The small caravan left through the gates of Mainor on that unusually hot spring afternoon without any obstacles, heading northwest toward the bridge over the wide Ilvion River—the only exit from the city to the Southern Province.

  They traveled west through the woods, and within a few hours of fast riding in several wagons, through many shady oak groves, the towers of Mainor disappeared behind the trees. The road stretched farther and farther, a gray ribbon delving into the forest, approaching the Selinel Mountains—a low ridge roughly in the center of the province that separated the northern forests from the southern steppes and coastal groves. A couple of days’ ride from those mountains lay Nalvin, a large forest-surrounded city that supplied the capital with vast amounts of furs, timber, meat, and collected tolls from trade caravans from southern Surrell. However, the train of the three rulers had no plans to stop in Nalvin and turned east several days before reaching it, moving through uneven, overgrown terrain toward Nubelrain.

  The scale of Aktida was truly immense. On maps, the distances looked small, but the inhabitants of Laugdeil had long become accustomed to the idea that a month-long ride straight through was considered "close." Since ancient times, cities were spread out hundreds, even thousands of miles from one another, and communication between them was more than leisurely. As a result, it was much harder to govern by sending orders over such great distances. Yet until now, that had not been a problem, and the sluggishness of the communication system had gone unnoticed. That’s why, upon seeing on the map that they would have to ride about a hundred miles through uninhabited forests, the king took it as a good sign. Such a distance suited him just fine.

  They moved forward without trouble, passing forests, fields, vast meadows blooming with the vibrant colors of spring. Spring was a special time in harsh Laugdeil, where summer was always hot and stifling, and winter—long and snowy. And now, in early May, before the heat had descended upon Aktida’s Southern Province, it was that perfect time to step outside, breathe in the fresh air, turn one’s face to the wind coming from the mountains, when the icy March downpours turned into soft and warm rains, and everything was dressed in bright greenery. But most Laugdeilans, busy at that time with plowing and sowing, were not in the habit of thinking about the beauty of nature.

  Nor did King Emerlun, who, though rarely leaving his castle, was not admiring the spring but instead sat shut inside his roofed carriage, brooding over what he was to do at the Nubel estate. King Jake, on the other hand, had loaded his coach with belongings and rode all day on the back of his favorite stallion, gazing around in wonder. He had only been to Aktida once before, and after the icy deserts, foggy tundras, and endless taiga of Vaimar, he looked on in surprise at these quiet forests and vast meadows covered in tall grass. In the distance, where large glowing patches of clouds turned into tiny white smudges, brown monoliths rose into the sky. These were the first bastions of the mountain range that sliced the green forests of the Southern Province in two.

  Day after day passed, and spring bloomed ever more vividly. The wind grew less cold, spring thunder rumbled now and then, and at night, short but heavy rains fell, leaving mirrored traces in the trampled grass. By day, the heat began to press down with its heavy, suffocating weight, heralding an unusually hot summer after an extraordinarily cold winter.

  Coolness descended only in the final rays of the sun, as the color of the sky smoothly shifted from peach-orange to deep violet and warm blue over the distant eastern edge of the horizon. The clouds turned into dark patches, either lit by the last bright-red rays of the sun or by the translucent bluish glow of the moon, which became the true ruler of the sky the moment the daytime star vanished. Then everything around was suddenly veiled in a faint, elusive twilight. The trees fell silent from their constant murmuring and glimmered mysteriously with leaves reflecting the light from the heavens. The buzzing of bees was replaced by the soft ringing of countless gnats.

  On one such evening, the royal convoy passed an old road sign that read "Nubelrain."

  The dirt road turned into a paved one, and hooves began clattering against smooth flat stones. In the darkening sky, crows cawed, and the oak grove rustled quietly, but not a single sound indicated any human presence. Finally, the trees parted, and a manor came into view before the procession.

  Or rather, what was left of it.

  "Emerlun!" called a voice that the king, seated in the coach, recognized as Jake’s. The Vaimarite had ridden up to his window, leaned over, and knocked on the glass. Emerlun opened the door.

  "Looks like someone beat us here," Jake said grimly. Troubled whispers spread among the guards and servants accompanying the group. Emerlun stepped out of the carriage and stood still, stunned by the sight before him.

