The sound of footsteps echoed loudly off the gleaming, polished marble floor as the group neared to the main office.

  Corym was walking at the front, running a hand through his golden hair as he led the group through the castle’s wide corridors.

  "Hey, what do you think he’s like?" Zara whispered to Sylleth excitedly, her ears twitching with delight.

  "Who? Corym?" the boy tilted his head in confusion.

  "No, silly! The prince, duh!" she explained, giving his shoulder a light pat.

  "Ah... I don’t know, but I guess he probably must be a lot like Corym anyways." he replied, glancing toward the elf walking ahead.

  Zara, dissatisfied with Sylleth's response turned her gaze towards Niall that was walking beside Sylleth and whispered to him. "What about you? Have you met him before?"

  Not taking his eyes from the figure he's been carving since they entered the city, Niall shrugged. "Never, it's the first time we've got a job from someone so high up who isn't a Dunne."

  "Right, but people say that he doesn't show himself a lot ever since he became the prince." Vidar cut in from behind, as they approached a giant pair of iron doors.

  "Okay we're here, this will be his first impression on you, so please don't embarrass yourselves in front of him" Informed them Corym, looking back at the group, his hand motioning Sylleth to come closer.

  "Oh, now you're telling me?" Lirian, standing only thanks of Sif's help, snickered.

  "It's your fault you didn't take the crutches." Said Lukius, giving him a disapproving look, at which Sif simply nodded

  "They would make me look even worse!" He shouted back.

  "Okay stop! Let's just enter." Corym shook his head, turning back and knocking on the door, which immedately after started moving to the sides with a soft thud.

  As they entered, they saw that the room inside wasn't as big as they imagined. Its thick, stone walls held the marble ceiling, decorated in gold patterns that shimmered beneath a chandelier—smaller, no doubt, than the one in Corym’s own halls.

  Two guards coated in gold armor stood on both sides of the door, their spears held high up and crossed right before the group.

  In the middle, right in front of two, giant stained glass windows, placed was a wooden bench, at which a man dressed in a white coat was sitting.

  His red braids swayed softly as he pushed them from his back, laying them on the shoulder.

  Looking up from the desk, the man exhaled a sigh of relief.

  "Let them in." He commanded, rising and tucking his golden glasses into a small black box.

  The guards obeyed instantly, their heavy spears scraped against the marble as they moved them away.

  As the man stood, both his white robe and hair that were adorned with jewelry shimmered under the light of orange mana orbs floating around the chandelier.

  His face was pale, his eyebrows delicate and eyelashes unnaturally long, his features held an almost ethereal femininity, which together with his high-pitched voice made him resemble more a teenage girl than a prince.

  "I see you made it here alive." He said with a soft smile that didn’t reach his golden eyes, which moments later lowered as he gave Corym a soft bow.

  The elf responded bowing a little lower with respect. "And I see you've already heard about the attack."

  "Well..." He gave a look at embarrassed Lirian, that tried to clumsily hide behind Vidar. "... Something like that couldn't possibly go unnoticed by me." Those words left his mouth with a soft but also monotone tone.

  "It could ha-" Mallory tried to cut in in, but in the end was interrupted by Syviis, who placed her hand over the dawrfs mouth and gave her a stern look.

  "Please, take a seat, there is a lot to talk about." The man stretched his hand towards the red, leather couch placed against one of the walls and with a swift motion of his wrist it moved right in front of the table.

  "Thank you." Corym quickly sat down right in front of the prince, and the group followed.

  "Ah... I'm sorry, I was informed there will be only eight of you... I'll call the guards for more seats." He turned to Lukius and Vidar who were left standing up.

  "There's no need for that." Lukius reassured him with a soft bow.

  "It's our fault, we grabbed those two last second." Sif nodded towards Zara and Sylleth, who were both still pretty nervous.

  The prince sent them a soft smile and sat down, then he turned towards Corym. "I see, then let's get into details."

  With a quick wave of his hand, he motioned the guards to quickly leave, and as they did, the door closed shut.

  "What is it, Ilya?" Corym's tone changed into a softer one as he leaned towards the map.

