned about this child… Born in the hour of great cavalry, the moment when Lapunta was finished off by the Thirteen Warriors. The baby carved its mother died shortly after birth. You are afraid. That fear… was evident on your face.”

Emperor Gerrad the Eighth watched in silence as the woman approached him, but this time he did not show anger. That woman was right. He is scared! He is afraid of his own son! A newborn baby who can open his eyes has two different eye colors. And the woman he loved the most died giving birth to it. That is not a coincidence. That's a warning!

Gerrad looked at Marga with unbelievable eyes and shook his head questioningly:

“You seem to know everything… Then why let yourself get caught? You could have been burned alive!”

Marga just gently replied:

“Only if the gods want me to know! I can't always see the future. But…"

“But…?”, He was surprised.

“I believe that everyone who lives in this world has a destiny. God will not let me die if my mission is not completed. Even if He burns me alive, right now, I will rise, rise, and rise all again.”

Marga's voice came out slowly, like an old woman more than a few hundred years old, but perfectly round and clear. Letting the Emperor's astonishment remain, she continued:

“However… I still demand a price from you.”

“You are the first to dare to ask me,” Gerrad snorted lightly, but he was not angry.

“I want you to make sure I get out of here safely. No tracking, no chasing. I'm absolutely safe," Marga said loudly.

"Didn't you say that even if you die, you will be resurrected?", He smiled lightly.

“Who wants to die? Even if I have nine lives, I still don't want to waste any," replied Marga calmly.

The Emperor was silent. There was something about this woman that made him feel chill, and a little bit of admiration. That calmness and wisdom in an instant seemed to make him fall from the height of power from the iron throne and drop the crown covered with gold, becoming an iron-clad commoner. He growled, affirming softly:

“If I allow you to leave, you must go far away. If I see you here again, even if you have nine lives, I will burn you nine times until you disappear forever."

Marga listened silently to his every word, and did not reply immediately. After a while, she smiled and replied:

“Then consider the contract established. I trust you will keep your word, my Emperor?"

It's not a question, it's a threat. Marga finished, then slowly walked down to the baby. He was very obedient, did not cry or disturb anything, just quietly fell into a deep sleep. Marga motioned to the wet nurse to give the baby to her. The nanny hesitated, this was not something she could decide. She surreptitiously probed his face, seeing that he had no attitude, she assuredly gave the baby away. The nurse passed it gently to Marga, trying not to stir her up. Holding the baby in her arms, Marga was as considerate as a real mother. She slowly moved her hand to touch the skin of his plump face, then closed her eyes as she watched for Gregdy.

Emperor Gerrad the Eighth also walked over to the child. He couldn't look it straight in the face. He really wanted to, but in his heart he didn't allow it to happen. At least, until he was sure it wasn't a threat. But, if it really was a threat, what would he do? Kill his own child?

Marga opened her eyes, her expression a bit strange. She couldn't stop her eyes on this child. It… it's not just that. The Emperor also clearly noticed the unsettled expression on that face, began to conflict in his heart, and immediately asked:

"How? What do you see?"

Marga looked at the Emperor with a somewhat confused look, and couldn't answer right away. Then she turned to look at the baby. The whole room was covered by a dense void. No one dared to talk, only the candle wax kept falling.

“The prince…”, Marga hesitated, “More than normal. I can't see deep inside him… just a flash…”

"But what do you see?" he said eagerly.

Marga handed the baby over to the nurse, with a slightly conflicted expression on her face, answered:

"Life and death. Thirteen people. Black eyes and blue eyes. Lightning. Betrayal…"

Marga blurted out words that no one could understand. She herself doubted what she saw. It all just flashed aimlessly. In her heart, she knew, this baby must have grown up with a mission that was not simple. It could be either the protector of this world, or… another Lapunta.

The Emperor was enraged at Marga's half-hearted answer. He regretfully used the strength of one hand to squeeze her neck and pull her up. He was strong enough to keep her a great distance from the ground. Marga choked, tried to pull his fingers away but couldn't. Gerrad the Eighth growled in his throat like a wild beast, saying:

“I have heard enough nonsense! I thought I could trust you!”

“I… did… say… I… look…”, Marga managed to say with her remaining weak breaths.

