The moment Myorr noticed the unfamiliar beast, he ordered the Selifehians to fall back. They scattered at once, slipping behind jagged cliffs and into the mouths of nearby caves.
The colossal wolf continued its advance without haste, each measured step carrying an unsettling sense of purpose. As the creature drew nearer, Myorr's gaze left the beast and settled on the three figures riding atop its back.
One among them immediately commanded his attention.
The man sat in silence, his posture relaxed, yet the oppressive aura surrounding him weighed in the air like an invisible storm. The bloodlust emanating from him stirred an unpleasant memory within Myorr, reminding him of the fallen princess.
It was Patriarch Isidro Golshifteh, the Saint of Execution himself.
At a gentle motion from his hand, Andromed halted. Isidro dismounted with unhurried grace before casting his gaze across the valley and its inhabitants.
"The Selifehians," he mused. "It has always fascinated me how those who rise so high can fall so low. Tell me, how fares life in exile?"
"Who are you, and what do you want from us?" Myorr asked, his expression betraying nothing.
"I am the one asking the questions, boy." Isidro began circling him at a leisurely pace. "And you will answer them."
"I am no boy," Myorr replied evenly. "I am Myorr Rorgarrur, King of the Selifehians."
"Then accept my apologies, Your Majesty."
Though the words sounded courteous, there was little sincerity behind them.
"The last time I encountered your kind, your ruler was an old man. Still, that is hardly relevant to my visit." Isidro finally came to a stop before him.
"I am hunting a rather peculiar woman, and my faithful companion has caught her scent throughout this valley. By chance, would you happen to know whom I am referring to?"
For a moment, Myorr studied the strangers before him.
He did not require his seer gift to know something was deeply amiss. The wolf alone was enough to inspire caution, while the man standing before him exuded the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to passing judgment on others. More troubling still was the certainty that he could not prevail against him in battle.
Even so, Myorr revealed none of his concerns.
"I know nothing of the woman you seek," he answered. "The Valley of Mendiants is vast. Travellers cross its lands more often than you might imagine, and many do so without ever coming to our attention. Had I possessed information that could aid your search, I would have shared it willingly."
"Hmph." Isidro walked past him before glancing back over his shoulder.
"If that is true, then surely you will not object to a search of your..." He paused, looking around at the scattered dwellings and crude shelters. "Home, shall we call it?"
Myorr did not respond.
"I take that for a yes. Andromed... hunt." The Saint ordered.
Dolores and Pritish dismounted from the great wolf immediately. The beast wasted no time. Lowering its head, it prowled across the valley floor, sniffing the earth, the rocks, and the air itself as it pursued a trail discernible only to its keen senses.
Myorr took a step forward, his patience wearing thin. Regardless of who these strangers were, they had no right to scour Selifehian lands as though they owned them.
The protest died on the Selifehian king's lips the moment the Saint of Execution shifted the tip of his spear close to his face.
Forced to watch in silence, Myorr followed Andromed's movements from afar as the colossal wolf continued its search. The trail eventually led it toward the principal cavern, an ancient refuge that had once served as the seat of the First Branch during the reign of King Knorr.
Andromed slipped into the depths of the cavern without a pause.
Moments later, a great howl rose from within, reverberating through stone corridors and ancient walls alike.
"Looks like you've found something." Without another word, Isidro followed the call.
The cavern swallowed him whole as he descended deeper through the winding passages. The air grew colder with each step, carrying the scent of damp stone and ancient waters. Eventually, the tunnels opened into a vast underground chamber where subterranean currents flowed.
Isidro's gaze swept across the waters before settling on Andromed. The wolf stood at the edge of the stream, staring toward the opposite side.
"So, this is where her scent ends." The Saint's voice echoed. "It seems my quarry has gone beyond these waters. Let's keep moving, she's at hand."
***
Bazareff.
Thanks to the generosity—or perhaps self-interest—of the elegant Lambert Normandie, Victoria and her companions had finally secured three rooms at the "Green" Inn. After setting down their belongings and washing away the dust of travel, they settled in the common room with refreshing drinks before them.
The festivities outside had driven a steady stream of customers indoors. Every table in the inn was occupied save for those claimed by their group, leaving the room alive with laughter, conversation, and the clinking of tankards.
"Now then," Lambert declared, pointing two fingers at Godric and Aiden, "the two of you are indebted to me. When the day comes, be sure to answer my call."
"We heard you the first time," Aiden replied before draining the last of his ale. "There's no need to keep repeating it. Besides, it's not as though we asked for your help."
"You didn't need to." Lambert's smile widened. "Seeing the great Godric and Aiden reduced to counting coins was an opportunity too amusing to ignore. I only intervened because I know you are both men of your word."
"Very well," Godric conceded with a sigh. "When the time comes, we'll return the favour. Though I must admit I'm curious. What brings a nobleman such as yourself to Bazareff? Don't tell me you've been following us all this time over what happened at Xerxes."
"As much as I despise the two of you for that humiliation, I assure you I did not come here for your sake."
Lambert idly ran his fingers through the hair of the two women resting on his chest.
"Don't flatter yourselves. You're not that important."
Aiden clicked his tongue while Godric chuckled into his cup.
"More importantly," Lambert continued, "you are the ones acting strangely. Where are your guild members? And how is it that two renowned guild masters suddenly find themselves short on coin?"
Godric narrowed his eyes with amusement as he swirled the wine in his cup.
