Shawn took the scrolls with a steady hand, though inside, his thoughts were racing. He had come here with Makara, hoping to find a way to stop the war, to somehow end the bloodshed before it could begin, but now he was given a mission that could change the course of events—and perhaps, if he was lucky, prevent the war from erupting into full-scale violence.

  He glanced over at Makara, who had shaken off his earlier drunkenness and now stood with a look of serious determination. The gravity of the situation was not lost on him either.

  King Vio spoke next, turning his attention to General Mong. “Bring them fresh horses and provisions for their journey,” he ordered. His tone was brisk and commanding, brooking no argument. Then he turned back to Shawn, his eyes narrowing. “Time is of the essence, and every moment counts. You leave now and must reach the docks by morning light. Move swiftly and cautiously.”

  Shawn nodded, feeling the weight of the King's command and felt overwhelmed. “We won’t fail, Your Majesties,” he vowed, a surge of determination coursing through him. He knew that the fate of many rested on his shoulders and that of his companion. King Dawnes gave a final nod, signalling the end of the conversation. “Good,” he said. “Now, follow General Mong. He will help you prepare for the journey ahead.”

  General Mong saluted the kings, then turned and exited the tent, motioning for Shawn and Makara to follow. Makara, still visibly shaken but sober, trailed behind. The weight of the king’s expectations seemed to have sobered him up entirely. Outside, the night was still dark, the air cool and crisp, with a faint scent of wood smoke lingering from the nearby campfires. The soldiers continued their patrols, their movements precise and purposeful.

  As they left the tent, King Vio watched them go, then turned to his fellow rulers, his brow furrowed with concern. “The war is in five days,” he mused aloud. “Is it wise to send them on a mission of such importance?”

  King Hersery nodded, his gaze still fixed on the tent’s entrance where Shawn and Makara had just exited. “I sense something different in both of them,” he replied thoughtfully, “especially in the boy. There's an aura about him that makes me want to trust him.”

  King Dawnes, his face set in a grim expression, added, “Let us hope the message we send reaches its destination and that it aids us in what’s to come.”

  The kings exchanged a final, solemn glance, each silently acknowledging the uncertain future that lay before them. The stakes were higher than ever, and the outcome was far from certain, but for now, they could only wait and hope that their trust in Shawn and Makara was well-placed.

  General Mong moved with swift efficiency, barking out orders to the nearby soldiers. “Bring two rested horses and provisions for a journey,” he commanded, his voice steady and authoritative. The soldiers immediately sprang into action, fetching the horses and gathering supplies as instructed. As the preparations were underway, General Mong's sharp eyes caught sight of Makara. The usually comical messenger seemed unusually subdued, his shoulders slumped, and his face clouded with a mix of exhaustion and frustration. Makara had just completed a gruelling journey only to be thrust into another, and the weight of this new mission appeared to be wearing on him. Sensing the need to lift the man’s spirits, General Mong approached him quietly, leaning in close to whisper, “I’ve packed some high-grade, premium wine in your provisions bag” Makara’s eyes lit up at the mention of the wine, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The promise of a drink seemed to rekindle his spirit, and he straightened up slightly, his demeanour brightening.

  Meanwhile, General Mong turned his attention to Shawn, who stood nearby, his face a mix of determination and nervousness. The young boy was clearly out of his depth, thrust into a situation that was far beyond anything he had ever imagined. Sensing the boy’s anxiety, General Mong placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The road ahead is uncertain,” he said gently, his voice carrying a fatherly warmth. “But it is that very uncertainty that makes the journey an adventure. You’ll grow from it, learn from it and remember, no matter what lies ahead, be safe.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  With that, General Mong reached into his tunic and pulled out a small, sheathed dagger. The blade, though modest in size, was finely crafted, with a hilt wrapped in soft leather. “A young man should always have a weapon to defend himself in the wilderness,” General Mong said, pressing the dagger into Shawn’s hand while embedding a tiny bit of his core power into the dagger, hoping it might be useful for Shawn down the road. “Take this. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

  Shawn accepted the dagger, feeling the cool metal of the hilt against his palm. He nodded, grateful for the gesture and the advice, while sensing something odd about the dragger, but kept quiet. As the soldiers returned with the horses, now saddled and ready, General Mong used another one of his core powers to give physical enhancement to the two horses and gave one last nod to Shawn and Makara. “I have enhanced the physical capability of the horses, which will lead you to the destination without exhaustion. Now go swiftly and keep your wits about you.”

