As Graves lay in the grave, a flood of memories from the past washed over him. He saw himself at the Maven's place, preparing to depart for Vok. As he rode back to his home, he couldn't rid himself of the feeling, no matter how much he tried that something was off. Upon arriving, he tethered his horse to a post and made his way towards the old market square.

  The market was a place of wonder and chaos, a place where people from all walks of life came to buy and sell their wares. The air was thick with the scents of spices and cooking food, and the sounds of merchants hawking their goods filled the air. As Ubel walked through the crowded market, he marvelled at the array of goods on display. There were stalls selling everything from exotic spices and brightly coloured fabrics to gleaming weapons and armour.

  Despite the bustle and activity all around him, Graves had a nagging feeling that something was amiss. As he wandered through the market, he couldn't shake the sense that he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Still, the feeling persisted, and he couldn't shake the sense that he was being followed.

  A foreign merchant, dressed in traditional Arab garb, approached Ubel and greeted him with a warm, "Peace upon you, Sire." Ubel regarded the merchant coolly, his expression betraying no emotion.

  The merchant, undeterred by Ubel's lack of response, introduced himself as Hamza Al Dallawi and asked if he might be permitted to explain why Ubel should show him some care. Ubel said nothing, but his piercing gaze seemed to bore into the merchant's soul.

  Undeterred, Hamza pressed on. "You see, Sire, I can tell by the way you look at people that you are trying to uncover their roots, to understand where they come from."

  Ubel raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "And how do you know this, merchant? Are you a psychic?"

  Hamza chuckled and replied in fluent Arabic, "Astaghfirullah - may God forgive me, no. We do not dabble in such sins. No, I simply have a knack for reading people's faces and understanding their motivations."

  Ubel's expression softened slightly as he considered the merchant's words. "Tell me, then, Hamza Al Dallawi. Who are these 'we' you speak of?"

  The merchant's eyes shone with pride as he replied, "We are Muslims, Sire. It is likely that you have not heard of us, but we are a peaceful and devout people with a rich history and culture."

  Ubel's smile widened as he asked, "So tell me, Hamza, is face reading your profession? Is that why you've come to see me?"

  The merchant chuckled and shook his head. "No, Sire. I do it for entertainment, to pass the time. And besides, face reading isn't always reliable. Sometimes, people's faces reveal nothing at all."

  Ubel's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

  Hamza leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "The most dangerous people are those whose faces give nothing away. You can never predict their actions or motivations."

  Ubel inclined his head, his interest aroused. “Pray tell, Hamza, what brings you here? What is it that you do for a living?"

  The merchant reached into his pocket and produced a small bag of sparkling gemstones. "I sell these, Sire," he said, holding out the bag for Ubel to examine.

  Ubel glanced at the bag and shrugged. "They're still just stones, Hamza."

  Hamza chuckled and replied, "Ah, but these are no ordinary stones, Sire. These are gemstones, each one more precious and rare than the last."

  Hamza held up a glittering gemstone and began to speak. "This one, Sire, is called Turquoise. Legend has it that this stone can protect the wearer from accidents, disease, and poverty. Some even say that it can help those who have only given birth to females to have male children. It is also often used in the creation of amulets, as it is believed to enhance spirituality, meditation, and intuition." He paused, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he continued. "And if its colour begins to shift to a darker shade, it is thought to be a warning of danger or illness. Such a transformation is said to be a sign that the stone's powers are at work, protecting its owner from harm."

  Ubel was intrigued by the stone's unique shape and shimmering colour, but he remained sceptical of the supposed benefits described by the merchant. Nevertheless, he said, "I shall take it," replied Ubel, his eyes alight with excitement. "Might I enquire if you think it would be possible for you to transform this into a necklace for me?"

  Hamza nodded with a smile and began working on the necklace. As he worked, Ubel couldn't help but study the merchant's unusual appearance, with his distinctive skin tone and accent. He also noticed that the merchant's sword was unlike any he had seen before, its curved blade gleaming in the sunlight. Ubel found himself intrigued by this mysterious man and the secrets he might hold.

  Ubel couldn't help but ask, "Where are you from, Hamza?"

  The merchant hesitated before answering, "Egypt... or Kemet, as we call it in my homeland."

  Ubel cocked his head in confusion. "Where is that?"

  Hamza chuckled and pointed westward, teasing, "Over there, Sire. It is a land of ancient civilizations and rich history, a place of great beauty and wonder."

  As the merchant finished adjusting the necklace, Ubel held out his hand to receive it. "It's yours now, Sire," Hamza said with a smile.

  Ubel examined the necklace carefully before turning to Hamza and asking, "Do you have a stone that can create sedition?"

  Hamza chuckled and replied, "I'm afraid not, Sire. But I, your humble servant can."

  Ubel regarded Hamza with a smile, then extended an invitation. "How about you come to my place tomorrow, Hamza? We can have a more in-depth conversation there."

  As Graves remained missing, Jessica was consumed with worry, searching for any sign of him. She spent countless sleepless nights wandering the forest, her heart heavy with worry and despair. Marylin, meanwhile, had gone into hiding, determined to find Diana, the psychologist who had interviewed Graves in jail.

  Graves had asked Marilyn to find Diana, as he believed she was the only one who could convince Jessica of his story.

  After days of searching, Marilyn finally managed to track down Diana's location. It seemed clear to her that the psychologist was hiding in her own home, and so Marilyn knocked on the door, hoping to speak with her.

  Despite knocking three times, there was no response, and Marilyn could sense someone inside, watching her from the other side of the door.

  Taking a deep breath, Marilyn leaned in and whispered through the crack, "I know you're in there, Diana. And I know about Ubel."

  After a moment of tense silence, the door swung open, and Diana stood before Marilyn, her expression unreadable. Without a word, she invited Marilyn inside, and the two women sat down in the kitchen to talk.

  "How did you know?" Marilyn asked, her voice heavy with emotion. "How did you know about Ubel?"

  Diana began, "It all happened by coincidence, really. In the recent past, I decided to purchase a book about the history of Aras. As I delved into the pages, I came across a painting of him and his family. He looked so familiar to me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had seen him before."

  Marilyn looked sceptical. "I see, but how were you so sure it was him? It's not exactly an everyday story."

  Diana nodded, her eyes narrowing in determination. "I know. But when I saw the painting and remembered how Ubel acted during our interview, I knew for certain that it was him. His body language and mannerisms were too similar to be a coincidence. And even though I had a feeling that something was off about the whole situation, I couldn't quite put my finger on it."

