Karl Benoit
I’ve been wandering across foreign nations these past months, and I think I’ve gathered enough insight into how their leaders think—and what moves they might make next. The only front I’ve left untouched is my own nation. Not because I forgot, but because of the... complicated relationship I have with our royal family.

As I drifted deeper into thought, a gentle voice pulled me back.

“In your absence, the Elder visited several times. He kept me company. But… do you two need to meet?”

Miriam Benoit stood there, her voice as soft as ever, but her expression was the same cold elegance she always wore.

The Elder... right. I’d almost forgotten. It’s been months since I last saw him.

“Thank you for telling me,” I replied simply.

I walked outside, heading toward the Elder’s residence.

Spring had finally caught up to Opeur. The young morning still carried a crisp breeze, but warmth would follow soon enough. I wore my usual travel cloak, hood up to hide my features—better to avoid drawing attention on the city’s main roads.

Opeur was alive again. The capital’s beauty shone brightest in spring: green vines curling along stone walls, flower carts spilling color through narrow alleys, the scent of wet earth drifting in from the lake.

The city stretched around the great central lake, its dark blue waters glimmering in the sunlight. And surrounding it, four towering mountains rose, each crowned with the ancestral mansions of the capital’s ruling families. The Benoit estate was among them, seated high on the heights like its peers.

There were still two other great houses—powerful, yes—but they didn’t make their homes in the capital.

As I walked, I allowed myself a glance upward, toward the mountains. Familiar silhouettes etched against the sky.

I live down here now, in the city proper—with my son and his family, just a short distance from the ruling castle at the city’s heart. But today, I was heading back up the mountain. Back to the Benoit estate.

It’s been a while.
Now, let’s see what the Elder is up to.

"I've been waiting for you, Karl," came the familiar, creaking voice.

The Elder.
Polian Benoit. The former ruler of Opeur.
The legend from a bygone era.

I'm in my late seventies now, and when I was just a man in my twenties, he was already past fifty. That puts him well over a hundred—a living relic, some would say. But even with his frail limbs, thinning hair, and eyes that barely stayed open, he still sat draped in regal garments, with the air of nobility clinging to him like a second skin.

"Yes, Elder. Forgive the delay. I've been... occupied lately," I said, offering a slight bow of respect.

"Come closer, Karl," he beckoned, voice trembling with age. "Sit beside me. My ears don’t work like they used to—truth be told, not much of me does anymore."

I stepped forward and took a seat at his side.

"I'm here. What’s troubling you, Elder?"

He didn’t look at me—just stared ahead, as if speaking to the wind.

"Karl, my son... I’ve lost my daughter. I’ve lost my granddaughter. And now, even my great-grandchildren don’t come to see me anymore. Can you tell me why that is?"

I could sense this wasn’t really a question. He knew the answers. He just wanted to hear what I would say.

"The children are scattered beyond the region—save for Maya. And as you already know, there’s tension among the noble houses. Complications... politically sensitive ones."

He went quiet for a moment. Then he spoke again—slowly, deliberately.

"We sacrificed much to bring about this peace. Not just for this land, but for the whole world. Mostly you, of course. I only moved the pieces. You were the most important pawn on the board... but a pawn all the same."

His words were sharp—but I was too old to be wounded by them. I understood what he meant.

He went on.

"The nobles—hell, even the commoners—see you as a stranger now. A ruler they never truly claimed. At first, they tolerated you because you helped end that madman’s reign. But peace changes priorities. You’re no longer necessary. So, what happens now, son?"

I met his gaze.

"They’ll try to take what they believe is rightfully theirs."

"Exactly."
His eyes—cloudy but focused—turned toward me at last.

"I gave you my daughter. I made you king. Not just of this nation, but of the world. I know you’re not the one holding power anymore. I know my grandson... well, he’s never shown much interest in the throne. But what about Dries?"

He leaned forward—his voice suddenly stronger, sharper, no longer the frail whisper of an old man.

"That boy must return. He’s a double-edged sword. If we can’t bring him back willingly... well, you know what must be done. We cannot let history repeat itself."

"I'm working on it. But I need time. There are preparations to make before I act."

"Yes, yes. I know, Karl. It’s never easy. But one last thing—"

He turned fully toward me now. His eyes wide open for the first time, gleaming with an intensity that startled me.

"I gave you the Benoit name. I will not live to see another family name atop this land. Not while I breathe. And even after I die—I’ll haunt the stones of this city before I let our name fade from its history. Do you understand me?"

He stared through me—unyielding.

I met his gaze and gave a slow nod.

"Don’t worry, Elder. I won’t let them erase the Benoit name from Opeur’s legacy."

