​Evening in Iron Hearth always wore a "lazy" shade of orange—a dull, smoldering amber that seemed caught between the rows of factory chimneys and rusted corrugated roofs. A biting chill began to creep in, piercing through the seams of jackets, yet it wasn’t strong enough to drive away the crowds of evening-shift workers filling the streets. The faint scent of soot mingled with the aroma of frying oil from street vendors lining the pavement.

​Raphael walked with both hands buried deep in his pockets, his pace deliberately slow. Beside him, Elodie tried to match his stride, though her eyes never stopped darting toward the shop signs that were beginning to flicker with gaslight.

​"Bjorn’s Nasi Padang," Raphael stopped and pointed at a two-story building with sturdy wooden architecture. Its signboard was intricately carved, a sharp contrast to the functional buildings surrounding it. Warm light from the crystal chandeliers inside spilled out through large, clear glass windows. "My mother gave the original recipes to the first owner. Now... well, it’s the most expensive place to eat in Iron Hearth."

​Elodie froze in front of the teak door. "Raphael... wait, are you serious? Isn’t this place too fancy?"

​"Hmm, fancy is just a price tag. You’re my friend." Raphael pushed the door open—ting!—and held it with one hand for Elodie to enter. "Come on. Don’t overthink it. It’s on me."

​A neatly uniformed waiter greeted them with a professional bow, leading them to a table by the window. Elodie sat with a stiff back, her fingers nervously clutching the edge of the pristine white tablecloth. Her eyes swept across the room: polished wooden floors, shimmering chandeliers, and the opposite table where two nobles in silk cloaks were cutting rendang with silver knives—clink, clink.

​"How much is a portion of rendang here?" Elodie whispered, her voice barely audible.

​"Shh, don’t ask. You’ll lose your appetite." Raphael opened the leather-bound menu and ordered fluently—rendang, gulai, grilled chicken, green chili sambal, and jackfruit curry. "Two portions of white rice. And hot tea."

​"This is way too much, Raphael."

​"You haven’t seen the portions at the castle. This is nothing."

​Elodie was about to retort, but her gaze caught a figure at a corner table. A man in a long-sleeved white shirt sat alone, surrounded by several brown paper parcels and small cloth bags. No guards, no servants standing by. The man had just finished pouring tea into his cup—splosh.

​"Is that... Sir Roland?" Elodie blinked.

​Raphael turned quickly. "Huh? Brother Roland?"

​Hearing his name, Roland looked up. He smiled—the perfect diplomat’s smile, though there were shadows of exhaustion in the corners of his weary eyes. "Raphael. And..." He looked at Elodie for a moment, assessing her politely. "Your friend?"

​"Elodie. A classmate."

​"Elodie." Roland repeated the name as if remembering a melody, then slid his shopping bags aside. "Come, sit. I was looking for some company."

​They moved to his table. Elodie grew even more awkward, while Raphael immediately targeted his brother’s heap of shopping. "Tea? Coffee? Spices? Maps?" Raphael read the labels on one of the parcels. "You went shopping yourself, Brother?"

​"I still have two functioning hands, Raphael." Roland took a slow sip of his tea—gulp. "Do you think princes are forbidden from touching shopping bags at the market?"

​"It’s not that, but... usually there are servants."

​"I wanted to take a walk. Perhaps for the last time before leaving tomorrow." Roland set his cup down with a small clack.

​The atmosphere suddenly turned heavy. Elodie looked between the two. Raphael had gone silent, his jaw tightening, while Roland, despite his smile, had a gaze that seemed to pierce through the walls, staring at something far off on the eastern horizon.

​Roland was the first to break the silence. He leaned back, his smirk widening into a tease. "So... Elodie. You didn’t tell me your school friend was this pretty, Raphael."

​Raphael choked on the air. "Cough! Brother! What on earth... we’re just friends!"

​"Oh, friends." Roland nodded playfully. "I used to have a ’friend’ once. Now she’s in Draconia. Long-distance relationships are hard, truly."

​"THAT’S YOUR OWN BUSINESS! Leave me out of it!" Raphael turned his face away, his ears turning red.

​"Tsk, I’m just giving you tips. You might need them later."

​"What tips? How to brood silently on the castle balcony?!"

​Roland let out a short laugh—a crisp sound, yet with a flicker of bitterness at the end. "Touché."

​Their food arrived. The sharp aroma of rendang spices and gulai immediately filled their senses. Raphael began cutting his grilled chicken with somewhat aggressive movements—perhaps to mask his embarrassment.

​Roland began packing his parcels. "I have to go. Still have some logistics to finalize." He stood up, then patted Raphael’s shoulder—thud. "Take care of her," he whispered, clear enough to make Raphael freeze and Elodie lower her head deeply.

​"Brother—"

​Without turning back, Roland waved a hand and disappeared behind the restaurant door. Raphael stared at the door for several seconds with an unreadable expression.

​"...Your brother is very kind," Elodie murmured, her cheeks still the color of the green chili on her plate.

​"Kind? He’s annoying." Raphael stabbed his chicken. "He’s always like that. Making others feel flustered, even though he himself..." He trailed off.

​"Why?"

​Raphael let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "He’s heartbroken. The person he likes is in Draconia, thousands of kilometers from here. And tomorrow he has to leave for Luminara—a mission he might not return from. But look at him, still able to joke around like that."

​"The Dragon Princess... right?"

​"You know?"

​"People whisper at school. Sir Roland and Princess Seraphina. They say... they can never be together."

​Raphael set his fork down. "Yeah. But he doesn’t give up. My brother is the most stubborn person I know." He stared out the window at the street. "Tomorrow, he begins a month-long journey to a place that probably wants him dead."

