“Master Zaid, I come bearing urgent news.”
After his audience with the visitors from the Kingdom of Clays, Zaid had shut himself away—alone—in a room adjoining the vast audience chamber made for his personal use. The screen mirror on the wall showed a certain man’s annihilation of the primal golems outside the City Forgotten by Time, playing on loop. Zaid had seen the recording countless times, yet he continued to watch with intense concentration, his thoughts running at a frantic pace.
“Later,” Zaid snapped. Between the sweat drenching his brow and the anguish on his face, it was clear he lacked the patience to listen to his trusted servant, Wize, who had just rushed into the room. “How many times have I told you not to bother me when I’m think—”
He fell silent, the anguish on his round face transforming into bewilderment when he heard the few words his aging servant whispered into his ear. Then—
“What?!” Zaid exclaimed. “Mithra’s high priestess intruded on the palace grounds?!”
“Indeed, sir. Her Holy Highness wishes to participate in the auction, as she does every year. As we speak, she is inside the venue with her son, Holy Prince Tirrence.”
“That scheming fox! Why now, of all times?! The very thought of having to force a smile to greet her... And how am I supposed to interpret her recent change of heart? Damn her! Damn them all!”
Zaid had been aware that two suspicious figures were sniffing around the city, but he’d been too focused on his visitors from the Kingdom of Clays to keep up with them. He ground his teeth as he realized he was now paying the price for that.
“How shall we deal with them?” Wize asked. “I would advise being very careful in your judgment—Her Holy Highness seemed to be a different person entirely.”
“Are you suggesting...she’s an impostor?” Zaid asked slowly. Then he dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s always worn a mask and acted with brazen impunity.”
“Understood, sir.”
“More importantly, how are the preparations coming along?”
“Smoothly, sir. However, I must regretfully inform you that a number of your family members have chosen to send representatives to fill their seats this year. A shame, since they usually attend without fail.”
“Tsk. They always were quick to abandon what they mistook for a sinking ship. Note down the absentees; I’ll make them regret turning their backs on me before long. What about the security golems?”
“All in position, in full numbers. Masters Ari and Nhid have also announced their desire to lead the new golems you’ve given them into battle.”
“They have, have they? Very well. I suppose the little time they might buy us will prove useful enough. Tell them I have high hopes for them.”
“Understood, sir.”
“If that’s all, then leave. I wish to be alone.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once his trusted servant had departed, Zaid returned to watching the man on the screen and the strange black object in his hand.
“Damn it all!” he cursed. “What more am I supposed to do?!”
Back in the audience hall, it had been all he could do to feign composure. He had been seized by fear, terrified that one wrong word could drive the man armed with the Black Blade to cut him down on the spot.
Certainly, the man had come across as harmless and relaxed, and no part of their conversation had seemed untoward. But each time Zaid had started to feel at ease, he remembered the devastation outside the City Forgotten by Time. His breathing grew shallow, and his entire body broke out in a cold sweat. For all the wealth and power at his fingertips, he was firmly on the side of the prey. Never before had he been driven so far into a corner.
Zaid was no stranger to adversity—he’d faced more challenges throughout his life than he could count. He prided himself on the tenacity that had prevented him from giving up—that had always opened a path for him—but he knew, deep in his bones, that this time was different. In this trial, there were no resemblances to his past ordeals. The merchant’s instincts he’d honed over decades of outmaneuvering his enemies were quicker than calculation and more reliable than reason...
And they screamed at him that a crisis was imminent.
In barely any time at all, the fearsome powerhouse of a man King Clays had sent to Sarenza had destroyed Zaid’s most valuable military assets. Worse still, he had done it with one hand, erasing hordes of primal golems as naturally as one might breathe. Each time Zaid watched the recording, hoping it wasn’t as he remembered or that he’d simply dreamed it into being, he was forced to reckon with reality: The man was strong. Hopelessly so.
For so long, House Sarenza had reigned supreme, forcing its will upon those ranked beneath it. But now, the status quo had been upturned. The system that had kept House Sarenza in power crumbled around it, and those who had once taken charge now marched to the beat of someone else’s drum.
No matter how many schemes Zaid devised, none of them seemed even remotely promising. It all came down to power—or rather, his lack of it. Profit and loss were his bread and butter, so he knew how best to navigate them. Just as he knew that there was only one person left who might save him from certain doom.
“Damn it all! Where’s that idiot of an elf when he’s needed?!”
Zaid knew it was pointless to expect a member of such a long-lived race to abide by his sense of time. He also knew the elves weren’t reliable partners—they were allies of convenience, acting only in their own interests. Yet, for as long as he could clearly remember, Lude had never failed to keep his word. His spotless record was the only reason Zaid put any faith in him, and the reason he felt so dreadfully irritated.
For a man so used to being in control, having to put his fate in someone else’s hands was unbearable—especially when that “someone else” was so openly capricious. So intense was the unease Zaid felt at the threat closing in on him that his eyes had turned bloodshot. His teeth hadn’t stopped chattering—nor had the rest of his body stopped trembling—since his conversation with that terrifying man.
Zaid was convinced that he had a better sense for danger than most people. Now, it was his own fate that struck fear into him.
“Damn, damn, damn! Lude! Where are you, Lude?!”
In an instant, a man in a black cloak loomed over Zaid’s shoulder. “There is no need to raise your voice,” he said. “I am right here.”
The head of House Sarenza flinched in surprise. “D-Don’t scare me like that! That thing we spoke about—how’s it coming along?! How much longer are you going to make me wait?!”
“You need not worry—the item you desire is right here.” Oozing his usual apathy, the black-cloaked man held out a pale hand to reveal a golden object floating above his palm, glittering strangely.
“Wh-What is it?” Zaid asked.
“A very special relic, capable of unleashing the Dungeon of Oblivion’s true power. It is known as the Key to Glory.”
“The Dungeon of Oblivion’s true power...?”
“The Key is a treasure passed down by my people through the ages,” the cloaked man explained. “It can combine the strength of all the Dungeon of Oblivion’s primal golems, giving its wielder immeasurable power.”
Zaid gulped, causing the fat rolls of his neck to undulate. He was no longer concerned with whether he could trust the clearly suspicious man before him; all that mattered was whether the Key could truly do what Lude claimed.