To Everdale

The wind surged forward, carrying a black raven high through the clouds. Tied to one of its legs was a sealed note, the wax pressed with a sigil long associated with one place alone.

The City of Serplious.
Queen of the Tower.

“Focus, boy!”

The sharp voice snapped Arthur back to the present.

Sir William paced behind the counter of the scent bar, his polished blouse tucked neatly into high-waisted trousers, a smart sweater draped over his shoulders. His dark brown hair was unkempt despite his refined appearance, and a small mole rested beneath his left eye, twitching whenever his patience wore thin.

“Are you even listening?” William demanded.

Arthur stood straight beside him, dressed in the same uniform, his dark hair carrying a faint blue sheen beneath the shop’s lantern light. His posture was rigid, attentive—perfect.

“Yes, sir,” Arthur replied without hesitation.

William exhaled sharply. “It’s been three days. Three. How many times must I repeat myself?” He pointed to the shelves. “These scents go in front. These beside them. When you hide them, customers lose interest. And when customers lose interest—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “—I lose my business.”

Arthur swallowed. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again. Please… give me another chance.”

William studied him for a long moment, then waved a dismissive hand. “Fine. Last chance. Pack up for the day and check the stock before you lock up.”

Relief flooded Arthur’s face. He bowed slightly. “Thank you, sir.”

As William slipped on his coat, he paused at the door. “Boy—what was your name again?”

Arthur smiled faintly. “Arthur, Sir William.”

“Hm. Right. Arthur. See you Monday.” William stepped outside. “Enjoy your weekend.”

Arthur finished his work quickly. When the shop was locked and the street emptying into night, he glanced once more around him—then toward a manhole near the corner.

No witnesses.

He lifted the cover, slipped his slim body inside, and sealed it shut behind him.

The house was old, rusted by time. Moss crept up its cracked stone walls, and broken windows stared out like blind eyes.

Inside, a muscular man sat on a worn brown sofa, dressed in a black suit and purple tie. Black-framed glasses rested on his nose as he read the Dorris Papers, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark as ink.

A knock echoed through the room.

The man stood, tossing the paper aside. “Who is it?”

“A bald man with two sticks,” came the reply.

The door opened.

Arthur stepped inside, now cloaked in grey.

They stared at one another.

“I still think we should change the password,” the man said dryly.

“No one would ever guess it,” Arthur replied, removing his cloak.

They sat.

“So,” the man said, “is William giving you trouble?”

Arthur relaxed instantly, crossing one leg over the other. “He doesn’t stop talking. Three days of rearranging scents, and he still finds something to complain about. I can’t keep this up.”

He met the man’s gaze. “How much longer, Axel?”

Axel considered him. “The target plans to purchase a year’s supply from that shop within a few months. You need William’s trust. Three months, minimum.”

Arthur groaned. “That’s impossible. I nearly got fired today.”

Axel folded his arms. “Then adapt. This is too important to fail.” He paused. “If you object, you can speak to the boss. She came with me.”

Arthur stood immediately. “She’s here?”

Axel led him down the hall.

Arthur knocked.

A soft feminine voice answered, granting him entry.

The room was sparse: a dusty double bed, a rocking chair, moonlight spilling through cracked glass. A young woman stood by the window, dressed in black, her heels clicking softly as she moved. Long dark hair cascaded down her back as she gently stroked a black raven perched beside her.

“It’s remarkable,” she said calmly. “This bird tracked me by scent alone.”

Arthur bowed slightly. “Which spy sent it?”

She turned.

Red lips. Pale skin. Eyes black as night.

“Everdale,” she said. “The empire.”

Arthur stiffened. “King Morgaz? The one who ended the war?”

“Yes,” she replied, seating herself. “He ruled because no one dared challenge him.”

Arthur frowned. “Because he was the strongest?”

She smirked faintly. “Perhaps. Or perhaps strength isn’t always what ends wars.”

Arthur scoffed. “Everdale is the richest land alive. If anyone could challenge him, they would have.”

“Or,” she said softly, opening the letter, “they were waiting.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Boss… I can’t continue working at the scent bar.”

She began to respond—then stopped mid-sentence.

Arthur noticed instantly. “What is it?”

A slow smile curved her lips.

“You’re leaving the scent bar,” she said. “But not to rest.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Where?”

She met his gaze.

“To Everdale.”

Arthur froze.

She folded the letter once more.

“King Morgaz,” she said quietly, “has passed away.”

...

Arthur grunted as he placed the last brown bag onto the four-wheeled carriage.

He stepped back, scanning everything one final time.

Food. Water. Clothing.

Weapons.

All accounted for.

Satisfied, he turned.

His boss stood a short distance away, her beauty untouched by daylight, speaking calmly with a petite girl whose orange hair flickered under the sun. Beside them loomed Axel, towering over six feet, dressed entirely in black. In his left hand, he carried a long cotton bag—one he never let out of his grip.

Arthur approached.

“Everything is ready, Boss.”

He still hadn’t been given her name.