  "The ley lines."The prince responded, resting his head on his hand with a sigh. "It seems like someone is meddling with the main ley line vines of the underground."

  Corym's breath caught as he quickly leaned even closer, his eyes piqued with interest. "Are you sure?"

  "Certainly." Ilya nodded, his thumb playing with one of the golden rings on his forefinger. "However we don't know who that is, or why do they do it."

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  He quickly took a scroll out of one of the drawers and unrolled a map on his desk, pushing it towards the group and pointing his finger—which fingernails were adorned with golden pieces—at one of the routes that lead into the neighboring city.

  "You will be working here." He stated, taking his glasses back from the box and putting them on. "Since this place is under the govern of Ryagadan, I can't legally move any of my legions there, what is worse, the ruler of the city doesn't even care about the ley lines."

  "... That's why you decided to call for us?" Sif asked, examining the map.

  Ilya nodded once again. "Since you're just a group of adventurers, I believe my cousin won't suspect anything."

  "Will we be working alone?" Cut in Lirian from the side, leaning in closer to the map.

  "No, a group from Yralo will join you, however, because of Yralo's internal affairs they will be ready around three months from now." He explained, playing with the golden chains that were attached to his glasses.

  "Then why did you call us so soon?" Corym's gaze turned towards the man as he grasped the edge of the table.

  "Well, three months is a long time, right?" His gilded nail circled the city on the map. "And while the other group prepares.... there's a matter you could take care of. Discreetly of course." His finger began to gently tap the map, directing everyone's gaze to the city of Yralo.

  "And what would that matter be?" Sif chipped in, her arms crossed at the prince’s theatrics.

  The prince’s golden eyes flicked to Corym. "Consider it... insurance. After all, what good are allies who never arrive?"

  The lantern light cast a pale glow over the castle barracks, dug deep into one of the caves beneath the city.

  Sylleth sat slumped on a wooden beam, watching the entrance blocked by a heavy gate as he waited for his mentor to finish his discussions with the prince.

  To his left, just beneath the lantern, Zara was playing with a rusted spear she'd found in the armory, twirling it in circles before stabbing it into the ground with a playful hop.

  "He could hurry up..." the boy muttered, tearing off a piece of bark and tossing it lightly into the air.

  Seeing his sour expression, the girl giggled.

  "Heeey." With a grin, she tossed the spear aside and bounced over to the elf. "Let's kill time until he gets back."

  "So?" The boy caught the piece of bark, scratching something into the mud with it.

  "I dunno..." She started circling around him. "...Maybe... we could spar?"

  "Spar?" Sylleth lifted his head, glancing at the girl—just as the gate swung open.

  A blond-haired elf stepped inside, holding two daggers. "Oh, Zara... We will start the training now, you can watch if you want." He tossed one of the daggers at Sylleth’s feet.

  The girl snorted, muttering under her breath. "So much for sparring."

  Sylleth chuckled. "C’mon, we’ve got plenty of time for that later."

  As she headed towards one of the benches, Sylleth got to his feet and picked up the dagger, brushing the mud off of it.

  "Did you wait long? Ilya kept me longer than I expected." The elf remarked, flashing the boy a small smile.

  Sylleth returned the smile before stepping a little closer. "Where do we start?"

  "Theory... you won’t get far without it." Sif’s voice came from behind the gate as she entered the barracks, her sword in hand.

  "Ah! Lady Sif! What are you doing here?!" Zara called out from the side, waving at her.

  "I asked Sif to be the one to teach you swordsmanship. I’ll mostly handle the theory." The elf said, turning to Sylleth.

  "Try to attack me." The dark-haired woman leveled her steel sword at the boy, her gaze sharp.

  "Eh?" The young elf glanced at Corym, who had taken a few steps back and sat down beside Zara.

  "Go on." She pressed, eyeing the dagger gripped clumsily in his hand.

  The boy hesitated for a moment, then finally leaned forward—gripping the dagger with both hands—and charged at her.

  "Hmm... you’re quite fast, I'll give you that." she remarked, effortlessly dodging each of his awkward strikes.

