Rook Isle

Athena ran through the forest, exercising as she digested the small stream of information her system had been feeding her over the past two days.

The system had yet to clarify whether this world was an actual planet or something else entirely. All she knew for now was that it consisted of seven continents — Aedrelis, Dravania, Vorynthia, Iserion, Solvaris, Elowen, and Gorgorath.

Aedrelis, her home continent, was flanked by Solvaris — the domain of fractured human empires — and Vorynthia, a land teeming with beastkin tribes. Both lay far beyond her current concern, so she focused her attention on Aedrelis, the ancestral land of the elves.

Aedrelis is made up of four kingdoms, each ruled by a different king. Every kingdom oversees a number of islands scattered across its territory. Unlike the other continents constantly caught in schemes and warfare, Aedrelis remained neutral, standing quietly in the middle of it all — reserved, insular, and untouched by outside chaos.

But Athena, of course, knew better.

The first Kingdom,Thalorion of the Northern isles was ruled by King Elenvar Thaloris.

The second, Velmoria of the Western Isles was ruled by Queen Liraen Velmorin.

The third,Drael'Thir was ruled by High King Vaelrith Draelthorn. His kingdom consisted of the islands on the East.

Then finally the last Kingdom, Kaerithal was under the rule of Archmage-King Thandor Kaelis in the South.

Elandor or Luinmir as it was previously known was under the Archmage-King Thandor Kaelis,but not anymore.

The system refused to give her more information,or even tell her more about their islands and the inner workings.

In Aedrelis, mages were everything. A child born with magical aptitude was a prized commodity. They were the noble class, the elite, the arbiters of Aedrelian society. Knights might serve as symbols of strength in Solvaris, but here—mages ruled.

When a commoner birthed a mage child, it ended one of two ways: the family accepted a generous offer and surrendered the child to be raised by the state… or the authorities came and took them anyway. Some families never saw their children again. Others never even tried. A few young mages disowned their own bloodlines just for a chance at acceptance.

That was the weight of power here.

That was the cruelty beneath the grace.

Athena slowed her pace and came to a halt as she walked through the gates,if she wanted to know more,the next course of action would be to send spies and she currently had none,so time to focus on other things.

She had just neared the cluster of stalls when she noticed something unusual—movement. A lot of it.

People were already awake and bustling about, their silhouettes flitting between the buildings as they moved large bags of food into the stalls. Her brow arched in confusion as she mentally pulled up the time using her system.

06:47 AM.

She blinked. That couldn't be right. She normally took about two full hours for her morning exercises and even after that the village would still retain its quietness for about another hour —this was earlier than usual. The village was never this lively at dawn.

"What's going on…?" she muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.

After the first cleanup,the villagers kind of stuck to it and now the empty manors and stalls had been scrubbed and restored to a clean state.

Just as she was about to question further, the system's neutral voice chimed in.

[Notification: A ship has docked at the southern port.]

Athena blinked again. A ship?

Then it hit her. The sailor…After discovering the mines she had been busy with Faelor.

After handing him the freshly printed mining manual, she sat with him day and night, explaining every detail—how to properly identify usable slate, the traditional and alternative methods of processing chalk, and even how to distinguish between raw minerals and impurities. Faelor, despite his rugged and gruff appearance, was surprisingly sharp. He soaked in the information like a sponge, asking the right questions and taking notes when needed.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked aloud, mentally snapping at the system.

[They were not flagged as intruders. I deemed the alert unnecessary.]

She groaned under her breath. Of course. Sometimes the system's logic could be a little too literal.

Before she could think further, voices began calling out to her.

"Good morning, Your Highness!"

"Ah, Lady Athena!"

People spotted her, and one by one, voices grew louder in waves. Some eyes brimmed with tears—raw emotion and relief etched into weary faces. It had been years since they'd seen such abundance. Crates of food. Flour sacks. Boxes of clean clothes.

Athena offered a nod and a soft smile, responding gently to each greeting. It was impossible not to be moved by their happiness. That raw, fragile hope that shimmered in their eyes… it grounded her and gave her the feeling of responsibility.

She would not let that light fade.

By the time she reached the port, the sun had risen just enough to paint the skies in soft gold. The dock was a flurry of activity—wagons being loaded, crates stacked, and animals being gently ushered from the ship.

She wasn't surprised to see Elandor among them, overseeing the entire operation like a proud grandfather. What did surprise her, though, was the sight of Kael. The boy had been curled up in deep sleep when she left the manor—yet here he was, bright-eyed and determined, trying to load a particularly stubborn chicken into a wagon.

He hadn't even noticed her yet.

She let out a soft chuckle.

Still, whispers traveled through the crowd. Confused murmurs about the large number of animals being delivered. Chickens. Goats. Even a few cows. Some villagers tilted their heads, whispering:

"Why not buy more grains instead?"

"We can't even eat them now… what's the point?"

They still stuck to their ridiculous beliefs that land animals couldn't be eaten,Athena couldn't wait to prove them wrong. All she was going to do was to set up a barbecue stand,probably at the village square and let the aroma do the rest. She smirked as she imagined the torture.

