The skies of Lumindale were painted in hues of orange as twilight descended, while Rogg's entourage made their way toward the knights' mansion. A gentle breeze swept through, yet the tension in the air was unmistakable. Brisena walked beside her brother, while Elandra, Nyx, and Brando followed close behind.
Suddenly, their steps halted.
From the shadow of the gates emerged a figure clad in striking silver-black robes. Sigido Covarthis—an ominous legend. One of the most feared master assassins in all of Smokeland—whispered about even in Whiteheaven.
"Rogg," Sigido spoke in a calm, deliberate voice, each word weighed with gravity. "May I have a word with you?"
His presence was suffocating—his aura, almost too heavy to bear. Eyes like blades, a voice flat yet thunderous, and a gait that echoed like the ticking of a death clock.
Brisena gently grasped her brother's hand. "Be careful," she whispered before slowly stepping back, the others following, leaving Rogg alone with Sigido.
"What is it, Master?" Rogg asked, calm but alert.
"Follow me," Sigido replied curtly, turning toward his private mansion.
That room was no ordinary room. It was a gallery of death. Every corner displayed trophies from legendary enemies—blood-soaked cloaks, scorched banners, weapons that had ended thousands of lives… even preserved corpses. It was a museum of horror, and a reminder of who Sigido Covarthis truly was.
"Have a seat. Enjoy this drink," said Sigido, offering a cup filled with a thick, pungent liquid.
"Thank you, Master," Rogg replied briefly, then sat down.
"Rogg Robelix," Sigido began, his tone growing heavier. "You are the son of Zeeva Aedrin and Brovos Robelix, are you not?"
"I am," Rogg answered, composed.
"I want to hear it from your own mouth. What have you felt since arriving in Smokeland… up until the moment you stood in the arena?"
Rogg took a breath. "Not so different from anywhere else… but this time, it feels deeper. It's part of my identity—my mother's blood. Fighting in the arena… is merely one phase in a journey to hone my skills and forge my spirit as a warrior."
Sigido studied Rogg's face, searching for cracks. But found none. It was like staring into a cold mist—impenetrable.
Finally, the master got to the point.
"Vermithor… Isn't that the real reason you entered the tournament?" he asked, his voice now pressing harder.
Rogg turned to him with a faint smile. "If I truly wanted that weapon, I could've taken it without ever stepping into the ring."
Sigido frowned. That wasn't the answer he expected.
"Very well. I know it was your grandfather's blade. But listen closely." His eyes now burned with restrained fury. "The Imperial Army of Whiteheaven is camped at the gates of Thalvion. In five days… they will attack Smokeland if you don't surrender yourself."
Rogg raised an eyebrow. "Is that Thaldrim's demand… or your own fear talking?"
"What?!" Sigido's voice rose. "Don't you ever question my fear, boy! I fear nothing—look around this room, look at the heads and weapons of those who once threatened this land!"
"Then what exactly are you guarding, Master?" Rogg stared back. "Smokeland… your pride… or your fear of Thaldrim's growing power in the Empire?"
The tension thickened.
"No. I hold no stake in that. But I understand your intention," Sigido said, his voice taut again. "You want to keep fighting. But know this—among us elders, among the tribe leaders—Smokeland's peace matters far more than protecting an outsider like you. Your family may protect you. So might Nyx, Elandra, and the other masters… but the Covarthis clan? We will not interfere."
Rogg chuckled dryly. "How ironic. A legend like you still trembles at the sight of an imperial army."
"Enough!" Sigido snapped.
But Rogg didn't flinch. "Listen closely. In two days, the round of sixteen begins. I want a change in the format. Make it a continuous elimination battle. I will fight first—and challenge the remaining fifteen knights, one by one. If I fall, you can arrest me and hand me over to the Empire. But if I win… I'll go to the Empire myself, and you will grant me two hundred Doliex soldiers—handpicked by me."
Silence thickened in the room.
"Who do you think you are… to make demands of me?" Sigido's voice cut like ice.
"If you can't grant it… then I'll compete under the standard rules. But remember, if I reach the final, it'll take eight days. The Empire attacks in five."
Sigido scowled. Rogg was right—and he hated it.
At last, with great reluctance, Sigido nodded. "Very well. I'll honor your request. But one condition… What do you intend to do with those two hundred warriors? Don't tell me you're planning to use them against the Empire."
"I won't use them against the Empire," Rogg said firmly. "Put it in writing."
Sigido exhaled deeply. "So be it. Under the terms we've agreed upon."
That night, a pact was sealed.
If Rogg triumphed—defeating every knight until none remained—two hundred Doliex warriors would be his. But he was forbidden from using them to wage war against the Empire.
