Corvus didn’t do much except linger around until Belisarius summoned him again. First, he checked on the guards who had come with him. The armor of the soldiers lined up in the courtyard shimmered under the sun, and the clanking of metal as they strapped on their swords echoed through the stone walls of the palace. They chatted a bit, swung their swords a bit. The warriors, who had done nothing but wait in this palace for days, had grown so bored they could barely look each other in the eye. Before leaving, Corvus handed Baldrek a pouch of gold, telling him to let the warriors enjoy themselves in the city tonight. The warriors welcomed this gesture with joy; some raised their swords and shouted, others sighed and thanked him. The spark in their eyes was like the rekindling of a fire that had long been on the verge of extinguishing.

  After leaving the warriors, Corvus returned to his room. In the high-ceilinged chamber with stone walls, the dim light danced with the candles near the window. He slept a little, worked a little; studied maps, took notes. His mind was alert, but his body sought rest. There wasn’t much to do. He was merely waiting for Belisarius to call him.

  A soft knock came at the door. It wasn’t Belisarius. A servant in white linen stood at the threshold. The young man slightly bowed his head and spoke gently: he said dinner was ready and that King Justinianus was waiting for him. Corvus didn’t refuse the invitation. He prepared quickly and made his way to the grand dining hall.

  The stone columns of the hall were lit with candles, shadows curling silently across the walls. At the head of the long table carved from oak sat King Justinianus. Beside him was his wife, her sharp features and resolute gaze shining. The queen’s dress was of purple velvet, her dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders and framed by a jeweled crown. At the other end of the table sat a young girl. She was slender, her golden hair braided. At a glance, she appeared to be a few years younger than Corvus.

  It was the first time Corvus saw Belisarius’ mother. It was clear she wasn’t a woman who liked to be in the spotlight; yet tonight, her presence filled the entire hall. The shy demeanor of the young girl next to her was immediately noticeable.

  Corvus first greeted those at the table with respect. The hilts of the swords on his back jingled softly. Then he took the seat shown to him. As the servants silently filled their plates, Corvus began to converse with Justinianus and the queen. Politics and war were not topics of discussion at the table. They spoke of daily life, the challenges of growing up in the palace, and the burdens of leadership. These subjects didn’t particularly interest Corvus, but out of courtesy, he tried to engage. Sometimes he smiled, sometimes he asked short questions to show his interest.

  What truly drew his attention was the queen. Her gaze was sharp, and her voice uncommonly clear. Though she sat beside her husband, she was neither quiet nor submissive. When she opposed one of Justinianus’ ideas, the expression on her face reflected the strength of her character.

  Unlike the women of Rhazgord, in many kingdoms across the continent, women had virtually no say. To fight or be involved in politics was impossible for women—unlike in Rhazgord. But it was obvious this woman was different. She reminded him of Rhazgord women.

  Corvus could feel that this queen was not merely a figurehead, but someone who played a vital role in the shadows where decisions were shaped. She looked people in the eye, and when her lips moved in speech, it was as if the air in the room shifted.

  By contrast, the young girl kept her head down the entire time. Her cheeks were flushed with shy redness, and she did nothing but poke at her food with her fork. She hadn’t once looked directly at Corvus. She frequently crumpled the sleeve of her dress in her hands, avoiding eye contact. Corvus found it strange, but soon understood why.

  The queen was subtly steering the conversation. She skillfully wove her sentences, guiding the talk from casual matters to a much more personal topic almost without notice. In the tone of her voice, one could sense a subtle but definite cunning intelligence.

  “You’re of marriageable age, just like my daughter, Corvus.” said the queen, with a sly smile curling at the corners of her lips. Her voice was soft as silk, but carried a will of steel. Then, with the same expression, she asked:

  “Is there a lucky girl in your life?”

  Corvus slightly nodded. He had understood the woman’s intent, but his answer was already prepared. For Corvus was engaged to Ilyada. This union, born of an agreement between the Tiamat and Iskat tribes, was a political marriage. Yet Corvus had never felt uncomfortable about it. Ilyada was not only one of the most respected women of her tribe but also of all Rhazgord.

