(1) Donovan POV.

Jotting down notes in his notebook, Donovan was too preoccupied to notice
that he was about to run into yet another ancient relic in the museum. He
glanced up just in time and let out a small sigh of relief. Had he not stopped
walking, he would’ve run into the rare blue stone – the stone of purity. Though
Donovan had already seen it before, upon closer inspection, he could’ve sworn
he could hear ravaging waters of a hurricane, the downpour of endless heavy
rain, and crashing waters from a tsunami.
Backing up a step, he searched his mind remembering what the museum
guides had told him about this stone. Though it is called the stone of purity, it
doesn’t purify anything it touches. The reason it was named is because it is
rumored that once the fifth king of Ritome slew the hydralin, – a beast made
purely out of water – the water creature turned into this stone. The historians
saw it fit to be named as the stone of purity because even though it had come
from a beast that was ravaging the lands and wreaking havoc on the people, it
was still made from pure water.
The first time Donovan had seen this stone, he wasn’t close enough to hear
anything coming from it; however, now he wondered if that creature is still
alive and showing his turmoil though sounds of water when it is most
dangerous.
Donovan has always been fascinated with everything in this museum- from
the most insignificant piece of history to the most known historical relics. He
prided himself with the knowledge of all the pieces found in the museum. Yet
today he was here for a different purpose than leisure.
“Careful.” Someone said with a followed by a light chuckle. “We don’t want any
accidents happening.” At that, Donovan stepped back from the pedestal
holding the pearl, unable to hear the waters anymore.
He inspected the man who spoke to him. The man’s soft smile revealed soft
wrinkles on his cheeks and his eyes – he was perhaps in his late forties,
Donovan guessed. He was moderately tall and had a lithe body accompanied
by a joyful expression. As if he was used to people being too distracted and
eventually bumping into the rare artifacts. He was wearing the uniform of the
museum guides, yet Donovan didn’t recognize him.
“My apologies, I didn’t realize I was standing so close.”, replied Donovan.
Before Donovan got all the words out, he instantly noticed how the museum
guide narrowed his eyes in recognition. Bowing out of respect, the guide said
with a smile “To what to do owe the presence of the Warlord Donovan today?”
Donovan gave the guide a tight-lipped smile. “I was looking around, admiring
the new historical collections.” A believable enough lie as upon entering, Don
had seen a notice announcing the new collections.
He looked down at his notebook to see what he had gathered so far.
- Heart of depth: rumored to come from the deepest sea in the world as a gift from
the water itself. (Might it lend us the power of controlling water?)
- Pale flame: an orb engulfed in white flame. rumored to be the imprisoned soul of
an angel …. (Why was it trapped? Is it possible to free it?)
- Nymph’s glow: a staff with a red orb, it is a gift from a nymph to a traveler that is
said to emanate red light. (What does the red light do? Is it harmless?)
- Lavawalker: comes from the depths of the earth floor. (Could it control fire?
Shoot lava?)
Donovan was about to add the stone of purity to his notes when he heard the
guide say, “If you would like to inquire about the new relics, feel free to ask
me.” But when he looked back up from his notebook, the museum guide had
disappeared. He looked around to see where the guide could have gone, but he
just vanished. Don would have stayed to search for the guide, but he had
somewhere to be soon. Although, he did take a mental note to ask who this
new museum guide was and his odd aura.
After spending nearly all morning in the museum, he saw himself out into
Ritome city, which was bustling with tourists at this time because of all the
new historical items. Ritome was like that; it thrived on ancient times - ancient
books, relics, myths, legends, weapons. That’s what made Ritome special. Even
the streets, markets, and houses retained the architecture that was built long
ago. Walking into Ritome was like taking a trip to the past.
As much as Donovan appreciated his hometown’s traditions, he still believed
this fascination in history made his society neglect advancement.
(As Don was looking through the royal arsenal the day before, he saw that all
the weapons were either overused, or outright useless for combat. Some were
overly large and hefty, which meant they’d need more than double the
number of soldiers in one area just for transportation, while some seemed
useable at first but at closer inspection also proved to be ineffective.)
He looked back at his notes again, sighing. Clinging to the hope that one of
these artifacts could be reactivated was futile. They haven’t been reactivated
in years, who is to say they would reactivate now? Still, Ritome was going to
lose this war if Donovan didn’t find a solution soon.
According to reports, their men are being pushed back because of the enemy’s
advanced weaponry.
Donovan knew they had to act. Fortunately, he already had a plan in motion.