  Marilyn leaned in, her voice laced with suspicion. "Why did you run away, Diana? Did you have something to do with Graves's appearance?"

  Diana's eyes widened in shock. "Wait, did Jessica send you? Is she looking for me?"

  Marilyn shook her head. "No, it was Ubel who sent me. In fact, Jessica is looking to arrest me. But don't worry, she doesn't know I'm here."

  Diana's hand flew to her mouth in alarm. "Arrest you? Why?"

  Marilyn sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'll tell you, but first you have to tell me why you ran away. Why did you leave after knowing Ubel?"

  Diana hesitated before confessing, "When I remembered him, I didn't comprehend the situation. I freaked out. Like you said, it's not an everyday story. I was shocked, and to be honest, I'm also taking medication with side effects that can cause hallucinations. I thought I was seeing nonsense, so I wanted to leave."

  "Why are you still in hiding, Diana?" Marilyn inquired.

  Diana let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temples in frustration. "Can you even begin to imagine what would happen if I told them about Ubel and what I know? No one would believe me. They'd think I was crazy, and my career, my reputation, would be ruined. I might even end up under supervision."

  Marilyn nodded in understanding. "I see your point. But you have to tell Jessica the truth. It's the only way you can help Ubel."

  Diana looked at Marilyn in disbelief. "Are you serious? Why would I do that?"

  Marilyn met her gaze steadily. "Because it's the right thing to do. And besides, Ubel sent me here. He's counting on us to help him."

  Diana's eyes widened in surprise. "Ubel sent you here? And why are you doing this? Where is he, anyway?"

  "There are some things that can't be explained with just words," Marilyn said quietly. "But Ubel wants Jessica to know his true identity. He believes that you're the only one she'll listen to and believe."

  Diana gave her a sceptical look. "You said that Jessica is looking for you. Why?"

  Marilyn let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "She thinks I did something terrible. But if you testify, you'll help solve this problem as well."

  Diana's eyes narrowed in frustration. "Stop speaking in riddles, Marilyn. Explain yourself clearly."

  Marilyn nodded, her expression determined. "I will, but not until I bring Jessica here privately and you talk to her. Trust me, it's the only way to clear everything up and set the record straight."

  Diana hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement. She then went to the living room and retrieved the book that she had read. Diana flipped to the page where the painting of Ubel and his family was located and handed it to Marilyn. The painting included Ubel, Godwin, Erik, and a man with a scarf covering his face - Trevor.

  Diana and Marilyn arrived at Jessica's house late at night, driving in Diana's car. Marilyn asked Diana to wait in the car while she knocked on Jessica's door. When Jessica opened the door, she was surprised to see Marylin.

  "That was unexpected," Jessica said.

  "I know," Marilyn replied. "I have a guest with me."

  Jessica thought that it might be Graves, but when she saw Diana sitting in the car, her confusion only deepened. She invited them both inside and they gathered in the living room to have a conversation.

  "So, why are you here?" Jessica asked, her voice laced with concern.

  "We're here because Graves asked us to explain something to you," Marilyn said.

  "Explain what? Where is Graves? Is he okay?" Jessica asked, her worry increasing.

  "Calm down, he's okay," Marilyn said, trying to reassure her. "Listen, what you're about to hear is very true. There's no easy way to tell you this, but..."

  "What's going on? Did anything bad happen to him?" Jessica asked, her voice strained with worry.

  "Marylin: No, it's just...I don't know where to start. Okay, so Graves doesn't really belong here."

  Jessica's eyes widened in confusion. "Oh, so he remembered his hometown? ...Wait, did he leave?"

  Marilyn shook her head. "That's not what I meant. Graves doesn't belong to this timeline. In some way, he...,"

  "What do you mean by timeline?" Jessica interrupted, her voice filled with disbelief. "You think I'll believe this kind of bullshit?"

  "But it's true," Marilyn insisted.

  "I think you should go see a doctor," Jessica said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

  Diana interjected, "Jessica, it’s true."

  Jessica turned to Diana, a sceptical look on her face. "Where have you been all this time? What do you know?"

  Diana sighed, clearly annoyed. "I know this, and now you don't want to listen!"

  Jessica let out an ironic laugh, causing Diana to become even more frustrated. "Can you explain why he couldn't identify any object?" Diana asked.

  "He was suffering from memory loss!" Jessica said.

  "No, I mean yes, but that's not how it works. There's a difference between memory loss and being unable to identify objects," Diana replied.

  "That's not true," Jessica said, shaking her head.

  Diana slammed words with anger. "I am the doctor here!"

  Marilyn held up her hands in a calming gesture. "Both of you need to calm down. Diana, please show Jessica the book."

  Jessica looked at the book warily. "What book?"

  Diana's voice was tight as she spoke. "This book talks about the history of Vok. It's a true history Vikings book. Take a look."

  As Jessica flipped through the pages, she couldn't shake the feeling that something about the book was familiar. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the images and words on the pages seemed to stir something within her.

  But before she could delve too deeply into the book, Diana grabbed it from her hands and flipped to a specific page. "Look at this painting. It's Graves and his family."

  Jessica's eyes widened as she recognized the figures in the painting. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. All at once, the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place, and she finally understood the truth that had been hidden from her.

  Jessica stared at the painting in shock, her mind racing as she tried to process the information that had been presented to her. Marilyn watched as Jessica's face contorted with confusion, unable to fully grasp the enormity of what they were telling her.

  For a moment, Jessica was completely silent, lost in thought. It was clear that she had no idea how to respond or what to ask. Diana, noticing her distress, gently suggested that she take some time to rest and absorb everything that had been shared with her.

  As Jessica slumped back into the chair, her face betraying no emotion, Diana began to speak. "I understand how you're feeling, Jessica. I've been living with this reality for a while now. No one ever believed me, but it's the truth.

  Marilyn chimed in, "Jessica, just think about everything you've seen and experienced. It all makes sense.

  But Jessica wasn't convinced. "No, it doesn't make any sense! Are you both blind?! There has to be a logical explanation for all of this. He was lying to me the whole time," she said, gesturing to the book in her hand. "This is just a coincidence! He's a master at lying. I knew he was hiding something from me," she continued, her thoughts turning to the scars on his face and back. "But those scars were real. I could feel it."

  Jessica collapsed onto the ground, sobbing uncontrollably as Diana rushed to her side, enveloping her in a comforting embrace. Through her tears, Jessica asked, "How did this happen? How could he do this to me?"

  Marilyn shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," she said.

  Jessica looked up at her through tear-filled eyes. "Where is he now? Where was the last place you saw him?"

