**Chapter 53 – The Governor of Kend**
**[KEND – MAIN STREETS]**
The massive gate of wood reinforced with black iron **groaned** as it opened — a deep sound echoing through the stone of the watchtowers while centuries-old hinges protested under the weight of ten tons of carved oak, revealing the interior of a city that **pulsed** with life so vibrant it violently contrasted with the extreme geographic isolation, deadly altitude, and impossible mountains surrounding it.
**Julia** stepped through first — boots touching the irregular stone pavement polished by decades of constant traffic, eyes **widening** progressively as she processed the visual impossibility ahead.
Kend was not an isolated village struggling to survive against hostile elements.
It was a **fully functioning city** — a living artery beating with a commercial, social, and cultural rhythm that rivaled capital cities at sea level.
---
The **main streets** snaked through terraces in organic curves following the natural contours of the sculpted mountain — not geometrically planned but grown organically over generations, width varying from three to eight meters depending on level and function, pavement changing from rough stone in the outer districts to polished blocks in the center, some sections turning into **stairways** of forty to one hundred steps where the slope became too steep for carts but pedestrians navigated easily.
**Markets** exploded in color and sound across every level — wooden stalls covered with brightly colored awnings in red, blue, yellow, green creating a vibrant canopy that filtered sunlight, merchants **shouting** offers in voices that echoed off stone walls amplifying naturally, the smell of fresh-baked bread mixing with exotic spices imported from distant kingdoms through trade routes that defied any logic of accessibility.
To the **left** — a stall selling fabrics: imperial purple-dyed silks from the south, thick mountain-sheep wool in natural gray, fine immaculate white cotton, the merchant demonstrating quality by rubbing the cloth between his fingers while three customers examined it critically.
To the **right** — an open-air blacksmith: black iron anvil centered under a protective awning, charcoal fire **roaring** at a temperature that visibly distorted the air, hammer striking incandescent steel in a hypnotic CLANG-CLANG-CLANG rhythm, golden sparks exploding in showers, the smell of hot metal and sweat permeating everything.
**Ahead** — a bakery: open windows releasing such an intense aroma of freshly baked bread that stomachs involuntarily contracted, a line of twelve people waiting patiently, the sweaty but smiling baker pulling loaves from the stone oven with a long wooden peel.
And **scattered** throughout it all — **children** running freely among busy adults, holding fire balloons that floated three meters above them tethered by thin strings, laughing as they chased each other in an elaborate game of tag that used the different terrace levels as strategy, occasionally stopping to buy sweets from a generous vendor who always kept a portion aside for the little ones.
---
**San** stopped **involuntarily** — processing the contrast between expectation and reality:
"This is…" — his voice came out confused — "…this isn't an isolated city struggling to survive. It's… it's **prosperous**. Like Ellis but… different. More… organic? Alive?"
**Jessica** beside him processed it through her usual analytical lens:
"Extreme altitude should theoretically limit population and trade due to the logistical cost of importation and geographic isolation." — Thoughtful tone. — "Yet the apparent commercial volume suggests well-established routes operating efficiently despite the obstacles. Teleportation crystals? Possible. That would explain access to luxury imported goods incompatible with a remote mountain village."
Pause while calculating:
"Estimated per capita GDP appears higher than the capital Ellis based on the visible quality of goods and apparent absence of poverty. Economically fascinating."
---
**Garrett** ten meters ahead turned his head — voice projecting with irritation:
"Stop **standing there** gawking at the scenery like imbecile tourists! We have a schedule to keep!"
He continued marching without checking if they followed.
---
Julia quickened her pace to conversational range:
"Where exactly **are** we going now, Captain?" — Forced respectful tone.
Garrett answered without fully turning:
"To the **Governor's Palace** in the center of the city. We need detailed information about the monsters attacking the region before planning an elimination strategy."
Pause.
"And to collect the **tribute** the Church rightfully deserves for providing protection services to a kingdom that clearly has resources to pay generously."
The last part added with a tone suggesting the tribute was not optional.
---
Julia **tensed** almost imperceptibly — something about the way Garrett said "tribute" carried uncomfortable implications — but she only replied:
"Understood, Captain."
---
They walked for **twenty minutes** through ascending terrace levels — each level slightly more refined than the previous, houses growing larger, decorations more elaborate, merchants selling progressively more luxurious goods, indicating a literal vertical social stratification where altitude within the city directly correlated with economic status.
