King Hertar furrowed his brow as he watched Zara and Lait depart his office, empty-handed in their mission to retrieve Riala. The girl’s stubbornness had prevailed, and Miles had refused to abandon her. Knowing that any further, more radical actions available to them could’ve been construed as a declaration of war, retreat had been the only option. He exhaled deeply and rose from his desk, gazing out the window at the sky, now splashed with a fresh coat of paint.

Lait’s suggestion to rewrite the laws to explicitly strip convicts of any and all rights they might’ve had prior to their conviction was reasonable, given the new reality of criminals being able to survive banishments, and it would renew their legal claim. But even then, Miles was unlikely to change his mind, having rejected their offers outright.

The real question now was, who would go to greater lengths to achieve their objectives: the Rulers or the Guild? If Alarna managed to abduct and confine Riala, would Miles accept the loss?

Hertar scoffed at the thought. “No,” he muttered. The piercing eyes of Tomar “Miles” Remor flashed through his mind, standing in front of the king defiantly amidst the aftermath of the fight against Arax. Ever since that moment, he felt a growing sense of helplessness whenever he thought of this man.

For the longest time, Hertar thought of him as little more than a boy who stumbled upon supernatural abilities. Accounts from guards and neighbors portrayed him as a mother’s boy, a bookworm, and a loner. He was said to have qualms about fighting humans, get nervous in front of higher ups, and possess a child-like innocence. Despite Tomar’s involvement in taking over Alarna, King Hertar had honestly believed that the Rulers still had the upper hand after Lilly’s death. That was right until he saw their abilities for himself, and he came face to face with the man now calling himself Miles, who rivaled the Rulers in their arrogance.

Hertar’s weary eyes swept across his ornate chamber, the office of the king of Alarna. Countless hours of decision-making had taken place here, but ever since he returned, the weight of his responsibilities felt like a suffocating burden. He couldn't help but wonder, what was the true meaning of being a Ruler?

Some believed they were chosen by the gods to lead their fellow men. They possessed a unique superhuman quality that set them apart from the rest. They were the embodiment of human potential, always striving for excellence.

Others said that the only reason Rulers ever got to where they were was through a push for power by the hands of Alarna Ragar, the first queen. It was her actions that catapulted this Calling to become more than a side note in the history books.

Regardless of which side you stood on, Hertar couldn’t help but think about the fact that the power they held was nothing compared to the force of nature that Miles and Riala had become. They were no longer just humans, but something far beyond. Whether they realized this themselves or not, they were on the verge of becoming demi-gods, able to freely make the decision to negotiate with those beneath them—or not.

Frustrated, the king grabbed the back of his chair and dug his nails into it. Other humans possessing such power wasn’t right. He could accept the superiority of certain beasts as part of the natural world order, but what would humans do with this might? If people like them had existed in the first queen’s years, would Rulers even exist?

The answer was an unequivocal “No.” In those times, only one law mattered: “Might makes right.” And the Rulers, who had convinced the first Fighters to do their bidding, ended up the ones who held the most power. But magic users who could defeat anyone in combat and demolish buildings with a wave of their hand would never have allowed that to happen. The idea of such immense power in the hands of anyone other than the gods was terrifying.

One had to almost be grateful for how reasonable of a man Miles was. He did not appear to harbor serious intentions of causing harm to anyone. Hertar may have put on a tough front when he banished the group, but in truth, he knew they would not have had to leave. If someone with less restraint were to acquire such abilities, they could quickly ascend to a position of dominance over all others. What these children were asking for was, in comparison, relatively insignificant.

As the king contemplated whether he had any choice but to accept the Guild’s terms, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes?” he called out, prompting his sister Berlotte to enter.

She slammed the door shut behind her and marched up to the desk. Her frown mirrored her brother’s, but where his eyes were dead and lifeless, hers were ablaze with fury.

“They stopped the caravan!” Berlotte spat.

“Well, I suppose that was to be expected,” Hertar sighed, meeting her gaze. “What reason did they give?”

“It’s all nonsense!” Berlotte fumed. “They’re claiming that there are beasts on the road to Cerus, and that they can’t in good conscience allow anyone to travel that way until the threat is dealt with!”

“What if it’s true?” Hertar asked, his voice devoid of emotion. “We have confirmation that the barrier isn’t looking well. If it broke in that area, the beasts might be pouring out of the forest as we speak.”

Berlotte threw her hands up in frustration. “Please! Now of all times? Not to mention that the boy’s refusal to let our people pass was accompanied by a promise of protection and permission to go should we accept their terms! It’s a farce!”

“Probably,” Hertar agreed quietly.

Berlotte was about to continue her tirade when she finally took notice of her brother’s demeanor. His shoulders slumped and his head hanging low, he looked thoroughly miserable. She recognized the look. He had once again descended into that deep, dark hole of existential dread that left him feeling powerless. Fortunately, she knew how to rouse him from his torpor.

