The carriage did not roll into the Odor Kingdom; it bumped, rattled, and groaned. Unlike the paved silver roads of Orbia or the living root-paths of Ersbel, the Beast Folk's territory was a rugged expanse of crimson canyons and golden savannas. The air here didn't smell of perfume or ancient magic; it smelled of dust, sun-baked fur, and the metallic tang of sharpening stones.
"Father," Dwayne said, bracing his small boots against the opposite seat as the carriage jolted over a particularly large rock. "The suspension on this vehicle was designed for the sedimentary plains of the capital. In this terrain, the structural integrity of the axles is being compromised by a factor of 3.4. We should abandon the carriage and proceed on a four-legged biological transport. It would be more... 'rugged'."
Duke Lucas Grant looked up from a map, his red eyes tracking the dust clouds rising in the distance.
"You want to ride a horse, Dwayne? You can barely reach the stirrups."
"I have calculated the center of gravity required to remain upright," Dwayne said seriously. "I would simply lean at an angle of 12 degrees during a gallop. It is basic physics, Father."
Lucas suppressed a smile. The image of Dwayne, in his tiny scholarly robes, galloping across a savanna on a warhorse was enough to melt the ice in his chest—though he would rather die than admit it.
"We stay in the carriage. I'm not having you eaten by a mountain cougar because you were busy 'calculating' its leap trajectory."
—
They arrived at Korgar, the capital of Odor. It wasn't a city of spires, but a massive fortress built into the side of a red-rock canyon. Huge banners made of mammoth hide fluttered in the hot wind.
Standing at the gate was King Fenris, the King of Beasts. He was a towering figure, seven feet of muscle and grey fur, with a mane that looked like a thunderstorm. Beside him stood the wolf-man Kael, who had delivered the challenge at the Elven border.
As the Duke stepped out, his presence immediately clashed with the King's. Lucas was a glacier; Fenris was a volcano.
"Duke Grant," Fenris growled, his voice vibrating in the chests of everyone present. "You bring the 'Little Professor' to the land of tooth and claw. Tell me, boy—can your numbers stop a starving lion?"
Dwayne stepped forward, squinting against the harsh sun. He looked at the King's massive claws, then at the way the King's weight shifted on his digitigrade legs.
"A lion's hunger is a chemical motivation driven by a lack of glucose," Dwayne replied, his voice high and clear. "It is not a 'force' to be stopped, but a biological state to be managed. If the lion is starving, I would provide it with 4.5 kilograms of high-protein meat. Logic suggests the lion would then stop being a threat and start being a digestive system."
The Beast Folk warriors erupted in low, guttural laughter. Fenris barked a laugh as well, though his eyes remained sharp. "A clever tongue. But here, we do not survive on 'meat management.' We survive on instinct. To earn our respect and the trade of our sun-crystals, the boy must pass the Trial of the Red Maze."
—
The Trial was simple in theory, terrifying in practice. Dwayne was to be placed at the entrance of a natural labyrinth of sandstone pillars. He had to reach the center before sundown. The catch? The maze was filled with "Sensory Variables"—illusory predators, shifting winds, and pheromones designed to confuse the brain.
"I'm going with him," Lucas said, his hand dropping to his sword.
"No," Fenris stepped in his way. "The trial is for the cub alone. If the Duke interferes, the trade deal is ash."
Lucas's aura flared, the ground beneath him cracking as frost began to creep across the red dust. For a second, it looked like the Human Duke and the Beast King would start a war then and there.
A small, tugging sensation at Lucas's cloak stopped him.
"Father," Dwayne said, looking up. "The maze is a closed system. It has a finite number of paths. While the Beast Folk rely on 'instinct' to find the exit, instinct is merely a subconscious recognition of patterns. I will simply recognize the patterns consciously. The probability of my failure is less than 0.04%."
Lucas looked into those calm, blue eyes. He saw no fear—only a child who viewed a deadly trial as a boring homework assignment.
"Twenty minutes," Lucas said to Fenris, his voice sounding like grinding stone. "If he isn't at the center in twenty minutes, I'm tearing this maze down."
—
As Dwayne entered the maze, his friends weren't idle.
Prince Edgar used his royal authority to "inspect" the perimeter, secretly dropping brightly colored candied plums near the correct turns. Elton Ren climbed a nearby cliff, ostensibly to "meditate," but actually to use his swordsman's vision to signal Dwayne with the reflection of his blade.
Lili Hughes, meanwhile, had found the Beast King's youngest daughter—a small, fuzzy lynx-girl—and was currently bribing her with Orbian chocolates for information about the "shirking walls" of the maze.
"Dwayne's going to be fine," Lili whispered to the lynx-girl. "But if he gets a scratch, his Dad is going to turn this canyon into an ice cube. You should probably tell me where the trapdoors are."
—
Inside the Labyrinth, Dwayne walked through the maze with his hands behind his back. To any observer, he looked like he was taking a stroll in a park.