Until they reached the **absolute center** — the highest level of the mountain platform where the ground flattened completely into a circular plaza two hundred meters in diameter paved with imported white marble polished to a shine.
And **dominating** the plaza — impossible to ignore, an architectural declaration of power and authority — the **Governor's Palace**.
---
Not a palace in the sense of a luxurious residence.
An **administrative fortress**.
The main building rose **five stories** above plaza level — not absurdly tall like the Sacred Chamber in Ellis but massive for construction at an altitude where materials had to be imported or quarried locally, each floor five meters high resulting in a total structure twenty-five meters tall dominating the urban skyline.
Built entirely of **dark gray granite** quarried from the lower mountain and transported via a still-visible pulley system beside the structure — not delicate white marble but **hard** stone chosen for durability rather than aesthetics, walls **two meters thick** at the base tapering to one meter at the top to support its own weight without collapse, narrow deep windows more functional than decorative allowing defense if necessary.
The roof was **black slate** at a steep fifty-degree pitch — steeper than common houses so snow would slide off under its own weight without dangerous accumulation, four corner watchtowers rising an additional ten meters crowned with red flags bearing the **golden eagle in upward flight** emblem of the Kingdom of Kelvis fluttering in the constant high-altitude wind.
And **completely encircling** the palace — a defensive **wall** of stone six meters high and one meter thick forming a perfect square one hundred fifty meters per side, creating an inner courtyard isolated from the outer city, a single reinforced iron-and-wood gate at the front flanked by smaller guard towers.
---
The group approached the gate — where **two guards** blocked the entrance.
Not Church knights in ornate armor but **local** kingdom soldiers: men in their thirties and forties with physiques developed through constant military training rather than occasional adventure, wearing steel scale armor over deep-red dyed reinforced leather with the eagle emblem stamped on the chest, open helmets revealing faces marked by real combat scars, holding **two-and-a-half-meter** steel-tipped lances gleaming from obsessive maintenance, round iron shields slung on their backs.
Their posture was **professional** — neither relaxed nor aggressive, eyes scanning the approaching group with trained threat assessment.
---
**Garrett** stopped three meters away — voice emerging with the authority that assumed automatic obedience:
"We want to **pass**. Open the gate immediately."
Not a request.
An **order**.
---
The guard on the **left** — a forty-two-year-old man with a scar crossing his right eyebrow, brown eyes watching Garrett without apparent intimidation — replied in a **neutral** but firm tone:
"We cannot allow entry without **prior authorization** from Governor Heldfin as per established security protocol." — Pause. — "If you possess official documented summons, present it for verification and we will process entry accordingly."
---
**Cassandra** stepped forward — staff striking the marble pavement with a sharp sound:
"**Ha**!" — Voice dripping with contempt. — "Do you even know **who** you're speaking to?!"
She gestured at her own sky-blue armor:
"Knights of the Church of **Nellis**! Ecclesiastical authority that transcends the petty secular jurisdictions of minor kingdoms!"
---
The guard kept an **absolutely neutral** expression:
"I recognize the uniforms of Nellis knights, ma'am." — Respectful but not submissive tone. — "But orders are orders regardless of who questions them. The Governor gave no prior notice of arriving knights. Therefore we apply standard protocol: no prior documented authorization, no entry. No exceptions."
---
**Marcus** crossed his massive arms — voice coming out deep and threatening:
"**Insignificant fools** who don't recognize when they're obstructing divine authority."
Hand resting on axe handle — not gripping but **suggesting**.
---
**Garrett** stepped closer — deliberately invading the guard's personal space:
"Look here, you **insolent idiot**." — Voice dropping dangerously low. — "You're speaking to knights of the Church of Nellis. Do you **by any chance** not recognize this uniform and everything it represents? Authority granted directly by the Cardinals who rule the faith of the **entire** continent?"
He pointed at the Church emblem embroidered on his chest:
"Or are you so **stupid** you need me to draw it for you?"
---
The guard **tensed** almost imperceptibly — hand tightening on his lance — but voice remaining controlled:
"I am merely following direct orders from my immediate hierarchical superior, sir knight." — Pause. — "If you have a problem with the security protocol, you may discuss it directly with the Governor after he authorizes entry. But until then…" — he gestured toward the closed gate — "…the gate remains closed."
---
The atmosphere **escalated** — tension shifting from discomfort to imminent hostility.
Marcus uncrossed his arms.
Cassandra began channeling mana into her staff — runes faintly glowing.
