Saturo, now twenty-five, stood in the council hall of the White Kingdom, eyes sweeping over maps and reports that detailed the surrounding lands. The fortresses around the capital were complete, roads linking every settlement gleamed under the morning sun, and the kingdom thrived. Farmers worked with purpose, merchants traded with growing confidence, and soldiers drilled relentlessly. Yet Saturo's thoughts were beyond his borders. Knowledge of neighboring kingdoms could not be gained from hearsay alone.
"I intend to visit the closest king's candidate kingdom," Saturo announced, voice steady. The council froze.
"You cannot leave, Your Majesty," a noble protested. "The kingdom is still young; threats could strike at any moment!"
Saturo met their gaze evenly. "I leave the kingdom in your hands. My journey is for observation, to understand the world beyond our borders. Knowledge ensures the survival and prosperity of our people."
Garron, ever watchful, leaned forward. "You're too young to wander among strangers, boy. One misstep-"
"I will take precautions," Saturo interrupted. "kael will accompany me who was one of his close guards. We leave at dawn."
After tense discussion, the council reluctantly agreed. Saturo donned simple traveler's attire, leaving behind the trappings of royalty. His family sword rested hidden beneath his cloak, and a quiet determination settled over him.
The road to the closest king's candidate kingdom stretched for days, winding through dense forests, hills dotted with grazing animals, and open fields where travelers moved slowly with carts and livestock. Saturo traveled with kael close at his side, observing villages, streams, and small forts along the way. At night, they camped under the stars, the air crisp and fragrant with pine, and Saturo spent hours in quiet reflection, reviewing maps and memorizing landmarks, knowing every detail could one day save lives.
On the third day, as the sun reached its zenith, they encountered three figures huddled near the roadside, appearing desperate. One crouched over a small bundle of tattered belongings, while another muttered about losing food for their family. Saturo's heart softened at the sight.
"Here," he said, handing them a pouch of coins. "Take what you need, but waste nothing."
Grateful smiles turned to harsh curses the moment they realized they had an opportunity. Before Saturo could react, two of them drew short, crude daggers, lunging at him to steal more than what he had offered. The third snatched a satchel of supplies he had carried.
"Cowards," Saturo muttered, and without hesitation, he gave chase. He darted through the forest trails, his cloak catching on low branches, boots slapping against the roots and stones. Kael barked a warning from behind, but Saturo's focus was absolute.
They ran past a small village, where children playing in the fields stopped and stared, eyes wide. Saturo's amber eyes never left the thieves, reading their movements like a map. A fleeting swing of his sword at a low-hanging branch gave him an idea of how he might cut off their escape. The pursuit led them toward the northern kingdom of Silver Dawn.
By nightfall, Saturo and Kael reached the borders of Silver Dawn, the kingdom to the north. Immediately, the difference was striking.
Silver Dawn did not announce itself with towering walls or bristling weapons.
Saturo noticed it the moment he crossed the border.
The walls were low, more symbolic than defensive-clean white stone etched with faint silver lines that glimmered softly under the sun. Guards stood at the gates, but their posture was relaxed, their expressions open. They inspected travelers politely, exchanging greetings instead of threats.
A farmer passed through beside Saturo, laughing with a guard about a poor harvest. No bribes. No fear.
Strange, Saturo thought. This is not how kingdoms survive.
Inside, the city unfolded like a festival that never truly ended.
The streets were wide and well-kept, paved with pale stone that reflected light warmly instead of swallowing it. Cloth banners hung between buildings-silver, blue, and soft gold-each bearing symbols of harvests, rivers, and stars rather than crests of war.
Music drifted through the air.
Not courtly music, but street music-flutes, hand drums, stringed instruments played by youths and elders alike. Shopkeepers sang as they worked. Children ran freely, unafraid of being struck for crossing paths with nobles.
What struck Saturo most was the absence of separation.
Merchants spoke freely with guards. Artisans shared drinks with travelers. Even finely dressed nobles walked among common folk without entourages heavy with steel.
No one bowed deeply. No one lowered their gaze.
Respect here was not demanded-it was returned.
