“I have had the pleasure to visit many nations over the course of my youth. It’s always great fun to explore a new city and interact with a populace so uniquely different from your own, but there is one destination that I have never been able to forget in all my years of travel, and that is the capital of Polus: The Castrum. It is a fond memory of mine—lining up alongside the vast line of merchants and travelers stretching out far beyond the eye could see. Step by step we slowly grew closer to those imposing gates, and upon the final checkpoint, a view of awe and wonder awaited me: a grand citadel of pearl white and rustic oak, shining with a luster greater than any gem and bathing under the sparkling crystals of the sun’s rays.”

—Memoirs of a Scholar: Penned by Arch Magus Faust, Ruler of the Augurium Thaumaturgy

———

The Knight

“It is time to wake, Aegis. We are here.”

The Knight gently awakens the drooling baby from his deep rest, but is beget only with a sharp groan in response. His pudgy body droops, arms hanging loose in defeat, and his star-speckled eyes have been wracked with the glint of exhaustion: such are the consequences of foregoing a proper slumber after days of constant exploration amidst the twilight.

Aegis lets out a little huff and shakes his tiny little fist before plopping his head back down on the soft bed. Alas, time waits for no weary child: They must disembark, for their destination is finally in sight.

“Hm. I see, then. Before you return to slumber, why don’t you take a look outside the window first? I am sure it will stir your interest.”

An annoyed grunt parts his lips, but the persuasion entices him nonetheless. And as Aegis peeks out into the shimmering light of the daytime noon, he is met with a frolicking expanse of luscious meadow and flowers far beyond the eye can see. The wind twirls about in airy songs of hums and whistles flowing free under a canopy of the brightest blue and sends along rolling waves through the vibrant, sun-kissed grass.

The child is left voiceless, but the Knight can see within his gaze a desire true: to join the dance and let himself be enveloped in the soft gale.

“Do you still wish to remain within?”

The sparkle in his eyes is the only answer it needs. With a revitalized babble, Aegis reaches out and lets himself be planted firmly atop the Knight’s helm. 

Exiting the room, the two emerge into the busy corridors of the transport. Officers and personnel mingle about the once-silent halls - now filled with a stream of laughter and casual conversation - while one in particular glows with a broad smile as the Knight makes its way towards them.

“Just in time! We’ll be arriving at the gates in but a moment,” Dariel says. A restless energy covers him all throughout, voice filled with excitement at the prospect of reuniting with his hearth. But, hidden within, there is a seed of reluctance—a hesitation burrowed in his heart.

“Are you sure about returning so soon?” it asks. “I know you’re still a bit uncertain, Dariel. You don’t need to force yourself for my sake.”

He shakes his head. “My little escape attempt has been quite shorter than I initially planned, but I think this is for the best. There’s an endless amount of lessons out there on the field; what matters most of all, however, is that I feel satisfied with growth. My mentality. And, after meeting you, I think I’m ready to face my grandfather and the other nobles.

“Hehe, I’m strong, after all. As long as I believe in myself, I’ll be fine.”

The transport screeches aloud with a harsh jolt, forcefully stopping in place as the sudden jerk sends the people around them staggering about with unsteady steps. A new source of sound fills the room, for wafting in from the outside is a loud jumble of all manner of voices: rough and timid, young and old, crass and eloquent. But the one common tie betwixt them all is an eager sense of anticipation. 

“Ah, faster than I thought!” Dariel bolts for the window and takes a good look at the view outside. “Hm, the line’s quite long today. Don’t think we’ll make it in until sunset.”

“Hm? It’s still midday. What do you mean about a line?”

A knowing smirk spreads across his face. “Oh, just a rite of passage for all travelers that visit the capital. Since we’ll be waiting for a while, why don’t we check it out ourselves? Come on, follow me!”

He excitedly takes the Knight’s hand within his own and drags it across the construct, rushing by and weaving through a multitude of bewildered bodies before eventually reaching a large, metallic door.

Dariel takes a deep breath and, with a hefty push, shoves the entrance wide open. A stream of light welcomes them into the outside - soil and earth uniting together in a marriage of fresh fragrance - while a tiny babe from above struggles to contain his excitement upon experiencing a true, sprawling prairie for the first time. The grassland is an enchanting sight, but it pales in comparison to the grand structure before the Knight’s eyes: a gigantic, towering wall of glossed white marble—reaching up high and piercing the clouds themselves with its majesty. It surrounds the entirety of the city while casting an all-consuming shade upon the earth below, providing respite to the stretching line of caravans and merchants from the sweltering heat of the sun.

