Rogg stood at the side of the ship, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. He drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, as if trying to release the weight pressing on his thoughts.
"I hope you all choose the right path," he whispered softly to the crew and the freed captives who now had the freedom to decide their own way forward.
He never wanted to force anyone's will. To all aboard—including former Balevad soldiers—Rogg gave a choice: stay with him, or return to wherever they came from. There was no pressure. Yet because of the way Rogg had treated everyone throughout the journey—fairly, firmly, and with respect—most chose to stay. They no longer saw him as just a war leader, but as someone worthy of their trust.
Though their main mission still lay ahead—to pursue the slave-trading vessel bound for Blacksand—Rogg allowed time to rest. He even ensured food was shared equally. Supplies were dwindling, but not a single person felt neglected.
"Take your share, no need to hesitate," Rogg said one night as he distributed food. A former Balevad soldier hesitated to accept his portion.
"We're on the same ship now."
The man gave a slight nod. "I never thought... someone I once fought would show me this kind of respect."
"Men are still men. As long as you're not a traitor, you have a place by my side," Rogg replied calmly.
After days navigating the southern waters, their ship finally approached the edges of Whiteheaven's territory. In the distance, they could see highlands and fertile valleys. But what made Rogg's heart pound was the news Barugu had shared—the vast valley they were approaching was none other than Guava Valley, a place he had only heard of in tales and dreams. And somehow, in the most unexpected way, he had found the place he had long searched for—the place where his uncle resided.
Rogg stepped to the ship's prow. "That... is it?"
Barugu nodded. "Yes. That's the heart of the world you've heard so much about—Guava Valley, the Whiteheaven Empire."
In the distance, Rogg saw glimmers of white stone buildings rising high above the land. The city looked orderly and dense, yet still carried a sense of grandeur. Broad roads wound between stone houses. Tall towers loomed, watching every corner of the city. The harbor bustled with ships of all shapes and sizes.
Rogg exhaled deeply. "This city... it's like nothing I've ever seen."
Standing beside him, Pragyan gave a slight smile. "This is the center of it all. The imperial city of Whiteheaven. But be careful—this place can swallow those who aren't ready."
Rogg nodded. "I'm ready to learn. But first... I want to know what really lies behind those city walls."
As their ship docked at one of the public piers in Blacksand, the atmosphere grew hectic. Shouts of sailors and merchants echoed everywhere. Goods from the four corners of the world were being unloaded—fabrics, metals, seafood, and livestock.
"Packed," muttered one of the Migase soldiers as he adjusted the cargo.
Rogg stood still, eyes scanning the city. "Barugu," he called, "tell me more about this place. I want to understand... not just the harbor, but the things hidden beneath."
Barugu stepped closer. "Whiteheaven isn't just a city. It's a system. The empire stands on the power of five major tribes. But the Larfex dominate everything. They control the palace."
Rogg narrowed his eyes. "Larfex... like the great clan?"
Barugu nodded. "Exactly. The slave trade is controlled from here—especially through Blacksand, which operates under the greed of unchecked rulers. You think all slaves are just laborers? No. Some are forced into the arena, some into palace service. And others... are bought for even darker purposes."
Rogg clenched his fist. "How many people have been sacrificed for this city?"
Barugu shook his head, weary. "Too many. I couldn't even give you a number. But one thing is certain—this place will either break you... or force you to become a part of its system."
Rogg said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on the towering city of Blacksand—magnificent yet chaotic, and full of riddles.
As night fell, their ship was finally cleared to anchor at the public dock. They would have to wait for further clearance to enter the city's inner gates.
"We'll wait here tonight," said Pragyan. "I'll go handle the release forms with the dockmaster. They think we're transporting prisoners."
"All right. But return quickly," replied Rogg.
He descended to the lower deck, removed the shield from his back, and leaned it against the mast. But his mind remained restless. His gaze drifted back to the city.
"They won't know who I am," he murmured. "But I'll know everything about them."
Barugu appeared, carrying two pieces of dry bread.
"Eat. We don't know what tomorrow will bring," he said.
Rogg accepted the food and sat beside him. "You know, Barugu... this world is bigger than I ever imagined."
"And crueler," Barugu replied without missing a beat.
Rogg stared into the darkness above the Whiteheaven towers.
"Then we must be stronger than they expect."
