From the moment I was chosen by the holy relic

Five days later, Elgarden finally appeared on the horizon.

The city walls rise from the woods like white stone coastlines, towers pierce the morning mist like masts, and flags flutter in the wind, gold and blue intertwining to form the colors of royalty.

The refugees were placed in the border camp outside the city gates and temporarily cared for by the city guards. Eric, Eileen, and Lia were led all the way to the Silver Crown Hall in the royal city.

The palaces and corridors along the way are inlaid with classical reliefs, recording the covenant between the ancient king of Ither and the Eldar, the oath between the dragon and the moon, like stone books that hold up history, silently telling the traces of the royal bloodline after a thousand years.

The king ascended the platform, clad in a robe of dawn. Though the marks of age etched themselves on his face, his former majesty remained undiminished. When he called Eric's name, his tone still held the joy of a long-awaited reunion.

"You're finally back, Eric." He reached out and placed his hand affectionately on Eric's shoulder. "I heard you won the final victory in the mines, and I'm so proud of you."

Eric bowed and then recounted their experiences in Diarant to the king.

The king frowned slightly.

Eileen then took out the deciphered manuscript of the ancient book from her bosom and presented it with both hands. "This was found by Eric and me in the ruins on the border of Nosteria," Eileen said succinctly. "We have completely deciphered it."

The king turned to the first few pages, glanced at them, and his face darkened.

He looked at Eileen and Eric, a long-lost chill appearing in his eyes—not anger at them, but a fury of realizing he had been deceived and that his country was threatened.

"I'll go back and finish reading it slowly. You all go and rest," he murmured, closing the book.

Eric stepped forward, and before he could even stand up, he said urgently, "Your Majesty, please wait a moment."

The king turned his head.

"On our way back to the city, we encountered a group of refugees fleeing the Mel mining area. They came from the battlefield between Nosteria and Ferian, and they are now settled outside the south gate."

The joy on the king's face finally vanished completely, leaving only a thoughtful and solemn expression. He sighed, as if this was not the first time he had encountered something similar.

“Eric, I know your heart,” he said, “and I understand you can’t bear to see them suffer. But Iser is currently facing instability on its borders, a shortage of food, and political turmoil. We don’t have enough land to take in these people.”

As Eric listened to these words, it felt as if an iron gate was slowly closing in his heart.

Lia, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke. Her voice was soft, yet carried a deep sorrow and an unnoticed weariness: "They can be settled in that town that Kadir destroyed." Her gaze didn't fall on the king, nor on Eric, as if she were simply reciting these words from the depths of her heart and gently placing them on the stone steps. "Kadir destroyed it to capture Eric. Now he's not there, and he has no reason to return."

Eric turned to look at her, his eyes filled with shock and apology. He hadn't wanted to bring it up, because he always felt that the ordeal was his fault.

The king paused for a moment, then nodded, his voice tinged with approval: "That's a good idea, a very good one, but one that requires courage. Cahill is in a good location, with water and woodlands; it's time to rebuild it." He beckoned to an adjutant. "Send a few soldiers to assist with the refugees' relocation and resettlement. Also, send a few more to escort her home. She is a citizen of this country, and it's worth our effort to help her."

Leah said nothing, simply bowed, and turned to leave with the soldiers. Eileen watched her retreating figure, her gaze complex, seemingly wanting to call out to her, but holding back. Eric opened his mouth, but ultimately remained silent.

The king's gaze returned to Eric and Eileen. His tone remained gentle, but the weariness in his eyes was evident: "You two should go and rest. You've done enough on this journey. I will personally read that manuscript, without skipping a single page."

Eric and Eileen walked out of the Silver Crown Hall side by side. The corridor was quiet, with only the firelight from the fireplace casting long, thin shadows on the stone pillars. Eric couldn't help but look back at the throne, but all he saw was the slowly closing door.

Behind the gate lay the king's contemplation; outside lay their embers and their journey home. In the distance, towards the south gate, the night wind carried the faint scent of charcoal—the smoke from the fires lit by refugees, burning quietly beyond the slumbering walls of Iser.

Eileen walked softly, as if unwilling to disturb the city's brief night of peace. Eric suddenly whispered, "Leah...she's probably stronger than any of us." Eileen nodded gently, "And she understands loss better than any of us."

The two did not speak again, and their footsteps gradually faded away in the corridor. The distant chimes of the clock tower drifted on the night wind, as if echoing a long and distant curtain call for this long journey.

A few days later, one morning, the sky was as clear as if it had been washed clean, and sunlight streamed through the high windows onto the long table in the Silver Crown Hall, casting a golden river of light. Eric and Eileen entered the hall, led by their servants, where the King was already waiting. He was not dressed in his finest attire, but only in a dark blue robe. His hands were folded on the table, and in front of him lay a thick manuscript, its corners slightly curled from repeated reading.

He raised his head, his gaze lingering between the two for a moment, as if assessing their expressions and states of mind. Then he spoke, his voice no longer as gentle as before, but carrying a calm and cautious restraint: "I have read this book from beginning to end."