As Don was walking down the street, heading back to the castle, he couldn’t
help the smile that crept to his face.

(2) Lydia POV:

Clang.
The swords clashed, and Lydia made sure this was the last time they’d clash.
Breathing heavily, she stared down her opponent for a moment before she
spun, sword turning with her as they were partners lost in a dance. The room
around her blurred for a second, then when it came into focus, the first thing
she saw was the sword on the ground.
Not her sword.
Feeling satisfied with herself, she heard her opponent, Kyllian, who was now
without his sword, say “Great job, Swordmaster Lydia”. Lydia smiled softly.
She felt immense pride to be called the Swordmaster of her kingdom. Many
witnesses, including her own opponents, could confirm that Lydia was not
only talented at sword fighting but she was passionate about it. The first time
Lydia ever held a sword in her hands was when she was eight years old. Her
father had been the one to introduce her to sword fighting, hoping she would
become a knight. Lydia fell in love with the art of swords, and instead became
the most skilled swordmaster in her land.
If her father were still alive, he would parade around the city flaunting his
daughter’s position. The thought both broke her heart and brought a smile to
her face.
“Thanks for training with me, Kyllian.” She replied with a nod of her head,
dismissing him for the day. She had had him trapped in the training grounds
for the past three or four hours, until she finally mastered the move shed been
practicing. They deserved a break.
1Since Lydia also loved trying out new swords, it came to her advantage that
Corin – the kingdom’s weaponsmith and Lydia’s dear friend - was creative
with the weapons he crafted. He had a new type of weapon created every few
months. It also came to Corin’s advantage that Lydia was always eager to try
all his new swords then report its faults to him.
As if her thoughts of Corin materialized him, she saw him coming her way –
probably to ask her to test another sword. Lydia waved to Corin, who smiled
at her. Corin was only a few years older than Lydia. His tall and built figure
contrasted with the soft features of his face. Lydia has been teasing him about
getting a haircut, but this time he seems to really need one; his hair fell on his
face, covering his dark eyes.
“Lydia!” The weaponsmith called.
“Hey Corin! Do you have a new sword for me?”. Lydia said by way of greeting.
Corin, finally reaching Lydia, said “Not yet, but -” his eyes shone at that. He
seemed to have planned to tell Lydia something but instead settled with “Are
you free right now? I must discuss something with you.”
Lydia heard the urgency in his voice, but in an hour, she had to attend a
meeting with the other generals. They were to discuss her role when she got
back to the battlefield. “I’m sorry, Corin. It might have to wait. I have a meeting
soon with the war generals.”
At that, Lydia noticed Corin’s eyes darken slightly. “When will you go back?”
he asked. Though Lydia had only been back for two days, she had to leave by
tomorrow morning. She wasn’t any help from here.
“Tomorrow.” Lydia could sense Corin’s worry and was about to provide some
comforting words, but before she could say anything, he said “Meet with me as
soon as you can Lydia. I have urgent news for you before you go.”
She wanted to ask him what the urgent matter was, but Corin turned his back
to her and left, anxiousness still written all over his face.

The sky turned orange by the time Lydia got dressed, armed, and left for her
meeting with the war generals to discuss their next move once she returns to
the battlegrounds.
The Kingdom of Soluna and Ritome have been at war for the past two years.
The spark of the war happened when Ritome first set fire to one of the
kingdom’s mines, which contained many rare metals that the kingdom sold to
other lands. Ritome wanted to take the mine for themselves – the profit with
it.
Lydia was only too keen to march the army against Ritome and strike them.
Yet, when the man marched forward, they saw that Ritome’s army had also
prepared men, ready to defend Ritome.
Once Lydia stepped into the military headquarters, she was taken aback to see
the king and his queen were attending - no one had informed her; she’d have
tried to look more decent otherwise.
“Your majesties” Lydia bowed.
“Swordmaster Lydia” said the king with a gruffy voice. Soluna’s king was a fair
ruler, ruling over the land for ten prosperous years. With his furrowed
browns and unfocused eyes, he looked less like a king of a powerful kingdom
and more like a worried man who has done a grave mistake. The queen wasn’t
any better; she wasn’t wearing one of her beautiful gowns, seemingly to have
opted for easier movement with her sweatpants and a blank white shirt. She
wasn’t just his queen after all, she was a war general and under her command
was the largest army. The queen looked just as troubled as the king, if not
more.
The tension in the air was almost tangible in the room, so was the silence.
Something was clearly amiss.
