On their way home, William slowed his steps, surprised by what he saw ahead of him. His sister was speaking with a man—not just any man, but a royal.
Ever since what had happened to their father, Alora had always kept to herself. She showed little interest in the opposite gender, burying herself in work and responsibility. At times, William wondered if she would ever marry at all.
From where he stood, he watched the man carefully. The way he looked at Alora was strange—not threatening, but not ordinary either. There was something about him that unsettled William, though he could not explain why.
Too weak to walk any faster, William lagged behind while Alora stood farther ahead. When he noticed the man move closer to her, his heart raced. Instinctively, he wanted to rush forward and defend his sister—but something deep within him told him to stop.
He was glad he trusted that instinct. Who knew what might have happened otherwise?
Duncan returned home with his thoughts in turmoil.
"I will get you another job," he muttered, shaking his head as a small laugh escaped his lips.
He could hardly believe he had said that. It wasn't wrong—he had only meant well—but he feared it might have given the wrong impression. Rich and poor did not mingle. Kindness was often misunderstood, and he did not want to be seen as someone offering more than he intended.
Ever since he was young, women—both rich and poor—had thrown themselves at him. He used to enjoy the attention. But now, he wanted something different.
Something deeper.
A family.
His thoughts drifted to his sister. She had just given birth to her fourth child. He often watched the way her children played with their father, laughter filling their home, and a strange ache settled in his chest. He longed for that life—yet with the looming war ahead, he doubted it would ever be possible.
He had not even asked the girl for her name.
Even if he had, what would he have done with it?
"Nothing," he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair.
Duncan made his way to the palace.
War loomed on the horizon. The opposing kingdom had yet to respond, though weapons had been forged and strategies laid out. All that remained was their decision—peace or destruction.
The Kingdom of Valtheris stood proud and powerful, unmatched in political strength and military force. No kingdom dared challenge it openly.
Next in influence was the Kingdom of Zafarya, renowned for its trade. There was nothing that kingdom did not sell—fine fabrics, jewels, garments, and luxury goods beyond imagination. Though costly, their goods were unrivaled, and every kingdom relied on them.
But everything changed when the old king vanished.
Some claimed he was dead. Others whispered he was ill, hiding in exile. No one knew the truth. The crown passed to a new king—and now, Zafarya dared to wage war against Valtheris.
Yet Valtheris stood unshaken.
How could a weakened kingdom challenge one of the strongest?
"Their king has not said a word since declaring war," King Alexander said angrily. "Is he mocking us?"
"They cannot threaten us, my king," one of the generals replied. "The new king squandered their wealth. Zafarya is nearly ruined."
"If that is true," Lord Aiden interjected, "then why begin a war at all? They sent criminals disguised as traders into our lands to rob our people. They started this."
"I believe we should remain calm," Duncan said evenly. "Perhaps he is preparing to retreat."
"Retreat?" Lord William said coldly. "After all the time and resources we invested? No kingdom makes Valtheris look foolish. That is unacceptable."
The arguments grew louder until King Alexander raised his hand, silencing the room. The meeting was dismissed.
That night, Duncan returned home exhausted.
After bathing, he dressed in his night robe and collapsed onto his bed, lost in thought, when a knock sounded at the door. He already knew who it was.
"Come in."
Maya stepped inside.
She was of average height, with brown hair, thin lips, a pointed nose, and slightly crooked teeth. She was simply pretty.
"Hello, darling," she said softly. "Any news from the palace?"
"None," Duncan replied, rubbing his temple. "King Mateo remains silent. He declared war and now hides like a coward."
"No one can make fools of Valtheris," Maya said confidently, placing her hand on his chest. "If they retreat, so be it."
"I don't trust it," Duncan said. "A king who steals, declares war, and then says nothing is dangerous."
"Well," Maya smiled, moving closer, "if there is no war, at least we can spend more time together."
"I'm not in the mood," Duncan said gently, removing her hand. "I'm tired."
Maya's smile faded.
Ever since childhood, Maya had loved Duncan. Though he was older, he had always protected her. Society told her not to pursue him, but her feelings never faded. Duncan knew—yet said nothing. Eventually, he chose to court her, believing love would come with time.
But tonight, she felt the distance.
"Ever since King Mateo declared war, you've changed," she said angrily. "You're always distracted. It's as if that kingdom has taken you away from me."
"Maya, wait—"
But she was already gone.
"Damn it," Duncan muttered, striking the edge of the bed.
She wasn't wrong.
Ever since the issue with Zafarya, something stirred within him—a pull he could not explain. Even the name Zafarya felt strangely familiar.
"What is happening to me?" he whispered.
With a deep breath, he lay back and let sleep claim him.