  "I don't know," Marilyn replied, avoiding Jessica's gaze. "I wanted to take him somewhere he could explain everything without getting arrested, but then he just vanished."

  Diana watched Marilyn carefully, sensing that she was not telling the whole truth. But she said nothing, allowing the conversation to continue.

  "Do you know anything about James, Marylin?" Jessica asked, her voice shaking. "I went to his house and saw that his sword was missing. I think his disappearance might be connected to Graves."

  Marilyn shook her head. "I haven't seen James. Why do you ask?"

  "I think James' disappearance might be connected to Graves," Jessica said, her voice heavy with worry. "He took James' sword, and when I went to check on him, he was nowhere to be found."

  Diana's gaze lingered on Marilyn, a knowing look in her eyes as if she were certain that Marilyn was hiding something. But she remained silent, choosing to keep the peace rather than risk stirring up more conflict. Meanwhile, back at the grave, Graves was still in the process of regaining all of his memories.

  As Ubel waited near his house for Trevor to arrive, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. And sure enough, as he heard footsteps approaching from the woods, he called out, "I knew you were following me all day."

  Trevor emerged from the trees, his expression annoyed. "I have better things to do than watching you," he said.

  "Where have you been?" Ubel asked, his suspicions aroused.

  Trevor hesitated before replying, "Taking care of you, like I said."

  Ubel's eyes narrowed. "So you were following me."

  "I went to Ugor to see what the gossip was," Trevor said, trying to deflect the conversation. "I heard that Asmorg, Osna, and Ugor are preparing for a big invasion."

  "What about Esma and Straya?" Ubel pressed.

  Trevor hesitated again before answering, "I haven't heard anything about them yet, but I can try to get more information tomorrow."

  Ubel waved his hand dismissively. "Don't bother. I have a plan of my own," he said, a glint of determination in his eye.

  Trevor turned to Ubel, his brow furrowed in thought. "So, you've given it some consideration?" he asked.

  Ubel nodded, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Tell me, Trevor, what do you believe to be man's greatest fear?"

  Trevor hesitated, his mind racing as he searched for the correct answer. "Betrayal?" he finally ventured.

  Ubel's smile broadened. "Precisely. And do you have any idea as to why betrayals occur?"

  Trevor scratched at his chin, considering the question. "Perhaps it's due to a lack of common interests between the parties involved," he suggested. "Or perhaps it's driven by greed."

  Ubel inclined his head, his demeanour sombre. "Precisely. Now, would you care to expound upon how you believe that avarice and the absence of shared interests can lead to conflict between parties?"

  Trevor fell silent, deep in thought. After a moment, he spoke hesitantly. "Sedition?"

  Ubel's eyes lit up with appreciation. "Well done, Trevor. You know, sometimes I find myself a little intimidated by your ability to understand me so thoroughly."

  Trevor chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. "It's just a matter of keeping an eye on you and ensuring your safety. But why do you think sedition might come between them?" Trevor turned to Ubel, his eyes narrowed in curiosity. "What news have your birds brought you?" he asked.

  Ubel shrugged nonchalantly, his face a mask of cool confidence. "They seem to think that some of them have allied with us," he replied.

  Trevor raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Are you certain of that?"

  Ubel nodded confidently. "Absolutely. I am unwavering in my conviction."

  Trevor asked Ubel what he planned to do in response to this information.

  Ubel replied, "We must create sedition between them. Stir up some trouble, if you will."

  Trevor was intrigued by Ubel's plan. "And how do you propose to do that?" he asked.

  Ubel's smile turned cunning. "I have a particular individual in mind who is more than capable of fulfilling the task. The matter is already in motion."

  Trevor couldn't help but wonder what Ubel had done. He studied Ubel's face, searching for any hint of a clue. "What did you do?" he asked.

  Ubel chuckled. "I know someone who will go to Esma and kidnap one of the soldiers," he replied.

  Trevor's eyes widened in shock. "Who are you sending, and why?"

  Ubel waved his hand dismissively. "All in good time, Trevor. Patience is a virtue, after all."

  As Ubel dispatched Hamza on his journey to the distant land of Esma, he made a pact with the young man. If Hamza were to obey his every command, Ubel promised to reward him with a vast expanse of fertile land in Esma and to elevate him to the position of his most trusted confidant in that far-off realm.

  The vast nation of Esma stretches out before the traveller, its sprawling borders guarded by towering hills to the north, a dense tropical forest to the south, and mineral-rich mountains to the east. To the west lies a formidable stone wall, separating Esma from the neighbouring country of Vok. Within its borders, a population of two million humans eke out a living through the trades of alchemy and tailoring.

  Despite its size, the population of Esma is thinly spread out, a consequence of the windy climate that pervades the land. The landscape is rugged and unforgiving, with silent mountains, collapsing fjords, and sombre hills all contributing to the nation's reputation as a neglected destination for outsiders.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The people of Esma are known for their coldness towards foreigners and their tendency to greet them with greed, fearful that outsiders may threaten the well-being of their nation. Law and order are maintained through strict laws and rigorous law enforcement, a necessity in a land plagued by ferocious wildlife, a curse that dates back to ancient times. The country's flag bears the image of a lion's face, surrounded by two small crosses in the colours of brown, red, and blue, a symbol of the struggles faced by the people of Esma.

  After a gruelling journey that saw him riding on horseback for two days, Hamza finally arrived at his destination: the distant land of Esma. There, he was given a mission by Ubel: to kidnap one of the soldiers stationed in Esma and bring them back to Ubel. Determined to succeed in his task, Hamza took care to prepare for any eventuality.

  He tethered his horse to a tree a safe distance from the gates of Esma, leaving it with food and water in case he was gone for a longer time than expected. He left his sword hidden under the tree, opting to carry only a small dagger on his hip as he approached the formidable gates of the city. Hamza knew that his mission would not be easy, but he was determined to see it through to the end.

  As he approached the gates of Esma, Hamza could feel the eyes of the guards upon him, taking in his strange attire. Despite their suspicions, they allowed him to pass without incident, and Hamza found himself venturing deeper into the city, his senses heightened as he took in the sights and sounds of the bustling streets and buildings. He was determined to remain focused on his mission, to kidnap one of the soldiers and bring them back to Ubel, and he knew that he must avoid interacting with anyone else if possible.

  As the evening drew near, Hamza spotted one of the soldiers sitting alone at a table in a crowded dining hall. He watched the man for a few moments, waiting until he was certain that he was alone before approaching and taking a seat at the same table. "Do you welcome strangers?" Hamza asked, his voice low and measured.