Satisfied, he closed his eyes again and waved a hand dismissively. The conversation was over.

So I stood, and I left him to his silence.

As I left the mansion and started to disappear into the mist of trees surrounding it, I suddenly felt a presence trailing behind me. The moment that familiar pressure pressed against my senses, I didn’t even need to turn around.

“At least try to hide your presence, Alfrid,” I said, my voice sharp in the cold morning air.

From the trees emerged Alfrid Brussia—one of the prominent leaders of Central Opeur, and head of the Brussia family. What’s one of the Brussia doing in Benoit territory? That’s… strange.

No, of course. I should’ve expected this. The Elder didn’t call me back just for a walk down memory lane or a simple lecture. Obviously, he’s pulling strings again—using whatever and whoever he needs to push me toward his endgame. In his mind, we’re all just pieces on a chessboard.

“It’s been a while, Elder Karl,” Alfrid said with a serious look, inclining his head slightly. “Apologies for appearing out of nowhere, but this is important.”

He took a step closer. “Would you mind continuing this conversation in a more suitable place? We have a camp nearby—if you’re willing, of course.”

“A camp?” I repeated, frowning. “In Benoit territory?”

“Yes, Elder. This year, the Council began a new initiative: identifying potential elemental users, both inside and outside our borders. To do that discreetly, we’re setting up camps—outside the commoners’ sight.”

I nodded slowly. That made sense. We’ve been losing our edge these past years—dangerously so. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. I suppose it’s only natural for the Council to finally take action.

Placing those camps in the lands of noble families keeps everything under control. After all, for the last twenty years, we’ve been pushing our people toward peace—toward prosperity. Even those with elemental potential were gently discouraged. The Council wanted to preserve that vision: a peaceful Central Opeur.

Instead, we outsourced strength. Recruited elemental users from other nations—quietly, of course. That’s how we’ve maintained military power without disrupting the lives of our people.

Still, the timing of this camp… and Alfrid’s presence... too convenient.

“Very well,” I said at last. “Take me to your camp.”

He bowed again, more deeply this time.

“Please, follow me.”

The trees began to glow softly as darkness gave way to the pale light of morning. In the heart of the jungle, nestled deep in the mist, a camp—or rather the beginnings of one—was slowly taking shape. Workers had cleared the land, and while most of it still looked raw and untouched, a large wooden building stood in the center—clearly built to host nobles like myself.

We entered without delay. Everything inside was made of wood. The smell, the creaking floor, the simplicity—it all took me back to... No. Let’s not think that way.

“You can sit, Elder,” Alfrid said politely, gesturing toward a wooden chair. Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the generals nearby. “Would you prefer coffee or tea?”

Morning had already broken. “Coffee,” I replied.

I took a slow sip before cutting to the point. “This recruitment effort—why start inside the nation now?”

Alfrid met my eyes, visibly tense, though he tried to keep composed. “As usual, we sent envoys to our allies, as we do every ten years, to prepare the festivals. You know—the ones where we select the best elemental users to join the academy. But this year…” He paused, frowning. “This year, they all responded the same. ‘No candidates available.’ Which, let’s be honest, is just a polite way of saying ‘No.’”

His tone grew sharper as he continued. “We’ve lost our presence, Elder. They don’t fear us anymore. They don’t respect us.”

He was beginning to ramble, so I stopped him. “Alfrid. The other nations do know our position. And that position is weak—right now.”

He clenched his jaw but nodded, clearly restraining himself.

“I know. That’s why I’m planning a visit to Charta myself,” he said. “This time, we deliver the message in person. And you—” his voice dropped, “—you need to fix your family problem.”

That was a mistake.

“Alfrid, watch your mouth,” I said, my voice low but razor-sharp. “I’ve kept silent all these years, thinking maybe we’d talk things out, settle the divisions. But don’t think for a moment that just because I’m no longer on the throne, I’ve lost my value.”

My energy, long suppressed, began to seep into the room—pressing against the walls, the floor, the air itself. The wood creaked. Cracked. The air thickened.

“You know exactly why we’re in this position,” I continued, voice rising. “Go back to the Council. Tell them I’ll handle the problem in the west. As for Charta—do what you want.”

Alfrid didn’t respond immediately. His expression faltered—just slightly—but I saw it. A flicker of fear. He tried to hide it, but I knew him too well.

“I… I apologize, Elder,” he said, stepping back with a respectful bow. “It wasn’t my intention to threaten you. The Council’s pressure is… overwhelming.”

Alfrid had the Brussia signature—blonde hair neatly brushed to the side, piercing blue eyes, well-trimmed beard. But his posture now was stiff. Careful.

“Good,” I said, letting the air settle.

Good. Let all the families know I’m still here.

I am Karl.