Garrett's hand moved toward his axe handle.
The guards adjusted into defensive combat stance.
---
**San** felt rage **boiling** — not directed at the guards but at the **trio** creating an unnecessary confrontation through sheer arrogance:
"This is **ridiculous**." — Whispered between clenched teeth to Julia. — "The guards are just doing their job and these three idiots are turning it into—"
He took a step forward — preparing to intervene.
---
**Julia** grabbed his arm **firmly** — fingers digging in painfully:
**No**. — Low but absolute voice. — "Don't get involved in this. Let them deal with the consequences of their own actions."
She looked directly into his eyes — expression communicating: *Please. Don't make an already impossible situation worse.*
San **hesitated** — every instinct screaming to defend reasonable guards against arrogant knights.
But seeing Julia's expression — deep exhaustion, accumulated defeat — he reluctantly relaxed.
He nodded.
---
A voice cut through the tension — young, slightly breathless from running:
**Wait**! Stop immediately!
---
Everyone **turned**.
A figure emerging from inside the courtyard through a smaller side gate — a young man of approximately twenty years running with clear urgency, wearing a **red tunic** embroidered with golden threads forming ascending flame patterns, on his head a thin **silver circlet** engraved with symbols of administrative authority, light-brown hair disheveled from running, light-green eyes wide with concern, thin scribe's build rather than warrior but moving with purpose.
He reached the guards breathless:
"Open… open the **gate** immediately…" — irregular breathing — "…they are knights… of the church… expected…"
---
The guards **obeyed** without hesitation — clearly recognizing the young man's authority.
The gate began to **open** — groaning massively.
---
The young man stepped through the opening — turned to the group and, seeing the uniforms, confirmed their identities.
He bowed **deeply** — ninety degrees, holding the position for three respectful seconds:
"I offer my **deepest and most sincere apologies** in the name of Governor Heldfin and the entire city of Kend!" — Voice genuinely apologetic. — "The guards had no information that knights of the Church would arrive today! A completely **our** communication failure, not yours!"
He straightened:
"Governor Heldfin eagerly awaits your arrival in the Administrative Meeting Hall. Please follow me and accept Kend's hospitality along with our deepest apologies for the inadequate reception!"
---
**Cassandra** smiled — cruel and satisfied:
"At least **someone** in this city has proper manners and recognizes authority when they see it."
She looked at the guards with contempt:
"Unlike certain… **insignificant** obstacles."
---
The guards kept **neutral** expressions — but clenched jaws revealed contained anger.
---
The group passed through the gate — Garrett in front, Cassandra and Marcus behind, Julia/San/Jessica following several meters back.
When Cassandra passed close to the guard who had **denied** entry — she deliberately stopped.
She turned her body — shoulder **"accidentally"** slamming into the guard's chest hard enough to make him **stagger** two steps backward before **falling** flat on his back with a sharp sound of armor hitting stone.
And she **laughed** — high-pitched, cruel, looking down:
"Oops. How **clumsy** of me."
She continued walking — still laughing, without looking back.
Marcus passed without comment — but a small smile curled his lip.
Garrett either didn't notice — or pretended not to.
---
**Julia** reached the guard still on the ground — and **knelt** immediately.
She extended her hand:
"I am **deeply sorry** for the absolutely inappropriate and unjustifiable behavior of my… superior." — Voice genuinely apologetic, ashamed. — "That was… completely wrong and unnecessary."
---
The guard looked at the extended hand for **two seconds**.
Then **slapped** it away — not just refusing but actively rejecting help:
"Are **all** you knights of Goddess Nellis like this?!" — Voice vibrating with anger and disappointment. — "Do you think you're **superior** to everyone else just because you wear blue armor and serve the church?! You don't respect anyone except your own internal hierarchy?!"
He stood up alone — refusing assistance:
"Royal guards of Kelvis **serve** the kingdom with honor! We protect citizens! We die for duty! And we're treated like **trash** by people who claim to be holy?!"
He spat on the ground — close but not on Julia:
**Go**. Follow your arrogant superiors. I don't need pity from a knight who serves a corrupt church.
He turned — returning to his post, back rigid with contained fury.
---
**San** beside Julia — voice low:
"Come on, Julia. He's justifiably angry. I completely understand. If it were me… I'd react the same or worse."
---
Julia remained **kneeling** for three seconds — processing the guard's words.