A massive, illusory shadow-wolf leapt from a corner, snarling. Dwayne didn't flinch. He didn't even break his stride.
"Your growl is at a frequency of 150 hertz," Dwayne muttered, looking at the shadow. "However, your feet are making no sound on the gravel, and your body is not displacing the dust. You are a light-based projection. You are... 'fake news'."
The shadow-wolf flickered and vanished, seemingly offended by the lack of fear.
Dwayne stopped at a three-way fork. The wind blew from the left, carrying the scent of blooming flowers. The right path was dark and smelled of rot. The middle path was nondescript.
"Instinct would tell a predator to follow the scent of life to the left," Dwayne mused. "But the Beast Folk value 'The Hunter's Path.' A hunter goes where the prey hides. The smell of rot is a chemical deterrent to keep the weak away."
He turned right.
At the center of the maze sat an ancient stone pedestal holding a Sun-Crystal. Beside it stood King Fenris's champion, a massive bear-man named Ursa.
"To take the crystal, you must prove you have the 'Beast Heart'," Ursa roared, lunging forward. He didn't use a weapon; he used his sheer bulk to try and pin Dwayne down.
Dwayne didn't run. He didn't have the strength to fight a bear. Instead, he pulled out his silver fountain pen—the one Lucas had given him.
"You are moving at a velocity of 5 meters per second," Dwayne said, his mind entering the 'High-Intellect' trance. "Your right knee has a slight tremor, suggesting an old injury. If I move 40 centimeters to the left and apply pressure to your patella tendon..."
As the bear-man swiped, Dwayne ducked. It looked like a dance. He didn't strike with anger; he tapped Ursa's knee with the tip of his pen, injecting a tiny, precise spark of mana.
Ursa's leg buckled. The giant didn't fall because of a blow; he fell because his nerves had been "tricked" into relaxing.
Dwayne walked up to the pedestal and picked up the Sun-Crystal. It glowed a fierce, warm orange.
"Instinct is the ability to react without thinking," Dwayne said to the fallen champion. "Intelligence is the ability to think so fast that reaction becomes unnecessary. I believe we are finished."
When Dwayne emerged from the maze, crystal in hand, the silence in the canyon was absolute. The Beast Folk warriors looked at the four-year-old with something bordering on terror.
Lucas was at Dwayne's side before the boy could even take another step. He didn't care about the crystal or the trade deal. He swept Dwayne up, checking him for scratches.
"You're dusty," Lucas said, his voice tight. "And your hair is a mess."
"I encountered a 'hairy variable' that required a physical intervention," Dwayne said, leaning his head against Lucas's shoulder. He was exhausted; the mental calculations of the maze had drained his small mana pool. "But I have secured the Sun-Crystal. This should increase the Duchy's energy efficiency by 22%."
Lucas didn't say anything. He just held the boy tighter, his chin resting on Dwayne's dark brown hair. For a moment, the "Cold Duke" looked almost human.
That night, a great feast was held. The Beast Folk roasted huge boars over open pits. Fenris sat with Lucas, the two leaders sharing a drink that smelled like jet fuel.
"Your cub," Fenris said, nodding toward Dwayne, who was currently trying to explain the "geologic composition of sandstone" to a group of confused wolf-children. "He has no claws. He has no fangs. But I think he is the most dangerous thing in this canyon."
"He's a child," Lucas said defensively.
"He is a change," Fenris corrected. "The world is getting smaller, Duke. We have dragons in the sky and dwarves in the ground, all fighting over who is strongest. But that boy... he's the only one who knows why we are fighting. Keep him safe. Or don't. I suspect he can handle himself."
As the feast continued, a messenger pigeon from Orbia arrived, landing on the Duke's shoulder. Lucas unrolled the tiny scroll, his face going from stoic to murderous in a matter of seconds.
Count Vil Lor, the father of the bully Dwayne had defeated at the Academy, had staged a coup in the capital while the Duke and the Prince were away. He had claimed that Lucas was "abducting the Prince" and had declared himself the Regent of Orbia.
"Father?" Dwayne asked, sensing the shift in the air. "The atmospheric pressure around you has dropped. Your heart rate is 120 BPM. What has occurred?"
Lucas crushed the scroll in his hand.
"A variable we neglected to solve, Dwayne."
"Count Vil Lor?" Dwayne asked.
"He's closed the borders," Lucas said, his red eyes glowing with a terrifying light. "He's called us traitors. We can't go home."
Dwayne looked at his
friends—Edgar, Elton, and Lili—who were all looking at him for an answer. The four-year-old genius stood up, dusting the crumbs of roasted boar from his robes.
"If the borders are closed," Dwayne said calmly, "then we shall simply have to recalculate the map of the Orbia Kingdom. Prince Edgar, I believe it is time you learned how to lead a revolution. It is 85% logistics and 15% dramatic speeches."