With such a strict selection process, discipline was ingrained into the Adamant Guards at an almost fanatical level. That was why, when Mikael and his group arrived at the general quarters and found no trace of the two armies that were supposed to be awaiting them, they were caught off guard.
Lyra’s gaze swept across the courtyard. Aside from the guards stationed at the entrance and a few Adamant Guards going about their duties, there was no sign of the forces they had expected to find. She frowned. “Where are they?”
Mikael had the same question in mind. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, but instead of answers, he found something else—Amelia, her expression dark, a grim look clouding her face. Sensing something was wrong, he turned to her. “Amelia, do you know what’s going on?”
Her emerald eyes met his. “I can’t say for sure, but it’s likely some nobles are trying to make things difficult for us. Yesterday, during the meeting, some of them seemed intent on delaying our attack…” she said, her voice carrying a tinge of restrained fury.
Before she could elaborate, Kiara suddenly spoke up. “I’m certain it’s the nobles,” she declared, walking back toward the group. Behind her, one of the Adamant Guards stationed at the entrance stood frozen, his face sickly pale, his hands trembling. The sheer terror in his eyes as he looked at Kiara raised an unspoken question—just what had she done to extract information from him so quickly when the others weren’t looking?
"Those bastards! I knew it!" Amelia cursed, her expression darkening as anger flared in her emerald eyes. Self-serving nobles, prioritizing their own interests over the countless lives at stake—it was infuriating. Their blatant disregard for the suffering of others reminded her too much of a certain fanatical cult from Dirarnia.
And as she dwelled on it, memories of the Obsidian Covenant and Nexoria resurfaced—the destruction, the despair, the irreplaceable losses she had suffered. Her fury intensified.
Her fists clenched tightly. The hatred she harbored for the Covenant and Nexoria was now spilling over onto these nobles. To her, they were no different—ruthless, selfish, and utterly indifferent to the suffering of others, as if human lives were nothing more than disposable pawns in their schemes. If she ever found those responsible for this delay, they would come to regret standing in her way.
“Where are they?” she demanded, her voice thick with fury.
The other three glanced at one another, none of them able to provide an answer.
But the silence was broken—not by the people she expected, but by a voice unlike any other.
It was a melodic sound, impossibly pure, echoing with an air of divinity and majesty. It did not simply cut through the air—it commanded it.
And it was coming from her own hand.
“...The nobles delaying the war effort are Lord Eldric Valmont, Duke Alistair Ravenshire, Marquis Lucien Dorne, Lady Evangeline Rosethorne, and Countess Ophelia Duskbane.”
As Seraphis’s voice resonated in the air, Amelia’s expression hardened. “Do you know their locations?”
A fragmented response came from the divine crest on her hand. “Can’t talk much…”
A sharp glint flashed in Amelia’s eyes before she firmly replied, “Thank you for this information. I’ll take care of it.”
She barely waited for a response before turning on her heels, her gaze locking with Mikael’s. No words were needed—he understood. With a small nod, she strode away, her destination clear.
As she passed, the still pale-faced Adamant Guard instinctively stepped aside, his unease evident as his wary gaze flickered between the divine envoys—especially Kiara. When he saw Amelia approaching, fury radiating from her like a storm about to break, he didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, he moved out of her way.
Amelia paid him no mind and strode forward, her destination clear—the palace.
The three remaining envoys watched her go before Lyra finally broke the silence. “What does she intend to do to these nobles?” Her voice carried a mix of concern and apprehension. “I don’t think offending them is necessarily a good idea…”
Mikael let out a quiet chuckle at her hesitation. “We’re ‘divine envoys’ chosen by the Goddess Seraphis herself. Why should we worry about ‘mere’ mortal politics?” His words were laced with jest, yet there was an underlying edge of truth to them.
Without another word, he followed after Amelia. Kiara, ever silent yet unwavering, moved to follow him.
That left Lyra standing alone. She hesitated for a moment before murmuring to herself, “I still don’t think this is a good idea…” But in the end, she, too, followed.
The massive doors to the throne room burst open with a thunderous crash, the sound echoing through the grand chamber.
The herald standing near the entrance instinctively turned, prepared to reprimand whoever had dared to cause such a disturbance in the royal court. But the words died in his throat the moment he saw who it was. Instead of scolding them, he quickly straightened and announced in a firm voice, “The divine envoys!”
The Adamant Guards stationed near the doors tensed, their hands instinctively moving toward their weapons, ready to act against the blatant display of disrespect. However, upon hearing the herald’s words, they froze, their gazes shifting toward the four figures entering the throne room.
At the forefront was Amelia, her usually composed and striking visage marred by a deep frown. Behind her, Mikael, Lyra, and Kiara followed in step, their presence drawing every gaze in the room.
The herald’s voice carried through the chamber, drawing the attention of those present. Though the room wasn’t packed, it was far from empty. King Alden IV sat upon his throne, the chancellor standing dutifully at his side. Along the walls, a handful of nobles occupied the arranged seats—though notably, many remained vacant. The highest-ranking among them sat closest to the king, their expressions ranging from curiosity to unease as they observed the abrupt intrusion.
The king, his sharp gaze settling on the approaching envoys, raised a hand, signaling the noble currently addressing him to halt. The discussion about delaying the attack was no longer the priority—something far more pressing had entered the room.