If he lost… then he must surrender—unconditionally—to the Empire of Whiteheaven.
A colossal gamble. One soul... against the fate of the entire land of Smokeland.
"I know what you're doing, Sigido. You're trying to intimidate Rogg, aren't you?" said Veynor Lauxi sharply, his gaze piercing the old man before him—Sigido Covarthis, a living legend of the Doliex clan.
"What are you implying, Lauxi?" Sigido snapped, his voice brimming with tension. "I'm simply speaking the truth... about the imperial army already standing at Smokeland's doorstep! I don't want that man destroying everything our ancestors built. Besides, is he really that important to you? If he's become an enemy of the Empire, why should we bear the burden of protecting him?"
"Because this isn't about burdens, Sigido!" Veynor gritted his teeth. "It's about the truth! Rogg is the son of Zeeva Aedrin and Brovos Robelix. That was her own confession. So why are we hesitating to stand for what's right?"
Sigido let out a long breath, his eyes narrowing. "We never truly knew what happened, Lauxi. Whether it's the truth... or just a story Zeeva spun for political gain and recognition for her children. We have no proof. Not even Zeeva can confirm it. And don't forget—on that day, decades ago, you were the one who lost track of her at Whitesand Pier. Little Zeeva followed the late Emperor Rogius and Grand Vizier Vortharian to Neverus Island, along with young Prince Brovos. If you hadn't failed your duty, perhaps none of this would've happened!"
"No!" Lauxi barked, his voice echoing through the hall. "We were there together that day! As guardians of the emperor and vizier, we shared the same burden. And today—yes, today!—we've been given a second chance. To atone for that mistake. To protect Rogg... and prevent a war that could consume everything! Rogg, Robb, Brisena—they carry the blood of Whiteheaven's two greatest bloodlines. We're not just defending a person, Sigido. We're standing for a truth that was nearly lost!"
"I just don't want to see it all crumble..." Sigido whispered, his tone softening. "Everything we've fought to preserve for decades... Smokeland is our ancestral land, our blood and bone. The Empire is no longer our concern—we both retired long ago. But this land... this land is everything."
He turned to leave, but Lauxi called after him, firm and stirring:
"Remember this, Sigido Covarthis! It's because you still think this is about the Empire that you'd hand Rogg over without seeing the truth. Moral responsibility outweighs pleasing Thaldrim! You're an elder—not his pawn!"
Veynor Lauxi knew in his heart: the pressure came from Thaldrim. He wanted to capture Rogg and offer him to the Empire. But Lauxi also knew: the protection granted by the elders of Smokeland—especially those in Aeternum Vale—to Rogg and Robb wasn't just a personal choice... it was because they held the truth the Empire had tried to bury. A conspiracy born from the crown itself.
.
Rogg returned home with Brisena, bearing a few wounds from his deadly duel with Thaldrim. Their horses halted in front of the small house, which radiated the scent of love and family. Rex, his young son, came running with bright eyes.
"Daddyyy!" Rex called out, eyes sparkling as he spotted his hero atop the horse.
Rogg jumped down and swept the boy into a tight hug. "Rex!" he laughed, spinning the child through the air. At the door, Yara greeted them with a warm smile—a smile that healed wounds better than any medicine.
"How was the fight yesterday? You two look surprisingly well," Yara teased.
"Brother Rogg is a superhuman, Sister-in-law!" Brisena chimed in playfully. "But me... honestly, I need your help now."
Yara chuckled softly. Since arriving, Brisena had found deep comfort in her presence. Yara wasn't just a sister-in-law—she was like an older sister, always ready with a remedy, a warm meal, or a listening ear. Especially with Mother Zeeva so often away in Aeternum Vale, tending to her duties as an elder, Yara had become an oasis in Brisena's life.
Once inside, Yara tended to Brisena's wounds. As she cleaned them, she spoke gently.
"Greatness, honor, battle... none of that matters in the end, little sister. But knowledge—and the time to understand yourself—that's what truly counts. Take a pause. You have every right to decide: whether to move forward... or to stop."
Brisena fell silent for a moment. "I... I've always blamed myself, Sister. Because I brought Rogg to the Imperial Palace, now he's being accused of deceit. Because of me... my own siblings are fighting each other."
"Don't say that!" Yara's gaze was soft, but firm. "You were trying to reunite a family—and defend the truth. The Empire is playing with fire, Brisena. And we know exactly who lit the spark."
"Empress Xienna..." Brisena sighed. "She's never been satisfied just being empress. She wants more. But no prince has the courage to stand up."
Rogg and Rex reentered the room, both laughing heartily.
"So Brisena gets treated, but not me?" Rogg pouted playfully.
