He looked away. Raya Lucaria Academy had both the means and the motive to see this through. There was no way around it. Rogier had told him Caria was a mage's nightmare, its strange barriers deflecting magic with ease. He didn't need to ask—Thops was behind that.
"When do we leave?"
"Patience. It's safer to blend in with the Tarnished. The Two Fingers will think they've trapped me in Nokstella."
Throne's calm was unshakable, like an old hound who'd heard it all before. The Tarnished weren't fools. If the Eternal City were weak, everyone would be scrambling for loot. But with Dragonkin Soldiers and mysterious experts lurking, survival meant knowing when to walk away.
"What are you scheming now?" Melina's voice cut through his thoughts. Her tone softened as the memory of the Nox's gaze returned. "And just so we're clear, I'm not your handmaiden."
She'd signed the contract. There was no going back.
Throne smiled faintly but didn't address it. "Do you know why the Nox hate you?"
Silence. She was lost in thought again, her brow furrowed, her small face troubled. Fragmented memories offered no answers.
"Because you're connected to Marika," he said, filling the silence. The murals, the Night Maidens' hostility—it all pointed to something deeper. Marika had led her followers to the Erdtree, and the Nox saw it as betrayal.
Melina's hatred meant she was tied to Marika. Her role as the 'kindling maiden' only sealed it. This was no small scheme.
'The women around me are all significant,' Throne mused. 'Ranni's lineage speaks for itself. Sellen's a Primeval Sorcerer. Melina? A clone of the Eternal Queen? Her daughter? That would make her Ranni's sister—or her gender-swapped father.'
He laughed outright. Holding so many secrets was its own kind of power. No one else knew Marika and Radagon were the same person.
"What's so funny?"
"Just a happy thought." His grin widened.
If Melina was Marika's daughter, fine. But if she was a clone? The idea of dragging her before Ranni and making her call her "Dad" was too much.
"Nonsense. You're cursing me in your heart again."
Melina ignored him. Around them, Tarnished began to retreat, muttering complaints. Throne slipped into the crowd, moving with casual ease. At the lift, he ran into Rogier.
"Wolf! How did you get out?" Rogier's eyes widened as he looked Throne over. "I was just about to charge into Nokstella to rescue you."
"I saw. You're a good man." Throne's smile was genuine. "When we got separated, I hid in a corner. Once you distracted the Nox, I slipped out."
It was plausible enough. Even with his wild imagination, Rogier wouldn't guess a Tarnished had become an honored guest.
"Sigh. It's good to be alive. Over a hundred died on this expedition. Lucky I didn't sign a contract with Raya Lucaria. I can leave anytime."
Rogier's words echoed the mindset of the independent Tarnished. Risk was one thing; throwing your life away was another.
Everyone has a flexible moral baseline. Throne wasn't surprised. He'd dealt with enough Tarnished to know how it worked.
"Where are you headed next?"
"Stormveil. The lords of the Roundtable Hold have taken it. Strange things are happening in the catacombs." Rogier's eyes gleamed with curiosity. He smiled at Throne. "Why not come along?"
"Fate seems to twist between us." Throne studied the man before him—calm, sharp, resourceful enough to survive in hostile lands. Not an act. Not entirely. If not for what happened ten years ago, wandering the world as a scholar wouldn't be so bad. Exploring ruins, charting caves, losing himself in the miniature wonders of the Lands Between. But that path was closed to him now. He'd crossed the point of return long ago.
"I'll pass. I still have unfinished business in Liurnia." "What business could there be in that place? The Carians are practically sorcerer hunters." Throne didn't respond. He stood silently on the lift, watching the ground rise to meet him. The Ainsel River's murmur faded beneath his feet. The Erdtree's light spilled back into his vision. The Two Fingers had shown their teeth.
The plan halted ten years ago had to move forward. The world was ready to shift.
Throne's actions had already upended Liurnia. The Carian Royal Family no longer cowered in shadows, waiting silently for the Tarnished to arrive. Everything traced back to two moves he'd made when he left.
First, he stripped Raya Lucaria Academy of public support. A flood of refugees fled to the fertile west bank, swelling the Royal Family's strength. Second, he sent the prodigy Thops to Caria. The Thops Barrier took root in the Carian Army, leaving the sorcerers scrambling.
If Ranni hadn't weighed the consequences, she would've seized all of Liurnia by now, splitting the Lands Between in two. But the pressure she exerted forced the Two Fingers to act early, leading to the events in Nokstella—still a closely guarded secret.
Ten years of ferment had reshaped everything. The Lands Between was more tangled than ever. The Haligtree Army remained intact. The Redmanes hadn't lost their king. The Tarnished had begun claiming Limgrave. Individual heroism found no soil, but the clash of warring lords filled epic chapters.
Amid the chaos, the Tarnished were disruptors—not yet rulers. The Haligtree Army, Leyndell, Mt. Gelmir, the Carian Royal Family, and the Redmanes of Caelid still loomed large. But the Tarnished, rooted in Limgrave, were rising. Everyone was eyeing the future.
Caria Manor, Three Sisters. Ranni sat straight-backed in her chair.
Books piled high in the small room. A massive map of the Lands Between hung opposite her. When boredom struck, she studied it. She had no desire to dominate the Lands Between. Her plan had been to stay in a quiet corner of Liurnia and see it through. But times had shifted, and forces beyond her control dragged her into the fray.
Every time she looked at the map, Ranni didn't know whether to praise or curse him. "All his doing. An unseen hand pushing me forward." The doll sighed. Looking back, no step felt entirely wrong. She couldn't ignore Raya Lucaria's hostility or the refugees seeking shelter.
