Far away from the scorched lands and molten ruins left behind by a dying dragon's wrath, the kingdom's heart pulsed with a different kind of flame—panic.
The capital palace, usually a paragon of elegance and order, now groaned beneath the weight of clattering boots, shouts echoing against its marble corridors. Velvet drapes were torn aside. Cabinets opened and slammed shut. Secret passages long sealed by dust were disturbed in haste. Gold-clad soldiers moved like ants through every hallway, tearing the sanctity of the royal residence apart in search of one thing… or rather, one person.
"Did you find anything!?" came a guttural shout.
A soldier clattered into the grand hall, sweat pouring down his brow. "No! Nothing, sir! Not even a hair!"
The echo of his words was swallowed by dozens of others. Footsteps, frantic and relentless, stormed up spiral staircases and down sunlit balconies. The hunt was merciless. The tension, maddening.
At the far end of the great corridor, under a tapestry of the founding king—sword raised, crown gleaming—stood a lone woman in scarlet and iron. Captain Bellatrix.
Her crimson hair was tied back in a tight braid, but a few strands had escaped, clinging to her face like flames licking a blade. Her armor bore the symbol of the Royal Guard—crossed spears over a sunburst crest—but it was her eyes that held the authority. Focused. Cold. Burning.
A soldier approached, armor clanking with urgency. He bowed swiftly, breathless. "Captain Bellatrix! He is… nowhere to be found. We've searched the entire east wing, the tower, even the old crypts."
She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes had drifted toward the open balcony beyond the hall, where the wind carried petals from the royal garden and the scent of something lost.
The prince.
Her prince.
Her voice, when it came, was a whisper—inaudible to the soldier, spoken only for herself.
"Just where have you gone, Prince…"
She had trained him once. Taught him to wield a sword when the court scoffed at his frailty. She had stood at his side during diplomatic farces, offering a steady presence when his ministers plotted behind fans and veils. She had believed in him. The boy who lacked inner power, yet looked at the stars like they were promises.
And now, like a star fallen from the heavens, he had vanished. No trace. No blood. No body.
No death.
"Captain," the soldier dared speak again, "Shall we—"
"Expand the search," she said sharply, turning. "Beyond the palace. Triple the patrols at every city gate. Alert the border garrisons. No one enters or leaves without express authorization. Send falcons to the seers' tower. I want a full scrying report by sunset."
"Yes, Captain!"
He sprinted away, vanishing into the storm of chaos once more.
Bellatrix turned back to the balcony, jaw tightening.
'If he was dead… I would have felt it,' she told herself. 'That boy is not gone. No corpse. No farewell. No crown passed. This… this is not an end.'
And far beyond the capital, far from the white towers and trembling guards, three souls walked through a world reborn in ash and fate—unaware that the echoes of their story were shaking the very halls of power they once called home.
The hunt for the lost prince had begun.
And Captain Bellatrix? She would stop at nothing to find him.
-------
Meanwhile our trio.
The midday sun poured like molten gold across cracked stone paths and creaky wooden signboards, all leading toward a vast gate carved into the heart of civilization — or so Ascalon hoped. After days of ash-filled air, exploding dragons, and existential debates in his own head, the sight of a living, breathing town made his stomach rumble louder than the prince's ego.
"Finally… something to fill my belly," Ascalon muttered with a divine reverence usually reserved for holy texts and bakery displays.
The prince, ever the romantic idealist, whispered within, "My first adventure town… Let's go!" The enthusiasm in his voice sounded like a child's first trip to the fairgrounds — which would've been touching if Ascalon wasn't preoccupied with tracking down the nearest food stall and/or source of edible carbohydrates.
Before them stood towering wooden gates reinforced with bands of dull steel. Twin doors, easily ten meters high, swung open on rusty hinges with all the grace of a sleep-deprived ogre. Surrounding the city were walls thick enough to repel a small army — or at least a really determined chicken.
There were no guards. No checkpoints. No inspection officers barking orders or demanding papers. Just… open gates and a steady trickle of merchants, travelers, and suspiciously cloaked figures shuffling in and out.
"No one's checking who comes in or out?" Ascalon raised a brow. "That's suspicious… but who cares."
And with that, he stepped through.
CRACK.
CRACK.
CRUNCH.
...B R O K E.
A sound that no soul ever wants to hear when placing a foot on solid ground.
"What the hell was that?" Ascalon glanced around, frozen mid-step. The earth beneath him vibrated like it had something to say — and it was screaming.
The air shifted. It was subtle at first: birds took off in chaotic spirals, dust danced unnaturally, and then—
BOOM.
A tide of bodies surged toward him.
Soldiers in iron-plated armor, adventurers with massive axes, mages flinging glowing sigils into the air, even one guy riding what suspiciously looked like a giant snail — all of them rushing like a human tidal wave straight at Ascalon.
"Wha–WHAT did I do?! DID I DO SOMETHING?!"
Panic sparked in Ascalon's mind as he instinctively reached for a card that no longer existed (may the Dragon Card rest in peace). He braced for impact, fully expecting a mob beatdown or an accidental reenactment of an execution.
And then… they passed him.
Like a river around a rock, the horde flowed by, their eyes locked not on Ascalon, but on something behind him.
With military precision, they erected a barricade at the open gate. Mages cast barrier sigils. Knights slammed spears into formation. Archers took to high ground like synchronized squirrels.
"Huh?" was all Ascalon could manage.
A female mage skidded to a stop beside him, doing a double take as her eyes locked on the Royal Aegis armor.
"You an adventurer, kid?" she asked, raising one suspicious eyebrow, her staff already humming with arcane energy.
"Ahhh… no," Ascalon replied with the confidence of a guilty man asked if he was hiding snacks under his cloak.
"Say yes!" the prince hissed from inside. "Just say you want to register!"
"I… uh… what's going on?" Ascalon ignored the prince and asked the mage instead.
"Mana beast." The word dropped like a rock. "A real big one. Just broke the city's outer barrier. Stay safe!"
With that, she dashed off, already barking commands to other spellcasters like some sort of magical drill sergeant.
And then silence, just for a moment, as the chaos surged past.
"You forgot to suppress your presence again, didn't you… lizard," Ascalon and the prince muttered in perfect sarcastic harmony.
From deep within, the Crimson Dragon gave a low grumble.
"I may have breathed slightly…"
"As in? Slightly exhaling magic pressure strong enough to trigger city-wide alarms?!"
"I didn't exhale — I simmered," the dragon defended, sounding wounded in pride.
"Oh, he simmered," the prince mocked. "The lizard simmered. Somebody stop the apocalypse."
"You're welcome for the majestic atmosphere."
Ascalon sighed, rubbing his temples. "We're gonna get arrested before we even figure out how this place handles dining etiquette."
Still, now wasn't the time to explain that his party included a haunted prince and a simmering dragon soul who tripped mana detectors like a bomb squad dog. If they wanted to explore this town — and eat in peace — they'd need to act normal.
…Whatever normal meant when you glowed like a divine relic and accidentally scared an entire city half to death.