The duo continued watching the city from the walls for a few more hours. The dark veil of the night was pierced by the city’s lights. Seen from above, the golden glow of street lamps and the large fire pits in the squares wrapped around Rhazgord like the veins of a map. As the wind struck the stones of the walls, the coolness of the night settled over them like a thin blanket. Sometimes, they spoke of their own country’s internal affairs, and other times, they debated the Rhazgord monk’s prophecy and the catastrophe that would unfold if it came true.

  The words of the Rhazgord monks had always come to pass throughout history. Every prophecy had been confirmed in time, either with blood or ashes. However, this one seemed to foretell a far greater destruction. It was impossible to fully decipher, but the ominous tone that echoed within it gnawed at both of them. They wanted to talk more, but an important morning lay ahead. Corvus needed to prepare.

  As the first light of morning painted the palace’s stone walls, Corvus’s door opened once again. A warrior peeked inside, speaking in a respectful yet firm tone.

  “Sir, someone wishes to see you.”

  Corvus lifted his head as if it were just another routine occurrence, but when he heard the name, an uncertain glimmer flickered in his eyes.

  “Sardiun?”

  It was unexpected for Sardiun to come and see him before the meeting. However, Corvus had already guessed the reason for this visit. He had planned to speak with him privately after the meeting anyway.

  “Let him in.” he said in a short tone.

  The moment Sardiun entered, he bowed low with elaborate gestures. His words were adorned with the elegance befitting the old palace traditions. However, as always, Corvus remained indifferent to such grand salutations and merely acknowledged him with a slight nod.

  “Lord Tiamat, may I speak with you privately in a quieter and more appropriate place?”

  Corvus’s eyebrows lifted slightly. He had already sensed Sardiun’s intentions. When he suggested that they leave together, Corvus did not object.

  As they passed through the palace’s long stone corridors and reached the inner garden, Corvus ordered his warriors not to follow. Now, they were truly alone.

  At the center of the inner garden stood a large pergola, covered in vines. Inside, the soft morning light intermingled with deep shadows. When they reached the stone seating area beneath the pergola, Corvus leaned back against the wooden support. His deep crimson eyes locked onto Sardiun. His gaze was threatening.

  “You said you wanted to speak privately.” he said in a cold voice.

  “Yet, I see your men lurking in the shadows.”

  Sardiun’s eyes widened slightly before he quickly bowed his head.

  “I assure you, sir,” he said in a low voice.

  “They are only making sure no one else enters the garden. Besides, there are only four of them—they couldn’t even lay a scratch on you.”

  A faint smile appeared on Corvus’s face. But it was not a smile of amusement.

  “Six.”

  Sardiun’s expression froze for a moment. He turned to Corvus in confusion.

  “I beg your pardon, lord Tiamat?”

  “Not four. Six.” Corvus repeated, his voice sharp as a blade.

  “But as I before said, you are free to test me.”

  Sardiun’s heart quickened for a moment. Four of his warriors were visible, but the remaining two… They were among the finest assassins of the Sizat Empire. Masters of blending into the shadows. No one had ever detected their presence before. Yet Corvus… he had.

  “I would never dare such a thing, my lord!” Sardiun said quickly. With a single hand gesture, he dismissed the eyes lurking in the shadows. Now, they were truly alone.

  Corvus leaned back comfortably against the wooden supports. His crimson eyes once again scrutinized Sardiun.

  “I heard that in the Adler tongue, when someone does not understand politics or complex matters, people say ‘He is like a Rhazgordian.’” he said, his voice laced with mockery.

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  “It is irritating, yet not entirely untrue. I, too, dislike complex matters. That’s why I will speak plainly.”

  Sardiun was not particularly surprised by Corvus’s directness. He already knew what Corvus was going to say, but he still waited attentively. Out of respect, he had chosen to remain standing. Corvus sat, his gaze fixed upon him with the watchful patience of a predator observing its prey.

  “I have two reasons for coming here, Sardiun.” Corvus said, leaning forward slightly.

  Sardiun watched him in silence, his eyes filled with both curiosity and caution. The garden’s stone ground was still cool in the morning sun, and the ivy-covered pergola swayed slightly in the breeze. This could very well be the last moment of peace within that silence.

  “First, as everyone knows, there is the matter of the Monk’s Prophecy.”

  Sardiun nodded in acknowledgment. The prophecy loomed over them like a dangerous shadow, capable of shaking all political balances. However, when Corvus’s voice took on a sharper tone, Sardiun’s expression grew more attentive.

  “The second matter is the main reason why I was sent here… and why even our Sanguinr saw fit to attend this meeting.”

