News about the brigands’ arrest filled the newspapers all over the deserts. After years of close pursuance, the cat-and-mouse game finally came to an end and the perpetrators would be executed by the end of the current month.

  Underneath the successful subjugation y the plummeting situation of Shirazi. Without the additional support of the temple, they stood on their own against the economic war waged by the Great Empire of Ramaya.

  The Pontiff stared at the indestructible letter in his hand, along with it, emotions he seemed not to recognize arose.

  If I did something before… Then…

  “A wless nd, indeed,” Tybalt muttered to himself once he arrived at the Port City of Dahar.

  Imperial Princess Belle tasked the said prince to inspect the situation in the Kingdom of Shirazi discreetly.

  Even with their grave situation, the Shirazian royalty remained in their position, unwilling to give up the fight. More than half of their popution migrated to the other kingdoms because of the worsening situation, even caravans rarely traveled northwest because of what happened.

  “In these wless nds, we are the w, young man.”

  Tybalt stoically looked at the men who barred his path then quietly walked away.

  “Hey!” the man roared in anger, following him as he clenched onto the hilt of his weapon.

  “I’m not worth your time. So, I’ll leave.”

  “Hah?” the man reacted in anger and lunged at him.

  The man floated halfway through his attack now suspended in the air.

  Just then, a figure jumped down from the air, nding perfectly on his feet as his cloak followed his movements.

  “I felt the ripples of navigation and guessed you’re also here,” Tybalt remarked and turned around.

  “Hmph,” the man said and turned to the goons. “You should run, if you value your lives.”

  “And why should we?”

  He pointed at their companion, still stuck in the same position, unable to do anything but move his eyes.

  “As if we’d back down from a—”

  A soft breeze blew, accompanied by fine sand. In a few seconds, a trickle of liquid echoed around.

  “Aaa! My ear!” one of the men abruptly screamed, holding onto his ear as he knelt on the ground.

  The others consoled their companion and shot the blond sharp gres, the others also seething in anger.

  “Leave,” Karel commanded, still standing imposingly before them.

  Karel let go of the man suspended in the air and he scampered away alongside his companions.

  “So, you also came to investigate?”

  “I want to see it myself. After all, it was my idea to destroy this pce…” he looked at the surroundings once more, “but I never thought it would become like this.”

  Tybalt did likewise, staring at the empty structures. “Economic wars.”

  “Because if it’s a real war, either it’s you or me who will decimate them.”

  “Easily too,” Tybalt added with a slight nod.

  “Indeed. Either of us can literally wiped this part of the deserts clean but having learned our lessons—”

  “Do not speak of that matter.”

  Karel cmped his mouth shut once he heard his ragged, angered voice.

  They investigated some more in silence and observed the current situation of the city. Only a certain part of it remained operational and barely got by. They procured goods with great difficulty since Her Imperial Highness used her authority to block and control the sea routes from Deorya; with Astadvran’s cooperation too, no ships came from the said kingdom.

  “What are aunt’s pns for Shirazi?”

  “Maybe invade it ter on? I’m not certain.”

  “I see.”

  They also visited the other cities—wless like Dahar—and the capital city remained heavily guarded.

  Karel looked down on the walled city. “I want to bury them in the sand.”

  Although Tybalt shared the same sentiment, he said otherwise, “The Heavens are watching, Kelzo, so calm down.”

  “It’s not like they’ll do something about it. Besides,” he touched the choker on his neck, “even if they see us from above, they’ll only see a shadow.”

  Tybalt hummed in agreement then turned away. “Let’s go. I’ve done my inspections, I need to report back.”

  “Alright.”

  Karel returned to Norn and an expanse of snow greeted him. He gnced at his boots sinking onto the snow and decided to just walk back to the estate, reminding himself not to use magic arbitrarily.

  Kani looked out of his window, noticing the lone figure traversing the meadow a distance away from the estate.

  “Where did he go again this time?” he muttered to himself, concerned.

  “Good morning, Master,” Karel greeted when he opened the door a few minutes ter and brought the master a cup of hot coffee.

  “Winter this year is colder than before. How about in Ramaya?”

  “More frigid than this,” Karel replied while putting a thicker robe on the brunet’s figure.

  After a few moments of silence standing by the window, Kani asked, “How many years has it been since we first met?”

  Karel smiled as he looked beyond the window. “Ten years.”

  “Ah, time really goes on fast.”

  The snow melted and buds came to life. The master and bodyguard welcomed yet another spring together.

  Alongside the change of season, a shocking news circuted around: The State of Stavros removed all establishments of the Great Temple of Ena in their nds and officially cut their ties, supporting the temple’s announcement a few years back. They also reforged the treaties with the other states and kingdoms and finally decred themselves as an independent state.

  “The audacity of these Stavrovians!” a Cardinal excimed, smming his fists on the council table.

  One scoffed. “As if they could go on without our support.”

  “They tore my auction down, even foiled my pns! Be honest, you people, what Streya harmed us entirely!” another cardinal raged, voice echoing around.

  The Pontiff sighed. “I’ve told you right from the start to refrain from doing such heinous acts. What did you get in the end?”

  “Stop acting like you’re not involved in it!”

  “Stop talking or I might really reveal to the world that you’re behind it.”

  Another cardinal pointed at him, clearly angered. “The audacity! If it weren’t for us, you’re not sitting where you are now!”

  “Go on then, let another one sit. I’m tired as it is.”

  “Pontiff,” a meek Cardinal called in concern.

  The highest official stood up. “I won’t even be surprised if you colborated with Shirazi before.”

  “Pontiff!”

  “I’m an old bag of bones. I get tired easily so I’ll retire to my quarters.”

  The Pontiff slowly walked the corridors leading to his quarters. He stared out, pondering about his decision back then to turn his back on Shirazi.

  For him, what happened that year was epiphanic. To this day, it still haunted him.

  He’s involved in all the temple’s activities, be it the charitable works or illegal ones. So, when Shirazi plummeted down from their glory for merely half a year, his view of the world drastically changed.

  He still continued his duty as the Pontiff, however, he refrained from involving himself further when it came to the illegal issues. As years went by, he retreated from the scene using his poor health as an excuse.

  The door of his quarters creaked open as he settled in. While undressing, a certain envelope on his desk caught his eyes.

  The envelope which gave him an epiphany—one which led him to change. To realize that even he, the highest power in Grantierra, could do nothing against the immortals. He could only shake his head at the thought.

  The temple had taught him about the immortal beings living in the northwestern continent of Trojka. They were portrayed as savage creatures, and yet, over the years he had come to know and encountered them, they were but beings like them—sane, conscious and possessed emotions. They only differed in physical forms and magical capability.

  A few years back, they angered the ever elusive race of the Ramayans. Known to be one of the superior races in the mortal realm, none dared cross their paths and yet he did nothing to save his people against them.

  “It was already a lost battle right from the start,” he muttered to himself.