  "Would you depart if I requested it?" the soldier inquired, his suspicions growing.

  Hamza offered him a friendly smile and replied, "I am new to these parts, and have never before set foot in this land."

  "Where do you hail from?" the soldier asked, his curiosity piqued.

  "Kemet," Hamza replied.

  "Ah, really?" the soldier said, leaning in slightly. "I have heard tales of that place. My father has visited there. He told me a lot about it."

  "What did he say?" Hamza asked, feigning interest.

  "He spoke of a land where the sand can swallow people whole, a place where the earth is a shade of orange and there is no water, only sand as far as the eye can see," the soldier said, his eyes drifting off into the distance as he recalled his father's words. "It is difficult to believe in a place such as that."

  "Is that all he told you?" Hamza probed.

  "Yes, that is all I can remember," the soldier said with a shrug. "I always wished to go there, but I never truly believed it existed."

  "Why not?" Hamza asked, his eyes narrowed in thought.

  "It is hard to fathom a place where there is nothing but sand," the soldier replied with a shake of his head.

  "But your father deceived you," Hamza said, his voice low and serious.

  "Kemet is a wondrous place to live, with beautiful women and the pyramids."

  "The pyramids?" the soldier asked, his eyes lighting up with interest.

  Hamza reached into his pocket and retrieved a small napkin, carefully unfolding it to reveal a painting of the pyramids. The soldier's eyes widened in awe as he gazed upon the image. "Is that a real thing?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "Yes, it is a true and wondrous thing," Hamza replied, his voice filled with conviction.

  The soldier regarded him sceptically. "What brings you to our kingdom? People here do not take kindly to outsiders. You would be wise to complete your journey and return to your own land," he warned.

  "Oh, is that so?" Hamza asked, feigning ignorance. "I have come as a merchant, seeking to acquire strange and exotic items from different lands and sell them to others."

  "What do you have to offer at present?" the soldier inquired, his interest piqued. "I may be interested in buying."

  "I am here to buy, not sell," Hamza replied, placing a small bag of money on the table. "But tell me, what do you have in your home that might catch my eye? I am always fascinated by the decorative items that people choose to adorn their dwellings with."

  "I possess a number of fascinating items in my abode," the soldier said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Might I tempt you to view them? I am at leisure at present and would be delighted if you joined me."

  "Can you depart so easily?" Hamza inquired, his voice tinged with surprise. "Are you not on duty?"

  "Yes, I am," the soldier responded with a nonchalant shrug. "However, a brief excursion to my domicile will not cause any harm. Moreover, we shall not be tardy in our return."

  As Hamza and the soldier made their way through the bustling avenue towards the soldier's home, Hamza took care to keep his face hidden beneath his scarf, hoping to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to himself. When they arrived at their destination, Hamza was surprised to find the soldier's wife waiting inside. She cast a wary eye over Hamza as he entered, clearly unhappy with the presence of a stranger in her home. Without a word, she excused herself and stepped outside, leaving Hamza and the soldier alone.

  Hamza had come with the plan of kidnapping the soldier, if possible, and keeping him alive. He hoped to wait until the cover of nightfall before making his move, when the avenues would be less crowded and the risk of being caught would be lower. The soldier led him to a room filled with various trinkets and treasures, and asked, "What do you think?"

  "Pray tell, what is your name?" Hamza inquired, his gaze roaming over the various items on display in the room.

  "Kanot," the soldier replied, his voice steady.

  "And what of me?" Hamza said, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "You do not ask for my name?"

  "I am more interested in knowing… what you are seeking to acquire," Kanot said, his eyes fixed on Hamza.

  "Ah, let me see," Hamza said, his eyes scanning the room as he weighed his options. "There is much here to choose from."

  As he browsed the collection of items before him, Hamza kept a watchful eye on his surroundings, waiting for the perfect moment to make his move. He peered out the window, ensuring that no one was within sight before attempting to act.

  Finally, when Kanot turned his head away, Hamza saw his opportunity and prepared to strike. Just as he was about to make his move, however, Kanot's wife called out to him, announcing that the food was ready and urging him to come and eat. Despite being on assignment and knowing that he could not be late, Kanot's hunger was too great for him to resist, and he reluctantly followed his wife's beckoning.

  "Are you hungry?" the soldier asked, his eyes flicking over to Hamza.

  "I believe I could eat, yes," Hamza replied, grateful for the opportunity to prolong his stay and perhaps come up with a better plan.

  As they sat down to eat, Hamza surreptitiously removed one of the stones he had brought with him and smashed it in private before slipping it back into his pocket. The stone had the power to cause someone to pass out for hours, and Hamza intended to use it to his advantage.

  While they ate, Kanot and his wife conversed in a foreign language that Hamza couldn't understand, their words a jumbled cacophony to his ears. Despite his inability to follow the conversation, Hamza couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he watched them speak. There was something about the way they spoke, their tones urgent and secretive, that made him feel like he was missing out on something important.

  "Why is he here?" Kanot's wife asked, her voice laced with suspicion as she turned to her husband. "We do not often welcome outsiders into our home."

  As they sat around the dinner table, Kanot explained to his wife that Hamza was a merchant seeking new items to add to his collection. "What does he have to sell?" his wife asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  Kanot chuckled and replied, "That is not your concern, my dear. Let Hamza and I conduct our business in peace."

  But his wife was not convinced, her gaze fixed on the mysterious stranger seated across from them. "I do not feel safe," she said, her voice laced with fear. "This man looks dangerous."

  Kanot laughed and said to Hamza, "Do not mind my wife, she is easily frightened. She is afraid of you, pyramid man."

  Hamza smiled and replied, "Would she understand me if I spoke to her in my language?"

  Kanot chuckled and said, "You could try, but I doubt it. She does not speak much of the outside world."

  Hamza decided against attempting to communicate with Kanot's wife, instead reaching into his pocket and retrieving one of the stones he had brought with him. He handed it to her and said, "Take this as a gift. It is one of the most valuable stones I possess. If you rub it against a dead plant, it will come back to life."

  Kanot examined the stone with interest and asked, "What is this? Just a stone?"

  "It is not a normal stone," Hamza said, his voice laced with mystery. "It holds a great power."

  "That is not true," Kanot said, eyeing the stone sceptically.

  "Try it for yourself," Hamza urged, his eyes glinting with mischief.

  Kanot turned to his wife and said, "He claims that this stone can bring dead plants back to life."

  "Is he a sorcerer?" Kanot's wife asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

  "No, he is a liar," Kanot said, his voice laced with scorn. "Merchants are known for their deceptions."