  Corvus’s eyes narrowed, the flames of his anger burning within them.

  “Respect.”

  That single word cut through the air like a blade.

  “I am sure your spies have already informed you of what happened in Bahoz. And you must have also heard that we razed three kingdoms to the ground in retribution.”

  Sardiun quickly interjected in a respectful tone.

  “We are indeed aware of their disgraceful actions. When our Emperor learned of their vile schemes, he was enraged. We were pleased to see those who failed to show you the respect you deserve pay the price.”

  A cynical smirk played on Corvus’s lips.

  “Do you think only those three small kingdoms looked down on us?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying an unmistakable threat.

  “Do you believe we were unaware of Brihmond’s involvement?”

  The calm composure on Sardiun’s face cracked slightly. Corvus studied him with narrowed eyes before continuing.

  “Tell me, Sardiun, when your prince called me—the representative of Rhazgord—a ‘barbarian’ was that an act of respect?”

  Sardiun raised his hands as if to dispel a great misunderstanding. His lips were about to form an explanation when Corvus raised a hand, cutting him off completely.

  “Listen, Sardiun.” Corvus said, his voice sharp with impatience.

  “I don’t give a damn about your foolish prince.”

  Slowly, he stood up. His shadow stretched over the pergola as the morning light cast fine lines across it.

  “From this moment on, you will relay my words to your emperor exactly as I say them.”

  Sardiun did not avert his gaze from Corvus. The artificial expressions had vanished from his face, leaving only seriousness and attentiveness behind.

  “The continent is yours,” Corvus said, his voice as cold and immutable as fate itself.

  “We do not care and have never cared. The only thing that concerns us is sending the demons back to where they came from.”

  Sardiun’s breath quickened ever so slightly. Corvus’s words held no mere provocation, only a definitive certainty.

  “We have never annexed the lands of the kingdoms we have fought. We have never turned them into vassal states. We have never sought to rival Sizat. But know this well—we are one of the two great power centers of this continent, and we do not see ourselves as beneath you.”

  Corvus took a few steps forward. His piercing eyes met Sardiun’s unflinchingly. And then, he said something unexpected.

  “Rhazgord does not fear you. On the contrary, we wish to unite with you against the demons that threaten this entire continent.”

  The wind rustled the ivy-covered pergola harshly. The silence lurking in the shadows momentarily shattered with the sudden movement. Sunlight filtered through the wooden columns, illuminating the edges of Corvus’s armor. Even in the dim light, his crimson eyes gleamed menacingly.

  And at that moment, Sardiun realized—this was no mere conversation. This was a moment that could alter the fate of the continent.

  Sardiun quickly began running through scenarios in his mind. Corvus’s words weren’t just spoken for effect; they carried a deep truth within them. And most importantly, there was no deception in them.

  Rhazgord had not expanded its lands for thousands of years. Yet, they had razed kingdoms to the ground countless times. They knew how to destroy, but they had never been interested in conquest. This wasn’t because their rulers lacked the ambition for it. Instead, they preferred to instill fear, disrupt balances, and carve their own path.

  Sardiun’s mind continued to analyze rapidly. It was an undeniable fact that they were the other great power on the continent. They had few allies, but being few in number did not mean they were weak. Many kingdoms that had escaped the clutches of the demons owed their survival solely to Rhazgord’s intervention. Without them, much of the continent would have been crushed under the shadow of the demon hordes.

  But this aid came at a price. When Rhazgord’s army “assisted” a kingdom, nothing in those lands ever remained the same. Everyone who saw their soldiers kneeled, lords did not question their decisions, and kings had no choice but to shake Rhazgord’s hand. Because no one dared to stand against that army.

  Sardiun narrowed his eyes. If Rhazgord truly decided to make diplomatic moves…

  For a brief moment, he felt the weight of this possibility in his mind. If Rhazgord pursued proper diplomacy, they could form their own bloc and corner Sizat. That would be a nightmare for Sizat.

  And the most intriguing part? Rhazgord had never had such intentions before. For years, they had remained neutral in the war between the two greatest powers of the continent, the Sizat and Adler Empires. If they had intervened, they could have brought both war-weary empires to their knees and seized control of the continent’s fate. But they hadn’t.

  What about now?

  As Sardiun weighed Corvus’s words against these realities, he found himself unable to decide—nor did he have the authority to. The only person who could approve a collaboration between Rhazgord and Sizat was the Emperor of Sizat himself. And the way Sardiun presented his report, the conclusions he drew from this meeting, could change everything.

  But there was one thing he now knew for certain:

  He would never use the phrase “like a Rhazgordian” again.