*"Corrupt church."*
*Not the first time I've heard that.*
*Won't be the last.*
*And what if he's… right?*
She rose **slowly** — looking at the trio of veterans already distant, laughing among themselves.
Her expression shifting to something close to… deep **resentment**? Disillusionment?
"But not **all** of them are like this." — Whispered more to herself than to San. — "Austin isn't. Dayana isn't. Corius isn't. Ezekiel isn't."
Pause:
"Only… only these three and others like them who forgot that serving the Goddess should mean serving **people** — not dominating them."
---
She turned — following the young messenger who waited politely.
San and Jessica **followed** in silence.
---
**[INNER PALACE COURTYARD]**
They crossed the courtyard — an open hundred-square-meter area covered in meticulously trimmed **emerald-green grass**, ornamental trees planted symmetrically providing shade, central fountain with crystal-clear water jetting upward.
And scattered across the courtyard — kingdom **soldiers** training.
Fifty men divided into groups practicing different disciplines: ten practicing coordinated shield-wall phalanx formation moving as a single organism, fifteen practicing one-on-one sword combat under a veteran instructor shouting corrections, twenty running the perimeter carrying heavy packs building endurance, five practicing archery against straw targets at fifty meters.
**None** stopped to stare at the passing knights.
Discipline or indifference.
---
They climbed the **front staircase** — thirty wide marble steps leading to the main entrance, double doors of carved oak with the golden eagle emblem in relief, five meters tall communicating grandeur.
The doors **opened** silently as the messenger approached — an inner servant recognizing and obeying automatically.
---
**[PALACE INTERIOR – MAIN CORRIDOR]**
The interior contrasted with the austere exterior.
The corridor stretched **forty meters** straight as an arrow to an ascending staircase at the far end, six meters wide allowing ten people to walk comfortably side by side, arched ceiling eight meters high supported by dark wood beams carved with floral patterns.
Walls not rough stone but covered with **polished wood panels** interspersed with massive **tapestries** three by five meters depicting historical scenes in vibrant colors preserved through conservation magic.
And scattered along the corridor — **paintings** in golden frames.
---
**Jessica** stopped before the first one — oil on canvas showing a massive field battle: thousands of soldiers in Kelvis red facing an equal number in blue from an unidentified kingdom, cavalry clashing in the center, archers loosing volleys that darkened the sky, magical fire exploding through enemy lines, blood staining green fields turning them red.
"Who exactly are the men in these paintings?" — she asked the messenger. — "And what historical period do these paintings depict?"
---
The messenger stopped — pride evident in his voice:
"They are images of the **immense** battles our glorious Kingdom of Kelvis has faced throughout centuries of turbulent history." — He gestured at a specific painting. — "This one depicts the Battle of the Crimson Fields two hundred thirty years ago when General Aldric repelled the invasion of the Kingdom of Valen that attempted to conquer Kend's silver mines."
He pointed to another:
"That one shows the Siege of Ironshard Fortress one hundred eighty years ago. It lasted three full years. Ten thousand died of hunger and disease but **we did not surrender**."
---
**San** observing a painting showing a general in ornate armor mounted on a white horse raising his sword while the army acclaimed him:
"Battles against **whom** specifically? Which nations have historically been enemies of Kelvis?"
---
The messenger sighed:
"Many nations over the centuries. Valen. Thross. Mareth." — Significant pause. — "But the overwhelming majority of the bloodiest and most prolonged battles were against the Kingdom of **Zordis** on the other side of the Zenk Mountains."
His voice took on a bitter tone:
"We've been at war with Zordis for four hundred uninterrupted years—fighting over territory, resources, pride. Until twenty years ago when… when that damned mage created an impossible mountain barrier that permanently divided the continent and made invasion in either direction logistically unfeasible."
Pause.
"Now we have peace. But not because we want it. Because geography forces it on us."
They continued walking — the messenger guiding them down the corridor until they reached a pair of dark wooden double doors on the right side.
He knocked three times — a specific rhythm.
A muffled voice from inside:
"Come in."
The messenger opened the door — revealing a moderately large meeting room: twenty square meters, an oval oak table in the center surrounded by twelve chairs upholstered in red velvet, tall windows letting in natural light, a full-wall bookshelf, an unlit but spotless fireplace.
"The Governor will be summoned immediately. Please make yourselves comfortable and wait."
He left — gently closing the door behind him.