Brisena burst out laughing. "Alright, alright, I'll go now. Come on, little prince, help me freshen up!" she said, sweeping Rex into her arms and dashing to the kitchen.
Rogg pulled Yara into a tight embrace and kissed her deeply. "I missed you, Love..."
"I missed you too..." Yara whispered with a smile.
Moments later, Yara examined Rogg's wounds. "You look worse than usual this time. Any serious injuries?"
Rogg shook his head, smiling. "The only wound that ever truly hurts... is seeing you hurt, my lady."
Yara laughed and pinched his cheek. "You're way too good at flirting."
"Go wash up now. I'll prepare lunch for the four of us," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.
In the midst of political storms and looming war, their little home remained the most peaceful place in the world—a sanctuary where love, laughter, and truth still had room to grow.
They sat around the dining table, a warm and familiar atmosphere embracing the room. Brisena sat beside little Rex, patiently feeding him and teaching him how to eat properly.
"He's going to keep relying on you," Rogg said with a smile, his eyes full of affection as he watched his son grow—far too quickly.
"I don't mind," Brisena replied softly, offering Rex another spoonful as the child eagerly devoured his food. "I'll always be here for Prince Rex."
The air shifted slightly when Rogg began to speak again, his tone heavier than usual. "I've made a deal with Master Sigido Covarthis."
Yara paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow at him. "What kind of deal, Rogg?"
He took a deep breath before explaining, "Sooner or later, the Empire will come for me. The news has already spread across the land. They need a scapegoat—and I'm it. They'll make an example of me… a warning to anyone who dares claim imperial blood. But beneath it all, there's something far worse—betrayal."
He set his spoon down, his expression grim. "A conspiracy between Thaldrim and Empress Xienna. They're trying to seize absolute power, using the Five Ministers as their leverage. I received a secret letter from Prince Xaverius… it revealed everything. Their dark scheme is rooted in an old decree—the succession decree issued fifteen years ago. This year marks the time of its enforcement… and the Empire plans to twist the facts. They'll claim there's no rightful heir left. That Damma Lorexius is dead."
Brisena's eyes widened. "Wait… Prince Xaverius? You've been in contact with him? You knew about… about the scandal involving Thaldrim and the Empress?"
Rogg nodded slowly. "Yes. This information isn't public. In fact, only a handful of people may even know. But Xaverius has uncovered it all."
Brisena fell into a troubled silence, her face clouded. "I… I had no idea. I thought they just wanted to scapegoat you and then attack Brother Damerius."
Yara nodded slowly, then asked, "So what will you do, Rogg? What's your plan?"
"War must be avoided… at all costs," Rogg replied. "We have five days. I'm hoping Robb and Vuuxi arrive before then. But I have to prepare. If everything spirals out of control, I can't be caught off guard."
Brisena bit her lip. "But Brother… you have immunity in Smokeland. The elders and all the Doliex people will protect you until Robb and Vuuxi arrive…"
"No, Brisena," Rogg said firmly. "I won't hide behind Smokeland's protection. If war breaks out, the Doliex people in Lytherial will be the first to suffer. The Thalvion Gate won't withstand the Empire's full assault. If an inter-nation war erupts just because of me… that would be a grave mistake. I won't be the reason for that devastation."
Brisena lowered her head, her heart breaking.
Yara clenched her fists. "They… they've truly lost their minds! Twisting truth into lies just to feed their vile ambitions! But whatever your decision, I… I'll stand with you. Even if it means going against the Empire!"
Brisena raised her head, her eyes glistening. "I… I dragged you into all this, Brother…"
"No, Sis. This isn't your fault," Rogg said gently. "You simply followed your conscience. And… I've accepted Mother's request. I'm ready to be Emperor."
Brisena paused, then slowly nodded. "Alright, Brother… I trust you."
Rogg's gaze sharpened as he looked at them. "In the next arena match, I've made a pact with Master Sigido. I'll face the fifteen best Doliex knights… one by one. If I win, he'll grant me two hundred Doliex warriors—of my choosing."
"WHAT?!" Brisena nearly shouted, her fork clattering onto her plate. "You're going to fight all fifteen of us? One by one?! That's insane! ABSOLUTELY INSANE!"
Yara chuckled, clearly impressed. "So… you'll be fighting your own sister, Brisena?"
Brisena sighed. "Hah… in that case, I'll make sure you don't win so easily, Brother!"
Laughter erupted around the table, though behind it, they all knew—a great storm awaited them down the road.
Rogg spooned some roasted venison onto his plate and grinned. "This… is my favorite dish."
Yara simply smiled warmly. Her heart may have been restless, but her resolve was clear: whatever happened, she would stand by Rogg—until the very end.