“Good,” she replied without turning. “We leave shortly.”

Five minutes passed before she ended her conversation and moved toward the carriage. Axel followed closely behind her.

Arthur was about to step forward when a voice snapped behind him.

“You’re so lucky. What did the boss even see in you?”

Arthur turned, already annoyed.

Lisa.

They had joined at the same time, and ever since, she had treated everything like a competition.

Before he could respond, she continued, “Now I’m stuck meeting some William guy who runs a scent bar. What kind of useless mission is that?”

Arthur looked up at the sky.

Clear. Bright. Beautiful.

Thank you, he thought.

“Are you going to say anything?” Lisa snapped, stomping her foot.

Arthur glanced back at her. “That William guy… he’s worse than you think.”

Before she could question him—

“Arthur.”

The boss’s voice cut through everything.

Arthur turned immediately, flashing Lisa a faint, almost unsettling smile before rushing off.

There were two carriages.

One for the boss. One for supplies.

The boss and Axel occupied the first. Arthur took the second.

Both he and Axel drove.

As Arthur settled into his seat, whip in hand, he glanced once more at the supplies before guiding the horses forward, following Axel through the busy streets.

It took five minutes to reach the city gates.

Massive stone walls towered above them, relics of old wars.

Axel signaled.

Arthur understood instantly. He pulled on a mask, just as Axel had, and joined the line of merchants waiting to leave.

Minutes passed.

When their turn came, the guards stepped forward.

White trousers. Navy coats.

Two stood out.

One tall, with blonde hair, green eyes, and a golden badge pinned proudly to his chest.

The other… impossible to miss.

Large. Sweating. Watching.

Axel handled the conversation.

Arthur stayed silent.

That was the rule.

Usually, Axel smoothed everything over without issue.

Arthur yawned, bored—

Then Axel looked at him.

A subtle signal.

The guards turned.

And started walking toward Arthur’s carriage.

Arthur froze.

That… never happened.

Slowly, he reached behind him, gripping a knife.

“Are you with them?” the blonde guard asked, pointing toward Axel’s carriage.

Arthur nodded.

“We’ll inspect your carriage. Routine check.”

Arthur glanced at Axel.

A thumbs up.

He relaxed.

Minutes later, the inspection ended.

The gates opened.

And the two carriages passed beyond the city.

The desert greeted them like an old enemy.

Endless sand. Blinding sunlight.

Nothing else.

Arthur had seen it countless times.

Still hated it.

They rode west.

Arthur pulled out a map, tracing a finger across it until he found their destination.

Asfort. The City of Silver.

From there… Everdale.

He tossed the map aside.

The journey was dull.

Four days of nothing.

No conversation.

No movement.

The boss never left her carriage.

Axel barely spoke.

And the desert never changed.

On the third day—

Arthur felt it.

A shift.

He straightened.

Axel had already stopped.

The ground trembled.

Rocks vibrated.

Then—

Everything shook.

Without hesitation, Axel opened his bag, pulling out black gloves marked with a golden rose. He slipped them on instantly.

Then he moved.

With raw force, he lifted his carriage—horses and all—and hurled it into the air.

Arthur didn’t question it.

His carriage followed, thrown skyward.

They rose.

Then began to fall.

Below them—

The desert collapsed.

Sand spiraled downward, forming a massive crater.

Eighty meters wide.

And at its center—

Teeth.

Silver. Rotating. Grinding.

A living abyss.

A worm.

No—

A wormhole.

“The boss says you can handle it,” Axel said calmly.

Arthur smiled.

Finally.

He leapt.

Falling.

Wind screaming past him.

Arthur clenched his left fist.

His right palm struck it once.

Twice.

Then slowly pulled away.

Metal formed.

From nothing.

A blade emerged—long, flawless, impossible.

Excalibur. The blade lost in time.

Arthur gripped it.

Closed his eyes.

Listened.

Air pressure.

Screams.

The beast below.

He raised the sword.

Opened his eyes.

And swung.

The air shattered.

A violent force tore downward, cutting through the wormhole, through flesh, through sand—

Splitting it clean in half.

Silence followed.

Then chaos.

Sand exploded outward, swallowing everything in a storm.

A massive surge of sand erupted into the air, driven by the sheer force of the strike. The blast scattered grains in every direction, turning the entire area into a storm of swirling dust and grit.

Axel wasted no time.

He leapt down from the falling carriage with controlled force, landing cleanly on the ground without so much as a stumble. In the same motion, he caught Arthur mid-air—holding him effortlessly by the legs, almost like a princess.

Arthur, never missing a chance, grinned.
“My prince—”

He puckered his lips slightly, leaning in as if expecting a kiss.

Axel’s expression hardened instantly.

Without a word, he dropped him.

Arthur hit the ground with a dull thud.

Ignoring him completely, Axel shifted his focus upward, preparing for the next task. With precise timing and practiced control, he positioned himself beneath the falling carriages. One after the other, he guided them down, ensuring both landed safely.

The horses weren’t as composed.

They collapsed upon impact, trembling violently, their bodies still reacting to the shock.