Eric's heart skipped a beat upon hearing this. He had imagined countless times during his journey what conclusion the king would reach—shock, mobilization, or silence. But he hadn't expected the king's next words to be like this:

"First of all," the king said, slowly stroking the pages of the book, "its accuracy is debatable. The records of the royal historians of Iser never mention the so-called Demon King, nor are there any records of the Five Towers. As for the so-called 'dark forces,' in our historical records, they only exist in the songs of bards, which are mostly used to drive away boredom and fear on winter nights and are not accepted by historians."

Eric frowned slightly, about to speak, when the king raised his hand, gesturing for her to wait: "Moreover, we have had academic exchanges with the other four kingdoms in order to revise history. None of their records contain a single chapter about the 'Five Towers.' As for the five dragons you mentioned…" He exhaled softly, as if these words shouldn't have come from a king, "Dragons have never existed in this world, at least not in human memory. They belong only to poetry and mythology, like the silver city at the bottom of the sea, the divine spaceship in the night sky—the feathers of poets, not the ink of historians."

The king was silent for a moment, as if weighing an invisible scale. Then, he slowly said, "Unless you can produce conclusive evidence, all of this is nothing more than a well-written novel." His eyes were deep and steady, with the patience of an elder facing a young man, yet exuding an undeniable weight.

Eric felt a heavy weight pressing on his chest, but he did not back down. His voice was urgent: "In the ruins, we not only brought back the ancient book, but also obtained two other things: the Radiant Sword and a pendant."

The king's eyebrows twitched slightly, as if he had heard a clue worth pursuing: "Then where are those two items now?"

"The Radiant Sword was confiscated when we left," Eric said, bowing slightly, a hint of resentment and helplessness in his voice. "It should be in the hands of the King of Nosteria now. As for the pendant, it's with Irene."

The king's gaze then shifted to Eileen, his eyes gleaming with a long-dormant fire, like a scholar discovering a legendary manuscript in a dusty archive. Eileen felt a strange tension under his gaze, instinctively reaching for her clothes and belt. She searched her pockets, the hidden pockets of her cloak, even the lining of her bosom, but found nothing.

"This is impossible!" she whispered, her brow furrowing with confusion and a hint of alarm.

Watching her movements, the king's hope dimmed like a candle flame in the snow. He slowly leaned back on his throne, exhaled a long breath, and finally simply waved his hand, his tone calm to the point of indifference: "Go."

Eric wanted to say something more, but Eileen gently tugged at his sleeve, signaling him to stop arguing. The two left the Silver Crown Hall in silence.

Back in their room in the city, Eric immediately rummaged through their luggage, peeling back every layer of clothing and map, even checking their boots and the shadows under the bed. Eileen was even more meticulous, examining every detail, from the cloth bag on the corner of the table to the kettle. However, the pendant remained nowhere to be found.

"This doesn't make sense." A bead of sweat appeared on Eric's forehead as he tossed the empty bag onto the chair. "We couldn't have just lost it like that, since we carried it with us all this way."

Eileen crouched down to tidy up the rummaged-through luggage, her expression surprisingly calm: "I have a guess."

Eric immediately turned to look at her.

"It's very likely that Leah took it." Eileen raised her eyes, her gaze containing no accusation, only cautious judgment.

"Leah? What's she doing with the pendant?" Eric's voice was filled with disbelief, as if he had heard that someone had stolen a sacred object that he dared not touch.

"I don't know." Eileen shook her head, her tone still calm. "We can only wait for her to come back and ask her."

"What if she doesn't come back?" Eric's voice lowered noticeably, as if he didn't want that possibility to come true.

"Then there's nothing we can do." Eileen looked him straight in the eye, her tone like she was putting reins on a runaway horse. "Don't you trust Leah's character? She must have her reasons for doing this."

Eric paused for a moment, then finally nodded, as if accepting an answer he was not entirely satisfied with but had to accept: "Okay, we'll wait for her for five days. If she doesn't return after five days—"

"—Let's go find her." Eileen finished speaking for him, her voice soft, yet like a stone falling into a deep well, echoing deeply.

Night slowly crept in through the window, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows of the two men on the stone wall. Neither of them spoke, each lost in their own thoughts, silently counting down the five days yet to come.

By the evening of the fifth day, Eric's heart was like a taut string, on the verge of snapping. Since dawn, he had paced back and forth in his room, the soles of his boots scraping against the stone floor with a low, guttural sound, like the sound of the tide before a storm. He looked towards the door again and again, then looked away, clinging to that increasingly fragile glimmer of hope.

Reason told him that if Leah didn't appear before sunset, he had to set off immediately to find her. The pendant wasn't an ordinary ornament; its significance was heavy enough to determine the entire value of their trip. But his emotions whispered in his ear: perhaps she would walk in at any moment, with her usual slightly teasing smile.

However, the door remained tightly closed, and the only sounds in the corridor outside were sparse footsteps and the occasional echo of distant horses' hooves.

Eric finally couldn't take it anymore. He cursed under his breath, threw his empty bag onto the bed, and began to put the necessities in one by one: dry rations, a scabbard, and a water pouch. His movements were stiff and impatient, as if he were sulking with an unseen adversary.

He didn't want this to happen; packing his bags meant accepting that Leah wouldn't be coming back, a thought that felt like ice water poured into his chest, making every breath he took cold. But reality stood before him like a stone wall, leaving him no way around it.

Halfway through packing, he couldn't resist going to find Eileen.