He nodded slowly, his eyes still locked on the imperial city of Whiteheaven in the distance. A city unlike any he had touched before—a place of great promise, but also of trials he had never faced. Every corner seemed to hide secrets, and he knew that every step he took here would shape not only his fate, but the fate of the Migase people he had sworn to find.
On the other side, Pragyan stood silently, his gaze filled with wonder.
Though he had traded in Patisia—on the eastern side of Guava Valley—more than a few times, he had never truly touched the heart of the Whiteheaven Empire. To him, Patisia was just a big city—a place of trade and shipping docks. But now, after seeing Whitesand with his own eyes and realizing they hadn't even stepped foot into the empire's core, he began to understand just how little he truly knew.
"I thought I knew where this world was heading," Pragyan murmured. "But it turns out I've only been sailing along the edges."
Rogg turned to him. "We all have, Pragyan. Until we find the courage to step into the center."
Pragyan nodded slowly and exhaled. "I've never felt this small."
Rogg began planning his next steps. His goal was clear now—to find his uncle in Guava Valley. But he knew that in order to do so, he needed to understand the valley and the Whiteheaven Empire more deeply, including all that was hidden beneath its grand name.
Barugu gave him a quick overview:
Guava Valley was vast and served as the center of the Whiteheaven Empire. Towering mountain ranges separated it from the Megido continent, creating a landscape so isolated it had no passable route—completely cut off. Within the valley lived various tribes that had long since blended together, each holding onto their own languages and cultures. The empire's official language was Larfex, but many tribes still spoke their native tongues, though it didn't pose any real communication barrier.
"If you want to find someone here—especially a Migase—you'll need more than just a silver tongue," Barugu told him aboard the ship. "You need to know who to talk to, and when to stay silent."
Rogg nodded. "I'll start with those who were sold into slavery. If they're still alive, they'll know where the others were taken."
The next morning, their ship docked at the main harbor in Blacksand. As soon as they set foot on land, the humid, heavy air wrapped around them. The scent of salt mixed with the stench of the slave market greeted their arrival.
The black soil beneath their boots made every step feel heavier. The sand was stained dark from filth and spilled whale oil, sticky and unwelcoming. Merchants gathered—most of them large men in flashy clothes—awaiting the arrival of ships carrying human cargo.
"This place is darker than a grave," Pragyan muttered.
Rogg scanned the surroundings. Captives from various tribes were unloaded, some separated, assessed, and examined. The merchants eyed them sharply—judging age, muscle tone, and especially appearance for the women. Some were even auctioned on the spot.
Barugu leaned in and whispered, "Don't look at them as owners. They're just intermediaries. The real power... is over there."
He nodded toward a large man, dark-skinned, dressed in layers of silk and thin chainmetal. Around him stood six armed guards with swords drawn.
"Who is he?" Rogg asked, curt.
"His name is Borjong," Barugu replied. "A Balevad who chose to stay here. He manages all slave transactions in this region. Merchants and local rulers bow to him because he controls the distribution routes."
Rogg clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "He's the one selling my people?"
"Not all of them. But if you want to cut this rot at the root, he's where you start."
Rogg turned to Barugu. "I want him stopped. Now."
Barugu hesitated, then finally said, "You can't make reckless moves here. Every step you take is being watched. But if you have a plan, I'm with you."
Rogg signaled to Pragyan to keep the freed captives guarded. Then he turned to Barugu. "You stay and protect them. Not a single one gets sold. I'll deal with Borjong."
"Are you sure you can do that?" Barugu asked.
Rogg didn't respond. His eyes locked onto Borjong as he said, "All you have to do is keep them alive. Pragyan will help you. I'll take care of the rest."
Barugu nodded slowly, stepping back to organize the captives. Meanwhile, Rogg slipped into the crowd, attempting to get closer to Borjong without drawing attention. But the man wasn't a fool.
One of Borjong's guards whispered something to him, and he moved swiftly, leaving the crowd.
"Damn it," Rogg muttered.
He tried to pursue him, but the narrow, packed market paths made fast movement nearly impossible. By the time he broke through the crowd, Borjong had already climbed into a small litter, surrounded by his armed escort, and was making his way out of the harbor.
Rogg stood frozen in the middle of the street, breathing heavily.
Borjong had escaped.
But what stung more than anything...
Was that Barugu had gone with him.
He had been deceived.