It had been an incredibly long day. One that had drained every ounce of energy from Eomer. By the time he reached his mansion in the capital, just a short distance from the palace, exhaustion weighed heavily on him.
The mansion was vast, filled with countless rooms. White marble gleamed beneath soft light, blue decorations adorned the halls, and expensive furnishings spoke of wealth and status.
Yet to Eomer, none of it felt like home.
Home was the quiet cottage in the forest—where his wife and daughter were.
But he could not risk their safety, not at a time like this. With the number of white magis reduced to fewer than ten, their kind was on the brink of extinction.
At the entrance, the caretaker, a brown magis named Lomi, along with the rest of the staff, greeted their master upon his return. Eomer said nothing. He simply allowed a maid to remove his robe before heading straight to his chamber for a bath.
Lomi followed behind.
Once they were alone, Lomi spoke gently, "How are the Lady and the young Lady?"
He knew of them well. Lomi had once served Lady Miriam, and over the years, he had occasionally cared for young Ayumu in the forest cottage, coming to adore the child.
A faint smile appeared on Eomer's face at the mention of his family.
"Ayumu isn't so little anymore, I suppose," he said. "She managed to cast advanced healing magic last night. One that healed such a grave wound. She did it on her own."
"Goodness!" Lomi exclaimed. "Our little Lady is a genius! She will grow into an outstanding magis one day!" His voice rose with excitement, almost bursting with pride.
Eomer chuckled softly. "Lady Miriam is angry with me this time too. It seems the jewelry and rare flowers didn't work this time either, my friend."
"Lady Miriam only wishes for your safety—and for you to be with your family, Lord Eomer."
Though the words weighed heavily on him, Eomer nodded before adding, as if afraid he might forget,
"Prepare books on the magis syllabus for Ayumu. Everything she needs for homeschooling—and whatever Miriam may require as well. Perhaps… a horse is not enough… maybe we need to arrange a carriage-"
"I will prepare everything, Lord Eomer. Do not worry," Lomi replied with a reassuring smile. "I'll include some sweets and cakes too—for the young Lady. A celebration for unlocking her power." He gave a playful wink.
Eomer laughed. "She would love that. Thank you, my friend."
With that, Lomi took his leave, allowing his lord to rest.
The night was quiet—eerily so.
Unlike the chaos of the previous evening… especially the moment Visil had barged into the room and caught him and Miriam in an intimate moment.
Eomer felt a flicker of embarrassment at the memory.
At the time, he had only been trying to coax his angry wife. But when she demanded him to be intimate… you can say things had escalated quickly after that for a married couple.
But the image of Visil's shocked face before he slammed the door still lingered in Eomer's mind. A soft laugh escaped him as the ridiculous scene replayed.
Those were the moments he cherished most.
Yet now, the mansion felt unbearably empty. A lonely night, in a place far too large without his family.
Drawn by the silence, Eomer stepped out onto the veranda to take in the cool night breeze. In his hand, he held a small pouch filled with crystal tears—a keepsake that reminded him of his daughter.
He knew what was coming. Trouble was brewing, and soon it would erupt.
All he could do is wish for his family's safety.
---------
To Eomer's dread, news arrived from the Omran Empire two weeks after the council meeting.
The three captured white magis had died in captivity.
The report was brief. Cold, almost indifferent, but its weight was crushing. It came at the worst possible time, just as tensions between the two nations were reaching a breaking point.
War loomed.
The nobles remained on edge, uncertain whether the Omran Empire would strike Epsos first. Their only hope now lay in diplomacy.
Eomer had already acted.
An envoy, led by Lord Elbus, had been dispatched to Omran. At first, they were met with hostility. Doors closed in their faces, their presence unwelcome. But through patience, careful negotiation, and promises of peaceful trade… cracks began to form.
The turning point came with a difficult concession.
Epsos would accept the cremated remains of the fallen white magis.
In exchange, Omran agreed to a year of tax-free trade and a formal cessation of hostilities.
The empires will not be at war with each other and that led to a drafting of a treaty.
Yet one final obstacle remained.
The Emperor of Epsos.
Three months passed in exhausting back-and-forth negotiations between the representatives of Epsos and Omran. And still, the greatest uncertainty lingered—not the enemy across the border, but the man seated upon the throne of Epsos.
Emperor Lennix was no longer the ruler he once was.
His health had deteriorated, both in body and mind. He spent most of his days seated by the window, staring into nothingness as time slipped by. At times, he was eerily silent. At others, he was consumed by uncontrollable rage—lashing out, destroying furniture, even drawing his sword on those who displeased him.
