On the Seventh Continent, the land of the Humans, a civil war had broken out within the empire of Zantoran. The cause was unknown, and it had to be discovered. Zantoran had long been one of the most peaceful empires of the planet, and if it fell, disaster would spread across the continent. Its people, the famed Sea Knights, were the ones who protected not only their homeland but the whole world from the troublesome pirates—the bitter fruit of Humankind. Without the Zantorans, the pirates would have already claimed the planet with their treacherous tricks.

But war always brings with it sorrow and ruin. One such blow came with the death of the emperor himself. To heal this wound, only days later, the coronation of the new ruler was announced: Malthus the Twelfth, son of the late Malthus the Eleventh. He was only eighteen, yet his mind was sharp, quick, and resourceful. He had all the best qualities of his royal bloodline, yet that alone could not ease the worries of his people. And so, in the midst of civil strife, the empire found itself with a new emperor—along with a new host of problems.

Three years passed since the first day the war had begun. The smiles that once defined the people of Zantoran had long since faded. The nation was split in two: those who supported the emperor, and those who stood against him.

“Someone must be driving them to turn on their own emperor,” Malthus muttered. “There’s no other way to explain it!”

Each day, he watched his father’s empire slip further into chaos, and he was desperate to find a solution. By now, he had called his thousand-and-first emergency council. Once again, the bravest knights still loyal to Zantoran gathered in the great hall. No decision could be made without the knights’ counsel, and thus indirectly, the voice of the people.

Among them sat a small dwarf—bright, kind, and clever, as all dwarves of the Third Continent of Akitox were. Beside him perched a Susurumyte, sent to record every detail for their vast library, the largest in the world. The creature was short like the dwarf, but lean and nimble, with a mouse-like head, pointed ears, and a tall conical hat bristling with thorns. His life’s purpose was simple: to record everything.

“We must discover who has turned so many hearts against their sovereign,” one knight declared firmly. “This war must end. A knight cannot simply rebel against his own land!”

The words came from Nortal, the great captain of the ship Anira—named after his mother—and a trusted advisor to the late Emperor Malthus the Eleventh.

“Perhaps someone could pretend to be one of them,” another knight suggested hesitantly. “Slip into their ranks, and maybe then we’d learn who pulls the strings.”

At once, a spark lit in young Malthus’ mind. He rose suddenly, his voice booming:
“This council is dismissed!”

“My lord,” stammered the knight who had spoken, paling with fear. “Did I say something wrong?”

Malthus saw the dread in the man’s eyes, and knew his suspicions were true—the trust among them had all but vanished. There could very well be a traitor in their midst.

“Worry not, Seltus,” he said, softening his tone. “You have nothing to fear. Excuse me now.”

With a bow, he left the hall, and Nortal hurried after him, leaving behind a chamber buzzing with whispers.

“Malthus, what’s happening?” Nortal pressed as he caught up to him.

“I’ll disguise myself and find out who’s behind this,” Malthus said with fire in his eyes. “This horror must end.”

“Why not send someone else?”

Malthus stopped and turned to face him. “Don’t you see, Nortal? And here I thought my father kept you as his advisor for your wisdom.”

“We grew up together, Malthus,” Nortal replied, stung. “You know well why I was given that place.”

The emperor realized he had gone too far. He knew Nortal, though young, had always had brilliant ideas and had commanded his own ship since he was fifteen.

“Forgive me,” Malthus said. “But the truth is, trust has been broken. There could be a traitor among us. As emperor, it is my duty to end this war. But how else can we know who truly stands with us?”

Nortal understood, though he hated the plan. It was far too dangerous. Losing their emperor a second time would be disastrous.

“Better I go than you,” he argued. “What if they catch you?”

“If you wish, come with me,” Malthus replied, resolute. “But I won’t turn back. We have a people to protect.”

Nortal nodded. Once Malthus had set his mind, nothing could move him. And besides—who else could they trust in such times?