The day dawned, not with the brutal clarity of a war horn, but with a serene, almost deceptive warmth. The sun, a brilliant disc of gold, climbed the eastern sky, its light slanting down to bathe the earth in a comforting, hopeful glow. A steady wind swept through the temporary settlement, setting the canopy of trees into a gentle, rhythmic dance, scattering a few dry leaves in its chilling wake.
A trio of figures—Valerus, Athena, and Princess Alexandra—emerged from the treeline, their steps light, their faces alight with the easy conversation and laughter. They approached the huddled ranks of their people, the refugees of Chronohelix, ready to share the peace they had earned.
But as they drew near, the cheerful cadence of their voices faltered. An oppressive, silent weight settled over the camp. The air thrummed with a heavy, brittle tension that instantly smothered their good cheer.
"Hey, watch your tongue. I'm warning you," a sharp, low voice cut through the silence. It belonged to Prince Sunday.
"I'll say it again!" another voice, thick with fury and resentment, roared back. It was Solomon El Vitrifex. "We are Thorenzians! We do not need vermin like the Vylonians! Damn Chronohelix! I'm not going to accept it! Not after what you put us through!"
Luisa stepped between the two raging men, her hands raised in a gesture of desperate de-escalation. "Calm down, both of you!" she pleaded
Solomon's gaze snapped to her, his face contorted. "Oh, you, shut up, whore!"
The word hung in the air like a poisoned dart. Luisa's eyes narrowed, all peace draining away as she stared at the young man who had just insulted her.
Then, the world changed. Prince Sunday let out a guttural roar, and his body was instantly engulfed in a storm of roaring, luminous blue flames. He was a walking inferno, a prince of wrath.
"No one insults my mother and goes free!" Sunday bellowed, and he immediately shot a torrent of the brilliant blue fire straight at Solomon.
Solomon braced, but before the flames could consume him, a sudden, blinding wall of yellow flames erupted between the two men, crackling and shimmering. It shielded Solomon completely, forcing Sunday's attack to dissipate harmlessly.
"Who did that?" Prince Sunday demanded, his blue flames slowly drawing back, leaving him smoking with fury.
"Ah! That was close," a calm voice said. Valerus stepped past the crowd, walking casually toward the center of the conflict, a trace of golden smoke clinging to his fingertips.
"Valerus, what did you do that for?" Sunday questioned, confusion and residual anger mixing on his face.
Valerus met his gaze evenly. "Let me ask you instead, Sunday. Why are you attacking your brother?"
"Valerus, that vermin isn't my brother!" Solomon spat, his voice still shaking with venom, having regained his breath behind the fading fire wall. "He is from Vylonia. He isn't our brother. We don't need Vylonians here."
Valerus let the insult hang in the sudden, absolute silence that descended upon the crowd. Every eye was fixed on him.
"And why is that?" Valerus asked, his voice soft but carrying the weight of command. "In Chronohelix, we are one. There is no Thorenzia. There is no Vylonia. We are brothers and sisters! We should hold on to the light that has been lit right in front of us. A light that has conquered centuries of darkness between us. We are one nation, one blood, one family!"
Solomon said nothing. He only glowered at Valerus, then turned on his heel, his shoulders stiff with anger, and stalked away from the gathering.
Prince Sunday watched his retreating back for a long moment, the blue embers of his fury fading. He gave a final, frustrated sigh, then turned and walked away in the opposite direction.
As the tension slowly eased, Athena met Valerus's eyes. She offered him a small, relieved smile—a silent acknowledgment of his diplomacy. Valerus returned the smile, the quiet victor of a battle fought not with swords, but with words and flame.
The silence that followed the departure of the angry princes was thick with unease. Valerus, his face set, walked quickly to a stack of salvaged supplies. He grabbed a heavy iron shield and beat it thrice, sharply, with a metal rod.
The sound cracked the tension, instantly drawing the gaze of the weary Chronohelixian people. They abandoned their hushed discussions and paid attention to their leader.
"People of Chronohelix! Listen up!" Valerus's voice rang out, strong and clear. He gestured toward a jagged, imposing silhouette in the distance. "We're close to our home. It's right there," he announced, pointing toward the colossal mountains that marked their ancestral border.
A groundswell of noise erupted—cheers, shouts of pure joy, and heartfelt sobs of jubilation. After so long, their home was finally within sight.
Valerus waited for the noise to subside, then continued, his expression hardening. "But, there is a big problem. The Aethelgardians stand in our way."
At the mention of their sworn enemy, the celebratory expressions were instantly replaced by grim seriousness. "If we must return home," Valerus stated, his gaze sweeping over their faces, "we must be prepared for whatever lies ahead."
He lowered the rod. "And so, with that said, we will be sending Fifteen Spies to infiltrate the country. These spies are to gather critical intelligence about the Aethelgard Empire. Now, I'll call the chosen ones to come forward."