Thinking about it, she felt she must have been out of her mind to agree to Throne's intervention in the Battle of Aeonia, which shaped the Lands Between as it was now. Yet, the idea of a lowly knight stirring such storms still felt surreal. "Hmph, and then he surprises me right after waking up."
Ranni pressed her hands together, fingers interlaced, and stared at the emerald expanse of Limgrave. He'd actually done it—slain Godrick, toppling the first demigod since The Shattering. Leyndell's intelligence networks buzzed with speculation, from Morgott to the Two Fingers. None knew the killer's name. The so-called 'Champion' hadn't even visited the Divine Tower yet.
Rumors spread like wildfire. Some whispered of ancient gods stirring. Others swore King Godfrey had returned in secret. Hmph. Still as slippery as ever. A smirk curled Ranni's lips. There was something delicious about watching Throne dance just out of reach, leaving the powers of the Lands Between grasping at shadows. Then her smile faltered. So where is he now?
"Blaidd." Her voice sliced through the distance between them. "You're certain he entered Liurnia?"
A pause. Then his reply, thick with confusion: "Positive. By my reckoning, he should've arrived ages ago."
"But where? Why hasn't he come to me?"
Miles away, the half-wolf stood knee-deep in corpses. He blinked. Then his fur bristled, hackles rising like an offended tomcat. "That bastard didn't skip town for Leyndell, did he? Hang on—I'll drag him back by his—"
"Stand down. Continue your mission." Ranni severed the connection before he could finish. Blaidd was many things—loyal, lethal—but a sense of direction wasn't one of them. By the time he stumbled into Leyndell, the Erdtree might've withered.
"Princess—Princess—"
She silenced the link and slid from her high-backed chair. Blaidd's words gnawed at her. Leyndell? Her fingers tightened around the armrest. Why does it matter? We agreed on freedom. No chains, no obligations.
Yet the thought of Throne slipping beyond her reach sent a hot wire of irritation down her spine.
Logic warred with something sharper. When Loretta abandoned Caria, she'd felt nothing. Cold as moonlight, impartial as the void between stars. But this? This was different.
Hmm. How peculiar. She traced the edge of her own unease. This fixation… unseemly.
She wrestled it down—the urge to hunt him herself, to demand answers. Worse: the traitorous whisper that if he never returned, she could retreat into the Dark Moon's embrace, undisturbed.
"Good riddance," she muttered. "One less distraction." The map sprawled before her, its ink lines a web of strategy. Now wasn't the time for—
A shadow blotted the window. War Counselor Iji's massive face loomed, his mirror-helm reflecting fractured light. "Princess. Brooding again?"
"I've no choice. The mess he left behind is… troublesome." She flicked a dismissive hand. "Honestly, it's a burden."
Is it, though? The troll's hidden smile was audible. "Your path needn't diverge from his. This could be… fortuitous."
"I don't want Marika's throne."
"Who said anything about thrones?" His chuckle rumbled like distant thunder. "Imagine a Lands Between rebuilt. Prosperous. A stepping stone for your stars."
Ranni's gaze flicked to the heavens. She wasn't just fleeing. The cosmos demanded more than a pilgrim's hope—it required foundations of steel and sacrifice. Iji knew. They all did. No one bled for a tyrant.
"Don't consider things with too low a success rate. I've said it before—follow me, and betrayal might come at dawn." Her voice could've frozen magma.
Iji's smile didn't waver. If she were truly that callous, she'd have let the Two Fingers crush them all. Yet here she stood, waging war for a future not even the stars could promise.
"Perhaps I should thank Throne for opening some doors for you." "Hmph. Why thank him?" Ranni turned away, her four hands clasped behind her back. "What do you want today? Surely you didn't come here just to fill the silence."
"I finished my book. I need another." "Go get it yourself." "One more thing. Throne's back." "He's almost at the manor outside the walls. What are your orders?" "Who did you say?" Ranni spun around, her azure eyes widening. That look—rare, almost unreadable—flickered across her face. Should she teach him a lesson, remind him of a monarch's dignity? Or drive him away, end the nuisance once and for all?
She hesitated, a rare falter in her decisiveness. The Troll smirked, watching her struggle. He feigned seriousness. "If he's troubled you, I'll remove him at once. I'll gladly play the villain." He started descending the magic tower but froze, his hand stuck to the windowsill.
"Princess, what's this?" Ranni cleared her throat lightly, avoiding his gaze. She returned to her high-backed chair, interlaced her fingers, and composed herself. "Iji, don't make decisions for me." The Troll suppressed a laugh. "My apologies. It was out of line."
A demigod's perception was sharp. Beneath her robes, her hands clenched into fists. She tilted her head, the wide brim of her hat shielding her face. Being seen by Iji in this state felt unbearable. Finally, prompted by him, she made her choice.
"Let him come. Now."
Her voice remained icy, but silence followed. Annoyance crept in.
"Are you questioning my order?"
"Of course not. But, Princess, could you unfreeze me first?" Iji gestured helplessly at his hand stuck to the windowsill.
They stared at each other, the room thick with awkward tension. Ranni's small frame trembled.
She stood motionless, teeth clenched, imagining herself flying to the manor and kicking that man all the way to Leyndell. Throne, you'll be the death of my dignity.
The Spirit Steed surged forward, hooves pounding the dirt. Torrent raced along the western lakeshore road. To the right, Liurnia's shimmering waters stretched endlessly, patrolled by small boats. To the left, farmlands and villages sprawled, farmers waving from the ridges.
Troll Knights in full armor marched heavily, drilling with soldiers wielding wooden swords. Beyond, a massive stone wall spanned the land bridge, Caria's flag fluttering atop it.
Throne pulled the reins, stroking the horse's head while gazing at the place where his journey in The Lands Between began.