It was a cold morning just as another storm passed by the Amphitide Peninsula. Atop a jagged cliff with sharp rocks at the bottom, large waves crash against the Glasse Duchy wall like cannon balls being fired from the distance.

Another storm brew across the horizon. Heavy grey clouds looms over the entire region.

The eastern wing oversees the edge with the best view of the thunderous roars of the clouds. Large naval boats can be seen just below the horizon line, sailing away from the dock of a barely awake port city, as it fades from view. A significant portion of the Glasse army traveled early in the morning towards a smaller peninsula that could barely be seen on the highest spire of the Glasse Duchy.

It would've been a week's travel by foot but the waters, though raging and currently infested by beasts, are faster.

The night before the sudden travel, Duke Percival Glasses sits in a barely lit spacious office, behind a resolute desk with two panels of floor to ceiling window behind him, inviting the light of the moon to further illuminate the room.

There's a shadow casted on his face, but where the light touches, a tanned man riddled with scars both small and large can be seen with a scowl, finishing some papers.

A huge pile of neatly stacked finished ones on his right, and a smaller stack of paper in front of him that he's about to finish—

Poof!

A small gust of wind scattered the small papers he's been finishing on the floor. A message sent through arcane means rests pristinely on his now-messy desk.

There's a pause.

His expression veiled by the shadows, then an exhale.

He grabs the letter to open it. The crest of his family, a shield with a sunrise peeking through mountain ranges, seals it.

18th Day of Kaoltur, Year 516 of the Great Ruler Elanor Silverion.

Dear Percival Glasse, 2nd duke of the Glasse House.

May this letter find you in urgency. The family and I decided to pay a visit to Gonage Village, thinking about the ongoing trading with non-imperian folks——— I hear wool retains warmth longest, perhaps a new venture for the empire. We would have visited the peninsula, the Blue Moss Port must be bustling with constant exports and imports to and from Ryzen, but we've traveled far from Fort Ynthea enough and it's merely for a quick stop.

After dinner, we took a stroll near the harbor when monsters emerged from the waters and attacked our borders yet again. This marks the third one this year, unrelated to the insurrections at the Sesquipedalian Mountain Range. It's imperative that we show the strength of the Glasse House in front of her majesty, Empress Elanor Silverion, and the common folks.

I understand that you have spread yourself thin with personal circumstances but the public needs to see the impervious shield defend them.

This is not a request, have your men be ready to aid ours.

Do note that the monsters are emerging from the gulf.

Sincerely,

Delmont Glasse, 1st duke of the Glasse House

The moon peaked long ago; the night is grim, as he reads the letter his brother has sent.

The door to his office bursts open.

Out of breath, a woman with lavender hair tied in a bun, and long pointy ears looks at him with a delighted smile. Her tired silver eyes glimmering in the moonlight that enters the room. She wears a green collared tunic, under a brown ornate breastplate and a darker green shoulder guard with golden trims.

"Lady Sunniva. She's been found."

As if the threat of his brother nor the expectation of the crown was nothing at all, he drops the letter. Bounding across the room, pushing aside the smaller woman, rushing out upon hearing the news.

The smaller woman rushes to follow beside him as they both descend the bifurcated staircase to see one of his men, a Glasse Knight, carrying his daughter, Sunniva Glasse.

"Kefrin, thank you." He grabs the knight's shoulder, a hint of softness from his usual stern voice.

"It was my duty, my lord.  Miss Odette kept us safe throughout the night search."

Duke Percival assures himself, pulling his daughter to his chest tight, feeling her labored breath. She's shivering and it made him hold her tighter.

She's alive.

"I've called the doctor, my lord. The lady was found under the cliffside, by the jagged rocks. She received no injury, but the cold has gotten to her, and she looks dehydrated." Odette explains, escorting her towards the lounge. "We're unsure why she's there but my men are looking into it."

He carries her into the warmly lit lounge, the fire by the hearth slowly warms up the almost dead sensation of her skin.

Odette rushes in to pull a fainting couch closer to the fire, her exhaustion proving to be an obstacle. Percival continued walking, dragging the couch himself with one arm. He sets Sunniva down gently.

As if she is still a child, Percival takes her hands in his; encasing them both, warming them up. He brushes her red curly hair aside, the freckle on her tanned skin looks just like her mother, he thought.