  In the rapidly deepening dusk, what had once been Nubel’s grand estate now resembled a skeleton. The roof had collapsed, the windows were shattered, and some of the walls had partially fallen in. The stone the manor had been built from was covered in thick black soot. Of the stables and servants’ quarters, only piles of charred logs remained. The lawn near the steps was strewn with shards of glass.

  The guards lit torches and cautiously moved forward to inspect the ruins. The flickering of faint flames danced in the black sockets of the windows, briefly reminding that this house had once been full of life, then quickly vanished. The scouts returned twenty minutes later.

  "Your Majesty, permission to report!" their commander declared. "There are many skeletons inside. The clothes are burned, no identifying marks are visible. Nubel himself may be among them, but it’s hard to tell in the dark. We found a few weapons on the floor. It doesn’t look like a simple fire—there was a fight. No trace of the diamond."

  Jake, Raniot, and Emerlun exchanged glances.

  "So what now?" asked the King of Vaimar with a sneer. "Emerlun, are you going to tell us you know nothing about this?"

  "I don’t know anything about this, Jake." Apparently, the confusion on Emerlun’s face was so sincere that the Vaimarite merely snorted and turned to the High Priest.

  "We came here for nothing. This country’s a damned mess. Turns out someone can just waltz into an ancient shrine and steal a priceless artifact, and then someone else can steal it from them. It’s thieves on top of thieves. Well, gentlemen," he added after a pause, addressing everyone at once, "we’re going to have a long and serious conversation."

  "Looks like we’ll need an investigation," Emerlun said. "I have a special department that handles these matters. Good, trustworthy people. If someone really broke in here, killed Nubel, and stole the diamond, we’ll find out soon enough."

  "We’re ready to provide an observer for the investigation," Raniot said calmly.

  "So are we," Jake nodded.

  "Excellent. That’s exactly what we’ll do. I’ll issue the necessary orders first thing tomorrow."

  ***

  Leaving behind the ruins of Nubel's estate, the convoy slowly moved back through the darkness. The forests surrounding Nubelrain were cloaked in gloom. But several more hours of torch-lit travel passed before a small light appeared by the roadside—a modest inn. King Emerlun sat in his carriage, scribbling letters to Maclevirr and Ordevix. In the first minutes after leaving Nubelrain, the king had been furious. Now, as the carriage creaked to a halt and voices of orderlies negotiating for rooms rang out, he felt an overwhelming fatigue descend upon him. His mind was blank: all thoughts and theories about who might have burned down Nubel's house and taken the diamond seemed foolish and meaningless. The more theories he came up with and discarded, the more it felt as though the diamond had vanished without a trace, and that he would never learn the truth.

  The soldiers and porters stayed to sleep in the wagons and carriages, while the kings themselves, their bodyguards and the officers entered the squat, two-story wooden building. The servants ordered dinner and rooms, while King Emerlun looked around in amazement, seeing for the first time how his subjects lived in the real world, beyond the walls of his pompous and ornate, but dreary and dull, palace.

  Small lamps in the corners smoked, filling the tiny hall with a pungent smell. In the dim light, poor, ragged people sat in small groups, speaking in hushed tones over roughly made tables. Some looked better off—pilgrims traveling from south to north in search of a better life, merchants, wandering performers and minstrels, and simply highway robbers. Some, who had no money to pay for a room, were sleeping right on benches along the walls, stretching out their hands toward the fireplace in their sleep, covered with cloaks. It was filthy, like everywhere outside noble estates, and the people staying here for the night looked mostly bitter or miserable. In a corner sat an old woman, her face furrowed with deep wrinkles, rocking a bundle of rags in her arms and whispering a lullaby; a man with a dirty, unkempt beard leaned against the wall, dozing on the floor while hugging a travel staff; a hooded figure hunched in a corner, a deathly pale hand clutching a dark bottle visible from beneath the cloak.

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  Disgust seized the king. He staggered, looking at these people and unable to understand why they had sunk so low. Raised within the palace walls, he had rarely encountered people of the lower classes and could not imagine that their well-being depended so much on him, on the laws he would enact. Now, with a sudden mix of horror and pity, he looked at them and involuntarily compared his chambers, his soft bed, and fine meals to these benches, the cockroaches crawling along the walls, and the crusts of stale bread and moldy cheese in the hands of vagrants and beggars.