Lydia stood up straight and walked to her seat. There were five other war
generals seated on the long table with a map in the center and little soldier
figurines close to where the remains of the mine were. General Osborn’s and
General Nathair soldiers – which were around two hundred men- were
positioned in the far back as the defensive line. General Marques with about
two hundred fifty men positioned them in the frontlines since his soldiers
were the most suited for an offensive stance.
General Darian’s and General Odonell’s soldiers – which were about two
hundred twenty men – were positioned in the middle.
The queen’s army consisting of four hundred fifty men were divided. Two
hundred of them were at the battle ground, while two hundred fifty were
tasked with guarding the nearest village.
The map revealed Ritome’s army pushed back – but something seemed off.
The figurines of the front lines were less than when she had last seen them,
but Ritome’s figurines – which the war generals placed according to what
Lydia informed them – were still the same number. What had happened?
“Even though we managed to push Ritome back, we still lost many good
soldiers” grunted General Osborn after a long and uncomfortable silence. “We
have seized the upper hand for now, but the cost was not worth it.”
“Yes, your majesty, I must agree with Osborn. We must not repeat such a
drastic move.” General Nathair chimed in.
“Why? What happened?” Lydia asked, looking around at the generals and back
at the map, trying to figure out what was going on.
Lydia was met with silence for a few minutes before General Osborn spoke
again. “The king ordered Nathair and I to send word to our troops in the rear
to use the canon and drive the opponents back.”
“We did not agree at first as at the front were my soldiers fighting.” General
Marques started. He didn’t look at anyone as he spoke. As if his body was here,
but his mind lay elsewhere. “I asked the king to give me some more time to
warn them to retreat, but the king insisted.” He finally looked up at the king,
but the look he gave the king was nothing short of deadly. “Because we
weren’t making any progress in weeks and our resources are starting to
decline.”
“So, we sent word and launched the canon as the king demanded.” General
Osborn said.
“We lost about forty of my troops.” said General Marques voice grave. “And
their captain, Helena.” His voice shook when he said the captain’s name.
Helena. His daughter.
 (3) Donovan POV:
The meeting room was terribly suffocating. Apart from the wooden
rectangular table in the middle surrounded by five chairs – one at the head
with pairs on the left and right – and some bookshelves lining the walls
behind him, there wasn’t much else in the dull room. Donovan was sitting on
the head chair, listening to the generals argue.
He never understood the underlying sense of competition from them. Their
purpose is clear and simple: put your minds together, create a strategy, seize
victory. Yet, they are always at each other’s throats, – mostly Donovan’s throat
- trying to prove themselves to be above the others.
“Based on the reports we have been receiving, the weapons that the men have
don’t seem to be the issue.” Elden Moure – seated on Donovan’s right -
announced. “Which leads me to suspect, with all due respect Donovan,” he
glanced at Donovan when he said that “that it might be your strategies that
are causing our men fall back.” For all Elden’s wits and experience, Donovan
found him infuriating to work with.
Sitting next to Elden was Sir Keiran Darkwood, a young man who joined them
after his father passed his position to his son. Donovan found Keiran to be a
flexible man like his father was. Always advocating for the safety of the citizens of
Ritome and, to some degree, the safety of the men in the army.
The two remaining generals – Sir Ansen Clyde and Sir Dain Thorncroft – were
on Donovan’s left. Ansen Clyde can be described as the opposite of vocal.
Donovan could always see from his eyes that Ansen had something to say or
to add, but very rarely actually spoke. Though when he did speak, his ideas
provided reasonable solutions to some problems – which were usually raised
by Elden. Donovan was thankful for Ansen’s presence in the council because
he helped him persuade the otherwise stubborn Elden.
Dain Thorncroft
Ever since Donovan brought up the idea of new weaponry, the generals have
not been able to agree with each other. Elden says it’s too risky to arm our
soldiers with weapons they don’t know how to use. Keiran partially agreed
with Elden, saying it could put the men at risk. Dain says we should wait as we
have been able to hold our ground so far. Ansen says even if we wanted newer
weapons, we wouldn’t know which ones we need.
Donovan carefully weighed out the risks with the generals to show them that
it would be beneficial in the long term; he also proposed countless solutions to
all the problems they posed: bringing in soldiers to suggest weapons they
need, crafting weapons that are sharper but not too difficult to use, arming
them with a different range of weapons they can choose from. Though the
more Donovan tried, the less they budged.
The bickering continued until a knock on the door sounded, and they all fell
silent.
