At the same time, in the Earthloch’s Grand Hall,

“May the spirits bless you with a safe journey, Prince Yuriel Zwei.” Bromwyn, seated on a luxurious putuan of exquisite craftsmanship upon an elevated dais, gestured the noble sign of farewell towards a white-haired youth seated cross-legged on the hall’s floor opposite to him.

He was now not a jovial father but the Siorrakt, Earthloch’s great chieftain.

“Likewise, may your mighty clan tide through this blessed collapse with nought but triumphs.” The youth, looking to be about 18 to 19 cycles old, bowed deeply with a sincere smile. His slightly blue-tinted white jadeite eyes cast a respectful glance at the Siorrakt while the diamond crown on his head gleamed with soft pearly light.

He was the second prince of the Yuriel Impelakty, one of the heir candidates vying for supremacy for the greatest house on the disc. His wings cast a domineering shadow in the hall, even though his demeanour was so gentle. Even his getup, a silken white robe draped over his gold and sapphire adorned, formation inscribed full body armour.

Bromwyn shuddered just looking at the cramped metal coffin the Yuriels loved to torture themselves with.

‘How do they fit themselves inside such thin boxes? Is the rumour true? Are they really completely flat in the groin area?’

The giant of a man winced internally, but did not let it show on his face. His eyes moved behind the youth who seemed to glow even without light, and scanned the other dhionne currently sitting on both sides of the hall.

Shamans, warriors, and mages, all cultivators with varying degrees of strength.

All blood from other high noble houses.

Outside and down below the winding mountains at the gates of Lochuir, the entourage of these scions made up of low nobles, freemen, and even trusted servants waited for orders with convoys prepared to depart before the collapse could hit with full force.

And this was already the seventh convoy of outsiders to leave after that fateful night. It was the last and also the smallest. But it was by far the strongest and most high profile.

Even if the north was entirely under Earthloch control, that didn’t mean other people could not traverse its lands. In fact, all cycle round delvers and explorers from all across the disc would risk their lives to venture deep into the Fractured Tundra Peninsula on the other side of Earthloch’s primordial forest, and the Dim Subterranean Abyss thousands of meters under the Earthloch’s lakes and mountains.

For barter, for cultivation, for resources, for riches, and for glory. Quite many direct scions had also been residing in Lochuir all this time. The ones who came before were here for training, to challenge themselves and prove their worth to their house.

Unlike them, ones such as this Yuriel prince came just recently, only to witness the blessing of Earthloch’s new prince and princess. It was, after all, the binaural of the Siorrakty’s new heirs. All other high noble houses had to send at least one representative of suitable stature to watch the ceremony.

And watch they did.

Whether it was the haughty Elementalists of the Oumental Diuvakty, or the cunning Sea Stalkers of the Ruolf Eyrshakty, even the ever so calm second prince of the Impelakty who was proudly called as the Griffin Prince of Yuriel, were staring up at the heavens, jaws gaping, eyes as big as pumpkins at the miracle of the wake of a hundred thousand spirits.

Each and every high nobility clan had gone through the same at least once in their history. Or how else could they have accumulated so much wealth and strength to stand at the apex of the disc?

But a collapse was still an epoch crossing event after all. The archive keepers of the various dominions recorded the last instance fifteen thousand cycles ago when the newest Juyakty rose to prominence. That time it wasn’t because of two little toddlers doing their weird betrothal rite, but by gathering thousands of manna-riogh hearts to forcefully tear apart the firmament that lead to the blessed white void. Even then, the scale was less than one one-hundredth of this.

So yes, they watched till their eyes bleed greed and their face twisted with rage and jealousy.

‘Why them?’

‘Why the northern barbarians who know not civility?’

‘Why, for the third time, is it the Earthloch savages?!’

The voices of the wind asked their unsound questions. But even if Bromwyn heard them, he would not answer. His job right now, as the Siorrakt, was to evict their gracious guests away from the territory as soon as possible.

In other words, he had to get rid of them before they could cause any trouble. And there was no doubt that even the traditionally friendlier houses to Earthloch would not want to see them rise without limits.

