Heat, maddening heat was the only sensation Turak felt as he clawed back from the brink of a coma.
Every drop of moisture in the air had been evaporated by the searing temperature. Each breath felt like swallowing liquid fire. Waves of excruciating pain surged through his organs, forcing a hoarse groan from his throat. He forced his eyes open, enduring the sensation of his face being torn apart by the dry, scorched air.
Then he saw hell.
The vast valley was deserted, occupied only by swirling white ashes and the sll of ozone. The breath of the white dragon had scorched the mountain walls into glossy black crystal. The sand beneath him had fused into a thick, glass-like crust. From above, Sunset Pass looked as if a god had drawn a line of ink across the earth, erasing every spark of life.
Less than ten steps away, Turak spotted the remains of Soreto. Though the charred carcass was unrecognizable, the warhamr beside it, lted into a twisted stub, confird the demi-human general's identity. The warrior known as the most powerful in southern Mt. Gelmir was no different from a common ant when facing a Greater Drake. He had fled, and he had turned to ash.
Turak knew he should have died with them. Before he lost consciousness, he had heard the dragon pacing the pass, ensuring its flas devoured every living thing.
But his snow wolf skin armor, imbued with frost properties, had saved him. When the fire descended, he had dove beneath a wagon, unfastening his breastplate and wrapping himself in the fur. Though his lungs throbbed and his skin was a map of burns, he was alive.
He trudged through the valley, using a broken iron sword he found embedded in a horse carcass as a makeshift crutch. Most weapons had been reduced to scrap tal.
As he labored toward the wasteland north of the pass, Turak felt the weight of the day's absurdity. All his intrigue, his scheming, his ambition was a joke in the face of a higher power.
The law of the jungle was a lesson he had learned as a rookie rcenary in the gutters of Caelid. For twenty years, he had sought martial prowess and influence. He had felt disdain as he killed Hectov, viewing the Baron as a weakling living in a noble dream. But now, groveling in the wake of dragon might, he realized he was the ant.
He struggled to his feet, chose the most desolate road, and began to walk. He did not look back.
"So that is how it is," Lucia sighed after listening to Clavell's heavy explanation.
The story of the girl, Monica, was tragically common. Even in this prosperous Golden Age, the land was filled with depressing shadows. The world had always been cruel to the weak and the kind.
"Now that Hectov is dead and Kruger has fallen to internal strife, your agreent is void," Lucia said. "What are your plans?"
"Why ask such a thing?" Clavell replied with a wry smile. "Since I failed to detect Lord Aegis tracking last night, I have had no choice."
He no longer called himself a subordinate. Whether he was promoted to Regent, exiled to the mountains, or executed by the Golden Dynasty, his life was now in Lucia's hands.
"Don't be so pessimistic," Lucia shrugged. "If I want you to control Caelid for , I cannot do it by force alone. If you comply outwardly but resist in your heart, my influence fails. Caelid is a vital border town. If we turned against each other, I couldn't do much to you from the capital, could I?"
Clavell was stunned. He hadn't expected such frankness. If Lucia recomnded him to Queen Marika, the threat of the Hectov murder lost its leverage. Their partnership would depend entirely on mutual trust.
"Lord Clavell, tell ," Lucia asked suddenly. "Are people like Soreto, Turak, and those who rejoiced at Kruger's death... are they even worth saving?"
Clavell remained silent for a long ti. "Your Highness, I believe they are."
"Oh?"
"I lived in Leyndell and saw the highest and the lowest. I was demoted to Caelid and saw the outcasts. I asked myself: why does such a corner abandoned by God exist in a world ruled by God? Why are there outcasts not tolerated by the perfect law?"
"Did you get the answer?"
"No. But I learned that the actions of ordinary people are rarely what they truly want. It is not that they are evil, but that they have never had the right to choose."
"Public opinion is a marble," Clavell continued. "Place it on a slope, and it rolls. Put it in a slingshot, and it is launched. Most people swept up in the collapse do not know why they are there. The rest know, but are helpless."
He bowed deeply. "If you intend to employ , I hope that in Caelid, I can disregard race and faith, so that people have less helplessness and more dignity."
Lucia gestured for him to rise and called over Olvens. "I will send the Queen an explanation of Sunset Pass and a letter of recomndation tonight. Olvens will stay as your advisor."
Clavell nodded. "I understand."
"Alright, we have been hunting long enough. We must continue our journey." Lucia led his guards toward their warhorses.
After riding a short distance, Lucia reined in his horse and looked back at Clavell on the cliffside.
"My thoughts are similar to yours," Lucia shouted. "Except I hope we won't be limited to Caelid, or even to this mont."
He brandished his whip, a gesture encompassing the heavens and earth. He didn't offer any grand promises; he simply laughed and spurred his horse forward.
"Let's wait and see!"
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