Arthur pushed himself up, brushing sand off his clothes.

“Is it dead? Do I need to go check?” Axel asked. 

“Yeah,” Arthur replied flatly. “It’s dead. Check on the boss.”

Before Axel could respond, a faint bell rang out.

Both of them turned toward the source.

The sound was coming from the boss’s carriage.

“I’ll check,” Axel said, already moving.

He disappeared inside briefly, then returned within seconds.
“She’s called for you.”

Arthur raised a brow, slightly surprised, before walking toward the carriage.

As he approached, her voice reached him—soft, quiet, yet unmistakable.

“Check the wormhole,” she whispered. “I sense something within it.”

Arthur turned immediately.

The creature lay split in half, its massive body still partially buried in the sand. He approached cautiously, stepping onto the edge of its torn mouth. The interior stretched before him—vast, dark, and hollow, like the entrance to a cavern.

Rows of jagged teeth surrounded him.

Arthur swallowed, his face twisting with disgust.
“I really don’t want to go in there…”

Just then—

Something caught his eye.

A faint glimmer, deep within the darkness.

He paused.

Instead of stepping inside, Arthur raised his right hand. With a slight motion of his fingers, he gestured outward—as if calling something toward him.

A sudden burst of wind ignited from within the creature.

The air roared as it surged outward, carrying with it a foul mixture of pus and thick, unidentifiable fluids.

Arthur’s eyes widened.

He tried to dodge—

Too late.

The wave hit him directly.

He stood there, drenched, frozen for a second, his expression slowly turning into pure fury.

He was just about to summon Excalibur and cut everything in sight—

When something shot toward him from within the creature’s remains.

Arthur reacted instantly.

He caught it.

For a moment, he simply stared at what rested in his hand.

Then, without another word, he climbed down.

Covered in filth, Arthur walked back.

Axel, who was checking on the horses, turned toward him—and immediately recoiled.

Disgust.

Clear and unfiltered.

Arthur noticed.

A slow grin spread across his face.

He suddenly broke into a run—straight toward Axel.

Axel’s reaction was immediate.

He snapped open his suitcase, slipped on the black gloves, and dropped into a fighting stance. His entire posture shifted, ready to strike with lethal force the moment Arthur got close.

Arthur slowed.

Then stopped.

“…Yeah, not worth it,” he muttered.

He turned away casually and walked toward the carriage instead.

Axel didn’t relax.

His eyes stayed locked on Arthur until there was enough distance between them.

Arthur approached the carriage and lowered his voice.

“I found something. What is it?”

The door opened.

But what greeted him—

Was not what he expected.

Beyond the doorway stretched a vast, open field beneath a vibrant blue sky. Golden grass swayed endlessly, covering miles in every direction.

Arthur stepped inside slowly.

The door closed behind him.

Inside, it was an entirely different world.

In the distance, his boss sat comfortably on a richly designed brown couch, her posture relaxed. A newspaper rested in her hands, her attention fully absorbed. Beside her, a small black table held a glass filled with a golden drink, catching the sunlight.

Arthur approached.

“Show it to me.”

Her voice was calm, direct.

Arthur raised his hand, presenting the object.

A white crystal orb—small enough to hold, yet heavy with presence.

She took it gently, setting the newspaper aside. Lifting the orb slightly, she examined it under the sunlight, her gaze sharp and focused.

“Arthur,” she said quietly, “do you know why you’re here?”

He hesitated.
“In the carriage… or the mission?”

A faint smirk crossed her lips.
“Both.”

Arthur remained silent.

“It’s because I trust you completely now.”

The words hit him harder than expected.

For a brief moment, he said nothing—then a quiet sense of pride settled in.

“Arthur,” she continued, “you have two powers. Correct?”

“Yes, Boss,” he replied immediately. “My primary ability is Excalibur. My secondary… allows me to control wind, to some extent.”

She studied the orb once more.

“So it is real…” she murmured. “No wonder I couldn’t sense it.”

Her eyes lifted, meeting his directly.

“This orb,” she said, “can enhance your secondary ability.”

She tossed it back.

Arthur barely managed to catch it.

“Once we reach the next city, I’ll help you absorb it,” she continued. “Until then, keep it safe.”

She waved her hand, dismissing him.

Arthur turned—

“Oh, and Arthur.”

He stopped.

“From now on,” she said, “you will address me properly.”

A pause.

“Madam Rose Amaryllis.”

Arthur’s eyes lingered on the name.

Amaryllis.

A name tied to one of the most loyal houses of the royal family.

Before he could fully process it—

“That,” she added softly, smiling, “is a story for another time.”

Arthur blinked, slightly caught off guard by how easily she seemed to read his thoughts.

He straightened and bowed lightly.

“It will be my pleasure… working with you, Madam Rose Amaryllis.”

Just as he turned to leave—

A knock echoed.

From somewhere beyond the carriage.

Then Axel’s voice followed.

“We have a problem.”

Arthur paused.

“The horses… won’t move. They’re too shaken.”