He began to name them, the names echoing like a roll call of destiny: "Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Princess Alexandra, Athena, Caius, Thane, Isolde, Elara, Orion, and myself, Valerus."
The fourteen called stepped out of the crowd, their faces hidden beneath the shadows of dark, deep-hooded capes. They joined Valerus at the front.
"Fifteen of us are going to infiltrate Aethelgard," he confirmed. "We shall gather intelligence about the empire. Please, the rest of you, prepare for battle while we are away."
The fifteen chosen spies immediately clustered together, their capes rustling softly as they formed a tight circle.
Before Valerus could speak, the circle parted, and Luisa strode through, her expression resolute. As a respected member of the Shield, she was accustomed to being part of the planning.
"Alright, listen up," Valerus said, spreading fifteen detailed, parchment maps on a makeshift table. "Aethelgard is an empire that has fifteen provinces according to these maps. I have shared fifteen maps amongst us. Each of us will go to where our maps lead us."
Luisa crossed her arms. "What about me? Why am I not going?"
Valerus sighed, a flicker of concern softening his features. "Oh, Mother, I wanted you to rest and prepare for the upcoming battle."
"No," Luisa stated simply. "I'm going. I'm fine."
"Mother?" Valerus's eyes widened, a rare moment of surprise showing through his usually unflappable demeanor.
A tense silence fell over the group, broken by Athena's sweet, practical voice. "Um," she said gently, "how about she comes with me? We can work together. Mother and I make a great team, you know."
Valerus considered this. It meant changing the plan, but it allowed for a degree of protection. "Alright, Mother, is that okay by you?"
"Yes," Luisa confirmed instantly.
Valerus nodded, looking at the newly reinforced team. "Alright. We shall all go there, and return safely. For the love of Chronohelix!"
"Yeah!" the fifteen chorused, their voices low but united.
They were about to depart toward the mountains when a figure broke away from the main group and approached them. It was Solomon.
"Valerus," Solomon called, his voice now subdued, stripped of its earlier arrogance.
"Yes, Solomon, what is it?" Valerus replied, turning to face the source of the morning's bitter conflict.
"Can I join you on your journey as a spy? Please," Solomon pleaded, the anger in his eyes replaced by a desperate, humbling earnestness.
Valerus sighed, his gaze drifting away as he thought deeply, weighing the risk of bringing such instability into a high-stakes mission against the potential for unity.
"Oh," Valerus finally decided, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Solomon, team up with Sunday over there."
Solomon and Prince Sunday looked at each other in utter shock. "What?" they chorused simultaneously.
"Why him?" Solomon questioned immediately.
"That's my decision," Valerus said simply, the smile unwavering.
"No, I can't go with him!" Solomon protested, his resentment returning.
"Good, then you'll stay here and prepare for battle," Valerus said, his tone instantly firm.
"What?" Solomon snapped, truly caught off guard.
"Don't worry," Valerus assured him, his smile returning, "he's actually a good guy. You'll find that out."
"Huh?" Solomon stammered, still furious, yet silenced by the command.
Valerus wasted no more time. With the final member grudgingly brought into the fold, the now Seventeen Spies left the camp and set off for the mountains, their cloaks concealing their faces and their identities.
The climb was long and arduous, but the sheer urgency of their task drove them forward. They moved like shadows, a silent, disciplined team of seventeen. After hours of climbing, they came across the first, formidable barrier: the great, iron gate of Aethelgard. Two fully armored gatekeepers stood guard, their spears crossed.
"Who are you people?" one of the gatekeepers challenged, his voice flat and suspicious.
Valerus stepped forward, pulling his hood back just enough to reveal his mouth. "We are here to see Emperor Arthur Delacronix. Is he in the country presently?"
At that moment, one of the Spies shifted imperceptibly behind Valerus. The guards' eyes immediately glazed over, and then, inexplicably, they flashed a brief, demonic red. They suddenly became cooperative, their voices syncing into a dull, unnatural monotone.
"Yes, he is in," they chorused. The guards immediately stepped aside and pushed open the massive gate.
The Seventeen Spies walked into the country, their infiltration a breathtaking success. As soon as they were out of sight, the guards blinked, rubbing their eyes, their gazes clearing, completely unaware of the momentary lapse in their consciousness.
"That was easier than I expected," Valerus murmured as they walked along the deserted inner road.
"Yeah, too easy," Luisa replied, her voice laced with suspicion.
Valerus stopped and turned to face his sixteen comrades. "Alright, guys, we are going to split up here. We now have enough maps for fifteen routes, thanks to some creative folding," he said, "We shall all return on the agreed day. Good luck."
"Yeah!" the Spies chorused softly, the word a shared vow.
With a final, meaningful glance at one another, the seventeen spies split off, dispersing into the shadows and side streets of the vast, enemy empire, each cloaked figure heading toward their designated mission.