— "I see. So you came without your father's knowledge," — Sylvan concluded after hearing the explanation.
— "Someone had to. Someone had to care for this empire before it's too late," — Sariel replied, shrugging and letting out a sigh —. "And from what Wisteria said about you, you are an intelligent young man, talented in your work—the only one who might find a cure before this slips through our fingers." — The prince spoke with seriousness.
Sylvan looked toward his mentor's grave, the purple tree still visible from the window of the old hut. Now he understood the true weight of that visit.
At the dawn of the following day, with the fresh spring morning breeze carrying the nostalgic scent of flower-filled meadows and the dew resting upon the leaves of the forest plants, Sylvan took one last look back at the great tree whose purple flowers swayed gently in the morning breeze. He was leaving the place that had been his home for as long as he could remember, a place filled with so many memories. But this time was different, for it was the first time he was leaving without his master—the one who had been his guide and mentor, his beacon in stormy days, the sun that warmed his existence. Now he had to continue on his own along a path whose direction was unknown and uncertain.
With one final glance toward what had been his home, he began to walk toward his destiny. The last thing left was a solitary tear that fell, mingling with the earth.
*****
The forest gradually opened up, allowing glimpses of light to pass between the trees. The horses' hooves beat a steady rhythm on the damp earth, and the air smelled of freshly wet grass.
The trio galloped along a dusty forest path under the midday sun.
— "The forest's density is starting to lessen. It seems we're nearing its edge. I estimate we'll reach the capital in a couple of days," — commented Sariel, who rode fluidly on his black Percheron.
— "By the way, I remember there was a river near here. We could stop and rest a bit. I don't think I can last much longer," — Sylvan stammered between gasps, sweating profusely.
— "Is this your first time riding a horse?" — the white-haired young man asked with a hint of concern, receiving a nod in response.
— "No need to ask, Your Majesty. It was obvious just by looking," — Aleus remarked in a mocking tone, earning a piercing glare.
— "Forgive my knight. He's like that with everyone; don't take it to heart. Very well, let's go to the river. We're also running out of water, so we can refill there." —
*****
The horse whinnied softly as it approached the riverbank. Sylvan could barely keep his eyes open. Every muscle ached as if he had been fighting for days, and the damp breeze only reminded him of how stiff he was. He dropped onto the grass and sighed in relief.
— "Well, what new news can you tell me about the capital?" — he asked.
— "The situation is not ideal. As you know, we're in the midst of a plague, not to mention the problems in the council of nobles and the tension with the Sacred Empire of the Holy Flame." — Aleus said as he took out his bottle to refill it.
The chestnut-haired youth turned to him with a curious expression and asked, — "What problems are you referring to? And what happened with the Sacred Empire?" —
— "Do you really know nothing about the situation?" — he exclaimed, setting his waterskin aside and looking at him in disbelief —. "Do you live under a rock? How do you not know about your own kingdom's situation? It's as if you were in a story and the author needed to explain the world's context." —
— "I've just been disconnected from society for a while. And what do you mean by 'author'?" — the young man replied, embarrassed.
— "Don't ask," — Aleus cut him off with a sharp gesture. Sighing, he continued — The armed man sighed, running a hand through his hair. — "The Solarys Empire is bleeding us dry. They raised all the taxes."
— "Taxes?" —
— "On everything," — he clarified impatiently —. "If we sell wool or iron there, they charge us double. And if one of our ships wants to dock in their ports…" — He paused meaningfully — "They pay in gold what an entire shipment is worth." —
— "Ah," — said Sylvan, processing the information —. "That's bad." —
— "Brilliant deduction," — the knight replied sarcastically —. "And while we grow poorer, they grow stronger. Their priests travel through our villages saying their sun god is better than ours." —
Sylvan frowned. — "But that's not fair." —
— "No," — the warrior concluded, turning his back to continue filling the waterskins —. "And the worst part is that some of our nobles are starting to believe them. Those rats… because of the plague, the king had to grant them more power, and instead of helping their people, they only care about their status and filling their coffers." —
— "It seems you don't care for the nobles. Aren't you one yourself?" — the young man asked curiously.
— "Don't compare me to those self-serving types. You ask too many questions, healer. There are things it's better not to know, and things it's better not to ask. If you want to live a long life in the capital, which is full of scum dressed in silk, you'll need to watch that tongue of yours." — The knight snapped irritably, running a hand through his blue hair. —
— "But what about His Majesty?" —
— "His Majesty the Prince is a special case. End of conversation." — An exasperated sigh. —
At that moment, the knight averted his gaze toward Sariel, who had sat down some distance away, watching the river flow with a somber expression. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper, directed only at Sylvan.
— "His Highness…" — he murmured, and in his gray eyes, there was a glimmer of genuine concern —. "He may seem serene, but every decision of the Council, every new demand from the Empire… is another yoke upon his shoulders. The pressure he endures could crack even the hardest stone." —
Sylvan observed his reflection on the surface of the crystal-clear lake. His slightly long, dark chestnut hair was tied in a simple ponytail resting on his left shoulder. From the journey, his hair had become disheveled from the constant motion of the galloping horse and the breeze, causing a few strands to stick out untidily.
After a moment of tense silence, the knight stood up with a resigned sigh and headed toward the horses to check on them. Sylvan, sensing the conversation was over, walked a few steps toward the lake's edge, seeking a moment of peace.
His hazel eyes remained fixed on the crystalline surface, watching the slight movements of the water.
He brought a hand to his face. It was thin, with soft features, and a faint mole could be glimpsed below the right side of his lip. Now it was dusty and sweaty from the journey.
On the water's surface, where the young man's face had been, now appeared the face of a chestnut-haired woman with blue eyes. Her figure was slightly transparent, and she had a friendly face.
She greeted Sylvan, who, accustomed to seeing the occasional spirit since childhood, returned the greeting. After that, the woman laughed softly before disappearing from the crystalline surface, causing Sylvan's silhouette to reappear on the lake's water.
After the spirit departed, Sylvan cupped water in his palms, splashing it repeatedly onto his face, trying to refresh himself.
He let the gentle breeze caress his face. He let out a sigh of relief, lying on his back on the cool grass and watching the fluffy clouds drift slowly across the sky, pushed by the wind. Finally, he could rest a little.
After a while of rest, they returned to the horses, with Sylvan mounting the chestnut horse alongside the knight and the prince on the elegant Percheron.
As the hour of the sun's death arrived, with the bloody landscape before their eyes, beyond the high walls guarded by soldiers that hid the crimson sphere, lay the capital of the Solaris Empire—the place that would be home to so many mysteries awaiting them.
The hooded prince, astride the dark steed, moved ahead of them, positioning himself in front.
— "Welcome to the Solaris Empire, flower of the Hyacinth. We hope you save many and do not perish with them. May the chronicles kept in the royal archives remember your name." —