The next morning, the village was alive with movent. Horses were saddled, packs secured, and carts rattled as they were loaded with batteries and bulbs, the goods Liraeth would later sell. Armor glinted under the rising sun, the air heavy with both excitent and the quiet weight of departure.
At the gate, a crowd had gathered. Grokk stood tall with the guard units, Lunira and her wolf pack at her side, and many villagers, monsters and humans alike.
Uncle Drake bent low, speaking softly with Celine as she cradled baby Evelyn, while Orrin lingered at his. Not far off, Jen leaned close to Old Man Dan, her voice hushed but affectionate as she said her goodbyes.
"Grokk," Lumberling called out, stepping forward. "Occasionally check the second base for while Shade hasn’t woken up yet."
The hulking gnoll’s grin was toothy and confident. "Leave it to , my lord. With the strength you’ve given , I can be there in no ti if trouble cos."
"Good," Lumberling nodded firmly. "Take care of things here in my absence. And if sothing happens, send word imdiately."
Grokk pounded his chest with pride. "You’ll have no worries from this end."
Nearby, Jen was stroking Lunira’s thick fur while the great wolf pressed its head gently against her. A smaller newly born cubs pawed at Jen’s hands, whining softly.
"Stay safe, alright? I’ll be back before you know it," Jen whispered, forcing a smile though her eyes glistened.
Lunira let out a low, rumbling growl, not of threat, but of promise, and nudged her once more before stepping back.
Finally, everything was ready. The group split into two groups.
Uncle Drake, Jen, Karnark, and the lizardn would head toward Drosvain City, leading the carts filled with goods to rendezvous with Skitz’s band. Their path would be slower, weighed down with cargo, but steady.
anwhile, Lumberling, Liraeth, and her guards prepared to take a different road. Their destination, the imperial capital.
Liraeth tightened the straps on her saddle, then cast a sidelong glance at him. "Looks like it’s just you and for a while."
Lumberling adjusted his spear across his back and smirked faintly. "That worries . You might get tired of halfway through."
Her lips twitched upward. "Or maybe I’ll realize I enjoy the quiet when you’re not talking."
He chuckled, mounting his horse. "We’ll see about that."
With final farewells exchanged, the two groups set off in opposite directions.
The journey to the capital had begun.
...
The horses moved at a steady pace, their hooves drumming against the dirt road. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Lumberling rode alongside Liraeth, the two of them a little ahead of the others.
"What’s the capital like?" Lumberling spoke, breaking the silence.
Liraeth’s gaze drifted toward the horizon. "There’s not much to talk about it. The sa people keep the power. Those who already sit at the top won’t allow others to rise. In short the empire is ruled with an iron fist."
"No princes scheming for the throne? No rebellions to topple the old order?" Lumberling asked, half-curious, half-testing.
She giggled softly, a sound that carried over the clatter of hooves. "Such a thing rarely happens. Strength rules everything in this empire. If soone stronger than the emperor appeared, then even he would have no choice but to step aside."
Lumberling’s expression grew thoughtful. Perhaps that’s why the emperor covets artifacts above all else... even at the cost of letting his cities burn and borders crumble.
To him, they might be the key to reaching greater heights, staying the strongest, untouchable at the peak. In the end, he chooses power above all else.
"You’re thinking too hard again," Liraeth teased, leaning slightly in her saddle to glance at him.
"Maybe." He gave a faint smile. "I was just wondering what it would feel like to et a man who’s lived for a thousand years... and still sits on the throne."
Her lips curved, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Be careful not to be too eager. n who climb that high don’t look kindly on others who climb too fast."
He turned his head toward her, his voice light but edged with mischief. "Is that worry I hear? Or are you just afraid I’ll catch the soone’s eye and be stolen away into politics?"
Liraeth scoffed, though her cheeks colored faintly. "Don’t flatter yourself. I just don’t want to waste my ti dragging you out of trouble."
Lumberling chuckled. "Ah. So it is worry after all."
Her head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. "Don’t twist my words, narcissist."
He lifted a hand in surrender. "Fine, fine. I’ll behave."
...
After nearly a month of travel, the sight that greeted them stole the breath from Lumberling’s chest.
Pentagara, the capital of the Pentaline Empire, rose before him like a dream given stone and mortar.
Towering white walls stretched across the horizon. Beyond them, the spires of tall, elegant buildings reached skyward, their roofs tiled in shades of sapphire and gold that caught the light like jewels. The city seed to hum with quiet power, an ordered strength that pressed down on all who approached.
For a long mont, Lumberling said nothing. His eyes lingered on the massive gates, wide enough for ten carriages abreast, guarded by soldiers whose armor glead as if it had never known rust.
"It’s beautiful," he admitted quietly. "Almost too clean... and too perfect."
Liraeth, riding close beside him, smiled faintly. "That’s the capital for you. Everything you see here is ant to impress, and to remind everyone. The walls, the streets, the spires... they tell every visitor that the empire stands untouchable."
His gaze swept lower as they passed through the gates. The streets within were broad and spotless, lined with shops and banners that fluttered in the wind. Soldiers and Knights patrolled openly, their presence so common it almost seed mundane.
"So many..." he muttered. Dozens of knights moved among them, though none carried the bearing of a True Knight, their sheer numbers made them seem like common soldiers.
"Knights?" Liraeth guessed, following his gaze. She leaned slightly toward him, her voice low but sure. "This is only the surface. The capital is where the empire gathers its blades. The true powers don’t waste their ti walking the streets, they sit behind walls higher than these."
Lumberling’s brow furrowed, though his lips curved faintly. "Sounds suffocating."
"Or exhilarating," she countered, her eyes glinting. "Depends on whether you see it as a prison... or as a ladder."
He gave her a sidelong look, thoughtful, then let out a short laugh. "Trust you to see it that way."
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