Right on time.
Donovan, with an enigmatic smile on his face, interlaced his hands together
and said, “Come in.”
Merlin the messenger stepped in with a letter in his hands. At Donovan’s nod,
the messenger read aloud from the paper.
“This message is addressed to Warlord Donovan. We send this message to
inform you that our opponents launched their cannon at our front lines.”
Elden and Dain’s faces turned white. Two hundred thirty-four of their men
were positioned there.
Donovan cleared his throat and said “Don’t look surprised gentlemen. I
believe I brought this prediction to your attention days ago.” He looked at
each general in the eye, daring them to oppose. “I mentioned that Slandsa is
slowly running out of resources and will soon act foolishly to end the
stalemate.” He looked back at the messenger saying, “Continue, please.”
“Thanks to your warning, we only have ten casualties and twenty injured. We
were also successful in making Slandsa believe we didn’t lose any men. The
frontlines of our opponents suffered greatly though – about fifty men on the
frontlines from what we could see. Their army has been weakened.” He read.
“Thank you, Merlin, you are dismissed” said Donovan calmly.
Merlin placed the letter on the table, bowed his head and left, leaving Donovan
to finally explain to the generals.
“Amidst your bickering those last few days, I sent word yesterday to your men
to be ready for Soluna’s army to launch its canon between today and
tomorrow.” Donovan straightened and said in a harsher tone. “Because of my
warning, your troops were ready when the cannon hit. They were also able to
fool our enemies into thinking their offensive move achieved little; I sent
twenty men to replace those who died from the cannon to make the deceit
happen.” Donovan looked at each of them with command and authority in his
eyes.
A few minutes passed in silence until Keiran cleared his voice and asked, “All
in favor of forging new weapons?”
All of them raised their hands.

The meeting proceeded just as Donovan expected it to – except for one thing.
In his original plan, Donovan wanted to bring in four men from the battle
ground back to the castle to have them meet with the weaponsmith and
suggest the best fit weapons. Ansen and Keiran both suggested instead of
brining four men here, it was better to send the weaponsmith to the
battlegrounds.
Donovan felt accomplished, nonetheless. He was walking towards his
chambers, his brain already plotting further strateties to be used after the new
weapons are introduced. They have the element of surprise on their side
temporarily, which was greatly advantageous, and now that their enemy’s
army had been weakened -
“Donovan.”
The voice pulled him out of his reverie.
Elden. Flanked by his guards. Fury still lined his features and his movement as
he walked over to Donovan.
He clicked his tongue and said, “I am disappointed Donovan. I thought the
generals were supposed to work together.” Elden started. “But you took
matters into your own hands.”
Elden’s favorite hobby, as Don realized long ago , was giving him an earful
after every meeting.
“I did what was necessary.” Donovan said. “And as you said,” he continued,
“Generals are supposed to work together. I am Warlord.” He made sure to
stress his words, he almost spit them at Elden.
“Warlord or not, the men out there –“
“Answer to me first and foremost” Donovan completed, reminding Elden of
who Donovan was.
Although he seemed like he wanted to, Elden didn’t respond. He carried his
dignity and frustration and left.

Donovan didn’t know how or why his legs led him to the museum instead of
his chambers. All he knew was that he needed to walk off his rage. Elden was
getting on Donovan’s nerves more and more every day. Being patient with the
old man always proved to be an exhausting task.
But after today, Donovan was done with Elden. He will longer allow Elden to
cross him. It has been five years since Donovan was appointed as Warlord; it
was about time Elden respected his position. He vowed to himself that he will
not tolerate any more useless questioning, undermining, and outright refusal
of his ideas from Elden.
While walking around the museum, looking at everything he already saw this
morning, he spotted the guide that spoke to him earlier that day. He was
talking with other visitors – tourists most likely.
Don waited until the guide finished and rushed over to him; he had been
meaning to ask him a few things.
“Ah, Warlord Donovan.” said the guide with a bow of his head when he saw
Don coming his way. “You grace us with your presence once again. Allow me
to guess; you are facing difficulties with the battle against the Kingdom?”
Donovan huffed a laugh. “Ritome will be victorious, I promise you as much.
Though, victory isn’t always easy to achieve.”
The guide smiled, but there was an eerie sense to him that Donovan only now
noticed.
Don cleared his throat before he said, “I have been meaning inquire about
something.”
“Yes?” the guide said tilting his head slightly.