Immediately, his attention shifted to the woman leading the group. Her vibrant green eyes burned with a cold fury as she advanced without hesitation. She neither bowed nor knelt, disregarding the formalities expected in the presence of the king.
When she finally stopped before the throne, her voice cut through the silence, firm and unyielding.
“Lord Eldric Valmont, Duke Alistair Ravenshire, Marquis Lucien Dorne, Lady Evangeline Rosethorne, and Countess Ophelia Duskbane—where are they?”
There was no deference in her tone, no diplomacy. Only demand.
“Impudent!” the chancellor bellowed, his voice echoing through the throne room, his face contorted with outrage. That these so-called ‘divine envoys’ would dare to speak to the king in such a manner—it was unthinkable!
Perhaps others feared these supposed envoys, but he had never been one to believe in divine intervention. Religion, in his eyes, was nothing more than a tool of manipulation. And these envoys? Charlatans at best. Their arrogance was insufferable.
“You are standing before the king! Show some respect—”
“Shut up before I make you!” Amelia’s sharp, commanding voice cut through the air like a blade.
A heavy silence fell over the room as the chancellor froze, his mouth slightly open in shock. Humiliation burned through him—being rebuked so publicly, in front of the king, the nobles, and the Adamant Guards. He clenched his fists, about to retaliate, but before he could utter another word—
A beautifully crafted bow appeared in Amelia’s grasp as if conjured from thin air, and in the same instant, a shimmering blue arrow formed at the string. Unlike any ordinary projectile, it pulsed with raw energy, its ethereal glow casting faint reflections across the polished floor. Without hesitation, she had already nocked it, the tip unwavering as it pointed directly at the chancellor.
Gasps filled the throne room.
The Adamant Guards reacted instantly.
The unmistakable sound of steel being drawn rang through the air as swords left their scabbards in unison. The heavily armored warriors sprang into action, some positioning themselves in front of the king, shields raised, while others swiftly moved to encircle the divine envoys.
These men weren’t ordinary soldiers. Despite witnessing what should have been an impossible feat—the sudden manifestation of a weapon and the subsequent magic arrow—they did not falter. Their discipline remained unshaken.
But the nobles standing along the sides of the room were not as composed. Whispers of "magic" rippled through them in hushed, frantic tones before they quickly quieted, seeing how the Adamant Guards had already taken control of the situation.
The air grew thick with tension.
Sweat beaded on King Alden IV’s brow as he took in the rapidly deteriorating scene before him. His gaze was fixed on Amelia’s arrow which pulsed with raw power, his mind racing. He had seen these envoys appear from nowhere, had witnessed the divine crests marking them as chosen of Seraphis. Yet, a part of him had harbored doubts about their ability to truly change the course of the war.
But now, faced with the sheer force of Amelia’s presence—her absolute lack of hesitation in threatening his highest advisor, the way a bow materialized from thin air, and the sudden creation of a glowing blue arrow—those doubts vanished. Even with the Adamant Guards standing before him, shields raised, he felt no safer. A chilling certainty settled in his gut: that arrow would tear through them as if they weren’t even there.
If he had been only half convinced before, now he was certain. These divine envoys were powerful. Powerful enough to turn the tide of the war.
“Fall back!” the king commanded, his voice steady despite the unease tightening his chest.
The Adamant Guards hesitated only for a second before instantly obeying. Swords were lowered, and they returned to their previous positions.
“Phew…” Lyra exhaled softly, tension still lingering in her frame. She knew she was strong—strong enough to take on even these elite soldiers without issues—but the sight of so many heavily armored guards surrounding them had instinctively sent a shiver down her spine.
Mikael, on the other hand, had an entirely different reaction.
His attention wasn’t on the Adamant Guards. It was on Amelia.
Her sheer dominance, the way she had stormed into the throne room without hesitation, how she had openly threatened the chancellor before the king and the gathered nobles—it was exhilarating.
And when, at a single word from her, the most elite warriors in the kingdom had instinctively moved to defend their liege, only for the king himself to order them to back down—
Mikael found it… undeniably hot.
But before he could dwell on the thought, the king spoke again, his voice quieter than before, his usual commanding tone somewhat subdued.
“Divine envoy… why do you seek these nobles?”
Amelia did not lower her bow. Her emerald eyes burned with cold fury as she answered.
“These nobles have deliberately delayed the military campaign,” she stated. “When we arrived at the Adamant Guards’ headquarters, the two armies that were supposed to be waiting for us were nowhere to be found.”
She took a step closer, her presence pressing down on the room. “The Goddess herself has informed us of those responsible. By obstructing this campaign, they are not just defying the kingdom’s orders—they are standing in opposition to Seraphis, the Goddess of Purity and Protection, and the divine mission she issued us.”
A ripple of shock coursed through the gathered nobles.
But none reacted as violently as the noble who had been speaking with the king just before their arrival.
His face drained of all color.
His name? Lord Eldric Valmont.
His breath came in short, panicked gasps as cold dread seeped into his bones. He had been one of the key figures pushing to delay the attack, stalling for time while he amassed more wealth from war profits.
Now, a divine envoy was calling his actions heresy.
And heresy was punishable by death.
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