As Saturo wandered deeper into the city, he overheard fragments of conversation.
"...the Queen visited the east district again last week." "She helped settle the dockworkers' dispute herself." "They say she remembers names. Even the poor ones."
He paused beside a baker's stall. The old woman behind it smiled warmly and pressed an extra roll into his hands.
"For the road," she said.
"I didn't-" Saturo began.
She waved him off. "Silver Dawn feeds its guests. It's bad luck to let kindness go hungry."
He accepted it, unsettled.
In his kingdom, generosity was organized. Planned. Efficient.
Here, it was instinctive.
Saturo realized something then:
Silver Dawn did not rely on fear, walls, or overwhelming force.
It relied on trust.
And trust, he knew, was far harder to build than stone.
The inn he chose stood near a small plaza where a fountain trickled softly. It bore no grand name-just The Open Light-etched simply above its door.
Inside, warmth greeted him immediately.
The innkeeper, a broad man with laugh lines etched deep into his face, greeted Saturo as though he were an old friend.
"No weapons drawn inside," he said kindly, gesturing to a rack. "Not because we fear them-because we don't need them."
Saturo complied, more out of curiosity than obligation.
The common room buzzed with conversation. Travelers spoke openly of routes, prices, even politics. No one whispered.
He ate slowly, listening.
Stories of the Queen came up again and again-not exaggerated, not reverent, but familiar.
"She scolded the council last winter." "She brought soup to the sick during the river fever."
Saturo found himself smiling faintly.
So this is her kingdom, he thought. If she truly rules like this...
It explained the open gates. The low walls. The living city.
As evening approached, lanterns were lit-not harsh torches, but soft-glowing lights hung at street corners. The city transformed into something gentle, almost dreamlike.
Saturo noticed something else then.
There were fewer beggars.
Not because poverty didn't exist-but because the community absorbed it. Food was shared. Work was offered. Pride was preserved.
Silver Dawn did not erase hardship. It refused to abandon those who suffered it.
For the first time since leaving his own kingdom, Saturo felt... unguarded.
And it unsettled him.
A kingdom like this should not survive in a world of kings.
Yet it thrived.
Only then did he step back into the streets to track the thieves. He decided to check separate with kael to cover more grounds.
He darted through bustling squares, past fountains and open-air taverns. Market-goers stopped in surprise as a cloaked figure moved swiftly among them, yet no one could stop him. His breath came in controlled bursts; the thieves were fast, but Saturo's instincts and training kept him precise.
Suddenly, he collided with a figure moving with grace and purpose. A silver-haired lady in her early twenties had stepped into his path.
"Ah!" he stumbled, regaining balance.
Before him stood a woman. He barely had time to react before he felt the presence of armed guards surrounding him.
"Who are you? Why did you ambush our lady?" one demanded.
Saturo kept his gaze lowered, calculating. A noble, clearly.
"It was an accident. I sought someone else entirely," he replied calmly, turning to leave.
The guard advanced, frowning, attempting to force him to turn fully toward the lady. A voice cut through sharply, yet softly commanding:
"Enough. If he meant no harm, let him at least face me."
Saturo hesitated, then turned.
She stood before him-slender, dignified, silver hair catching the light like moonlit steel. Hazel eyes studied him with unsettling clarity. She looked to be in her early twenties, yet shown so bright.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Something shifted.
"I apologize," he said at last, bowing slightly. "I meant no disrespect."
Her gaze lingered on him, thoughtful.
"And yet," she said softly, "you carry yourself like someone who fears neither guards nor accusations." Saturo met her eyes.
"Habit," he replied.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"Interesting."
Behind her, the bodyguards relaxed-but did not stand down.
That night, after returning to the inn-after Kael had already arrived and they had eaten together-Saturo lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
They spoke little more exchanging what they gathered. Sleep came slowly.
As he lay in the dark, his mind betrayed him.
The image of the silver-haired noblewoman surfaced again.
Her calm voice. The dignity in her posture. The way she spoke to her guards-not with command, but understanding.
A stranger, he told himself.
Yet her image lingered-unbidden, persistent-like the echo of a melody he had not meant to remember