  Despite her husband's scepticism, Kanot's wife was eager to test the stone's powers. She excused herself from the table and left the room. Hamza watched her go, relieved to have a moment alone with Kanot. Then he asked, "How long have you been married?"

  "Eight years," Kanot replied, his eyes softening at the mention of his wife.

  "Eight years?" Hamza said, raising an eyebrow. "You must truly love her."

  "Yes, she is my first love," Kanot said, a nostalgic look in his eyes. "We were raised together and she is the only woman I have ever been with."

  "Is that why you love her so much?" Hamza asked, intrigued by Kanot's words.

  "No," Kanot said, shaking his head. "But why did you mention it?"

  "I was just curious," Hamza said with a shrug. "But enough about my questions. Finish your food so we can get back to our business."

  Hamza approached Kanot with a glint of excitement in his eyes. "I have something that I think you'll find quite intriguing," he said, pulling a small, smashed stone from his pocket.

  Kanot furrowed his brow. "What is it?"

  Hamza held out the stone for Kanot to see. "These are the Ashes of Knowledge," he explained. "If you consume it, you'll be able to gain insight into people's thoughts and motivations just by looking at their faces."

  Kanot's mouth fell open in disbelief. "Are you a wizard or something?" he asked.

  Hamza chuckled. "No, no. These stones are blessed with the powers of the gods. I've tried them myself many times, and they have proven to be quite useful in helping me navigate through life."

  Kanot's expression turned sceptical. "What if it was poison?"

  Hamza chuckled again. "Poison isn't typically served up like this," he said with a wicked smile. "But don't worry, I've tried it many times and can assure you it's safe."

  Hamza's words were like honey to Kanot's ears, and he found himself wanting to try the Ashes more and more. "Can I try it?" he asked, unable to resist the temptation.

  Hamza hesitated for a moment before nodding. "But you have to promise me that you'll keep it our little secret," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial.

  Kanot eagerly promised, his thirst for knowledge outweighing any reservations he might have had. Hamza mixed the Ashes into Kanot's drink and handed it to him with a flourish. "Drink up," he said. "Taste the power now."

  Kanot took a long gulp of the drink, his eyes locked on Hamza's face. After a moment, he began to feel a strange, heavy sensation wash over him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but it was no use - he could feel himself slipping away into unconsciousness.

  As he fell deeper and deeper into a state of unconsciousness, Kanot could hear Hamza's voice in the distance. "Now look at me and tell me what you see," he said, a sly grin on his face. But Kanot couldn't fight it any longer - he was lost to the depths of slumber.

  Hamza made his way to the backyard, where he found Kanot's wife standing and rubbing a small stone against the planets. He approached her with a sly smile on his face.

  "You're doing a good job," he said with a smirk. "I can see the power of the gods flowing through you."

  Kanot's wife didn't say anything in response to Hamza's comment, she simply looked at him and smiled. Hamza remembered that she couldn't speak other languages, and he felt a twinge of guilt for implying that she was stupid. He watched as she returned to rubbing the plants, her expression determined. Despite his initial reservations, Hamza didn't believe that Kanot's wife would sabotage his plan.

  He just thought she was naive and didn't fully understand the situation. He shrugged off his guilt and continued to observe her with a smirk.

  Hamza returned to the unconscious form of Kanot and gently lifted him into his arms. He carried him over to Kanot's horse and carefully placed him on the animal's back, covering him with a blanket he had taken from Kanot's house to ensure that he went unnoticed.

  With Kanot securely in place, Hamza mounted the horse and set off towards the place where he kept his own steed. The journey was long and treacherous, but Hamza was determined to see it through. When they finally arrived at their destination, he transferred Kanot onto his own horse before approaching the other animal.

  You know, I don't particularly care for horses," Hamza said, patting the animal's neck regretfully. "If you were a camel, I might have spared you."Without another word, Hamza drew his knife and slaughtered Kanot's horse

  As Ubel strode through the roads of Vok, his presence commanded the attention of all who laid eyes on him. A towering figure with a fierce reputation, he walked alone, his piercing gaze taking in the surroundings as he went. The people of Vok knew better than to approach their king without his permission, and so he walked unchallenged, a solitary figure of power and fear.

  Yet despite his fearsome demeanour, Ubel was not entirely indifferent to the welfare of his subjects. As he made his rounds, he stopped to speak with his people, asking after their well-being and offering what assistance he could.

  It was in the midst of these duties that two messengers approached, bearing news from far-off England. They informed Ubel that Grom's wife and children had arrived and were waiting for him in the hall. With a nod, Ubel dismissed the messengers, instructing them to provide the newcomers with a place to rest and sleep.

  As he resumed his walk, Ubel's thoughts turned to his own plans, and to the whereabouts of Trevor and Hamza. He waited impatiently for their return, eager to put his plans into motion.

  As the sun began to set, Ubel retired to his home, taking up a seat on the porch as he waited for the return of his trusted advisors. The flickering glow of a small fire cast a warm light over the scene, and Ubel found himself lost in thought, pondering the many challenges that lay ahead.

  Suddenly, the sound of an approaching horse broke the silence, and Ubel's attention was drawn to the road. As the rider drew near, he recognized the figure of Hamza, his face alight with excitement.

  "I see joy on your face," Ubel observed, his own curiosity piqued.

  "Indeed!" Hamza exclaimed, a broad smile spreading across his features. "I have what you want."

  Ubel leaned forward, his interest peaked. "What is it that has made you so happy?" he asked, eager to hear the news.

  As Ubel watched Hamza approach, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in his trusted advisor. The man had proven himself to be a skilled and cunning strategist, and Ubel had no doubt that he would be able to accomplish any task set before him.

  "Tell me, Hamza," Ubel said, his voice rich with expectation. "Did you succeed in your mission?"

  Hamza gave a wry smile and nodded. "Yes, sire. The deed is done."

  Ubel raised an eyebrow. "And is the man dead?" he asked, his tone cool and collected.

  Hamza shook his head. "Not yet, sire. But if you wish, I can rectify that oversight."

  Ubel considered this for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I think it would be more beneficial to keep him alive for now. Perhaps he has information that we can use to our advantage."

  "He is presently unconscious, sire," Hamza replied, his tone respectful. "Furthermore, I do not believe him to be a man of knowledge. Had he used his intellect, he would not be in this predicament."

  "Is he married?" Ubel asked, his mind already turning to the potential consequences of their actions.

  "Yes, sire," Hamza replied. "But I don't believe his wife will suspect anything. She is unlikely to even notice his absence."