​Elodie fell silent, looking at Raphael, who no longer seemed like the arrogant prince from Math class, but a younger brother gripped by profound anxiety.

​"Are you afraid?" Elodie asked softly.

​"...No. He’s Roland Sudrath. He’ll come home." Raphael picked up his fork again, trying to shift the mood. "Now eat. The rendang is getting cold; the fat will freeze soon."

​Night at Iron Hearth Castle felt "heavier." The wind hissed through the pine branches outside the window, swaying dark shadows across the bedroom walls.

​Rianor sat on the edge of the bed; the black suit he would wear tomorrow hung neatly, without a single crease. Creak... scuff... Elara approached in her wheelchair, clutching the notebook she always carried.

​"New students arrived at the school today," Elara started the conversation, her voice smooth and calming. "The twins from Frostmere. Lyra and Lyan. Sent by Countess Mira."

​Rianor gave a brief nod. "Hmm, Frostmere. Their magic tradition is known to be very rigid."

​"Lyra is vocal, very sharp. But her brother, Lyan..." Elara paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "Lyan is cold. But not the type to look down on others. He’s... like you. He doesn’t say much, but when given a three-variable equation, he solves it without blinking."

​Rianor turned, one eyebrow arching slightly. "He can? Fast?"

​"Faster than Raphael."

​"Good. Raphael needs someone to crush his ego."

​"That’s your own brother you’re talking about."

​"Exactly because of that. He needs a real rival."

​Elara chuckled softly—a warm sound that acted as an oasis for Rianor amidst the preparations for this mission.

​"I leave at dawn," Rianor finally said. A statement already known, yet it still felt bitter when spoken aloud.

​Elara’s fingers tapped the cover of her book—tap, tap. "...For how long?"

​"I’m not certain. Perhaps two months."

​"Are you taking the data? The originals?"

​"All of it. Orion’s recordings, Elias’s logs, and Arvid’s translations. Everything is stored securely in the crystal tablet."

​Elara nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on Rianor. "What if they... don’t believe you?"

​"That’s Roland’s business. I’m only there to ensure the evidence is undeniable." Rianor took Elara’s hand. "I will come home."

​"You always say that."

​"And I always prove it."

​Knock, knock.

​The door opened after two sharp, firm knocks. Roland entered, a black leather folder tucked under his arm. His shirt looked slightly rumpled, remnants of his time at the market.

​"Still awake? Good." Roland closed the door and pulled up a chair near the desk. "I just finished checking the logistics. Dom has confirmed his team: Naya, Orva, and the new technician, Adul. They’ll be ready before sunrise."

​"Adul?" Rianor frowned.

​"A communications specialist. Borch guarantees the kid can maintain a signal across thousands of kilometers without being detected by outsiders."

​Rianor nodded in satisfaction. "And the route?"

​"Maglev to Qaqortoq. Viscount Roderick Qan has prepared simple horse carriages, exactly as you requested so we don’t stand out. From there, we cut through Eastmarch and head south toward Luminara. Likely three to four weeks of overland travel, depending on the weather on the plains."

​Rianor went silent. A full month on the road. It was a long time to leave Iron Hearth.

​Roland looked at Elara, who had been listening quietly. "I’ll make sure this husband of yours comes home in one piece," he said in a tone softer than usual.

​Elara gave a thin smile. "You’re the one who needs to watch yourself, Roland. Rianor, at least, doesn’t have a lingering burden on his heart."

​Roland let out a dry laugh. "Heh, touché. Checkmated again."

​The laughter slowly faded, leaving a silence hanging in the air. Soon after, the conversation ended on its own.

​Dawn had yet to break when the lights of the Iron Hearth Lightning Rail Station flickered with a dim blue glow. The platform was biting cold; everyone’s breath came out in white puffs—huff.

​Aurelia stood there, her deep blue dress fluttering slightly in the cold morning wind. Lucian stood beside her, silent as a stone monument.

​On the other side of the platform, four people were ready. Dom stood tall with his hands behind his back. Naya was busy checking the straps of her waist bag. Orva leaned against a station pillar with arms crossed. And Adul—the youth with thin glasses—clutched his metal communication box tightly, his face pale with nerves.

​Rianor and Roland arrived together, their steps firm on the dewy platform floor.

​Aurelia stepped forward. She hugged Roland first—long and tight, as if trying to transfer all the warmth in her heart. Then she turned to Rianor, patting her son’s back affectionately. "Be careful," she whispered hoarsely. Her voice contained all the anxiety of a mother.

​Rianor looked at his father. Lucian only gave a firm, singular nod. No hug was needed; in that gaze, every message had been delivered.

​Ssssshhhhhhtttt...

​The Maglev train glided into the platform almost silently, save for a soft magnetic hiss. The doors slid open.

​Dom gave the signal. Naya, Orva, and Adul boarded first. Roland looked eastward for a moment—toward Draconia, far beyond the shadows of the mountains—before finally stepping into the carriage. Rianor was the last to walk inside.

​The doors sealed shut. The train began to glide away, slicing through the morning mist.

​Inside the carriage, Roland sat by the window, watching his reflection in the glass. Rianor had already opened his crystal tablet, starting his work before the city of Iron Hearth even vanished from sight. Dom remained silent in the corner, Naya closed her eyes to save energy, while Adul was busy with his communication gear.

​The train sped faster toward the east. Dawn began to break on the horizon, bathing the world in a new light.

​Roland murmured softly, nearly swallowed by the hum of the engine. "Luminara. And after that... Draconia."

​Rianor didn’t look up, but his nimble fingers on the tablet screen paused for a second. The corner of his mouth curved up slightly. The long journey had only just begun.