“I was wondering if there are any legendary weapons in this museum. Some
powerful artifacts perhaps?” Even though the generals agreed to the idea of
new weapons, Donovan believed it will not be enough for them to overpower
the Kingdom of Soluna’s army. Any additional aid would be helpful.
The strange man guided Donovan to the books sections and lead him down a
stairwell at the far end of the room – which Don had never seen before. He
slowly and hesitantly followed the guide, looking around the part of the
museum he has never seen.
The walls were lined with tapestries and paintings, disorganized bookshelves
with yellow papered books and scrolls. He tried to read the titles of the books
and the tried to discern the paintings of the tapestries, but it was too dark that
even squinting, he could only make out general details. One such tapestry that
piqued Donovan’s interest had a symbol on the top center, and under the
symbol there were two symbols that diverged from the center one into
opposite ends. He recognized one as the symbol on every guides’ uniform in
the museum, but he couldn’t figure out what the other symbol was. Under
those symbols, a separate king was depicted. And under both kings, the
symbol appeared again in the center. Just as Donovan was about to get closer
to see more details. He heard the guide say, “Hurry along now, there is nothing
of worth here.” Because the man had sounded urgent, Donocan left the
tapestry and walked towards where he heard the guide’s voice coming from.
After a few minutes of following the guide, they stopped at a wall.
No, not an ordinary wall, Donovan realized.
The guide glanced at Donovan with a mischievous glint in his eye. He raised
his hand and placed it on a one of the symbols on the wall – the same symbol
that was always on the center of the tapestry. When he did that, the wall
shook slightly and a whole the size of his fist appeared right next to the
symbol that the guide had his hand on. Donovan saw a rolled piece of very old
paper come peeking out the newly formed whole. He was about to reach for it
but the guide clicked his tongue and batted his hand away.
“Allow me, Warlord.” The guide simply said.
Donovan was going to cut him a glare, but he managed to steel himself. He saw
as the guide slowly got the paper out.
The guide took the paper and gently unrolled it as not to rip the aging
material.
The guide turned it for Donovan to see.
“An ancient map.” Donovan breathed.
 (4) Lydia’s POV:
“You have our deepest apologies and condolences general Marques,” said the
queen softly. “We will have a memorial for her and all the other fallen for their
heroic sacrifice.”
Lydia still could not believe it. The king had allowed – no, insisted – that they
launch a cannon at their own troops.
Lydia knew Helena and had practiced with her a few times. Helena was skilled
with the spear; she even had one designed exactly to her liking – she
remembred Corin complaining endlessly to Lydia how Helena was being very
picky with how she wanted her signature weapon to be crafted.
Helena was also glorious in battle. The fact that she had gone down because
of their own cannon, instead of at enemy’s hands, felt like depriving her of a
glorious death that could have storytellers tell her victories across the
kingdom. Since Lydia deeply respected Helena, she felt that Helena did not
deserve this.
General Marques brought Lydia back from her thoughts, “ Heroic sacrifice? You
butchered my daughter! You sacrificed her for naught! Not a single Ritoman
soldier was injured according to our messenger-”
“General Marques. It would be better if you left the room so you can calm
yourself. You are granted a week off your duties to grieve your daughter’s
death.” the king said sternly.
General Marques’s face revealed that he was about to explode at the king, so
Lydia intervened instead, “But your Majesty, general Marques is right. You did
not even provide justification as to why we had to use the cannon. We had
planned to leave it unless it is urgent.”
The king did not budge “The stalemate is costing us many resources. I deemed
this as urgent.”
“I am supposed to go back tomorrow. We could have planned what to do to
stop the stalemate without having to resort to such drastic mea-”
“Enough Lydia, what’s done is done. It would be futile to argue over it now.”
This time it was the queen. Her voice was soft but commanding.
Lydia wasn’t willing to give up yet, but she saw General Marques stand up and
approach her.
He put a hand on her shoulder before saying, “Thank you Lydia, for standing
up to my Helena.”
Up close, Lydia could see the pain in his features. General Marques and
Helena’s bond was a bond Lydia wished she could’ve shared with her own
father. General Marques was filled with pride and respect for his daughter,
and he loved her wholeheartedly. Lydia could only imagine how much it must
have struck him when he received news of her death.
“I only have one request” General Marques said in defeat. “Bring my
daughter’s body so that I may put her to rest myself.”
At that, he turned around and left the room, leaving no room for the king or
queen to agree to his request – or rather his demand from them.