  With a final salute, General Mong stepped back, watching as Shawn and Makara mounted their horses. The two looked at each other, a shared sense of resolve passing between them. Then, with a swift kick of their heels, they urged their horses forward, riding into the darkness. The night swallowed them whole, the shadows closing in around them as they set off on their journey, the sounds of hoof beats echoing softly in the still night air.

  The campfires behind them slowly faded into the distance, their warm glow replaced by the cold, uncertain darkness of the night. The path ahead was shrouded in shadow, but both knew there was no turning back now. Their mission was clear, and the fate of the kingdoms might very well rest on their shoulders. As they rode deeper into the night, the only thing that seemed certain was the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

  As they rode through the quiet night, the only sounds were the rhythmic clopping of their horses' hooves and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until Makara abruptly broke it, his voice filled with irritation. Shawn turned his head, still guiding his horse forward, and saw the frustration etched on Makara’s face. His brows were furrowed, and he was muttering under his breath. Sensing his companion’s mood, Shawn cautiously asked, “What’s bothering you?”

  Makara’s scowl deepened. “That fool, General Mong,” he snapped. “He promised me premium wine, but it’s just ordinary stuff! I swear, the next time I see him, I’ll kick him square in the back.” Makara’s outburst was almost comical, and Shawn couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the sight of the disgruntled messenger. Even in the midst of their serious mission, Makara’s priorities seemed to remain the same. With Makara's grumbling lingering in the air, they continued their journey towards King Hersery’s kingdom. As they pressed on, the landscape around them began to change. The trees grew denser, their branches intertwining above, casting deep shadows across the path. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth.

  Up ahead, Shawn noticed a group of people walking in the opposite direction. Their clothes were tattered, their faces hollow and gaunt, their eyes glazed with exhaustion and despair. These were refugees, villagers who had suffered at the hands of King Azure’s soldiers. They trudged along, barely acknowledging the two riders passing by, their spirits broken, their will to fight or even to care seemingly gone. The life in their eyes had vanished, replaced by a haunting emptiness. As they passed the group, an elderly man stumbled and fell to the ground, his voice barely a whisper as he croaked, “Water… please… water…” Shawn’s heart tightened at the sight. Without thinking, he slowed his horse, ready to help. He fumbled for his gourd, intending to offer the old man a drink, but before he could dismount, Makara reached out, grabbing Shawn’s arm. “Don’t,” he said sharply, his tone serious. “Leave him be. We’re on a time-constrained journey. We can’t afford to stop for every soul. If we delay, worse things than this will befall.”

  Shawn looked down at the old man, torn between compassion and the urgency of their mission. The man’s eyes, dull and pleading, seemed to burn into Shawn’s conscience. He wanted to help, to do something, anything, but Makara’s grip on his arm tightened, his expression stern. “We have to keep moving,” Makara insisted. “These people… they’ve all suffered, but we can’t save everyone. Our mission is far more important. It could save thousands more than we could help here.”

  Reluctantly, Shawn nodded, his heart heavy. He understood the logic in Makara’s words, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. He glanced one last time at the old man, still lying in the dirt, before urging his horse forward again, following Makara down the shadowed path. The sounds of the refugees faded behind them, swallowed by the night. Shawn couldn’t shake the image of the old man from his mind, but he knew Makara was right. They had a mission to complete, and time was not on their side. They rode through the entire night, the dark landscape stretching endlessly before them. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a dim light over their path, but as the hours passed, it began to dip below the horizon and gave rise to the sun and coastal city of King Hersery kingdom, which came into their view.

  Sword Master.

  Sword Master