  "Never been around these poor souls before?" came a quiet voice near him, startling him. "Clearly raised in comfort, in some noble nest... What made you stop in such a filthy hole now?"

  The king turned. Beside him stood a young woman of about twenty, wearing a neat black dress and a small hat, her dark hair falling into a hood. She gazed at the fire through a fine black veil. She looked like a white crow among this ragtag, tattered crowd. Nearby, on a stool by the counter, an old Nocturn sat watching her, dressed only in a loincloth, clutching a travel sack.

  "I didn’t know either until recently..." she said softly. "I used to think how different we were from them, but it turns out we’re all the same people, and all live under the same Aktos... As the saying goes, never say never to poverty or prison—you never know what awaits you."

  "You’re not like them," the king remarked dryly.

  "Oh yes. I’ve only recently joined their ranks. But we’ve been stuck in this inn for a few days now, we're afraid to travel through the forest. At first, there were about twenty of us—people of my father’s, impoverished nobles, simple beggars... We came here through the woods from Surrell."

  "Through the woods?" The king was horrified. He had never even considered leaving the main road. No one knew what might be found in the woods.

  "Yes. A month of long, exhausting travel. Some have already gone on ahead, but my servant and I are afraid. Here it feels safe, and maybe someone will come who knows the road to Mainor or Nalvin. We were thrown into this filth by the ship tax, may the king who passed it be damned! Turns out ships and the army are more important than people? Then let everything go to ruin, and all that remains is a government with its laws and its army... If only you knew how the whole city despises the king, even some of the nobles, not mentioning the poor!"

  Emerlun barely kept himself from striking this cursed witch who dared speak such words about him—but still, he felt his face flush with heat. It was true, or at least a truth he had never seen, when, in November, he had signed the law raising the tax collected to support the army. He had thought it would be for the best, and when a weak and clumsy uprising flared in Surrell, he had crushed it without mercy, never even trying to understand the cause of the people’s discontent. Now the stranger’s words struck him like a slap in the face, sobering him. He suddenly thought of all the reforms carried out on the advice of his ministers since the beginning of his reign.

  "Perhaps..." he began slowly, "the king at that moment didn’t think about how such a law might turn out... He holds not only Surrell in his hands, but the whole country, and sometimes he has the right to forget something when striving for the greater good..."

  "He has no such right!" the girl snapped sternly. "Especially when striving for the greater good. A king exists precisely to ensure the people’s well-being. He holds power, and therefore, as the strong, he has the greatest privilege—to protect the weak."

  "But the army exists precisely to protect the people."

  "Oh? Then perhaps we should ask Emerlun who he plans to fight! No one has violated the peace treaty signed a hundred years ago. Every king who ascends the throne pledges to maintain good relations with neighbors, especially when there are only two of them."

  And that was another slap, harder than the first.

  Good relations... With Jake Farian?!

  "Perhaps the king knows better what his political relations are with his neighbors," Emerlun said, carefully choosing his words. "Ordinary people don’t know that Vaimar, for instance, has long been sharpening its teeth against our safety. And what if hostilities start from Jake Farian’s side? You complain about taxes, but how would you like to pay taxes to the Kalds if they come here and seize power?"

  The girl shook her head.

  "I don’t believe in a Kald invasion. Ships from the north often come to Surrell, and I’ve heard from travelers that Vaimar is wealthy and its people are content. We don’t want war with the Kalds, and I’m sure they don’t want war with us. Wars are started by kings. Why don’t kings ask their soldiers’ opinions before sending them to die? It’s easy for kings to talk about such things, sitting in a tall tower—they won’t go into battle!"

  Just like that. Now his pride had been wounded. So, all those thousands of people inhabiting the vast expanses of Aktida thought he was a coward?

  "What’s your name?" he asked, surprised at his own question.

  "Valena. My father was a count and owned an inherited estate and several shops in Surrell. But because of the taxes, those shops went nearly bankrupt."

  "Where is he now?"