"Perhaps I would not be suffering had you not taken after her so much," he sighs.

Another large man enters the room, a green skinned burly figure, almost as large as the duke himself. He has scars all over his arms that peaks through his armor, a chipped tusk that continues to grow slowly. A face that has felt the touch of a blade, as a long scar starting from the right side of his chin up towards his brows demonstrate his years in fighting.

"My lord," General Idris bows his head. "There were no traces of any suspect to be found at the scene of the crime. It's best that we wait for her lady to wake up to corroborate stories.”

"Idris, prepare our best knights. Send whoever you deem fit. There's an attack on-going at the Gonage Village." Percival sounded tired. “My brother requested the assistance.”

“It is clear to me that our best soldier is kneeling in front of his daughter."

"I need to see her wake."

"I understand, my lord. But neither her majesty, Empress Elenor, nor your brother would."

The duke silently fumes, his frame growing larger as he lets go of Sunniva's hands. General Idris raises his head now that Duke Percival stands towering over him, his shadow casting over everyone else in the room.

He steps behind the couch, separating Sunniva from everyone else. The warm ambience turned cold.

The servants entering the room slowly stepped back out and closed the door. He didn't say a word; he dares not to or else he would commit treason against the throne.

"I'll take care of her," Odette assures the duke as he steps out of the room.

General Idris follows soon after, sparing a glance at the unconscious Sunniva.

Unlike the other two, this man shows no concern for her. After all, it was her decision to run away. However, those thoughts never reached any ear.

>><<>><< 

Glasse Knights gathered at the port before sunrise, the sky still a deep hue of blue with stars barely peeking through thick heavy rain clouds. Some of the family members watch from the other side of the barricade, giving wishes of safe travel and the overall safety of their knighted relatives. Common soldiers not yet declared as knights of this duchy also participated in hopes of getting their ranks while some only came to carry heavy boxes of relief goods and weapons.

Amongst the busy chatter, dawn breaks. The first streak of light signals the start of the boats travel, the common soldiers not slated to fight unties the ropes and those behind the barricade shouts their safe wishes, waving their hand; parents and lovers holding their chests feeling an overwhelming amount of anxiety for their loved ones as they travel to the battlefields, but it also carries a sense of pride.

"I've heard those beasts slaughtered half of the Gonage Village already," one of them spoke, to which she received a slap from her peers.

"Don't give me a heart attack, Grenda. If it wasn't such an honor, I would've pulled my son out of the knighthood already."

Another mother chimes in. "Ya worry too much, Mary. My daughter's been through countless excursions at the Scorching Valley with those nasty Will'Os and she's been returnin' fine. They're not Glasse knights for nothin' ya'know?"

"That's different! Those Will'Os are dead once water touches their skin. I heard those beasts are nearly impenetrable, no amount of steel nor silver can puncture their hide, and they stood 20-foot-tall without even standing on their back legs." A scraggly uncle joins in chuckling. "Sure am lucky I ain't the one being sent to certain death. That would've made me piss my pants."

"Everything would make you piss your pants, you old lunatic." A person from the crowd jeered.

"Who said that? Show your face if 'ya think you're pretty enough to take some beating!"

His demand gets drowned out by snickers and chatters. Amongst them, a man with pastel pink hair and tanned skin, who would have none otherwise ignored the chatter raised his hand.

“Pretty enough for you?”

The crowd part at his presence. A soldier, not a knight, protected by leather armor yet decorated with golden jewelries, walks towards the open space.

The uncle stares at the man. Perhaps the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on and that gaze just boosts the soldier’s confidence.

“Heh. You wouldn’t last five seconds, pretty boy.”

“Is that a bet? Alright! 5 silvers on the pink haired guy.” Another soldier, tall and lanky, with silky smooth black hair joins in.

“You know my name, Feravis.”

“They don’t.” Feravis began gathering bets.

Surprisingly, few are betting on his friend. Despite the chuckles the uncle whose name Feravis soon learned to be Arthur received, mostly everyone agreed he’d be undefeated. Feravis disparaging his friend’s ability to fight was definitely not a deciding factor.

“Are you on my side or what?”

“Of course, on your side,” Feravis says, “but we need the money and if most of them bet against you I… mean, we get a bigger cut, Gray.”

Gray pauses, wondering what mischief this man in front of him is up to once again.