  Ubel couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. "It seems we have done the man a favour, then," he said, his voice laced with irony.

  Just then, the sound of footsteps reached their ears, and they turned to see Trevor approaching, a curious expression on his face.

  "You're planning without me?" he said, his tone accusatory.

  "I knew you were around," Ubel replied, his tone laced with amusement.

  “Why did you kidnap him?" Trevor asked.

  Ignoring Trevor's question, Ubel turned to Hamza and asked, "Have you killed someone before?"

  As Ubel posed his question to Hamza, the air between them seemed to grow heavy with anticipation. Hamza met the king's gaze, his expression unreadable as he considered his answer.

  "Yes, Sire," he said at last, his voice dripping with a deadly calm. "I have killed before, and I would have no qualms about doing so again. But tell me, who is it that you have in mind?"

  Ubel leaned in close, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I want you to go to Straya and kill a family," he said, his words laced with malice. "Wear this man's clothes and make your way into the country. Once there, you will carry out the deed."

  Hamza's eyes widened in shock. "An innocent family, Sire?" he exclaimed. "Are you mad?"

  Ubel gave a sly smile. "I thought you said you didn't mind killing people," he replied.

  "Yes, Sire, but only in the heat of battle," Hamza countered. "I will not slaughter an innocent family in cold blood."

  Ubel's face darkened. "What do you want, then?" he asked, his tone icy.

  Hamza met his gaze without flinching. "Now that's what I was waiting for," he said, a hint of greed in his voice. "What do you have to offer?"

  Trevor stepped forward, his voice dripping with scorn. "He can give you land and power," he said.

  Hamza sneered. "I don't care about land, Sire," he replied. "I want gold and silver."

  "Is that all you're after?" Ubel asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

  Hamza nodded, his eyes fixed on the ground. "Yes."

  Ubel hesitated, weighing the consequences of his decision. Finally, he let out a sigh and said, "Alright. I suppose that's acceptable."

  Trevor looked at Hamza with disgust. "You're willing to betray your principles for material gain?"

  Hamza lifted his gaze, a spark of defiance in his eyes. "I thought about it. It'll be over in a matter of seconds and I'll be gone. But he said it's war."

  Ubel chuckled, a dark glint in his eye. "Let's hope his clothes fit you."

  They all laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the room. Ubel turned to Hamza once more, his voice serious. "So when are you leaving?"

  "Now," Hamza replied, his voice dripping with determination. "I'll change and go."

  He turned to Kanot, his eyes narrowed. "What do you want to do with him?" referring to Kanot.

  Kill him and feed him to my dogs," Ubel growled, his eyes burning with hatred. Then he added “You said his wife is beautiful?”

  Hamza nodded, a sly smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, his wife is beautiful."

  Ubel's lips curled into a wicked grin. "I know what I can offer you in addition to the money."

  Hamza's eyes shone with greed as he walked over to where Kanot was lying. Without hesitation, he stripped off his clothes and slaughtered him before donning his own. He returned to Ubel and Trevor, a look of triumph on his face.

  Ubel looked him over, his eyes narrowed. "You look like one of them..."

  Trevor's brow furrowed. "But be careful with your accent. If they hear it, they might start to suspect something."

  Hamza chuckled, a cruel glint in his eye. "Don't worry. I'll take care of that."

  Ubel nodded, a satisfied expression on his face. "Make sure people see you killing a whole family."

  Hamza's lips twisted into a grotesque smile. "Can I rape the wife?"

  Ubel hesitated before shaking his head. "If you have the time, don't bring her here. Sedition is what you do, right?"

  Hamza's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Fear not, Sire," he said with a bow. "I have this situation well in hand."

  Trevor looked at Hamza, his voice laced with anxiety. "When will you go?"

  "I'll go now," Hamza replied, his voice dripping with determination.

  "The night air was heavy with the scent of freshly turned earth as Ubel regarded Hamza with a critical eye. 'You do not sleep?' he inquired.

  Hamza shook his head as he tossed another shovelful of dirt over the body. 'I do not,' he replied gruffly.

  Trevor watched the exchange with a wary expression, waiting until Hamza had finished his task before approaching the two men. 'Do you trust this man?' he asked Ubel in a low voice.

  Ubel hesitated before shaking his head. 'No, but I like him,' he replied with a shrug.

  Trevor's brow furrowed in concern. 'He saw my face,' he pointed out.

  Ubel nodded gravely. 'I have given that some thought,' he said. 'Sometimes, one must take a risk in order to achieve their goals. And sometimes, it is necessary to keep certain information from those we seek to protect.'

  Trevor's eyes narrowed. 'What if he fails and talks?'

  Ubel gave a sly smile. 'Then we must be prepared for any scenario and plan accordingly. Come, we have guests to attend to.'

  "As they rode through the moonlit countryside, Trevor couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over him. He cast a sidelong glance at Ubel, studying his companion's relaxed posture and easy smile. 'Should I cover my face?' he asked tentatively, gesturing to the scarf wrapped around his neck.

  Ubel chuckled and patted his horse's neck. 'Do what feels right to you, my friend,' he replied with a wink.

  Trevor hesitated, his fingers tracing the rough fabric of the scarf. In the end, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched and he pulled the scarf up over his head, obscuring his features. They rode on in silence, the only sound the rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves on the dirt road.

  As they approached the hall, a familiar meeting place for them in the past, Trevor couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. He glanced around warily as Ubel dismounted, but the only movement was the rustling of the leaves in the gentle breeze. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched as he followed Ubel inside. "

  As Hamza set out for the distant land of Straya, he couldn't help but wonder what awaited him in that mysterious, far-off nation. With a population of one million individuals, it was a land of bustling activity, its people known for their skills in tailoring, animal training, and farming.

  Nestled between a river to the north, a wild river to the south, the sea to the east, and rocky outcroppings to the west, Straya was a land of contrasts, its harsh, windswept terrain a stark contrast to the warm hospitality of its inhabitants.

  Despite the inhospitable climate, the people of Straya had managed to build sprawling settlements across the land, their determination and resourcefulness a testament to their resilience.

  As Hamza journeyed on, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the stark, eerie beauty of Straya. The tall, icy mountains loomed above him, their peaks lost in the clouds, while the fields and meadows lay blanketed in a thick layer of snow. It was a land of stark contrasts, a place of haunting beauty and unforgiving wilderness.

