Meanwhile, within Harmony Hall of Celestia Royal Palace, incense curled In pale ribbons beneath the soaring eaves, draping the throne room in a hush that felt almost funerary.
The third dawn had arrived. Lorraine stood at the foot of the emerald steps, wrapped in a labyrinth of scarlet silk. A seven-tailed phoenix tiara crowned hair, jewels glittering, yet youthful face showed no bridal glee, only a composure far older than her years.
High on the dragon throne, Aurelius regarded his daughter, conflicting currents churning behind his steady gaze.
“Lorri, this journey to the Third Hall is a marriage in name only,” the king said, smoothing the tassels of tiara with hands that suddenly seemed old. “Your true task is to uncover proof that its master has sided with Malevolent Path Hall. I know the burden is cruel, but the safety of the realm rests on your shoulders.”
“Father, I understand,” Lorraine cut in, voice calm and unwavering. “I once tried to flee this betrothal, blind to your purpose. Now I see it… Malevolent Path Hall has stolen the Roaring Storm Bell and covets the demonic soul seal. If the Third Hall truly conspires with them, the entire level six is imperiled. I will proceed with caution and not fail you.”
Aurelius’ eyes softened. “Prime Minister Ieuan will escort you. The man is as deep as winter ice, never trust the surface. If anything feels wrong, crush this communication charm, and my armies will ride before your heartbeat ends.”
With that, pressed a charm with dragon runes Into palm. Lorraine curled fingers around the talisman and nodded once, firm. “I’ll bear that in mind…”
Right then, someone outside shouted, “Prime Minister Ieuan, with escort, awaits your command!”
Aurelius exhaled slowly and patted shoulder. “Go… Your safety first, evidence second.” Lorraine bowed low, then turned on disciplined steps to follow the guards beyond Harmony Hall.
Beyond the threshold, a thousand soldiers of the Guardian Army waited in perfect ranks, banners snapping, polished armor catching the newborn sun.
Ieuan stepped forward in a robe of deep imperial violet. Sunlight winked off the embroidered sigils on his sleeves as be lowered himself in a courtly bow, a warm, practiced smile already in place.
“Princess Lorraine, the escort is assembled and awaits only your word,” said, voice genial enough to soothe porcelain.
Lorraine inclined head, no more than the smallest dip of chin, then let a handmaid steady slender wrist while ascended the gilded steps of the waiting state coach.
Eight snow-white spiritual horses stamped impatiently before the phoenix-carved carriage. Gossamer curtains drifted around the lacquered frame, veiling the interior in a soft shimmer, hinting at secrets the curious could only imagine.
Ieuan turned, bowing once more, this time to Aurelius, who watched from the palace gateway.
“Your Majesty, rest easy. I shall see the princess safely delivered and the alliance sealed,” promised, every syllable laced with reverence. Aurelius’ gaze sharpened, searching the prime minister’s smile for cracks.
“I leave in your care, Prime Minister,” replied, letting the words hang like a warning.
Something about Ieuan’s easy cheer pricked the king’s instincts. He signaled a waiting officer from the Intelligence Agency, ordering silent shadows to trail the cortege and report every heartbeat of its progress.
Behind the bland facade, Ieuan’s thoughts curled like smoke. He bowed once more, voice smooth as velvet. “I serve only the throne… Move out!”
Trumpets sounded. The ceremonial escort rolled forward In measured rhythm, banners flashing royal gold as it swept toward the southern gate of Celestia City.
Citizens crowded the avenues, whispering speculation, about politics, about war, about a future that felt suddenly fragile, as the royal procession glided past.
Inside, Lorraine lifted one corner of the silk curtain. The city blurred by in muted color, and an anxious flicker crossed dark eyes before let the veil fall again.
This journey will be anything but peaceful… Between Ieuan’s ambitions and Enaricus’s schemes, every mile is a hazard. Father trusts me to navigate them all, and I must.
***
Ieuan rode close beside the coach, reins loose In one hand. To the escort, appeared the model commander, yet his restless gaze swept cliff tops, tree lines, and every possible ambush point.
Beyond those walls lay Soulless Valley, where his loyal agents already waited. Once the convoy entered the narrow pass, a staged “abduction” by Enaricus’s men would unfold, painting the Third Hall as the villain while Ieuan seized the Ritual Manual for himself.
The prospect of unsealing the demonic souls sent a feverish gleam through his eyes, equal parts greed and delirious triumph.
