March 16, border of the Northern Kingdom.
At the main gate, Talant wore violet war-plate, bright as a blossom, gold hair spilling to her waist like sunlight.
Cherry-red lips parting, pearl-white teeth peeking; eyes like stars, deep and airy, yet carrying a king’s calm.
With a helmet on, the armor alone would make her unrecognizable, a faceless bloom of steel.
"Safe travels, Commander; we won't see you off farther," the diplomat said, praise warm as spring rain.
Talant smiled, gazing at the Northern Kingdom’s vast beauty, like being bathed in a spring breeze.
"Lord Valen, no need for ceremony. Eunomia will never forget His Majesty's gracious hospitality. May our friendship endure."
"May our friendship endure," Valen answered, youth and kindness lighting his face like dawn.
Talant nodded with a gentle smile, then led dozens, wagons heavy with "gifts" creaking as they left the Northern Kingdom.
The moment they crossed the line, her smile blew out like a candle in wind.
In its place swelled a pout of indignation, cute as a kitten but bristling like thorns.
Anger sparked in her chest like flint.
"Damn that Northern king—he pushed and pushed, dragging my route a full month."
"If not, I'd be at the palace today, seeing Mother and my little brother."
A man's voice rolled in, low and magnetic, like a drum in fog; his smile looked warm, yet hid a blade.
"Heh... counting the return, this trip may take over half a year. Still, we gained plenty, didn't we?"
Determination bristled like armor across her face.
"Mm... we paid a lot, but we got partial intel on [Tama]."
"With it, and Impado’s strength, we can arm an iron cavalry corps of fifty thousand."
"Sia City will settle because of that; those vermin hiding in shadows—pray I don't catch you, or I'll flip your nest."
In recent days, Talant held the threads: Medith’s visit, Elyu’s enthronement, the siege of Sia City, and the Kuso Guild’s affair.
The siege lit her temper like wildfire; she could have shattered a rocky hill with rage.
You invite a noble guest, and instead of safe passage, they get dragged into your home feud like a whirlpool, almost killed.
Such shame branded her heart like hot iron; without Medith, the Eastern Nation's renown would've plunged.
Most people saw just a siege, but Talant’s gaze stretched farther, like a falcon riding high wind.
Sia City isn't just an Eastern Nation key; it's a thread that keeps the continent's peace from unraveling.
If Sia falls, even reclaimed fast, that halo’s gone—spilled light you can’t pour back.
Other nations would raid a burning house; treaties and terms would march in one after another.
Resist, and Sia City walks into crisis, never knowing whose banners will storm the walls next.
Don't resist, and it's worse: the Southern Kingdom bares its claws, allies gather, pressure ratchets, and they breach in.
The Eastern Nation would have to yield, consequences thick as storm clouds.
And all of it got solved by a "Sprite" she'd never even heard of, like a breeze cutting a knot.
She'd caught wind of the later Kuso Guild incident too.
The Blood Moon shook the continent, birthing dread of Medith, whom she hadn't even met.
Since the legendary Ancestor Master, no human has bent heaven and earth; calling it a mirage is weaving your own shroud.
Now the whole continent holds its breath, watching for Medith’s next step, like night waiting on thunder.
Yet disappointingly, she issued no war declaration, no warnings, no threats—she seemed to choose to let it rest.
A soft longing rose in Talant like lantern-light. "I really want to meet this Medith..."
Great minds mirrored; a subtle magnetism drew them, kindred blades ringing in sympathy.
Clip-clop... Talant caught the beat of hoofs; instinct tightened her reins, and she ordered everyone to halt and guard.
As the riders’ shadow spilled forward, a gleaming Sixpetal Rose standard blazed, spelling out who approached.
"Haidra?" Joy burst across Talant’s floral face like sunrise; they dismounted and embraced.
Talant stroked her head with a sister’s calm smile, while Haidra laughed, blossom-bright.
"What brings you here? And with hundreds—" She looked closer; her smile stiffened, brows drawing tight like a drawn bow.
Haidra herself had come, leading hundreds of elites from her city; that much steel spelled a small war.
Her face tightened; from a hidden compartment in her warhorse, she pulled a letter and handed it to Talant.
Talant, puzzled, tore the envelope; the seal was already melted—Haidra had opened it.
Her eyes skimmed ten lines at a glance like a hawk; in a flash, the color drained from her face.
"Is this letter genuine?" The storm in her voice showed her rising panic.
Haidra’s eyes went wide. "Yes... you know it—Prince Paris’s seal is harder to steal than sacking the royal city."
The shock snapped her back; she knew her brother—prying that seal from him would cost more than a fallen city.
Anger and fear tangled like briars.
"I can tell you for sure: there's no dispute, no obstacles!"
"There's no need for you to come to 'ensure' anything."
"I'm a whole regiment—why would I need your protection?"
"He's deliberately pulling you away!"
Talant’s tension turned the air taut; the friendly mood snapped like a harp string, and everyone stiffened.
Haidra stared, unbelieving, mind going blank. "Pull me away on purpose? But... why..."
Talant drew a long breath; the matter was bigger than she’d imagined, a storm swelling beyond the ridge.
She pressed it down for now, and led the group at full speed toward their first waypoint, dust streaming like banners.
