Queen Lucy exhaled softly, fingers laced as she leaned forward.
"I know you want nothing to do with the Solara Kingdom," she said. "I know your ties there are cut, burned, and buried. But this isn't about pride. It's not about history. It's about survival. If we're going to have any chance of stopping Sylvathar, we need all three kingdoms aligned."
Galen didn't flinch. Didn't scowl. Didn't scoff. But the smirk faded from his lips. His voice stayed calm—too calm, like he was commenting on the weather.
"And I respect that," he said, swirling what little wine remained in his glass. "But even if I wanted to—hypothetically—it won't work."
He set the glass down gently, eyes still fixed on the swirl of red.
"I disowned them. They disowned me right back. That bridge didn't just collapse—it was incinerated, then the ashes were tossed into a void. I'm not welcome there, Lucy. Not in the palace. Not in the streets. Not even in the shadows."
He looked up, expression unreadable.
"Not that it bothers me in the slightest."
"But unless you think the return of the prodigal failure turned foreign knight is going to spark some miracle of diplomacy… I'd rather not waste my time walking into a storm with no sky."
Mystica glanced at Lucy, saying nothing. She knew Galen wasn't lying—but she also knew Lucy. Knew that silence meant something was coming.
Queen Lucy didn't break her gaze.
"You're right," she said slowly. "They probably wouldn't listen to you."
She leaned back, eyes distant now.
"But I didn't ask you to go there for diplomacy. I asked because you're still the only one they'd react to—even if it's with fury."
There was a shift in her tone. A quiet spark of strategy, carefully veiled beneath her calm.
"Even a storm can serve a purpose. I just need the tremor. Enough to shake the throne awake."
"Still as strategic as I remember," he muttered. "Sometimes I wonder if you were a manipulator by profession in another life."
"Not past," she replied, a glint in her eyes. "Current."
"Okay, so you want me to go there and what? Do what I do best?" Galen asked, leaning further back into his seat, arms draped over the chair like he owned the room.
"Exactly. Show up, drop the truth on their laps, and leave," Lucy replied, her tone razor-sharp and cool.
"The Solara Kingdom is the weakest of the three. And no matter how much they hate your guts, a threat is still a threat. Once they understand this isn't just one kingdom's problem but everyone's, they'll want the alliance themselves."
Galen scoffed and stood, stretching like a cat too long in the sun. "Great. At least now I don't have to fake niceties with those bastards."
"So, my Queen," Mystica finally cut in, smooth and poised, "when do you plan to meet with the Crescent Kingdom?"
"As soon as possible," Lucy said, folding her arms. "But there are issues here I need to handle first. That said, I'll need you, Galen, to head to the Solarac Kingdom as soon as you can. Tomorrow, if possible."
Galen raised a hand. "Sorry, Lucy, but tomorrow's not my 'run-around-the-world' day. The students come back from break tomorrow. I've got teaching duties."
Lucy blinked, caught off guard. "Teaching? You? Since when do you take that seriously?"
Galen paused, thoughtful. "Wait… you're right. I don't even have those two brats until—whenever. So yeah. Guess tomorrow's free. Day after too, actually." He shrugged as he headed for the door.
"Oh, and by the way—get His Majesty to pitch in with all this mess. I know you're the heir and all, but seriously, make the fat geezer pull some weight."
With that, he was gone.
As the door clicked shut, the study fell into silence.
Queen Lucy exhaled slowly and turned her gaze toward Mystica, a sly glint playing at the corners of her green eyes.
"You've done well with that one," she said, her voice laced with playful amusement. "Handling Galen isn't exactly a hobby for the faint of heart. I've known diplomats who'd rather wrestle wyverns."
Mystica chuckled, crossing one long leg over the other. "He's easier than most people think. Once you realize he's just loud thunder covering a tired storm, you learn how to speak his language."
Lucy raised a brow, intrigued. "Oh? And what language is that?"
"Stubbornness, sarcasm, and wine," Mystica said with a smirk. "But really—it's not about taming him. It's about knowing when to step aside and when to stand your ground. The man may be infuriating, but he listens when it matters… and when he doesn't, I set his pillow on fire."