  Despite its reputation as a harsh, unforgiving land, the people of Straya were known for their kindness and generosity towards outsiders. They believed that foreigners brought prosperity and good fortune to their land, and welcomed them with open arms. The nation was ruled by strict laws and a diligent law enforcement system, and its citizens were content thanks to the abundance of natural spirits and various forms of entertainment.

  The flag of Straya featured four small horns in the colours of grey, light brown, black, and gold, and the national coat of arms depicted two cats on a circle. It was a land of proud traditions and fierce loyalty, and Hamza knew that when Ubel decided to instigate conflict, the people of Straya would not take it lightly. They were a nation that never left a wrong done to one of their own unavenged, their sense of honour and pride a cornerstone of their way of life.

  As Ubel and Trevor made their way into the hall, they were met with the sight of Grom's wife and children huddled together, their expressions anxious. Ubel gestured to two of his guards, who nodded and departed to fetch Grom.

  Ubel approached Grom's wife, his hand extended in a gesture of goodwill. She looked at him with fear in her eyes, her arms wrapped tightly around her young sons.

  "My dear," Ubel said gently, "there is no need to be afraid. Your husband will be here shortly. Please, come and sit with us." He offered his arm and waited patiently as she tentatively took it, allowing him to lead her towards the waiting chairs.

  Grom’s wife responded after that and gave him her hand. Ubel walked with her to the meeting table in the hall, and asked her to sit down, Trevor stood at the threshold of the hall, his eyes locked on the children as Ubel turned to Grom's wife.

  "Your offspring are truly beautiful," he said, his voice dripping with charm.

  "Please, do not harm them," she implored, tears streaming down her face. "Take my life, but spare my children."

  Ubel chuckled and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Harm them? No, I would never dream of hurting those who belong to my country. From now on, you and your family will live here in Vok, where you will be safe and protected."

  She said nothing, too afraid to speak or risk angering Ubel. He seemed to sense her fear and gave her a reassuring smile.

  "What is your name?" he asked gently.

  "Freya," she whispered.

  Ubel raised an eyebrow, turning to Trevor with a grin. "It seems the English are adopting our names now."

  Freya lowered her head. "My mother was from here."

  Ubel beamed. "Ah, then it is your destiny to return to your mother's homeland. Welcome home, Freya."

  "What do you want from us?" she asked, her voice trembling.

  Ubel's smile faded and he looked at her gravely. "I want England," he said simply. "And I will stop at nothing to claim it."

  Freya couldn't comprehend Ubel's words, but she knew better than to question him. She simply nodded, her face contorted with fear.

  "Please, feel welcome in your new home," Ubel said kindly.

  He then rose from his seat and approached Trevor, speaking in a hushed tone. "I need you to take the children to a safe place, but not until Grom arrives. We don't want to alarm them."

  Trevor scowled. "How do you expect to do that without causing them distress? They'll know something is wrong when they see me leading them away."

  Ubel shrugged. "If their father doesn't cooperate with me, they may be frightened regardless. Better to have them somewhere secure."

  When Grom finally arrived, he took in the sight of Trevor standing at the door and immediately sensed that something was amiss. As he entered the hall and saw his family, he rushed to them, embracing them all and shedding tears of joy as he kissed his wife. Ubel interrupted their reunion, speaking sternly.

  "As I promised, your family has come to no harm," he said.

  Grom looked at Ubel with a mix of gratitude and caution. "For that, I am forever in your debt," he said.

  "Now, tell me what you have learned," Ubel prompted.

  "You are a man of your word," Grom replied.

  Ubel nodded approvingly. "A wise man. Now, let us take your children to a place where they can rest."

  Freya's fear turned to anger as she spoke up. "You will not lay a hand on my children," she said fiercely.

  Grom's hand connected with his wife's cheek with a loud slap, causing her to cry out in shock and pain. "Forgive me, my love," he said, his voice heavy with guilt. "But when he speaks, we must not question his authority. Please, for the sake of our children."

  He pulled her into a tight embrace, whispering in her ear. "He killed his own brother to seize the throne. We must do as he says, for their sake."

  Freya's eyes widened in fear at the revelation, and she nodded, swallowing her protests for the sake of her children. She couldn't bear the thought of them coming to harm.

  Ubel nodded to Trevor, signalling for him to take the children away. Trevor scooped up the young ones and left the hall, leaving Freya and Grom alone with Ubel.

  Ubel took his seat at the head of the table, gesturing for Freya and Grom to join him. "Please, be seated," he said.

  Grom and Freya sat at the table, their eyes locked on each other as they waited for Ubel to speak.

  "I was curious about your wife's origins," Ubel said. "I learned that she hails from here in Vok."

  Grom nodded. "Yes, my lord. Her mother was born and raised in this land."

  Ubel leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he spoke. "Now, let me explain why I spared you and allowed you to live."

  Grom hesitated for a moment before speaking. "You want to invade England, my lord," he said.

  Ubel smiled. "Indeed, and you are a wise man to have realised that, Grom."

  "Thank you, my lord," Grom said, bowing his head.

  "Tell me about England," Ubel said. "What can you tell me about their army, their defences?"

  "You want to know how to take over England?" Grom asked.

  Ubel nodded. "Yes, tell me how we can conquer it."

  Grom thought for a moment before speaking. "To conquer England, you would have to invade all the smaller cities and turn the people against their rulers, making them fight for you. England is a large country, and the key to defeating it is to divide and conquer."

  Ubel raised an eyebrow. "Why would they fight for me?" he asked.

  Grom hesitated before speaking, choosing his words carefully. "You have the power to force them to fight for you, my lord," he said. "The English people are deeply devoted to their families and will do anything to protect them. If you hold their loved ones in your mercy, they will comply with your demands."

  Freya gasped in outrage, her eyes blazing with anger as she glared at her husband. "How dare you?" she said.

  Ubel raised a hand, calming her with a soothing gesture. "I understand your point, Grom," he said. "But I do not believe that the strength of England lies solely in their love for their families. There must be other factors at play. Why is England so powerful?"

  Freya spoke up, her voice trembling with emotion. "Because they love their king," she said.

  Ubel raised an eyebrow, his expression sceptical. "Do they truly love their king?" he asked.

  Grom nodded. "Yes, my lord. The English people believe that their king has been chosen by God himself."

  "Which god?" Ubel asked.

  Grom looked confused for a moment before answering. "Christe, my lord."

  Ubel leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "So you are suggesting that the strength of England lies in their religious devotion?" he asked.

  Grom nodded. "I believe that could be a contributing factor, my lord."

  Ubel sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his decision. "A war in England would be costly in terms of both blood and resources. It is likely that we would lose."

