The advisor strikes a deal

Ceremus and Atilla continued their journey, focused on one goal: reaching the peak of the mountain where Tiresias was said to be.

"How are you so certain the person you're looking for will be there?" Atilla inquired.

"…I'm not," Ceremus admitted, making the young boy do a double take.

"Huh?"

"I'm going off a vision I had. I heard that the man with the answers to my problems is named Tiresias."

"…I see. Does Your Majesty have any idea what he looks like?"

Ceremus thought for a moment before answering. "I'm not sure, but I'll know him when I see him."

"You'll know when you see him?" Atilla repeated skeptically.

"Call it instinct. Now enough chatting. I'd like to reach the mountains before nightfall," Ceremus said.

Atilla nodded, and they spent the rest of their journey in silence.

Meanwhile, a certain sorceress was following them, trailed by a group of bandits.

"Ugh. I can't believe I'm doing this," she grumbled, waving her staff as the scenery shifted with each flick of her wrist.

Meliše was currently pursuing the king and the little knight at the advisor's request. She had been caught off guard when he visited her in the dungeons.

"Has my time finally come?" she asked.

Anemone regarded her intently, scrutinizing her every movement. "Unfortunately, no, Miss Meliše. But there is something I'd like to discuss with you."

"Oh? That king of yours hasn't decided my fate yet?" she asked, raising her head. Her blue-green eyes pierced into him with a cold intensity.

The advisor gulped unconsciously, steeling himself. "…How you choose to answer my question will decide your fate."

Meliše raised a brow. Tilting her head to the side, she looked at him questioningly. "And what question might that be?"

Anemone took a step closer. "How badly do you wish to regain your freedom?"

The sorceress narrowed her eyes. Is he being serious?

"I can tell you're skeptical, but I assure you, I'm not bluffing," Anemone said.

"…What authority do you even have to make such decisions? Aren't you just an advisor?" she asked.

Anemone smiled. "Once King Ceremus is gone, I will have the authority to decide."

"Is that so? Then what do I have to do in exchange for my freedom? Nothing in this world comes for free."

Anemone's smile deepened. "Your task is simple—watch over the king and Atilla, and your freedom will be yours."

"What an actual pain. How did that advisor con me into doing something this annoying?" she lamented, following the pair through shifting dimensions.

On top of creating veils, barriers, and illusions, Meliše also possessed the ability to travel through dimensions—though calling them dimensions was an overstatement. It was more akin to traveling through shadows.

This allowed her to follow Ceremus and Atilla undetected. She could have made herself invisible, but someone as sharp as Ceremus would still sense her presence. This was her only option.

She glanced behind her and sensed the bandits still in pursuit, so she waved her scepter once more, casting a cloaking spell to keep them at bay for a few hours.

Meliše, like most people, preferred to avoid troublesome situations. All she could do now was hope Ceremus found what he was looking for—quickly.

Meanwhile...

"It looks like we've lost their trail," Orion observed, scanning the terrain.

There wasn't a single trace of the pair, and even the hunting dogs couldn't pick up their scent.

"How peculiar," he murmured to himself.

One of his subordinates, Inead, who controlled the dogs, looked at him with a troubled expression. "How is it possible for them to disappear so quickly—and so completely at that? Are they expert hunters or something?" she wondered.

Bukara, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "I don't believe they are. At least, not from their appearance."

Orion turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"Uh… they looked like one of those fancy folk. The kind who wear expensive clothes and smell like flowers."

Orion furrowed his brows. "Smell like flowers…? What did they look like?"

"They certainly weren't from around here. The warrior had skin the color of nutmeg cider—the kind the chief likes to drink—and eyes the color of gold." Bukara hesitated before continuing.

Gold? "And the other one?" Orion pressed impatiently.

"Uh, he… he looked like he could be from around here," Bukara admitted, clearing his throat. "Light skin, gray eyes. But he carried himself like someone from faraway lands."

Orion cocked a brow, intrigued.

"So, foreigners," he mused. "I wonder what brought them here—and from where… Well, there's no point chasing them now. We'll head back to base and report this to the chief."

Bukara swallowed hard at the thought of facing the chief. He knew he had made a mistake—one their leader wouldn't overlook. All he could do was hope the chief was in a good mood.

~*~

"No matter how good you are, there's always someone better. Isn't that right, Bukara?"

Bukara stiffened as the chief's piercing gaze settled on him.

Although the man wore a smile, Bukara could tell by looking into his eyes that it was anything but genuine. In fact, that look told him everything—the chief had plans for him.

Plans he wouldn't like.

"So, we have foreigners in our midst," the chief mused, tapping his chin with his index finger.

"And you have no idea where they might be headed?"

Bukara shook his head. "It looked like they were heading toward the Sempiternus Mountains."

"Oh? Aren't those mountains in our territory?" the chief asked, raising a brow.

"That is correct, Chief," Orion replied. "I believe that's Yuri's current station."

"I see. Well, let's pay our dear old Yuri a visit, then. Perhaps, if luck is on our side, we'll meet our foreign friends." He then turned his gaze on Bukara.

"As for you… we'll decide your punishment on the way there. Gather the men. We set off at dawn."

~*~

Ceremus and Atilla had finally reached civilization, and the number of people living in such a cold region took the king aback.

His brown skin stood in stark contrast to the pale, colourless expanse, an undeniable presence in an unfamiliar land.

A child, no older than seven, pointed at Ceremus, his big grey eyes sparkling with wonder and curiosity. Whispers erupted among the villagers, but Ceremus paid them no mind. As king, he was used to being the center of attention, so a couple of dozen gawkers were nothing. However, he felt one sharp and piercing gaze among the people. His eyes scanned the crowd and zeroed in on a figure hiding in the shadows.

He narrowed his eyes at the figure for a moment before looking away.

They passed through the small village and stopped by a nearby shop to ask some questions. Just as they made their way inside, the figure in the crowd disappeared.

"Hello, welcome to my shop. How can I help you?" an older gentleman asked as soon as they entered the establishment.