No one could predict which version of him they would face.
Eomer knew the risk, but it was his duty as the royal advisor.
Thus, he requested an audience.
"Your Majesty, Lord Eomer has arrived," a guard announced at the chamber doors.
There was no reply.
The guard hesitated, then slowly pushed the doors open anyway.
Eomer stepped inside.
Behind him, the guard lingered, visibly uneasy at the thought of leaving him alone with the emperor. But Eomer gave a subtle nod, dismissing him.
The doors closed.
Silence filled the room.
Eomer bowed slightly. "Your Majesty, I have come to report on the Omran Empire… and the outcome of our negotiations."
"Negotiations?" Lennix's voice was low, distant.
"Yes, Your Majesty. The discussions have borne fruit. They acknowledge the damage they have caused and have agreed to compensate us. Trade will proceed without taxation for a year. This will greatly benefit our—"
"And the white magis?"
Eomer's voice faltered for the briefest moment.
"The ones they took," Lennix continued, his tone sharpening. "Where are they? Where is Theana?"
That name again.
Eomer felt a knot tighten in his chest. He already knew how this would unfold. Yet there was no choice but to speak the truth.
"Your Majesty… the white magis held in captivity have… perished. Their remains will be returned to us, so that proper rites may be observed. But as of now, the treaty requires your—"
"My Theana is dead…?"
The emperor rose slowly.
The air shifted.
"You let them die… and now you ask me to sign a treaty?" His voice trembled, then broke into a roar. "Those wretched bastards should all burn! They took her from me!"
Rage erupted.
Chairs were overturned, vases shattered against the walls. Anything within reach was thrown, broken, destroyed.
Then—
His hand reached for his sword.
Steel rang as it was unsheathed.
"Let there be war!" Lennix roared. "Kill every last one of them!"
Something inside Eomer snapped.
"Your Majesty," he said, his voice firm despite the tension, "our people cannot endure another war. Our coffers are depleted. The harvest this year has been poor. If we proceed—"
"Silence!"
In a flash—
A blur of steel and pain.
Eomer's breath caught as the blade drove into him.
He hadn't even seen it coming. His body collapsed to the ground as blood spread rapidly beneath him.
The doors burst open.
Guards rushed in—only to freeze in horror at the sight before them.
"L-Lord Eomer…!"
Blood pooled across the floor.
Eomer's mind struggled to remain clear. He knew this wound as he has vast medical knowledge. He could feel it.
A vital organ had been struck and time was running out.
Across the room, the emperor stood frozen, staring at what he had done.
Then there was a voice. Soft. Distant.
Yet unmistakably clear.
"You vowed… to never harm him."
Lennix trembled.
All these years, he had never once raised a hand against Eomer—not out of restraint, but because of a vow.
A vow to Theana.
"You vowed… to never harm him!"
The voice grew louder.
A faint white light began to gather around the emperor, circling him like a tightening cage.
The guards hesitated, unsure whether to approach. Fear rooted them in place.
Lennix screamed.
The light intensified, wrapping around him as though it were alive.
His body began to wither before their eyes—his already frail form aging rapidly, his life force draining away.
"No—no…!" he cried, his voice breaking.
But there was no escape.
Within moments, his screams faded. His body collapsed.
Lifeless. Dead.
Eomer, barely conscious, witnessed it all.
He understood.
The binding vow… Theana's doing as a final safeguard for his safety.
A punishment for the cruel Emperor Lennix.
But even as clarity came, so too did dread.
What happens now…?
Would he be branded a traitor?
The man who stood before the emperor… and survived?
The next in line was the second prince—a man known not for wisdom, but cruelty.
If he took the throne… the empire would fall into ruin.
"Argh—!"
A wave of pain tore through Eomer's body.
He could not heal himself when he have just lost a lot of blood.
Footsteps thundered through the halls as more magis arrived—two white magis among them, rushing forward to save him.
"He's still alive—prepare—!"
But before they could act—they were seized.
Non-magis guards dragged them back by their long hair violently, while others moved in on Eomer, wrenching his arms behind him and binding his hands even as he writhed in agony.
"Don't touch him!"
"What are you doing?! He'll die—!"
Chaos erupted.
Shouts filled the chamber as magis and non-magis clashed, tension finally boiling over into open conflict.
And then—the doors opened once more.
A presence entered.
Heavy. Ominous.
The second prince of Epsos had arrived.