With an air of confidence, she straightened her back and declared, “Hertar, I expect you to resolve this situation immediately. If you can’t, then I will.”

For a moment, the room fell silent. Berlotte was expecting her brother to leap into action, but he simply stared at her in silence, raising a feeling of awkwardness in her. Finally, he spoke. “And what are you going to do?”

Berlotte faltered. “Huh? I... What do you mean?”

“You said you would solve this problem,” Hertar said, passionless. “How are you going to do that?”

For the first time, he caught her off-guard. She didn’t have a single idea. Her threat was an attempt to motivate Hertar, but it had backfired. Stunned into silence, she remained speechless.

“You don’t know either. That’s too bad,” Hertar continued with a sigh. “I envy Zara and Lait. They’re so young and full of hope. They still believe something can be worked out.”

Berlotte stepped closer, her voice pleading. “Hertar... We need you. Can’t you please shake yourself out of this state and get back to work?”

“It’s not a state,” Hertar explained. “I am truly and utterly devoid of ideas. You know, I felt reinvigorated when we were rescued and they left our town, but we can’t ever truly be rid of them.”

“Nonsense!” Berlotte rebuked. “They’re human, and they bleed like anyone else. We could rid the world of them. Send enough men their way and they will fall like any other mortal!”

“Perhaps... but at what cost? How many would we sacrifice in the process? And if even one of them survives, what then?” The king let out a rueful chuckle. “Things are worse than ever. Lait’s report stated that they now have not one, but ten beasts. It’s almost as if they’re Celeth himself...” Hertar trailed off, lost in thought. “And they can control Callings as well. Does this not put them on equal footing with Gallas? And that boy... he showed signs of being able to manipulate people, like Kyu. They’re practically gods.”

Berlotte watched as her brother sank into despair, laughing bitterly at his own helplessness. He was supposed to have all the answers, but instead he was powerless to act. He reminded her of a priest, awed by the power of the divine. But unlike the gods, who rarely interfered in mortal affairs, these children were a tangible threat that the people of Alarna had to face head-on.

Summoning her courage, Berlotte gazed affectionately at her brother. “I promise you that we will find a way around their absurd demands. Do not exalt them by comparing them to the gods, Hertar. They are children rebelling against the system. All of them, including Berla and Hayla, will see reason in time. I am confident of it. Until then, we will do what we have always done: protect the citizens of Alarna, even if it means confronting this ‘Guild.’”

Hertar looked at her with resignation, her words of encouragement not strong enough to lift him up. “Berlotte, we cannot—”

“No,” she interrupted. “Do not finish that sentence.” She approached her brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are overwhelmed and need a break. I will instruct the guards not to disturb you for the remainder of the day, and you will clear your mind. I will handle your daily tasks, and we will reconvene tonight. Understood?”

Hertar looked deep into her eyes and saw a glimmer of hope. Berlotte was right. The Guild was powerful, but they did not behave like malevolent gods. Even if he had no ideas on how to proceed, it was too early to give up. He took a deep breath and smiled faintly. “Thank you,” he said.

Berlotte waved him off, grinning. “That’s what I am here for.”

Without wasting any time, Berlotte turned on her heel and headed for the door. As she was about to exit, she glanced back at her brother. “But I expect you to actually relax for the next couple of hours,” she playfully warned.

“Got it,” he replied, his smile broadening.

As Berlotte shut the heavy wooden door behind her, she was immediately swallowed by the frenetic energy of the bustling hallway. Rulers and guards hurried past her in all directions, greeting her in passing, their faces set with purpose. She sighed heavily at the prospect of doing the king’s work for the day, knowing how hard he worked, but she would bear it for his sake, hoping that it would help him.

Turning to her left, Berlotte intended to address the guard stationed outside the King’s chambers, but instead of the familiar face she expected, she was confronted with a stranger, having been placed there while she was inside. “You,” she said, raising a brow. “What is your name?”

The guard, standing at attention, kept his gaze straight ahead as he replied. “It’s Konnor, Miss. I’m filling in for Perthan.”

“Is that so...” Berlotte regarded him suspiciously. “What happened?”

“It seems he fell ill, but I am not sure of the details, Miss.”

Berlotte turned the other way, seeking confirmation from someone she knew. Fortunately, the other guard was familiar to her. “Is this true, Nevad?” she asked.

“Yes, Ms. Berlotte,” he replied in a deferential tone. “Perthan did not feel well this morning, and his condition has worsened, so we requested a temporary replacement. But fear not, Konnor is more than capable. His Majesty is in good hands.”

Berlotte nodded in satisfaction. “Very well. Make sure that no one disturbs my brother until the evening. If there are any urgent matters, send them my way.”

“Of course, Miss,” Nevad replied dutifully.

Pleased, Berlotte turned to continue down the hallway, unaware of the smug expression that flickered across Konnor’s face as he watched her go.