It truly is an imposing sight, the Knight muses to itself. To think that once-budding hamlet would transform into a nation of such magnitude. Never have I seen a more colossal bastion in all my eternity. Astounding.

However, what intrigues its curiosity is the rigid inspection at the kingdom’s entrance. Not a single speck of the travelers’ carriage is spared, their person checked and patted from head to toe, while a lengthy exchange of documents and prying questions must take place before approval is finally granted. This is not the procedure of a peace-faring nation. This is the safeguard of those at war.

“They sure are meticulous with the gate check,” the Knight probes.

Dariel utters a weary sigh, but his tone is one of understanding. “That’s just how it has to be, I’m afraid. There’s always a spy here and there trying to worm their way through, and when we’re in such a vulnerable position, Polus can’t afford to have our affairs be leaked. You should have seen the line when we still allowed foreigners entry.”

Hm…? Vulnerable you say? How very interesting.

“Spies? From who?”

“Ah, that’s right: memory loss. Sorry about that. Do you remember those you faced while in the forest?”

“The knights in mechanical suits?”

“Hah! They will never be worthy of the knight’s title. Those monstrosities are called the Rust-Blood Legion, intoxicated pawns of Grand General Xeros and the empire of Nox Caelum.”

Nox Caelum? That is an unfamiliar name. But if they are capable of mass-producing such technology on a grand scale, then they will be a difficult foe. I must be cautious in this age of unknown invention.

“We’ve been at war with them since… before I was born, actually,” Dariel continues. “The previous ruler of Caelum was a woman by the name of Luxmi. She served as the Grand General and, during her reign, our nations were said to prosper in an era of peace like never before. The elders always talk about it so fondly—of yesterdays where their only worries were of harvest and play. I can’t even imagine it.”

“What happened then? To ruin the peace?”

A furious look flashes by Dariel’s eyes. Rage, loathing, disgust: the very worst of humanity all manifested in a gaze of pure vengeance. It is surprising to see such malice in one still so young, but his anger only serves to further provoke the Knight’s inquisitiveness.

“She died,” he says. “We don’t know exactly how, though. Something happened inside of the Caelum’s capital, something big, but what exactly was hidden by their administration. In the end, the only news we were given was of her corpse and the election of their new leader: Xeros Nox.

“Hah… it doesn’t require a scholar to take a guess at what happened, especially after he suddenly appeared with Luxmi’s Will. There’s no chance in hells that she passed down her power to someone like that—someone so utterly wicked. No, he must have stolen it, and now we’re stuck in this endless war because of his despicable desire.”

Desire? Ah, I see now. So this Xeros is the inheritor of the Will of Desire. How interesting, but I suppose it is befitting of one who rules over those strange unions of metal and man. Avatars of Desire have always been one of unpredictable nature.

Dariel begins to recollect himself, face blushing over his sudden uncharacteristic display of wrath, and meekly bows his head in apology before the Knight. “Um, sorry I had to show you that. I tend to get a bit heated when it comes to that man. Day after day all we hear in the court is about him and his atrocities, so I, ehm, guess it’s not really an excuse…”

“Don’t worry about it,” it says, soothing him with a rub of his back. Though there are plenty of approaches in this world, kindness has always proven to be the most effective—no matter how false the intention. “Don’t be ashamed of anger; what’s important is how you channel it. Let it serve as your motivation.”

Its words appear to succeed and he quickly regains his prior cheerfulness. “Thank you. I promise I’m not usually like this; there’s just a lot to worry about lately. Your expedition with Lorelai was supposed to be the chance we needed to end this conflict once and for all, but I suppose you know how that ended. Right now, you’re the only trace we have of finding her.

“Not to put any pressure on you or anything!” he exclaims. “I just wanted to warn you beforehand since the capital’s probably going to be a bit more gloomy than usual. So if you come across any rudeness from the officials, don’t take it to heart. We’re desperate, and desperation tends to turn people into fools. Trust me, I would know.”

“This Lorelai must have been really important to you.”

“Not just to me. To everyone. She was… no, still is our beloved beacon of hope. The day we confirm her death is when this nation shall truly descend into sorrow. Lorelai is that precious to us.”

His words are choked with a pitiful grasp at hope, of one teetering on the precipice of uncertainty, but the Knight’s heart remains barren. Unfeeling. Devoid of empathy. 

It knows the truth. It holds the key. The Throne’s supposed fate is a very powerful tool; the only question is when it must be used.