The house that would wish to see that happen the least was, of course,

“It is unfortunate that I could not say my congratulations to the prince and princess personally, Siorrakt Earthloch. Yet it pains me to say that I must leave today. The gazes of the manna and spirit spawn grow hostile to us by the day. The only thing I can leave is the paltry gifts the Impelakt himself has ordered me to bestow upon the two heirs.” Prince Yuriel Zwei spoke with a forlorn tone. He then passed on two small yet extremely fancy-looking swords to an Earthloch servant waiting by the side.

“I would have liked to bestow these Star Cleaving Blades directly upon them, but alas, I shall not be rude to insist. And I am sure that with such heaven blessed talents, I will certainly grace myself upon their presence when the North Uoris opens up once more. It is my dearest wish that when that time comes, the greatest Siorrakty of the lands and the Divine Impelakty itself can forge a bond stronger than the strongest metal once more.”

The other nobles gasped high and loud at the mention of ‘Star Cleaving Blades.’ They were a famous series of swords that only the craftsmen of the Impelakty could forge. Even a Sky realmer could comfortably use them with little loss of manna output, if they did not have a better weapon at hand. These were perfect vessels for Spirit Manifestation too.

Truly, what a ‘paltry’ gift…no, ‘Bestowal’.

Bromwyn sneered, but his face was all smiling. “It is as the second prince says. When the time comes, a new era will have already arrived.” He then thumped his thigh with the might of a Kaloxen and guffawed, “By that time, it will already be the stage of you young’ns, and us uncles would have long retired. Be sure that these blades would have seen the lives of a hundred thousand collapse-crazed gheists by then! HAHAHA!”

Prince Zwei bowed respectfully once more, then gently stood up before turning towards the doorway to leave. His wings fluttered even without wind, his posture that of an ancient sculpture of a male god. His face, the picture of peace and valour.

With the young man in the lead, all the other nobles also gave their respect one by one and then left the hall for their entourage. Their journey would be penurious, but it would also bring them opportunity. Even if this was just the beginning of the collapse, the treasures it could provide for them along their travels would be better than anywhere else on the disc.

They were fearful yet greedy. It was something Bromwyn had no trouble noticing, yet what could he do? Keep guard of their grubby paws till the last of the outsiders left their Siorrakty borders?

Bromwyn shook his head. Then smiled, thinking that today would be the last day he had to deal with this sorry lot.

So he didn’t follow them out, not even the Impelakty prince. Which is why he did not see the frosty glint in Prince Zwei’s eyes as the Impelakty scion exited the grand hall.

***

A few hours later, far away from Lochuir sitting on top of his mount, Prince Zwei cast one last glance toward the township.

“Oh, I really do hope you like our gifts, Siorrakt Earthloch. Our Impelakty has been striving hard since the last disc war to plant within the savage north the bestowals of true nobility.”

He looked away, “Yet I fear you might have to start all over from a Juyakty again, when the collapse ends.”

The Ebonbeak, also known as the mighty Winter Gryphon under the youth felt its master’s emotions. It let out a sky shattering roar, scaring all the other beasts in their massive convoy. Yet, the other nobles did not dare complain. For the Gryphon was a peak oceanic realm gheistrum, a creature that could wipe them all out alone within half an hour if given a single command from the prince.

But they didn’t have to. Because each of these nobles were also friends of the prince, and “friends” of the Earthloch, working hard day and night to deliver the light of the Impelakty upon those northern savages. They had heard his voice and acknowledged its meaning, laughing with malicious mirth, thinking of the disasters waiting to explode within this savage dominion.

“ROAR!”

The Ebonbeak’s howl echoed once again, hearing the cheers of the dhionne and the fear of the beasts. Prince Zwei ran his hands through the Gryphon’s silver fur. His ears picked up more in the applaud of his followers than it.

This was a laughter to hide their distress, to hide the shame of having failed the most crucial mission given directly by the Impelakt himself in the last tens of cycles.

‘After all, it is but a gheist.’ Prince Zwei lamented. It could not understand the difference between righteous anger and ashamed indignation. Because it thought the prince felt the former, but it was actually the latter.

‘Worm Cursed luck!’ Prince Zwei clenched his fists hard and bit his lower lips. ‘Just five more cycles and this renegade Siorrakty would be done for.’

His mind once again screamed with the same mournful question as that fateful night, ‘Why did the collapse come now, when our plans to subdue the north were just about finished?!’