The morning sunlight seeped through the cracks of the window at the Rising Stardust inn, reflecting off the new armor lying neatly beside the bed.
Keyzier woke up with a refreshed feeling he had rarely experienced since leaving Noive Village. Today was no longer about flight or surviving in the middle of a forest. Today was about proof.
In the inn's lobby, Donovan was already waiting in his silver-glinting mythril armor, while Novalia appeared elegant yet formidable in her Hollow Griffin mantle, her magic staff was in her hand.
Their transformation was so drastic that several guests stole glances, mistaking them for high-ranking adventurers just passing through.
"Today is the day we make our debut as adventurers! Let's give it our best!" Keyzier exclaimed with infectious enthusiasm.
The three of them stepped out onto the increasingly busy streets of Antrows City. The rhythmic thud of their footsteps sounded firm against the cobblestones.
There was no more room for doubt. Armed with official adventurer licenses and the finest equipment bought from the bandits' 'spoils', they walked toward the Adventurers' Guild building with their heads held high.
Every step they took was a declaration that Party Noiver was officially born and ready to carve out its own history.
However, hundreds of miles away from the excitement in Antrows City, a starkly contrasting atmosphere shrouded the Western region of the Altoria Kingdom.
There stood a magnificent structure radiating the power of a nobleman: the residence of Marquis Varda. Its cold stone walls seemed to hold thousands of dark secrets and endless ambitions.
Inside a spacious and luxurious study, Marquis Sylvestre Alloire Varda, a middle-aged man with a stern face and a militarily groomed mustache, stood before a large window overlooking his vast estates. Yet, the beautiful view did not soothe his heart. On the contrary, suppressed rage made the veins in his neck bulge.
The disappearance of his youngest daughter, Novalia, was not just an insult to the Varda family name, but also a threat to a grand plan he had orchestrated for years. Sylvestre harbored ambitions that surpassed his current rank of Marquis. He wanted to sit on a Duke's seat, or even higher within the royal council.
The key to it all was a political marriage. He had forged a secret agreement to marry Novalia to the Second Prince of the Altoria Kingdom. The Prince was known as a power-hungry man, and this alliance would solidify Sylvestre's position as the most influential figure behind the throne.
"That troublesome child!" Sylvestre growled, striking his desk until the crystal glass atop it rattled. "Where on earth has that ungrateful girl gone!? How dare she jeopardize the plans I've built with such effort. When she is found, I will personally discipline her until she learns what it means to be a Varda!"
To Sylvestre, his children were not human beings, but chess pieces to be moved to win the game of power. Novalia's failure to obey was a malfunction that had to be corrected immediately with violence if necessary.
In the mansion's vast front courtyard, dozens of soldiers in full armor bearing the Varda family crest stood in neat rows. Their horses neighed impatiently, as if sensing the tension radiating from their commander.
Tristan Varda, the Marquis's eldest son and Novalia's biological brother, stood before the troops with a bored expression. Tristan had the same yellow hair as Novalia, but his eyes radiated a coldness and laziness that contrasted with his sister's soft spark. He wore expensive ornamental armor, serving more as a status symbol than actual combat protection.
"Truthfully, I'm quite reluctant to search for her." Tristan muttered lowly, quiet enough not to be heard by his father watching from the balcony. "But since this is Father's order, I have no choice. That damn sister, making me travel in this weather just to bring her back to the cage."
Tristan did not care about Novalia's fate. To him, his sister was merely a nuisance that forced him away from the comforts of the capital's parties. However, he also knew that defying his father was social suicide.
Marquis Sylvestre stepped out onto the balcony and gave his final instructions in a booming voice.
"Listen! Begin by scouring every town in the region west of Varda. Do not let a single inn or warehouse be overlooked! Request permission from the local authorities there by showing them this official seal scroll. Anyone who obstructs this search, consider them an enemy of the Varda family!"
After receiving the instructions and the seal scroll, Tristan let out a long sigh, mounted his horse, and signaled his troops. A total of 43 elite soldiers moved in unison, dust billowing behind them as they galloped westward.
The search led by Tristan was merely the surface of Sylvestre's plan. The Marquis was a meticulous man who never put all his eggs in one basket. He knew that to find Novalia, he had to take further steps to ensure everything ran smoothly.
A few moments later, Sylvestre summoned another group in a dark basement room. These were not ordinary soldiers in shining armor. These were his 'Special Forces'. They consisted of trained assassins and several soldiers with strength equal to a royal commander. They were fiercely loyal to Marquis Sylvestre.
Their faces were hidden behind black hoods, and their weapons were coated in poison or binding magic. Their task was simple yet deadly: find Novalia and bring her home alive, no matter how many lives had to be sacrificed along the way.
"You, head toward the region east of Varda!" Sylvestre ordered in a bone-chilling tone. "Accelerate the search process. Use any means necessary. If anyone protects her, eliminate them without a trace. Do not let her cross the kingdom's borders."
With a silent nod, the special forces immediately departed from the Marquis's presence and moved eastward, the direction that coincidentally led toward the northern trade route, where Antrows City was located.
Marquis Sylvestre stood alone on his balcony, watching the rising sun. He crossed his arms over his chest, a satisfied smirk playing on his thin lips. He felt certain that with the net he had cast to the west and east, his runaway daughter would have nowhere left to hide.
"You cannot run from your destiny, Novalia!" he said to the wind. "The world is too small to hide a Varda princess from me."
In the distance, the shadows of the pursuit began to close in, threatening the peace newly found by Party Noiver in Antrows City.