  "He died during the uprising," the girl replied dryly. "I never found out exactly what happened to him, but I think he was caught by the city guards as they were dispersing the rebels. The servants brought his body back to our house. Then the governor’s people came and declared that he, too, was involved in the rebellion, and therefore all our property was confiscated. I tried to appeal to the governor, the city guard, the court, to clear our name… And then some friends of our family secretly warned me that I’d better leave Surrell, or I’d be arrested too. That very night I packed my things and left the city the next morning."

  "I’m sorry…" Emerlun said quietly. "Let’s sit down. I’m just passing through from Mainor, and I’ve never been in inns like this before. Honestly, I’m very surprised to meet such a noble and wealthy young lady as yourself here."

  "I used to be wealthy," Valena said with a bitter smile. "Now, all I have left is a hundred gold coins and Muslar," she nodded toward the Nocturn by the counter. "Poor old Muslar! He came to Surrell from Rikutiam many years ago, my father hired him, and he looked after me when I was a little girl. And now, he hasn’t left me…"

  Emerlun didn’t know what to say. The girl lowered her gaze, removed her hat, brushing away the hair that had fallen on her forehead with a graceful gesture. She sighed, then looked at him with pearly eyes from beneath long lashes. She didn’t resemble those haughty beauties, raised like hothouse flowers by the wealthy in cities, but neither had she yet fallen into the perpetual bitterness of poor women whom fate had treated cruelly. She was somewhere in between, and the life of wandering had already left its heavy mark on her. She had something that no one could understand without living among people, who sought a better fate through no fault of their own—compassion. And it was her kind heart, in Emerlun’s eyes, that set her apart from all the other women he had ever met… Only his mother had been like that, and he barely remembered her.

  The hardest thing for him was to admit that she was a better person than he was, and yet, overcoming the endless dryness instilled in him during his upbringing as the future king, he decided that he wasn’t angry at Valena for what she had said about the king.

  "When will Aktos finally notice us?" she whispered bitterly without looking at him. "How much longer must we endure, staying silent like beasts of burden? There must be a way out! My father was a count, but even his voice went unheard because he wasn’t friends with the governor and simply tried to earn an honest living. I don’t believe he really led the rebels, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some truth in the charges made against him after his death. These people didn’t go to the streets for nothing. Ordinary carpenters, blacksmiths, farmers who are taxed down to their last coin, while the governor’s men grow fat in their tall palaces… They had little to lose. But now they’ve lost even that and ended up on the road. And you know what? I’m glad I walked that road with them. I feel much more kinship with them than with any noble lords. Especially those who got their positions from the king."

  "You’ve been through a lot," Emerlun said. "But where are you going now?"

  "I don’t know." For the first time that evening, there was a note of confusion in her voice. "We’re stuck here, and we don’t even know where to go next. Outside of Surrell, my father’s name means nothing to anyone, and I don’t even know who to turn to. I have no contacts in Mainor, no one to give me money…"

  "Would you like me to help you?"

  "Are you serious?"

  Emerlun was indeed serious.

  "Very much so. Believe me, there’s nothing I want more than to talk with you about what the king could do to ease the lives of common people in Surrell… But perhaps we could discuss that in a more comfortable setting. Come with me," he exclaimed in a sudden outburst, forgetting that she was the daughter of a rebel who despised the king. "I’ll help you, I’ll get you settled in Mainor, and you won’t want for anything. And then… maybe you’ll come to know the king better and realize he’s not such a fool after all… I have plenty of money, and life in Mainor is far better than in Surrell. I have influence there, believe me! We could even get the charges dropped, your name cleared, and your property returned. I can help you, just come with me tomorrow!"

  "But I don’t even know your name…"

  "That doesn’t matter. Believe me, I would do anything to ease the lives of those in need throughout Aktida. But right now, I can only help you. Say yes, Valena!"

  "I’m not used to making decisions so quickly." She seemed to recover from the initial shock of the offer. "Believe me, I would like to go with you, even if not all the way to Mainor, at least to the next big city, and still… I don’t know. First and foremost, I want to help these people, you understand? At least I had something once, but they never had anything, and they are even more miserable because they don’t know that life can be better than this inn or sleeping under the open sky in the woods… I do not have any money anymore. But if I can help just by staying on the road together with them – I will stay."

  "I really will try to help," the king said slowly. "I’ll do everything in my power."