While the girl sleeps peacefully after an exhausting morning, back at the palace, miles away, Jev R had just returned from a meeting with a few war companions. The new division commissioned by King WoBegon would be composed of two highly skilled individuals—each worth many. All of them had some connection to Callun. They would do whatever was needed to complete their mission, usher in a new age of glory for the Karman, and save the Invum from their personal hell—at least, theoretically, that was the premise.

For Jev, however, the opportunity meant something else.

Jev was born in Callun, but no one really knew his story—not even him. The king had said he was the son of deceased palace workers, a native woman and a Karman-Invum hybrid. There were no clear records of their existence, and more he saw about the world, more he believed it was all a lie. Everyone lies, especially the king. To him, they’re all just one big bad joke. He wants to purge the world by destroying the planet—the only way to get rid of this plague. Maybe this was the long-awaited opportunity, for both him and certain Invum rebels, to finally put an end to many unresolved matters.

Before returning to the barracks, a servant catches his attention. Properly summoned, he follows him to the palace’s main office.

What the hell happened now?

The door’s surface was full of gears and tubes, the Karman magic in its purple frame flowing all over it like veins, indicating heavy work to keep the mechanism alive. When they arrive, the servant places his hand over a golden, pulsing sphere in the center of the magical portal. Once granted access, the two pass through the door as if its solidity no longer existed. Jev never ceased to be impressed by the supernatural wonders of Hor magic.

The office looked like a giant cave—dark walls, nearly no furniture. Only the essentials, so that whoever was in there wouldn’t notice time passing, being so immersed in their tasks. No inconveniences, distractions, or chances of being spied on. King WoBegon sat in a plain armchair near a large central table overflowing with maps and various instruments. His thumb and index finger pressed between his eyes, holding his head… showing deep boredom.

“Come in, Jev,” he muttered lazily. “Sit down.”

Next to a chair stood a royal elite mage. His face was flushed red, nostrils flaring wider than normal.

“Ooh, a red pepper!” Jev quipped with a mocking grin. “Been sunbathing too long?”

“I’ve told you not to refer to me like that. We are not close, and it’s disrespectful,” the famously short-tempered Hor replied, face darkening further.

“Disrespectful? Not my fault your mother gave you a name my mouth barely knows how to pronounce. Your father could at least have—”

The mage instantly pointed his staff at Jev. Made of strange wood and purple crystals, the instrument morphed at the tip into a mouth full of sharp teeth, ready to strike.

“Calm down, children!” the king laughed. “It’d be fun, but let’s save it for another day. We’ve got business.” Everything returned to normal, and Karth Hor obediently sat down like a machine following orders. “One of the Hor has fled, influenced by the oracle. I need you to organize a search. But don’t make a fuss—no need to stir up attention or waste our soldiers.”

Jev grinned.

“Now I get why Tomato Face here’s so tense,” he chuckled. “My lord, I can do better. We need all hands focused on the rebel skirmishes near Puma—there’ve been rumors of electric weapon smuggling. The rest are out on other missions, so our capacity in the capital is thin. Let’s leave things be for now and trust time to take care of it.”

“We're not going to do anything?!”

“Easy, Red Lady.”

“Get to the point, Jev. I’m too bored for ideas or to listen to you two much longer.”

“Of course, sire. To finish my thought—let me handle this personally. I’ll alert the Triage. They’ll be the first to catch wind of anything. A few well-placed bribes to the right trackers, and we’ll likely find the runaway quickly… especially if she’s in the capital.”

“You’re throwing my daughter to the wolves!” Hor shouted, pounding the table with both fists. “My king, you have plans for her! You can’t just—”

Daughter, Jev thought.

“If you kept your little flock on a tighter leash, this wouldn’t be a problem,” Jev smiled, a wicked satisfaction in dragging him down into the filth where his useless rot belonged. “Either way, I’ll keep watch. I don’t believe they’d kill the chief’s daughter.”

“…But, but, but… There’s no guarantee she’s even coming to Alter…”

“We can make something up, can’t we?” Jev scratched his beard, intrigued. “Since you hate me so much, we could announce a duel. A lure.”

The king’s eyes lit up like a child ready to play.

“That would entertain both our king and the people. News would spread like wildfire. She’ll want to know why daddy is fighting the champion of the nation.”

Hor stayed silent.

“Just the staff and my sword. A fair match… just for fun.” He smirked playfully.

“I grant your request, Jev,” the king declared with a grin. The archmage said nothing, only sat down, staring into the void. “It’s been a long time since something amused me.”

“My king, I have errands to run in the market, and I can’t—”

“It’s not a choice, Karth. She never should’ve escaped. You failed to keep her captive, and you failed to destroy the oracle. This duel will serve as punishment, for now.”

The man kept staring into the void, growing paler by the second.

“I’ll make the preparations then, your majesty,” he muttered quietly.

“Do that… Oh, and if we don’t find Ilídia in time, marry Zafrino off as quickly as possible. That way, the runaway girl will no longer be a problem, and we can eliminate her for good. Problem solved. Do it willingly and don’t complain. I’m being a benevolent monarch.”

Karth dragged his heavy feet out of the room, sulking.

"I need to stop the prophecy soon," WoBegon reflected. "Before I break the pact and kill that useless deadweight myself."