Trust is a fragile thing and without even half a year of knowing Feravis, it has been shattered and broken. Not by some grandiose betrayal but by the fact that not even the smallest thing will be accurate if his silver tongue has anything to do with it.

Yet despite having this inkling, he cannot place his finger on what Feravis is getting out of this.

“Chickening already, youngblood?” The uncle jeers.

“Oooh. You gonna take that, Gray?”

“You must’ve mistaken me for your own reflection, old man.” Gray replies.

The fight isn’t going to be fair. Gray was in over his head. Feravis thought this and he watches from the crowd with glee, anticipating the fight.

Roars from the crowd grows deafening, so loud that the other soldiers caught wind of the event.

Arthur took a wild swing when a man, dark skinned with thick locs, grab his arm to stop the swing. Gray had already closed his eyes anticipating a blow that never came.

“I look away for one second,” he says.

Feravis gulps, “they wanted to see a fight, Leo.”

The crowd boos Leo's intervention. Some throwing objects at the tall man but he didn't flinch, nor did it even affected him.

Leo shifts his gaze to Gray, “with this one?”

“This one?! It’s Gray! I have a name!”

“We already made a bet!” The people hollered, wanting him to step away.

Arthur struggling against his hold. “I knew you were a coward, pink boy.”

“I am not!” Gray erupts, glaring daggers at Leo to stop his meddling.

The taller soldier taps his foot, hand on his hips before letting go.

Heart thumping, knuckles clenched. There is a grin to Gray as his feet shifts on the ground. His opponent circling him and it makes his blood rush even more. He thought of making a few quips here and there but the uncle, despite having sluggish movement, kept making a jab at him.

“Scared to get nicked, pretty boy?”

“No but I do fear the state of my delicate hands after this.” Gray ducks away from a wild haymaker, adjusting his feet before landing a solid upper cut.

There is a groan from the crowd. The uncle stumbling away, shaking his head from the disorientation. Even clenching his jaws, he couldn’t help but admit that despite the face, the soldier isn’t a soldier in title only.

He could take more. Oh, rolled his shoulders ready to retaliate when, it might be a trick of his mind, but there is something that grabbed his ankles. Before he knew it, it dragged him upwards, making him stumbled backwards and landing on his ass.

“Stay down.” Gray jumps on top of him, dealing a final blow to the face.

The uncle laid there, still. His breathing even but there’s an evident bruising forming around his eye.

Everyone watching could not believe it. Of course, the younger soldier would win! How could they even think otherwise? Yes, it isn’t entirely them at fault for their decision. They could remember a certain other soldier swaying their judgment.

Feravis happily divides the winning with the one other soldier woman and a child that casted their money on Gray. He notices the stares, realizes the creased eyebrows as trouble before booking it.

“Run!” His voice cracked whilst Leo blocks Gray’s exit.

“You cheated,” the taller man states.

Gray crosses his arm, “and whose soul will you tell?”

It’s a dare. That look on the pink haired soldier is one of confidence that Leo’s lips will remain sealed.

Leo feels something caress his chin as he watches Gray walk away. He crouches to the unconscious Arthur, hands glowing a gentle lilac glow, and the bruise that was forming around his eye began to slowly dissipate as if it was merely an illusion.

Arthur rouses to reality, welcomed by the gentle gaze of Leo.

“You shouldn’t have been drinkin’ too much.” There was a drawl by the way he spoke.

“Be fucked.” Arthur pushes Leo aside and dusted himself off.

On the other side of the street, Feravis bolted away from the crowd, panicking when a hand from an alley sticks out and grabs him in.

“Were you followed? Who was it?” Asks a smaller woman with short brown bob that fades into ombre, eyes glowing yellow with a jarring gruff voice.

“Truscott!” Feravis sighs, hugging her tight. “I was bein' hounded! Hounded I tell you.”

Outside the alleyway, only a couple men and women were resolute in getting their money back from the swindler that is Feravis. Though the man will admit he was devious in his ways, the ultimate decision wasn’t made by him.

“Leo’s looking for you and Gray.” Truscott tilts to the side watching a group of people looking high and low for an individual.

“He found Gray.”

“And you’re running away from him or the crowd? What did you do?"

"Oh, hey! Look, you got the parachutes. Great.” He changes the subject, pocketing about thirty silver pieces he had won from the impromptu fight. “Come on. Leo’s looking for us.”