Lydia wanted to go after the general; she wanted to console him because she
knew how bad it feels to lose a loved one, but she also had a war she needed to
win. Now more than ever. She would not let Helena’s death go in vain.

The strong metallic smell of the weaponsmith’s room was unbearable. She has
been waiting for Corin for an hour now, in this godforsaken room. Lydia
sought out Corin after the meeting to tell him about Helena – and because
Corin asked to meet her. She went to where she usually found him – in his
forge, but he wasn’t there.
During that time, Lydia found herself pacing, thinking about alternative ways
to defeat Ritome and end this war for good. Though Ritome had weapons that
seemed old, they were holding their ground better than Lydia had expected. It
was mostly because of their warlord. Cunning, clever Warlord Donovan. He
was known for his bizarre and unexpected war strategies. She was still
wondering how was he able to protect all his men from being hit by the
cannon? It didn’t make sense; they didn’t have anything to take cover in.
Unless he knew the canon was going to be used. Was the messenger
intercepted by enemies? If not, is it possible someone here leaked
information? A spy?
 She was dragged back to reality when she heard Corin’s voice. “For a skilled
swordmaster, you sure don’t pay attention to your surroundings.”
She turned and saw him leaning on the doorframe, grinning.
“Get that grin off your face. I was in deep thought.” She gave him a dismissive
gesture.
He chuckled at that. “You know you make a face when you’re in deep thought.”
Lydia saw as Corin tried to imitate her face. His brows were furrowed, and his
nose wrinkled while his eyes seemed to roam looking around but not at the
room, as if looking directly at his thoughts.
She shoved him and said, “Where were you anyway? I’ve been waiting for a
while.”
Corin bowed mockingly. “Sorry to keep you waiting Lady Lydia.” She was
about to shove him again when he straightened and said, “I was running short
on a few resources. How did the meeting go?
Lydia didn’t know why she hesitated. She had been waiting to tell him, but
how could she tell him that their king had sacrificed his own troops. Though
Lydia was loyal to the crown, she did not see that his decision was wise. Lydia
knew war meant sacrifices and risks, but they are usually calculated ones. The
king didn’t consider the consequences before he gave the order. Would he
make the same mistake while she’s on the field herself? Will she be robbed of
a glorious death like Helena had been? How could she keep fighting when the
king planted a seed of doubt in her?
Those traitorous thoughts snaked their way into her, and she couldn’t stop
them.
Lydia looked away and settled on, “Nothing new.” Corin doesn’t have to know
now. Though she knew he would receive the news sooner or later, it was
better if someone else told him with the lie of “great sacrifice” rather than she
tell him of the king’s reckless decision.
“Are you sure?” Corin asked. He could sense that she wasn’t being honest.
“Yes, don’t worry,” Lydia said. She decided to change the subject because if he
asked her one more time, she won’t be able to stop herself. “I came here
because earlier today, you wanted to tell me something.”
Corin’s lips curved upward. “What if I told you that there is a way, we could
end this war and guarantee our victory?”
 (5) Donovan’s POV:
Donovan gave up on sleep a long time ago, and now he could hear the chirping
of the birds outside as the first signs of sunlight seeped into his room from his
window. Thoughts of yesterday’s events fell on him like a ton of bricks. The
meeting with the generals, the lectures from Elden, the discussion with the
guide, the confrontation with the king after. The thought that struck him most
was the guide and what he revealed to him.
Sighing, he got up from his bed, walked to the washroom, and looked in the
mirror. His usual dark green eyes were dull with exhaustion; he could see
bags under his eyes starting to form. Much of his sleep was taken because of
the plan he had to devise for yesterday’s events to take place. Donovan also
noticed his wavy dark hair messy from his fitful sleep. Unlike the other nights,
this night he couldn’t sleep because he was analyzing all what the guide had
revealed to him.
The sword that can change the tide of the war, the guide had claimed.
Donovan scoffed; he never imagined himself seeking a powerful weapon. He
always thought his strategies and deceits were enough to fool their enemies.
Yet, this was a different case.
Donovan washed his face and his hair, then walked back to his bedroom. The
sun had already risen high enough that its golden rays penetrated his room.
On his study, he spotted the map the guide handed him yesterday on the
study. The sun was hitting directly on the map, and the map was..
Donovan blinked thinking it could be his sleepy eyes, but no.
The map was shining.
The guide said this map was supposed to lead him to the area that the sword
was hidden, but the map wasn’t easy to read. After studying it for hours last
night, he noticed it had many riddles. Many places that do not exist - or might
have existed long ago.