The Emperor gave a loud shout, then let Marga down. He is suffering and tormenting. He is not only a father, but also an emperor of the realm. He couldn't let that history repeat itself again. Faced with these choices, he didn't know what to do.

Marga was still sitting on the floor, her throat still sore from him. She glanced at Gerrad the Eighth who was clearly showing a look of dismay on his face. This man is tormented in grief. Marga slowly stood up, silently examining his face. After a while, she said:

“You will kill the child if he is a danger, right…?"

"What choice do I have?", Gerrad seemed to be sucked up by an invisible demon. He sat back in his chair, waiting in vain for something.

"But you don't have to do that..."

"What?"

Marga did not answer immediately, but took the baby in her arms and slowly approached the Emperor. She gave the baby to him. He was a little hesitant, but when he saw its sleeping appearance, he couldn't resist. Holding the baby in his arms, the decisions in his head became more and more like waves crashing against the shore. Just come and go, then come back, aimless like waves that can't find a destination. Marga said slowly:

“Neither you nor I can tell if the baby will destroy the world. But… one thing I'm sure of, this baby has a mission. The more you try to erase it, it will only speed things up.”

Emperor Gerrad the Eighth listened silently to her words. Marga continued:

“There are certain points in the timeline that are conservative, and unique. No one can break it. Letting it happen is the only thing you can do.”

“So you mean…?”

“I don't mean anything. All decisions are in your hands.”

The Emperor looked at the child. This is his first child, he has yet to name it. Seeing the baby sleeping soundly, he felt a little lightheadedness in his heart. Looking closely, the boy had a nose like his, tall and straight. Unconsciously, Gerrad the Eighth suddenly smiled and felt that everything was comfortable. It seems that in the heart of him has the answer. He kept his silence, looked at the baby, then turned to look at Marga standing in front of him. After a while, he ordered:

“Give this woman a horse, and escort her out of Banseer.”

Then he turned to Marga and said:

"Going out of Arglohandre at once, no turning around, no stopping."

Marga bowed to him and replied:

“Thank you for keeping your promise. And Marga will also keep her promise to you.”

With that, the warden Gregdy walked up to her and escorted her out. Gerrad still holds the baby in his arms, along with the nanny waiting for orders. The child suddenly stirred his arms and legs, but still fell asleep. He laughed, but softly, he did not dare to wake it up. Children should keep it to a deep sleep. A streak of light crossed his face attracting the attention of Gerrad the Eighth. From outside the window, the rain had stopped, and the sun had begun to creep in weak rays, breaking through those dense clouds. He looked back at his son, then breathed a sigh of relief.

“You were born in August… Just call you Augustus from now on!”

----

“Open the gate!”

Gregdy shouted loudly for the gatekeeper above to hear. Receiving the order, the gate weighing several kilos was pulled up. Banseer Citadel was now fortified by three layers of gates. From the inside of the city, the first gate was built of solid Dariarus Steel, followed by the iron gate and the outermost layer of boulders. The walls surrounding the city are made of solid stone. The walls run continuously with a dimension of about 7402 steps, enclosing the entire city with a maximum wall height of approximately 100 steps. They are reinforced by three circular and fourteen quadrilateral towers, five fortresses, two angular fortifications, and Fort Morah. Surrounding the outside of the wall is a system of moats running around equipped with one hundred and fifty bunkers for long-range and close-range archers. Since the extinction of Lapunta, Banseer has been completely remodeled. More fortified, safer and more dangerous!

The last stone door was pulled up, and Marga spurred her horse forward, followed by Gregdy. The sky was slowly beginning to lift its darkness to become clear, but most of the city remained in darkness. Marga turned her head to look at Glamgmar Palace, which was getting smaller and smaller, until it was completely out of sight that Marga spurred her horse to leave.

Night fell once more on Flezard, but this time at the end of the day. After following the Emperor's orders to escort Marga out of Banseer and Lyrrocks, as usual, when completing a mission, Gregdy visited his 'paradise'. Instead of returning to the Glamgmar Palace, he will spend the night at the Salvana brothel, which is known as the Orchid in the city.

Apparently Gregdy was a regular at Salvana. As soon as he saw him, the owner of the brothel, Jaime Erranco, walked over to greet him:

“Lord Savos, is it the same?”

