"We're finally here," Reloua muttered, staring at the sight in front of her.
The Palace of the Gold Kingdom stretched across the horizon like some kind of golden monument to excess. Massive blocks of red sandstone formed the foundation, catching the afternoon sun and throwing it back in waves of crimson. But it was the gold that really grabbed your attention—not just decorations here and there, but everywhere. Rivers of gold flowing across every surface, like someone had decided subtlety was for losers.
Next to her, Teleu stood there completely gobsmacked. He'd known Gold Land was rich—everyone knew that—but knowing something and seeing it were two different things. The stories he'd heard back in Ankh mentioned golden towers and wealthy streets, but nothing had prepared him for this. His eyes kept darting around, taking it all in, warrior composure momentarily forgotten.
The walls towered seven men high, topped with battlements made of pure gold that blazed like captured starlight. Circular towers dotted the walls at regular intervals, each one crowned with conical roofs made of hammered gold plates that overlapped like dragon scales. Between the towers, the walls had intricate patterns of gold wire worked into the stone—geometric designs, spiraling motifs, stylized lions roaring silently in precious metal.
Teleu had seen fortifications before. Ankh's temple walls were stone blessed by priests, covered in prayers and protective symbols. Those walls spoke of spiritual defense, barriers between sacred and profane. These walls? They just screamed money. They said: We have so much gold we can waste it on decorations. What've you got?
The great gates drew people like moths to a flame. The line stretched back beyond the outer courtyard—merchants with retinues, some carrying chests that needed four men to lift, others leading exotic animals whose eyes held the wildness of distant lands. Teleu spotted creatures he'd only read about—horned beasts from southern deserts, birds with jewel-colored plumage, even what looked like a young elephant with intricately carved tusks.
Envoys from the Ace Kingdom stood in their signature blue silk robes, faces showing diplomatic politeness while their eyes catalogued every detail for their intelligence reports. Teleu recognized their posture—the too-casual stance hiding constant observation, hands never far from hidden weapons. These weren't just diplomats. They were spies in fancy clothes.
Representatives from Fairyland whispered among themselves in flowing white garments, crystal pendants catching light as they moved. Even from a distance, Teleu felt the weird energy coming off them—something that prickled at his senses, like standing too close to a shrine at midnight. People gave them space, and the Fairyland envoys seemed to prefer it that way.
Even emissaries from Mura had shown up—desert-hardened faces studying the palace walls with the calculating look of warriors sizing up fortifications. Bronze armor, red cloaks, completely out of place against all the gold. Teleu's jaw tightened at the sight. Mura. The kingdom of tyrants, where King Bakar ruled with an iron fist and dreams of conquest. What were they doing here?
Gold Land officials moved through the crowd efficiently, robes trimmed with actual gold thread. They carried scrolls and ledgers, marking names and noting business with mechanical precision. Foreign translators called out in a dozen languages, while guards in golden mail kept order—ceremonial-looking but genuinely dangerous.
The air buzzed with conversation in multiple languages—Fairyland's musical tones, Mura's guttural consonants, Ace Kingdom's clipped diplomatic speech, and underneath it all, Gold Land's own rich, flowing language. Spices and perfumes mixed in the air—frankincense, desert roses, sweet oils merchants used to polish their goods. It was overwhelming, a sensory assault that screamed center of the known world.
Near the back of this mess, Reloua and Teleu waited patiently. The princess wore a copper-colored silk veil, edges trimmed with tiny golden bells that chimed softly with each breath. The fabric suggested beauty underneath while hiding her features completely—she'd arranged it with the skill of someone who understood the power of mystery.
Under the veil, her face was carefully neutral, but her mind raced. She scanned faces in the crowd, noting which ministers stood near the gates, which guards might recognize her despite the disguise. Three weeks. Three weeks gone, and now she was back at a palace that probably thought she was dead. Would her father even believe it was really her? Or would he think she was some imposter, a cruel trick?
Beside her, Teleu looked like just another bodyguard—though one whose bearing suggested he'd seen serious violence. His eyes never stopped moving, cataloguing faces, noting exits, measuring distances with the instinct of someone who'd learned that death could come from anywhere. His hand stayed near his weapon, fingers loose but ready.
"Remember, from now on you're my personal bodyguard," Reloua said quietly, voice low enough that only he could hear. "Stay by my side, protect me and my brother. Don't worry—like we agreed, you'll get your freedom. Just do your job well."