  “I don’t know if she’s lucky…” Corvus said, his voice neither proud nor embarrassed.

  “But yes. I’m engaged to someone from the Iskat tribe.”

  A brief silence appeared on the queen’s face. Her eyes froze for a moment, a faint line forming between her brows. She was both surprised and disappointed. The Iskat tribe was, after the Tiamat, the most well-known Rhazgord tribe on the continent. Their reputation extended far beyond their bravery. What they could do on horseback, many couldn’t achieve even on their own two feet. On battlefields, before Rhazgord infantry had even begun marching, Iskat warriors had already planted their flags in the enemy’s heart. They were known for their toughness, ruthlessness, and strict adherence to tradition. One of the most fearsome and unpredictable tribes in Rhazgord.

  The young girl at the table, on the other hand, let out a deep breath at Corvus’ words. It was as if the tension had slid off her shoulders and fallen to the ground. She glanced at Corvus from the corner of her eye once, then turned her head back to her plate. She held her spoon with freer movements, ate comfortably, and looked at those at the table without anxiety. To her, the idea of this marriage had been terrifying. Spending life with a barbarian from Rhazgord… No matter how different Corvus might be, he still came from that world.

  But the queen was not someone who gave up easily. Her gaze still wandered over Corvus, calculating other routes in her mind. It wasn’t hard to see that the idea behind this marriage wasn’t purely emotional. It was clear the King supported it too. The harmonious silence between them suggested this subject had been discussed before. After a short pause, the queen asked:

  “Is polygamy common in Rhazgord?”

  The bluntness of the question didn’t surprise Corvus. He replied calmly:

  “No. There is no polygamy in Rhazgord. In fact, someone who remarries after losing their spouse is frowned upon. We take pride in being loyal to our partners.”

  These words caused a brief silence in the hall. The queen averted her gaze, pressed her lips together. The life of that topic ended with Corvus’ firm answer. There was nothing more to be said.

  As the meal progressed, the atmosphere at the table gradually shifted. Corvus had finished his plate and accepted the wine glass Justinianus offered him. He had just taken a sip when the large doors of the hall opened and Belisarius entered. The day’s fatigue was evident on his face; dark circles under his eyes, a heaviness in his walk. As he approached the table, he gently touched Corvus’ shoulder, then took a plate and began gathering his meal.

  “Sorry for keeping you waiting, Corvus…” he said with a sincere tone.

  “But everything is ready. We can sign the agreement after dinner.”

  Corvus nodded, a faint smile on his lips. He was in no hurry. The queen gently reached across the table for a plate that Belisarius couldn’t reach and placed it in front of her son. Her movement was slow, as if trying to wipe away his fatigue with her hands. Then, with a sincere but slightly sorrowful tone, she said:

  “You’re tiring yourself out, my son. Let your father handle some things.”

  Belisarius lowered his head and smiled. But Justinianus’ face suddenly hardened. His voice rose:

  “Belisarius will soon ascend the throne! He must learn to endure exhaustion and work through the night!”

  With those words, the table suddenly turned into a front line. The queen did not hesitate to respond. She spoke in a firm but calm tone. Justinianus became even harsher. Words began piling on top of each other. It was as if Corvus’ presence had been forgotten; he was now just a figure outside this family quarrel. But this scene wasn’t amusing or ordinary to him. A hollow feeling stirred inside him. A knot he couldn’t describe formed in his throat.

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  He had never sat at a table like this with his own family. His earliest memory of a meal was in the army canteen, amidst the clatter of metal bowls. His father had barely spoken directly to Corvus until he had proven his strength. His deceased mother… he didn’t even want to remember. The only impression left in his memory was the shadow of a stern, distant, ambitious woman.

  While Corvus was caught in these thoughts, Belisarius lightly tapped his shoulder.

  “Come on, let’s take care of business.” he whispered.

  Corvus quietly stood up. His chair scraped softly against the stone floor. They slowly left the hall. The ones remaining didn’t even notice the pair’s departure. The argument still raged, words flying like shattered glass through the air.

  As they walked side by side along the stone-tiled corridor, Corvus spoke. His voice was unusually cheerful, a faint smile on his face.

  “Your mother seems to want me to marry your sister.” he said with a mocking tone.

  Belisarius’ steps halted for a moment. It was as if those words confronted him with a truth he wasn’t used to hearing. After a brief pause, he resumed walking, sighing and shaking his head.

  “I told her not to do that...” he said, his voice woven with disappointment. Then, a mischievous smile settled on his lips.

  “If Ilyada finds out we stole her fiancé… who knows what she’d do to us!”

  He exaggeratedly looked around, putting on a mock-scared face. Corvus couldn’t hold back his laughter at his friend’s little performance.

  “She’d kill me first, don’t worry!”

  After a brief silence, he turned his eyes forward.

  “But if a political marriage is what you want… Kaelyra’s still available. I think she liked you.”

  Belisarius’ face suddenly turned serious. The name Kaelyra echoed in his mind, his shoulders tensing noticeably. That name reminded him not only of her beauty but also of her piercing gaze and a deep instinctive fear. Kaelyra was as dangerous as she was beautiful. Spending a lifetime with her… was no less terrifying than swinging a sword on the battlefield.

  “I’m too young to die, Corvus!” he said with a shrug.

  The bond between their playful exchanges seemed to have deepened their friendship even more. Walking side by side as they chatted, the two soon reached Belisarius’ study. When the door silently opened, they were greeted by an air filled with the scent of oak and the weight of parchment pages. Upon entering the room, Belisarius reopened the secret passage. Then, using the passage, they moved to the meeting room within the underground tunnels. The room was just as they had left it: dim lighting, shadows dancing across the stone walls, and silence dominating around the table still covered with documents.

  Belisarius wasted no time and took his place at the head of the table. He proposed small changes to the trade union agreement. After a brief but intense negotiation, both parties had gotten most of what they wanted. But now it was time for the real issue, the most important topic: the alliance, the Lightstone, and the intelligence sharing.

  Belisarius leaned forward slightly, his voice lower but more resolute:

  “I agree to share intelligence as well. But I have one small condition, Corvus.”

  These words dropped into the room like a stone, thickening the air. The expression on Corvus’ face suddenly turned serious. The lines on his forehead deepened. His shoulders tensed.

  “I’m sorry, my friend…” he said, his voice now sharper.

  “I made it clear. There will be no bargaining.”

  Belisarius immediately raised his hand, grabbed Corvus by the arm as he stood in protest, with a defensive gesture.

  “Please, listen!” he said, his voice softened with a plea.

  “My condition isn’t a big one. Just hear me out first, then decide. Please.”

  Corvus looked into Belisarius’ face for a moment. There was no fear in his eyes, only sincere concern. That was rare among politicians. Friendship usually died at the negotiation table. But Corvus was still young. For a moment, he softened. He settled back into his chair.

  “I’m listening.”

  Belisarius took a deep breath, then began to speak:

  “If we share certain information, we could get caught by Sizat, and that would mean our destruction. You have to understand this. Moreover, Sizat’s attitude toward you could also change. We can’t upset the balance.”

  Corvus narrowed his eyes. He was weighing the words, searching for traces of potential lies. But Belisarius’ words were not irrational.

  “Here’s my offer.” said Belisarius, placing that political confidence back into his voice.

  “As we grow stronger with the Lightstone you provide, we’ll give you riskier information in return. I’ll repay your patience by sending my best men to Brihmond. They’ll report even what the King mutters in his sleep. Just show some understanding. Think about this offer, Corvus.”

  Corvus’ eyes wandered over Belisarius’ face. That inner yearning was almost tangible now. Belisarius’ desperation for the Lightstone was obvious in every aspect. And perhaps, being so transparent was what made Corvus’ decision easier.

  Corvus’ goal was not to uncover deep secrets about Sizat — not yet. His main aim was to understand the veins of Adler’s intelligence network, to figure out how the system worked. He wanted to build his own organization using this model. And the intelligence from Brihmond… That was a much more urgent matter. A great war between Rhazgord and Brihmond was now certain. If Belisarius kept his promise, Corvus might gain the upper hand before the war even began.

  Corvus gathered the chaos in his mind and made his decision.

  “Agreed!” he said in a firm tone.

  “But I want to know everything that’s going on in Brihmond. Everything.”

  Belisarius suddenly jumped to his feet. His eyes sparkled, and a smile appeared on his face like that of a gambler who’d just won big. He extended his hand to Corvus.

  “As I said, I’ll report even what the King of Brihmond mutters in his sleep. You can trust me.”

  Corvus grasped the extended hand firmly. It was a friendly handshake. But Corvus’ mind drifted to other scenes. He remembered the games Belisarius played behind his back in the city of Rax. The secret conversations with Sardiun, the two-faced expressions… Even though he felt like he was betraying his friend, he had made his decision.

  He would do whatever it took to achieve his goal.

  “You can trust me too, my friend.”

  When Corvus began outlining the details of the agreement, his voice was serious and clear. His tone now belonged more to a leader than a friend. How much Lightstone would be sent? How frequent would the deliveries be? The scope of the alliance, its confidentiality, its limits, the sanctions to be imposed in case of violations… Everything was placed on the table in a short time.

  Belisarius resisted nothing. He reopened none of the clauses for debate, nor did he seek to gain more. It was as if all the other articles in the text were merely filler sentences written for the sake of reaching the Lightstone. His eyes were fixed on one goal: power.

  If the amount of Lightstone promised by Corvus was delivered, it would be possible for him to train hundreds, maybe even thousands, of warriors with Lightstone energy coursing through their bodies in a very short time. Each one would become a walking catastrophe. And this could turn Belisarius not just into a prince, but into a legend — the one who restored Adler to its former glory.

  Once the final discussions were completed, the two shook hands again. This time, their handshake wasn’t just a gesture of friendship; it was now the seal of a pact that would make history.

  With a sincere smile, Belisarius offered Corvus to spend a bit more time in the city. He had thought of everything from a private garden where they could rest their tiredness, to local wines to be served at dinner. But Corvus politely declined the kind offer.

  “There are some things I need to buy in Rax before I leave.” he said simply. Though his eyes looked friendly, his mind had already moved on to the next phase.

  He left the palace and proceeded through the streets without drawing attention. Avoiding the crowded avenues of the city, he made his way to the Red Rock Inn. There were people waiting for him there. Familiar faces, trusted warriors. They didn’t enter through the main door, but through the back entrance, just like in the morning.

  When he descended into the cellar, the frantic activity inside was still ongoing. The place had turned into a construction site. Warriors were building rooms into the stone walls, carrying planks, hauling in ready-made furniture on their backs.

  By the time Corvus arrived, a sturdy door had already been installed on the small room that previously had none. There was even a warning sign on it to keep others out. He headed for the room. Inside, Zarqa greeted him. His loyal warrior, as always, was prepared and alert.

  Before long, two other seasoned warriors whom Corvus trusted entered the room. They had rested throughout the day and were now ready. It was time to finalize the intelligence operations plan for the city of Rax.

  The wooden table was covered with maps, documents, and secret symbols etched into stones. There wasn’t a trace of sleep in their eyes — they were focused on a single goal. For hours, until morning, they exchanged ideas. Marked locations on the map, contacts to be reached, aliases to be used, escape routes, and even the first pieces of information to be requested from Belisarius… Everything was meticulously reviewed.

  The plan remained faithful to the general framework in Corvus’ mind. But now, it had become more organized, more feasible. Every detail was in its place.

  When the sun turned into a golden disc in the sky and light began to stream through the windows of the inn, the meeting had concluded. The city was just waking up, but Corvus had already finished all his business in Rax.