  Until finally, when he aimed for her stomach—his dagger was ripped from his grasp in a split second, embedding itself in the dirt beside Corym’s boot.

  "Ah!" The boy gasped in shock, his eyes instinctively following the dropped weapon until cold steel pressed against his throat.

  "Never look away." The woman instructed, holding the flat of her blade against his neck.

  With a swift motion of her left hand, she grabbed a practice sword from one of the barrels and tossed it toward Sylleth. "Try with this one."

  Zara watched from the sidelines, suppressing giggles with each of the boy's failed strikes, her amusement growing with every clumsy swing.

  Corym, on the other hand was really invested in observing the training, furrowing his brows every time Sylleth managed to even dodge Sif's attacks. At every half-dodge or a close slash his eyes twitched, mentally correcting each of the young elf's mistakes.

  Only a few minutes had passed when the boy's attacks began slowing. His breathing grew shallow and rapid, his muscles now too leaden for further training.

  His grip on the sword's handle tightened, he tried his best to keep training, as the unwanted memories of his family started flowing back into his head, unfortunately merely single light kick to his legs was enough to shake him back into reality and put him flat on his back for good.

  "You've got no stamina at all," Sif chuckled, sheathing her sword.

  The boy closed his eyes, relaxing his muscles as his sweat dripped onto the cold stone, mixing with the barracks’ damp musk.

  After no more than a few seconds he asked with slight hoarseness in his voice: "So... how'd I do?"

  "You've got potential... however it won't help you, when a minute into battle you're already gasping like a landed fish..." She tossed the remark over her shoulder as she stepped past him to sit beside Corym.

  Zara came bouncing toward the boy, circling him with giggles. "So? Sparring?"

  "No... can't do it today," he gasped, tracking the hopping girl with his eyes.

  "Awwww... You're no fun at all..." The girl pouted, crossing her arms and dramatically spinning on her heel.

  "Heh... give me some break..." The boy managed a weak chuckle, his untrained lungs barely allowing even that much.

  Zara just glanced at him over her shoulder, sticking out her tongue before stomping back to the bench.

  "Well, Sif told me you can do better." Corym said from above, standing right next to Sylleth's head and looking down at him, his blond locks shimmered faintly in the lanterns light.

  "So... we'll be training like this every day now?" The boy asked, pushing himself up with some effort into a sitting position.

  "For the next two weeks, yes. Then we head to Yralo." The elf handed the boy a waterskin, sitting beside him while glancing at Sif who was curiously inspecting the barracks equipment.

  "Hmm... hey, how long have you known everyone?" The boy asked, his gaze shifting from Sif to Zara who was once again playing with her rusted spear.

  "Hmm... must be nearly a decade now." Corym rested his head on his hand. "Lirian's father was a merchant who often visited my family's estate... I met Lirian when he helped escort his wagons, and that's when I convinced him to become an adventurer." A smile appeared on the elf's pale face at the pleasant memory. "His group once helped us with a fire in one of our buildings... and since then, there's no one I trust more than them."

  The boy also smiled, his slightly weary gaze drifting downward to glance at his left hand. "...The scar."

  "Hm? Did you say something?" The elf turned toward him, watching as the boy rolled up his tunic sleeve.

  His arm was wrapped in a blackened scar that stretched from wrist to elbow.

  "It seems... bigger." Corym furrowed his brows, examining the scar that pulsed faintly from time to time.

  "...It grew after fighting the Wyrm..." The boy replied, covering it with his sleeve again.

  "Ah yes... we'll need to teach you magic too." Corym chuckled, shaking his head as he stood up. "This might not be as simple as I thought." He extended a hand to help the boy up.

  "Alright then, heading back to the castle?" Sif asked, approaching the elves.

  "Yeah yeah! Let's go! I'm exhausted..." Zara shouted, tossing her spear back to the ground and bouncing toward the group.

  "You don't look it..." The boy laughed, slowly following Corym and Sif toward the exit.

  "Quiet, you!" Zara patted his shoulder, grabbing his hand and leading him outside.