Lucy laughed—a rare, rich sound that softened her entire face. "Now that is something I would pay to see."
Mystica grinned, proud and unbothered. "It works more than you'd think."
A brief moment passed, warm with shared mischief, before Mystica tilted her head and spoke with a touch more seriousness.
"When the time comes to meet with the Crescent Kingdom… I'd like to join. No official reason. I just want to be there."
Lucy regarded her for a moment, expression unreadable, then gave a small, genuine nod. "I'd be glad to have you with me. Honestly, it'll be refreshing to have someone like you by my side. I love my knights, but they're about as fun as a tax scroll."
Mystica laughed again, eyes twinkling. "Well then, let's stir up some kingdoms together."
Lucy leaned back, eyes on the flickering flame of the candle. "Let's."
As the sun crept over the towering spires of Dark Knight Academy, golden light spilled across the stone walls and trimmed hedges. Patrol knights moved with practiced ease through the courtyards. Beyond the gates, a slow stream of students began to return from their two-week break—some on foot, others arriving in sleek carriages.
Laughter and chatter soon replaced the silence that had blanketed the academy. Friends called out to each other, suitcases wheeled across cobblestones, and the empty campus bloomed back to life like spring after a long frost.
Up in his dorm room, Liam had just finished his shower. A towel draped over his head, water still dripping down his back, he stood by the window, silently watching the bustle below.
"Those weeks really flew by," he muttered, voice low and rough. "Maybe 'cause I was caught up with too much... stuff."
His red eyes followed the gathering crowd, expression unreadable. Then with a sigh, he turned from the window.
"Not really feeling it today. It's the return day—no lessons, no obligations. I could use a few more hours of sleep anyway."
He flopped onto his bed, letting the morning sounds fade into a soft hum. Just as his eyes shut, a series of sharp knocks rattled his door.
Liam groaned, dragging himself up. He grabbed a shirt from the edge of the bed, slid it on lazily, and swung the door open—only to find Dylan standing there, grinning like he'd just won a bet.
His hands flailing as he leaned into the doorframe with a crooked grin. His hair was a little messier than usual, and his shirt clung to him like he'd wrestled a mountain just to get here.
"Bro!" he beamed, like he hadn't just seen Liam two weeks ago. "It feels so good to be back! I swear, life outside these walls is weird. Like—really weird. It's almost alien now. Six months in this academy, and the real world feels like it's written in a different language."
Liam raised an eyebrow, leaning against the door, one hand still on the handle.
Dylan went on, animated like a one-man show. "People out there just exist, man. No sword fights, no demons trying to murder you in the woods. It is really calm out there."
Liam remained silent, watching him like one might a particularly loud bird. Barely interested, completely unbothered.
"Oh, and you missed out, by the way," Dylan continued, jabbing a thumb toward Liam's chest. "Staying back here to study like some kind of monk while the rest of us breathed oxygen flavored with chaos and soft bread. Total nerd move."
Liam's hand moved to close the door slowly, wordlessly.
But Dylan shoved his foot in like it was life or death. "Wait, wait—speaking of nerds, wasn't Ari here with you the whole time too?"
That got Liam's attention, just barely. His gaze flicked up slightly.
Dylan's grin stretched wider. "Don't tell me the two of you were up late every night, claiming to read scrolls, shared some warm tea, bonding over... whatever it is you two bonded over." He waggled his eyebrows. "Kinda romantic if you ask me."
Liam exhaled, flat and unimpressed. "You're loud this morning."
"Thanks, I try," Dylan chirped, clearly proud of himself. Then his tone shifted just a little—more sheepish now. "Actually, before you slam the door in my face... could you help me out with something? I got my luggage up to this floor, but I think my spine's about to fold in half. Pretty sure I pulled something that doesn't even exist."
Liam gave him a long stare. A full, deliberate pause.
Then, finally, he sighed. "Fine."
Dylan brightened instantly. "Knew you missed me."
"No," Liam replied, already walking past him. "I just don't want to hear your screams echo through the hall."