**[MEETING ROOM – AWAITING THE GOVERNOR]**
Cassandra didn't wait for an invitation — she threw herself into the nearest chair with complete disregard, grabbed the decorative fruit bowl from the table (not meant for eating, only decoration) and began devouring an apple with exaggerated sounds of satisfaction:
"Aaaah! The good life at last!" — Voice mockingly pleased. — "Fresh imported fruit! Comfortable chairs! *This* is the proper treatment for Church knights!"
Garrett and Marcus sat down just as unceremoniously.
San remained standing — staring at the trio with an expression of disbelief mixed with rising anger:
"Don't you think you're setting a *terrible* example as our veterans and supposed hierarchical superiors?!" — His voice came out louder than intended. — "Your behavior is… it's…"
Garrett stood up abruptly — chair scraping loudly — and advanced toward San with clear aggressive intent:
"Look here, kid." — Low, dangerous voice. — "You're seriously starting to wear me out with your constant complaints and barely veiled insubordination."
He stepped closer — invading personal space:
"Maybe you need a more… *physical* lesson in respecting authority."
Fist clenching.
Julia moved instantly — positioning herself between San and Garrett:
"I'm sorry, Captain!" — Voice rushed, apologetic. — "San didn't mean any disrespect! It was a misunderstanding! It won't happen again! I promise I'll personally supervise his behavior!"
She bowed her head — forced submission.
Garrett looked down at her — considering for three seconds.
Then he pushed Julia with both hands — not violently but firmly enough to make her stagger back three steps before San caught her, preventing a fall.
"I'm already fed up with all three of you." — Voice tired and irritated. — "I can't wait to get into this damned mission and finally fight some monsters. At least monsters don't complain constantly."
He returned to his chair — sitting down heavily.
San helped Julia regain her balance — rage boiling:
"Julia, why—"
She gave the tiniest shake of her head — *No. Let it go.*
Jessica had remained silent, observing — but internally:
*I hope they die. All three of them. Slowly. Painfully. Devoured by monsters while begging for mercy that will never come.*
*Terrible employees. Terrible leaders. Terrible human beings.*
*The Church's corporate system has completely failed by allowing scum like these to reach positions of authority.*
Her external expression remained neutral.
But her eyes burned.
Julia recovered — looking around, trying to focus on anything except the trio.
She noticed paintings on the walls of this room too.
But not battle scenes.
Portraits.
Ten paintings arranged chronologically from left to right depicting the succession of rulers: the Kings of Kelvis across generations.
Each one wearing royal vestments in red and gold, crowns varying slightly in design but maintaining the central theme, the golden eagle emblem prominent on every uniform.
First on the left — an old man of seventy, long white beard, tired eyes, painted two hundred years ago based on the style.
Progressing rightward — each successive king portrayed younger in age at the time of painting.
Until the very last one on the right — the most recent, presumably current.
And completely different from the others.
King Kelvis V.
A young man — appearance of twenty-six years at most, contradicting the expectation of an experienced ruler.
Short, perfectly groomed blond hair, light-blue eyes shining with sharp intelligence but also something else… dangerous? Calculating?
A wide smile curving his lips — not the paternal smile of a benevolent ruler, but something closer to… manic? Manipulative? The expression of someone who knew secrets others didn't and found it hilarious.
His hands weren't resting serenely: one pointed directly at the viewer, the other held a rolled parchment as though concealing plans.
The eyes were painted with a technique that made them appear to follow the observer no matter the angle.
And around the portrait — a far more ornate frame than the others: real gold, not painted, engraved with symbols that looked arcane rather than merely decorative.
San approached — something about the portrait generating an inexplicable discomfort:
"This is… the current king? He looks… way too young. And that smile is…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
The door opened.
A gentle, polite voice:
"Admiring His Majesty King Kelvis V's portrait, I see?"
The group turned.
Governor Heldfin stood in the doorway.
A sixty-eight-year-old man who carried his age with dignity: short, well-maintained gray hair, light-blue eyes identical to those in the king's portrait suggesting distant kinship, face lined with wrinkles of responsibility but naturally gentle expression, upright posture despite his years, wearing a sophisticated deep-red tunic embroidered with silver threads forming patterns of flames and eagles, a gold signet ring on his right index finger engraved with the governmental seal of authority.
His expression was warm — genuinely welcoming, not feigned.
Julia, San, and Jessica immediately prostrated themselves — kneeling in appropriate reverence to high secular authority.
Garrett, Cassandra, and Marcus remained seated — as though the governor were irrelevant.