"If I answer that, would it settle the debt we owe you?"
"Nice try." Lambert laughed. "I wasn't born yesterday, Godric."
The three men shared a brief laugh before Lambert's attention wandered elsewhere.
"What about your little companion?" he asked, nodding toward Victoria.
Unlike the others, she sat alone at a nearby table.
"She doesn't seem particularly fond of your company. Perhaps she would enjoy mine instead."
"She is like a wild beast that refuses to be tamed," Aiden replied in a relaxed tone, though the warning in his eyes was unmistakable. "If I were you, I'd keep my distance unless you enjoy being bitten."
"An aggressive woman?" Lambert's smile only broadened. "Now that sounds promising."
Victoria, meanwhile, paid them little attention. A folded towel rested across her eyes as she reclined comfortably in her chair, her empty cup abandoned on the table before her. To any observer, she appeared to be asleep.
In truth, she was speaking with Elysia within her mind.
"Vicky, do you know that man?" The fairy asked curiously.
"No," Victoria answered without hesitation. "It is not in my habit to befriend strange people. Aiden is already enough of an exception, and even he pushes the limits of my tolerance."
Elysia giggled.
"You heard what that witch said, didn't you? There's a powerful mage coming after you. From everything I've gathered through your memories, it sounds like you'll need their help when the time comes."
"Perhaps." Victoria exhaled slowly and stretched her arms overhead.
"We'll find out soon enough. If this mage is truly as powerful as they claim, then it will be a useful test, and an opportunity to grow stronger."
"Of course," Elysia replied eagerly. "A perfect opportunity."
***
The sky gradually surrendered its light as dusk settled over Bazareff, heralding the arrival of a dark night.
As the townsfolk continued their celebrations, a griffon appeared high above the town.
Few paid it any mind.
Bazareff was a place of revelry, where strange sights often accompanied festivals and wandering performers. To most, the creature was merely another spectacle added to the day's festivities.
Perched atop the walls surrounding the Town of Joy, Isidro observed the bustling streets below. Dolores and Pritish stood nearby, their cloaks stirring in the wind as they kept silent watch.
The beast's trail had led them this far, yet Victoria remained beyond their grasp.
Isidro's patience had long since worn thin.
In his growing frustration, he had given Andromed a simple ultimatum: find his quarry before midnight or lose his head for proving himself useless.
Harsh though it was, neither Dolores nor Pritish questioned the threat. Such was the nature of the Saint of Execution.
At last, Andromed moved.
In its griffon form, the creature descended into the town below. As its talons touched the ground, the massive frame began to shrink and reshape, bones and flesh folding inward until it took the form of an ordinary wolf.
Without hesitation, it darted into the crowded streets, weaving through merchants, revellers, and wandering musicians as it pursued the trail.
The chase ended before the "Green" Inn.
There, Andromed lifted its head and released a long, resonant howl that rose above the noise of the celebration. The sound reached Isidro almost immediately.
For the first time that evening, the Saint felt relief, as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Finally." His grip tightened around his spear. "It is time for punishment."
Neither Dolores nor Pritish responded. They merely exchanged a glance, each silently pitying the fallen princess for earning the Saint's wrath.
***
While the inn remained alive with laughter, conversation, and the clinking of cups, the entrance doors opened once more.
Isidro stepped inside with Dolores and Pritish at his side, all three cloaked in black. A thin drizzle clung to their garments, leaving them slightly damp as they crossed the threshold. The warmth of the inn contrasted sharply with the cold weight they brought.
They approached the counter.
As always, Miss FishGreens recited her services and prices without lifting her gaze from her book, as though the world beyond its pages held no real importance. Yet this time, she paused when Isidro spoke. His grave voice alone was enough to draw her full attention.
"For the damages," he said, placing a pouch of gold and silver on the counter.
Miss FishGreens said nothing. She understood immediately. With a quiet motion, she collected the pouch and returned to her reading as though nothing had occurred.
Isidro gave a subtle gesture to Dolores and Pritish, silently bidding them to search the room. Their eyes drifted slowly across the crowded inn until they settled on what they had been seeking.
At a table near the back sat Victoria.
The moment they recognised her, both women stiffened. A tremor ran through them as instinctive fear took hold, and without speaking, they pointed her out.
Without haste, Isidro crossed the room and took a seat at Victoria's table.
A faint unease settled between Aiden and Godric noticed the unfamiliar figure immediately.
"Who is that man sitting with Victoria?" Godric murmured.
"Vicky! Someone's here!" Elysia's voice echoed urgently within her mind.
"I know," Victoria replied calmly.
She slowly lifted the towel covering her eyes and regarded the stranger before her.
For a moment, she said nothing. Then her gaze narrowed.
"Who are you," she asked calmly, "and who granted you permission to sit at my table?"
Isidro's expression remained dark and hollow.
"The mighty do not seek permission from insects that crawl beneath them," he replied, his voice low and severe. "I have crossed hell itself to find you. So, I will speak plainly—I am here for your head. Submit, and your death shall be swift. Resist… and you will know agony beyond measure."
A cold silence settled between them.
Victoria straightened in her seat and exhaled slowly, never once breaking eye contact.
"So," she said at last, "you are the one who has come for me. Judging by the cover, I must admit… I am far from disappointed."
The fallen princess's bloodlust surged at once.
"Since you have chosen honesty, I will return the courtesy. If a head is to fall tonight… I assure you, it will not be mine."