The king gave him three days to make sense of the map for the two men the
king tasked with finding the sword. Donovan stayed up late trying to read the
map, but all he managed to know was that it was somewhere east of Ritome.
He planned to sit back down and sift through the history books he gathered
yesterday, but he heard a soft knock on the door.
“Sir Keiran.” Donovan said as he opened the door. What was Keiran doing
here?
Keiran was standing at his door looking for all the world like he would rather
be anywhere else. He gave Donovan a curt nod and said, “I come bearing news
for you, Warlord.”
Donovan’s eyes narrowed. That cannot end well. “Would you like to come in?”
He opened the door to let Keiran in, but he shook his head.
He stood with his back ram rod straight, his body tensed “Meet with me at the
garden in an hour. I will have breakfast prepared for us.”

The flowers of the garden of the garden were tended to by the queen. The king
had given it to her as a wedding gift because she loved gardening. Donovan
often passed by the garden and saw her there watering the plants and
laughing with her maids. Today, it seemed she was not here.
His thoughts went back to wondering what Keiran wanted to tell him. Donvan
knew it most probably was related to what occurred yesterday. He ordered
something done without all their agreement, but he didn’t see a problem. He
saved the men from the generals’ arrogance.
Keiran finally came, his body still tense, but he seemed more put together
now. “Thank you for meeting with me, Warlord Donovan. Come now, let us
have breakfast together.”
Donovan nodded and followed keiran to a table on the far side of the garden.
This conversation is secretive then.
The round white table had fresh croissants and porridge and some fruits –
strawberries and apples - taken from the garden itself. Keiran seated himself
and gestured for Donovan to have a seat.
After a few minutes talking about the weather and discussing few minor
strategies, Donovan cleared his throat, unable to wait any longer. “Sir Keiran.”
Keiran turned to look at Donovan, and he didn’t fail to notice the slight worry
in his eyes. “What is it that you wanted to tell me?”
Keiran sighed, putting down the croissant he was about to eat. “Sir Elden
wishes to replace you.”
It was like someone dealt a blow to Donovan’s gut, but he managed to stay
calm “He does not have the authority to take such a decision.”
Keiran shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to be the one delivering the
news to Donovan. It was obvious the other generals had forced him. “Yes, but
he plans to approach the king. He wants to use yesterday’s events against
you.”
He still cannot take it alone unless the other generals all agree. “You all agreed
with him against me?” he asked as calmly as he could, but he knew his voice
sounded more devoid of any emotion.
Keiran threw his hands up ready to defend himself. “Warlord, I personally
have nothing against you, but you know how Sir Elden can be.” Keiran put his
hands down and looked at Donovan. “Elden forced me to be the one to tell you
because he knew you preferred me over them.”
He couldn’t believe that Elden would take things that far. “Thank you for the
breakfast, Sir Keiran.” Donivan stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Donovan was walking back to his room, his steps fast and determined. What
was Elden thinking? Who would he replace him with? Does he think replacing
him – now of all time, while Ritome was at war- would solve all his problems?
He was reeling with anger, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything
while he was angry. He reached his room and went inside, immediately
heading to his study, and the map placed there. As soon as he looked at the
map, an idea crawled into his mind.
If he finds the sword himself, the king will have no reason to hear elden’s
arguments to replace him. It wasn’t a solid idea, but it could buy him time until
he came back. And if he came back with the sword, it would give him a chance
against Elden.
 (6) Lydia POV:
The halls were still empty in the early morning when Lydia was walking in the
hallway, heading to Corin’s room. He told her yesterday that he discovered
something that would help them in the battle with Ritome, but he refused to
tell her until this morning.
She suspected that he wanted to show her on the day that she must depart so
that she would change her mind and stay. But she couldn’t abandon her duties
when Soluna needed its swordmaster the most.
Although, she had to admit, even without corin’s scheme, she was starting to
have doubts. These thoughts kept her up most of the night. The king didn’t
consider what would happen to the soldiers who weren’t warned about the
cannon being launched. All the king was focused on was ending the battle
because resources started becoming scarce. What if she had been on the
battlegrounds? She would’ve been dead because of her own king.
Dying in battle is an honor, but when falling dead because of the very people
you are fighting for is almost undermining. General Marques lost Helena
because of the king he serves, and the king only seemed partially remorseful
to that matter because it didn’t affect our enemies like he wanted it to. Yet,
Lydia bets that if Ritome’s men were down by a few numbers, the king
wouldn’t regret any of the deaths he caused from his own soldiers.