Teleu nodded, posture shifting subtly into professional guardian mode. His gaze swept the crowd again, cataloguing threats. The Mura emissaries, the Ace spies, even some Gold Land officials carried themselves like they were expecting violence. This palace was a powder keg, and everyone here knew it.
Honestly, Reloua found herself more and more curious about Teleu. Who was this guy she'd found in a hollow tree? Why had he been running through those woods, and what kind of enemies were after him? His combat skills were undeniable, survival instincts razor-sharp. But it was more than that—his intelligence showed through his careful words, his aloofness spoke of noble upbringing, his manners screamed prestige.
The way he moved through crowds, assessed threats, carried himself when he thought no one was watching—all of it pointed to someone trained from birth for greatness. She'd never met anyone quite like him, this mysterious warrior who acted like forgotten royalty. And maybe that's why she trusted him despite knowing so little. Because whatever else Teleu was, he wasn't the type to serve corrupt masters or bow to injustice.
The line moved forward slowly, and Reloua passed through the gates without trouble—Redu's preparations had worked perfectly. A bribe here, a forged document there, and suddenly Princess Reloua became just another veiled noblewoman returning from travels with her bodyguard.
As they crossed the threshold, the temperature seemed to drop despite the afternoon sun. Or maybe it was just memory—Reloua had walked through these gates a thousand times as a kid, secure in her place as a princess. Now she walked through as a ghost, officially missing, possibly dead, returning to a home that had tried to kill her.
Teleu's eyes widened again, though he tried to keep his expression controlled.
Beyond the gates, true magnificence revealed itself. The palace rose in terraced levels, supported by massive granite columns covered in gold leaf that caught and multiplied light. The columns were carved with lions climbing toward heaven, vines heavy with golden fruit, lotus flowers blooming eternal in precious metal.
The central structure soared like a golden mountain, walls punctuated by tall arched windows framed in gold. Each frame depicted scenes—ancient battles, royal coronations, blessed harvests, treasure-laden ships returning home. Every window was a chapter in Gold Land's history, written in precious metal.
At the peak, a great gold dome crowned everything, surface so perfectly polished it mirrored the sky. Birds flying overhead would see themselves doubled, and Teleu wondered if they ever dove at their own reflections, thinking them rivals.
Gardens cascaded down the terraced sides. Golden fountains sent water dancing in the light, basins carved from gold-veined marble. Palm trees lined pathways, trunks wrapped in gold bands, leaves rustling above paths paved with stones mixed with ground-up gemstones.
Teleu knelt briefly, running fingers over the path. Smooth, almost glassy—precious gems reduced to dust and made into walkways. In Ankh, such gems would be treasured, placed in shrines, used to focus spiritual energy. Here they were ground up and walked on.
This wasn't just a palace—it was a statement. A declaration that the Sichom dynasty had wealth enough to make the earth jealous. As Teleu stared up at it, he understood why other kingdoms both coveted and feared Gold Land. This was power made visible, wealth transformed into something almost divine.
But there was something hollow about it. All this gold, all this magnificence, and somewhere inside—according to Reloua—a king was losing his mind, a prince was locked away in grief, and conspirators plotted murder in golden halls. What good was all this wealth if it couldn't protect people from their own darkness?
Reloua's eyes narrowed behind her veil as she stared at the golden towers, cold fury settling in her chest like ice. Somewhere behind those glittering walls walked the people who'd tried to kill her—and they were going to pay in blood for every moment of fear, every tear she'd shed in exile.
They thought she was dead or broken, scattered like leaves in the wind. Wrong. So wrong. She'd survived Botankeu's forest, survived assassins and wilderness, and now she was back—not as a fleeing princess but as something harder, forged in fire. She'd uncover every conspirator, every whispered plot, every gold coin that changed hands for her destruction.
Her fingers tightened into fists under her cloak. Somewhere in there, her little brother Gyan was suffering, probably not knowing if she was alive or dead. Somewhere in there, her father was being manipulated by that woman. And somewhere in there, the truth was waiting to be dragged into the light.
What belonged to her by blood would be reclaimed, no matter the cost. But first, she needed to figure out how deep the rot went. How many ministers were bought? How many guards compromised? How far did Cynthia's web extend?
She took a deep breath, steadying herself.
Patience, she reminded herself. Move too fast and you'll tip your hand. They wanted you dead. Use that. Survive and pester them until you're ready to be a queen.
"Come," she said quietly to Teleu.
Together they walked deeper into the golden palace, two shadows moving through a world of light.