As always, Jaime wanted to mention the most expensive lady in Salvana, Lady Jane. But after a while, another maid just came by. Apparently she's not a 'prostitute' like Jane, more like a servant who soon would be taught to be one of the 'ladies'. She was carrying a copper platter, with a plate of grapes and a new pitcher of wine. Immediately all eyes of Gregdy were on her. Savos left Jaime aside and approached to start a conversation.

"What's your name, girl?"

The girl seemed a bit scared, involuntarily took a step back, but was immediately pulled back by his hand. The maid lightly swallowed her saliva and replied fearfully:

“T… Tilda, my lord.”

"How old are you?"

Gregdy asked as he stared at the girl. His gaze moved slowly from the contours of his face, then down his neck to the bulging chest of his shirt. Tilda stammered:

“Ten… three, my lord.”

"Thirteen?"

Gregdy grinned. What else was he going to do, but Jaime couldn't take it anymore and had to intervene.

"I'm afraid Tilda isn't the right choice for you," Jaime smiled lightly, "She's too young."

"It doesn't make much difference!" he said annoyed. "Bring Tilda to my room."

“I’m afraid Tilda is just a servant girl…”

Jaime was afraid to let a girl only thirteen years old serve him, but the look on Gregdy's face frightened him. Gregdy is a powerful man who is not easily offended. Helpless, Jaime agreed:

"I'll let her into your room at once."

Gregdy snorted, then coldly returned to the room. Jaime sighed, but also forcefully disagreed. He had no choice but to let Tilda in to serve Gregdy. Tilda is a new girl here, young and needy, her parents died and has to find work here. She had never been trained to do those things, and Jaime wanted to give her a little more time before it really became an investment in him. Think again and again, just pray that nothing goes wrong. He did not want to lose this business just because of the lack of professionalism!

The door opened, and Tilda slowly walked in with a new dress that Jaime had prepared for her. The little girl walked barefoot, taking slow steps, timid and a little scared. It did not dare to approach Gregdy, only keeping a certain distance. Gregdy looked at her with a serious face. A little bit of lipstick makes her face brighter. He sat cross-legged, clapping his hands on his thighs, motioning for Tilda to come and sit on him. She was a little scared, she pressed her hands to the sides of her skirt as if she had gained courage to do it. Then, Tilda also came and sat on his lap, clumsily placing her hand on his chest like the other girls did. But Gregdy grabbed her hand and pushed it away. Today, Gregdy will teach her how to be a woman!

The door closed tight. The sky is so high. A groan echoed through the brothel like a choral song.

...

...

Naked Tilda watched as Gregdy's corpse lying on the white bed turned red from the blood flowing from his neck. Her face showed no emotion. The full moon seemed to hold up the light of justice. Stagwall's keys dangled from her fingers. From the very beginning, that was what she wanted, the key chains. There comes, Tilda's quest is complete. But what is that? Only the moonlight knew!

Smoke rose, and groans resounded throughout a corner. That night, Stagwall prison was attacked. The warden was killed tragically and without pity. The necks with a very thin, neat cut poured out a lot of red blood. Her brother - Banish with a blade cut the other warden in half. Blood clung to his face like a tattoo for every victory he had.

The sound of slow footsteps, the clatter of metal against each other. Tilda stepped over the corpses with a fairy-like grace. She walked through the dark corridor, filled with cries for help from the benefactors within. But she didn't care much. Today Tilda only has two missions: steal the key and set her mother free!

She walked to a solitary cell. A smile appeared on her lips full of confidence. Tilda knocked softly on the door three times. Inside, the sound of iron chains sounded like it was a sign that it was the right person. Tilda took out the keys she got from Gredgy, his body must have been discovered by now. For a moment, Tilda was truly really enjoying Savos.

She skillfully inserted the key. The door opened and a woman with messy hair appeared. Neither Banish nor Tilda could hide their joy when they saw her. But who is that woman?

Tilda smiled triumphantly and said:

“The Flower Banner is ready, mother!”

The woman didn't answer, just laughed, echoing through the four walls. The prison could no longer hold the infamous bandit. She is the Crimson Maiden Margravine!