This nation will fall into ruination eventually. Shall it be now, or does this frail land still hold some use? The Knight will have to observe a bit longer.

“I will do my best to remember,” it says. “And I don’t think it’ll take long. I’m already starting to recall some bits and pieces of that day, so be at ease, Dariel. I’m sure everything will turn out alright.”

“That’s a massive relief. I just hope we can get through the gate without any problems.”

“Problems? Because of my identity?”

His vanishing smile provides an answer before his words can. “I don’t suppose the miasma is gone yet, is it?”

“Faintly. It dwindles by the day, but I can still feel a small trace around me attempting to invade my mind.”

“It’ll be a bit difficult then. We can’t get through without showing our faces, and all people born in our domain are given a sheet documenting their birthright as a citizen. Without it, well… our only hope is that Annalay hasn’t lost the necessary paperwork.”

As if being summoned by some unknown force of coincidence, the Nature’s Throne in question strides out of the giant transport with a rumbling yawn and a crass rub of her stomach.

“Mmm, that was a nice nap,” she bellows. “I’ll give it to those Ishmahab bastards: They really know how to make a good bed.”

The two stare at her with a mutual look of bewilderment. The Knight has met many like the warrior before it, but never has one been relegated to so high a position in an honor-bound society such as Polus. How exactly did she manage such a feat? I doubt it was through pure strength.

“Hm? What’re you looking at me like that for?” Annalay says before planting her eyes on the fist-shaped mark on its armor. “Ah, um, right. Sorry about that whole business from before. I screwed up, I’ll admit that, and all I can really do is ask for your humble forgiveness… please?”

The Knight delivers forth a well-intentioned chuckle. There is no need to make enemies with one of her caliber. “On the contrary, it was an honor sparring with you Lady Annalay. Your strength is truly something to be admired, and it brings me great joy to have contended with your blows myself.”

Annalay chokes up and rushes to lock the Knight in a wide, almost crushing, heartfelt hug. “You’re a good person. If the Principalities won’t take you, I’ll have to steal you away myself.”

A loud cough pierces through their ears. Dariel stands firm, his gaze devoid of any amusement. “We were just talking about you.”

“Aw, hells…” she whispers next to its ear.

“I assume you have the documentation needed for the gate check?”

“Ah, that ol’ thing? Course I do. Let me just… huh, that’s odd. I’m sure it was just here…”

Annalay digs through her armor’s cracks in an increasingly alarmed attempt to uncover the papers, but her efforts seem to be in vain. Nothing is produced.

“Huh, must’ve fallen out while I was flying over to the camp. That’s my bad.”

The Knight doesn’t even need to look for it to feel Dariel’s approaching rage.

“Hey, you’re starting to look like your grandfather now! That’s, er, not good.”

In an instant, a deafening barrage of curses and insults erupt from his raging, frothing mouth. Dariel’s tirade is filled with such colorful language and, rather creative, taunts that the Knight can only be impressed. He’ll have no trouble bringing change to the court if he maintains that same ferocity.

“You complete, utter dimwit!” he roars. “I now know why grandfather loathes you so. I can’t believe it. I simply just can’t believe it. How is it even possible to be this… this… agh! Stars help me…”

Annalay lowers her head before him like a child being scolded by their parents and meekly accepts his tirade-filled rant. It would be a rather humorous sight if not for the attention being roused from the surrounding crowd.

“How are we going to get through now!? Are you going to abuse your authority like some kind of corrupt scoundrel?”

A dangerous light twinkles in her eyes, one of whimsical recklessness. “That’s a great idea! Stars, why didn’t I think of that before?”

“W-What?”

Before he can react, Annalay hoisters the struggling Dariel onto her back, the armor’s thorns poking all over his body, and snatches the Knight’s waist with a single grab of her hand. Something baffling is about to occur, and as if in premonition of the future to come, Aegis latches himself to the Knight’s head with a terrified, desperate grip.

“No, no, no,” he mutters, eyes darting back and forth between the audience in a plea for help.

“Ah, don’t be like that. Consider this a little treat; I’ll let you two have a taste of what it’s like to soar through the sky.”

The Nature’s throne manifests her earthen wings and stomps her foot hard into the dirt, voice muttering a low, deep drone as verdant green begins to flow free.

“YOU’RE INSANE—” But Dariel is unable to finish, for with a boisterous laugh, Annalay leaps high into the air with her two victims in hold and spirals straight into the cloudy firmament above.