Lydia was so lost in her thoughts that she almost passed Corin’s room. She
stopped abruptly, shaking away the traitorous thoughts from her head.
As soon as she knocked on the door, Corin answered from the inside. “Yes
Lydia, just give me a moment.”
She heard him moving around a few things and shutting a door or a closet.
Then he opened the door.
Corin was a mess to say the least. His hair was a mess on his head and his shirt
wasn’t tucked into his trousers. Even his face looked tired and in need of
sleep.
He opened the door further for her to enter, and his room was in an even
worse state than Corin. Papers and stacks of books and scrolls were all over
his study and his bed. There were rolled and unrooled blueprints on the floor.
He hadn’t even opened his curtains so his room was still taken up by the dark.
She didn’t know where she could step, but she tried to step around his things.
“What happened to your room, Corin?” Lydia asked. She went to the window
to open his curtains.
He closed the door behind Lydia and walked to his study. “I was up all night”,
she heard him

Lydia and Corin were gaping at the map in front of them. Lydia couldn’t
believe her eyes.
“Where in the world did you find this, Corin?” Lydia touched the map again,
it’s rough yet old edges scraping her fingers. After he told her briefly
yesterday about what he found, Lydia insisted that he showed her the next
morning before she departs. Now only hours away, they haven’t gotten
anywhere.
“I can’t explain it to you, but I just...” He breathed, hesitating to tell Lydia. After
a few moments of silence and more gaping, Corin said, “I felt an unexplainable
tug. It was as if someone was leading me to it when I got close enough.”
Now, only hours away from her trip, she found herself in hesitating whether
to go back to the frontlines to yet another battle that could result in nothing
but more deaths.
More deaths like Heather’s.
As soon as she realized she could possibly do something that will ensure their
kingdom leaving this war victorious, she wanted to leave the battle and go
searching. Lydia knew the possibility of this weapon existing is slim, but she
felt it might worth a try.
“Corin” Lydia breathed.
Her widened eyes were enough to get corin’s attention. He followed her gaze,
his own eyes widening.
The rays of the sun had hit the map, which was now shining. Lydia hovered
her fingers over it. “This seems to be the entrance.” She said, still whispering,
but she knew Corin heard her.
“Lydia, look.” Corin said pointing at the edges of the map. It showed some
runes where there were writing before.
“What could they be?”
A long moment of silence passed between them. Both inspecting the map with
the new information the sun provided. But after a few minutes, the sun had
risen too high and it wasn’t going through the window, turning the map how it
was before.
 (7) Donovan POV:
Second thoughts weren’t Donovan’s cup of tea. Yet that’s what had been
clouding his thoughts as he packed his bags.
Leaving at a time when Ritome needed him most was not ideal. He is
supposed to stay here and plan the next move. The generals couldn’t be
trusted on their own; they’d bring down Ritome’s downfall.
Donovan glanced back at the map still on his study, still questioning if going
on this hunt would be worth it. He noticed this morning that when the sun
shone directly on the map, it revealed new information, but now under the
dark sky, the map was back to how it was originally.
Donovon had to suppress a sigh, he severely despised second thoughts, but
they wouldn’t stop chasing him. He was growing more anxious at leaving
everything to the generals he couldn’t trust. They finally agreed to his plan, he
should stay here to see how it will turn out. Although Donovan hated resorting
to mythical ways, he knew for a fact that ritome needed further aid, and he
couldn’t help but think this legendary weapon could be the answer.
A thought occurred to him. The idea of new weapons was expected to keep
their men standing for one more week. Though it was a relatively short time, if
Donovan could find this weapon and return in one week, he could protect his
land and his position.
With newfound motivation, Donovan continued packing his bags. If he were to
have only one week, he needed to waste no time. Looking out the window, he
saw the moon nearing his highest point and shining brightly. It should be close
to midnight by now. He could leave now and stop when he is exhausted, but
hed have to disguise himself well. He knew there were spies everywhere. The
warlord leaving in the middle of the night isn’t information he wants his
enemies to know.
He went back to his study to grab the maps and a few books he deemed as
helpful after sifting through them.
Donovan blinked. He almost laughed. This map was playing with him.
It was shining again, this time from the moonlight. He looked closer and he
realized that the moonlight revealed different things than the sunlight did.
“What kind of crazy map is this” he said and he couldnt keep a chuckle from
slipping.
He only hoped he will be able to figure it out within less than a week.
(8) Lydia POV: