In the kingdom of Flora, the Oreans are considered to be the most eminent of knights. Endowed with aurea, they possess powers that others can only dream of.
In this company, several individuals have crossed each others' path: a boy who grew up among...
Night had already fallen when Alen and Adrien managed to leave the palace. The funeral had lasted for four hours as each minister had been given a chance to read their own eulogy for the deceased. Though aching to go, Adrien had communicated with his eyes that they should stay through if they did not want to risk notice by breaking out of the gathering before the ceremony was over.
Back into the tunnel, they raced to their hideaway without exchanging a single word. Arriving there, they found that it was already lit but empty.
"Where are they?" Alen asked after passing the locked bedrooms of the others.
"I don't know, but I have a feeling something — Wait, here's a note!" The prince picked a tiny piece of paper that had fallen from the door of his own bedroom. When he brought it closer to the light, Alen read over his arms. It said:
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Espina?" Alen thought he had heard it before.
"Clartea's home province, it's the nearest province to the city due North."
"But that's-You can't pass by the city gate. The guards may recognize you."
"Not in this." Adrien indicated his costume. "Feel free to remove yours, but please hurry."
"I can go in this, too."
"Then, what are we waiting for?"
Not wanting to waste time finding their way through the woods, they risked using the front entrance, mounted on Alen's horse. They slipped into the road after a passing carriage and sped towards the east. The rain had already stopped, but the sky was still thickly overcast and a strong wind was blowing due South. Alen however was neither disturbed by the darkness nor the cold. Something else did. It was the fading of a sensation—the warmth he had always associated with Divan. Was it just the wind?
He had no chance to dwell on this further, for the city gate just came to view. Before it, a long traffic of carriages and riders was building up as Bronzeans blocked the exit. One was arguing with disgruntled travelers, some of whom Alen recognized as noblemen present in the regent's funeral. The other guards, meanwhile, were redirecting the flow of traffic southwards.
"What's going on?" Alen asked as Adrien pulled to a halt.
The prince hailed a returning carriage and when it stopped asked the footman the same question.
"They say an island near Espina has sunk though I don't know how that can possibly happen. It must be the rain. Wait—sir! Only Oreans and Argentines can pass that gate!" Adrien had kicked the horse into full gallop. Alen felt like he would be hauled off the horse if he did not hold tight. Heedless of the warning, past the carriages, they went into the midst of the gathering, which dispersed promptly to avoid the thundering hooves, and over the heads of the Bronzeans, who caught unaware, only stared at them as Adrien shouted, "We're Oreans!"