"Your Highness!" Elandor called out, spreading his arms as she approached.

The man beside him, broad-shouldered and muscular—unlike most of the half-starved villagers—bowed deeply. His clothes were worn, his mid length chestnut hair,tied up in a bun.

"The Walters have arrived," Elandor announced with a smile that crinkled his entire face.

________

Three days ago...

The Walters arrived at the neighboring island under cover of darkness, the waves gently rocking their ship into the harbor. Despite the late hour, there was no rest. As soon as the anchor dropped, Islar Walter, known simply as Walter to most, gathered his large family on the deck. The moon cast a silvery glow on their faces, and the scent of salt clung to their clothes.

"Alright," Walter called out, his voice low. "We've only got the next two days. I don't want any delays, any accidents, or anyone getting caught up in nonsense. Stick to the list, stay in pairs, and don't get robbed."

From his side, Clara, his wife, crossed her arms and smiled. "You forgot the most important part — don't let Groff haggle. We're trying to save silver, not waste it."

There was a light round of laughter.

Garrick, the eldest brother with a stern jaw and unreadable face, stepped forward and took the list from Walter's hand. "Let's divide this up efficiently. We have 3,000 silvers. That's not small coin, but not enough to waste either."

His wife, Ilyra, stood beside him, calm and dignified even in the dim lighting. She was the kind of woman whose presence could silence a room with a look. She took the list next and scanned it thoughtfully.

"We'll handle the seeds," Ilyra said. "Garrick knows the vendors that sell the best stock, and I know how to tell if they're lying."

"I'll get the parchment and ink," came a smooth voice behind them. Daniel, the second eldest and notorious for being a silver-tongued trader, leaned lazily against the railing. "Tessa's good at sweet-talking the scribes. Might even get a discount."

Tessa, his bubbly and endlessly curious wife, beamed. "I'll bring the kids with us—Mina and Callen can help carry. It'll be fun!"

Mina, 16, and Callen, 13, their children, perked up at the mention.

"I'll take the cloth and sandals," Mira said calmly, stepping forward. The only sister among them, she carried herself with quiet authority and a mind like a ledger. Though proposals came and went over the years, she never accepted one. No one asked anymore. "I'll go with Jareth."

Jareth, second youngest, grinned. "I'll charm the vendors. Mira can do the math."

"Fair enough," said Bran—short for Brandt—quiet and gentle, the fifth sibling. He lifted his sleepy-eyed daughter, Sera, into his arms. "Veran and I will get the food." Despite asking all the kids below 10 to stay behind,some clingy parents just couldn't listen.

Veran, his husband, was a flamboyant bard with a grin that rarely left his lips. "I'll sing a little and maybe charm some loaves from the baker."

"Don't forget we need sacks," Walter added dryly.

"We'll manage," Veran winked.

Groff, the sixth and often labeled the "troublemaker," yawned dramatically. "Don't know why I can't just handle food. I know what tastes good."

"That's exactly why you're not handling food," Clara said, giving him a pointed look.

Groff grinned. "Alright, Maelis and I will take tunics and sacks."

His wife, Maelis, sharp-eyed and always in control, nodded. "We'll take Kye and Lena with us," referring to Groff's 12-year-old son and 10-year-old daughter. "They'll help carry and stay out of trouble."

"Edwin?" Walter turned to the youngest.

"I'll stay with the parents," Edwin said with an easygoing shrug. "Besides, I'd rather help with the animals once they arrive."

Walter nodded approvingly. "Good. As for me, I'll handle the animals."

A hush fell.

"Don't worry," Walter said, his voice low. "I've got this."

"You and your shady friends," Mira muttered.

Clara sighed but didn't argue. The Walters had long navigated grey waters, and this was no different. Selling land animals was technically banned — except for noble use — but nobles didn't always follow their own rules. Neither did the Walters.

Terry and Marie, the elderly but still sharp-eyed parents, stood at the side, watching it all with pride.

"I'll keep the kids with me," Marie said. "No point dragging them into that market mess."

Walter folded the final copy of the list and tucked it into his coat.

"You lot move at first light," he said. " I leave now. The sooner I meet him the better.

As Walter disappeared into the shadows of the quiet port, his coat fluttering in the night breeze, the ship behind him settled into silence. The crew remained below desk, the lanterns dimmed.

A soft creak sounded from one of the smaller crates stacked near the rear deck. A moment later, the lid was pushed aside and a small figure slipped out—barefoot, wiry, and no older than seven. His clothes were worn, patched from too many past escapes, and his hair stuck up like he'd slept inside a grain sack.

The boy squinted in the direction Walter had gone, then glanced back at the ship.

"Cursed Island, huh..." he muttered under his breath, scratching his head. "What kinda detour does a ship make to be heading from that direction and alive?"

He sniffed once, then grinned. He hopped off the crate and landed lightly on the dock, his eyes sharp despite his age. Informations like this useful or not could be sold,at least to the right person.Here on Rook Isle everything had a price.

He ducked using the shadows as cover as he headed to God knows where...