Heldfin waved a gentle hand:
"No, no! Please, none of that!" — Voice softly protesting. — "Make yourselves completely at ease! Knights of Nellis are honored guests, not subordinate subjects!"
He entered — walking to the head of the table:
"I thank you deeply for coming to Kend. My people have been suffering increasingly frequent and violent monster attacks emerging from the western forest. Your skills are desperately needed."
Garrett interrupted abruptly — cutting voice:
"Before we discuss the mission… we want the Church's tribute as previously agreed."
Heldfin blinked — processing:
"But… we already sent the full monthly tribute to the Church of Nellis fifteen days ago as per the established treaty. Five thousand gold coins as stipulated."
Garrett smiled — not friendly:
"The Church is now demanding an additional tribute because this mission involves two full knight teams instead of one. Therefore the cost doubles proportionally."
Pause.
"Ten thousand gold coins. Now. Before we proceed."
Heldfin hesitated — clearly recognizing he was being extorted but lacking the political power to refuse:
"I… understand." — Resigned voice.
He turned toward the door — calling:
"Messenger! Bring ten thousand gold coins from the treasury for our… visitors."
The messenger waiting outside nodded — leaving quickly.
Heldfin turned back — forcing his smile to return:
"While he fetches the tribute… I ask that you pay careful attention to the problem that has recently been afflicting us."
He unrolled a large map across the table — three meters by two meters, showing the local area in precise detail.
The map displayed four mountains arranged in a specific pattern:
Center — Kend (largest, where they currently were)
Southeast — Small mountain where they had arrived via teleportation
Northeast — Medium mountain marked "Silver Mines"
West — Second-largest mountain marked "Enchanted Forest" in red
Connecting all of them — suspension bridges drawn as thin lines.
Garrett glanced at the map for five seconds.
Then stood up:
"Hey, you three." — Pointed at Julia/San/Jessica. — "Debate strategy over there. We'll be in the city… checking on a few things."
He turned toward the door — Cassandra and Marcus automatically following.
They left — leaving the three rookies alone with the governor.
Heldfin watched the door close — his expression becoming slightly… relieved?
Then he continued explaining to the three who remained:
"As you can see, this central area is Kend, where we are now. To the southeast is the smaller mountain that primarily serves as our teleportation hub connecting us to the lower regions."
He pointed northeast:
"To the northeast is our secondary area connected by suspension bridge, where we carry out silver mining operations that constitute seventy percent of Kend's economy. The area is peaceful with no significant threats. Operations have continued uninterrupted for decades."
Finger moving west:
"But to the west…" — voice gaining a worried tone — "…is the second-largest mountain covered by dense forest that no one has ever fully explained. There is something there that saturates the area with concentrated magical energy. For centuries we tried to conquer territory for expansion but always failed because the monsters keep returning—constantly and in ever-increasing numbers."
Pause:
"The situation worsened dramatically ten days ago when a dungeon appeared inside the Kingdom of Zordis on the other side of the Zenk Mountains, releasing a massive amount of magical energy into the regional atmosphere and exponentially amplifying the saturation of the western forest."
He traced a line from west to Kend:
"Monsters amplified by the excess energy began coordinated invasion attempts on Kend. Three attacks in the last ten days. Fifteen dead. Thirty wounded. The population is terrified."
He looked directly at the three:
"The mission Kend humbly requests from the Church is: reduce the intensity and frequency of monster attacks through systematic elimination in the western forest. Eliminating the root of the problem would be ideal but… I recognize that may be impossible given the permanent magical saturation of the area. Therefore I will accept a significant reduction as success."
Julia studied the map — processing the information:
"So, team." — She looked at San and Jessica. — "This is our officially assigned mission. We begin operations tomorrow at dawn after proper rest and equipment preparation."
San and Jessica nodded.
Heldfin smiled — genuinely grateful:
"We thank you deeply for your assistance. While you rest before departing tomorrow, you may stay at the Joy in the Heights inn in the central district of the city. Accommodations have already been reserved and fully paid for by Kend's treasury as thanks."
Pause:
"If you have any additional needs, inform me immediately."
The trio bowed respectfully — then left.
**[MEETING ROOM – HELDFIN ALONE]**
The Governor remained standing — staring at the map for a long moment.
Then he looked at the wall — at the portrait of King Kelvis V with his manic smile.
He whispered low to himself:
"May the Goddess protect us from arrogant knights… and from a mad king."
He sighed.
Returned to work.