  Grom hesitated before speaking again. "If you wish to conquer England, my lord, perhaps the best course of action would be to assassinate their king directly. It would be a swift and decisive blow."

  As Grom stood before Ubel, head bowed in shame, the ruler of Vok couldn't help but feel a sense of amusement at the situation. "Your husband is a clever man," he said, casting a sidelong glance at Freya. "He tried to assassinate me a few days ago, but fortunately for him, he failed."

  Grom swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he spoke. "I am deeply sorry, my lord. I will be forever grateful for your mercy and will serve you as a humble servant."

  But Ubel waved his hand dismissively. "I don't want a humble servant," he said. "I want England. Tell me, Grom, what do you think of the idea of making an arrangement with King Audrey, with the intention of killing him during said arrangement?"

  Grom hesitated, his brow furrowed in thought. "There would be many guards present at such a meeting, my lord. We would need a stronger plan to succeed."

  Ubel leaned back in his chair, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Leave the details to me," he said. "You just focus on making the arrangement happen."

  Grom nodded, understanding the gravity of the task before him. "I will return to England to make the necessary arrangements, my lord," he said.

  Ubel nodded, his gaze drifting to Freya. "Yes, you will. And your beautiful wife will remain here in her motherland."

  Freya looked at Ubel with disgust, but said nothing, her fear for her family's safety outweighing her anger.

  Grom, hesitantly, asked, "May I see my children before I leave, my lord?"

  Ubel nodded. "Of course. You may spend the night with your wife and children before departing tomorrow."

  Grom and Freya left the hall, leaving Ubel alone. As the door swung open, Trevor entered, his face concealed behind a scarf. He approached Ubel, his brow furrowed with concern. "What is the cause of this tense atmosphere?" he asked, gesturing to the room.

  Ubel leaned back in his chair, a sly smile playing on his lips. "We are making plans to take over England," he replied, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

  Trevor's eyes widened in shock. "This is a reckless and dangerous plan," he said, his voice laced with disbelief. "You are inviting a war that we cannot win. Five kingdoms are already planning to attack Vok and overthrow you as their leader."

  Ubel waved a hand dismissively. "We will find a way to deal with that," he said confidently.

  Trevor's expression turned to one of frustration. "We? You are making these decisions without consulting anyone. You are relying on a Muslim merchant who has only been here for a few days. Do you not see the danger in this?"

  Ubel's eyes narrowed at Trevor's words. "You are overstepping your bounds," he said coldly.

  Trevor threw up his hands in frustration. "Advising you is overstepping my bounds? I am only trying to protect our kingdom. You must understand that England has never lost a war. This plan is doomed to fail."

  "Ubel stood tall and confident, a fire burning in his eyes as he declared, "I will be the first to defeat the English."

  Trevor sighed, trying to reason with his hot-headed friend. "Your father always warned you about letting your pride consume you."

  Ubel waved off the concern, "Pride? No, it's just a dream. A dream I fully intend to make a reality."

  Trevor shook his head, "But dreams need careful planning, not reckless actions. You're rushing into this without a clear plan."

  Ubel scoffed, "You said the same thing before I fought Godwin. And yet, I emerged victorious. I won't let you or anyone else stand in the way of my dreams."

  Trevor's patience was wearing thin. "Your actions have consequences, Ubel. The war with Godwin was just the beginning. You can't keep acting without thinking about the bigger picture."

  Ubel's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in his gaze. "If you want to join Godwin in the afterlife, I'll be happy to send you there. But if you want to see me emerge victorious in this war, then do as I say and prepare the army. We will march to Esma soon."

  Trevor's brow furrowed in confusion as he gazed at his friend, Ubel. "I don't understand," he said, his voice laced with frustration. "Why do you insist on being so cryptic?"

  Ubel chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through the very air around them. "Patience, my dear Trevor," he said, a sly smile creeping across his lips. "All will be revealed in due time. Trust me, you will know."

  Trevor stared at Ubel for a moment longer, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words. But Ubel's expression remained inscrutable, his gaze fixed firmly on the horizon. Trevor sighed and decided to let the matter drop, at least for now. He knew that Ubel was not the type of person to be rushed. Eventually, he would reveal his secrets in his own time.

  Ubel was staking everything on Hamza, throwing caution to the wind as he placed his bets. Trevor watched with growing concern as his friend seemed to be spiralling out of control, blindly following a risky plan that seemed doomed to failure.

  Despite his best efforts, Trevor was unable to sway Ubel from his course, no matter how much he pleaded with him. It was as if Ubel had shut him out completely, determined to see his plan through no matter what the cost. This was a side of Ubel that Trevor had never seen before, and it filled him with unease. For the first time, Trevor realised that Ubel was capable of making decisions without considering anyone else's input, even his own.

  As instructed, Trevor set about preparing the army for battle, organising supplies and equipment, and rallying the troops for what was sure to be a difficult and dangerous campaign. Meanwhile, Ubel made his way to where he knew he would find Grom, the man who held the key to England.

  As he approached the boat, Ubel saw Grom busily preparing for their journey to England. He approached him cautiously, his eyes narrowed as he studied the other man. "Are you scared?" he asked, his voice low and menacing.

  Grom looked up at him, a confused expression on his face. "Of what?" he asked.

  "Pray tell, do you believe that your sovereign will condemn you upon your return?" Ubel inquired, his gaze intense as he awaited Grom's response.

  Grom brandished a red flag with a white scratch on it, his countenance resolute. "Nay, I am convinced that he will heed my entreaties," he declared.

  Ubel gestured towards the red flag with a curious expression. "What, pray tell, is the significance of this banner?" he queried.

  "It is a symbol of distress, signalling that one of the English people is in dire peril," Grom explained. "I intend to tell the king that you have taken my family captive, and that you will release them upon our meeting. Though it is a desperate measure, I am hopeful that it will persuade him to accede to my demands."

  Ubel arched an eyebrow, his visage one of scepticism. "I must confess, I am not so certain," he remarked. "If someone presented such an ultimatum to me, I would not be inclined to compromise."

  "The king is a man of compassion, who holds the well-being of his subjects in high regard," Grom insisted. "I am confident that he will do whatever is necessary to safeguard their welfare."

  Ubel remained silent for a moment, regarding Grom with a piercing gaze. Then, with a nod, he turned and strode away, calling out over his shoulder as he went, "Remember, your family is still in my custody. Do not attempt to betray me."

  Grom watched as Ubel retreated, a heavy weight settling in his stomach. He knew that his plan was fraught with peril, but he saw no other way to save his family and protect his homeland. Sighing, he turned back to his boat and began to make final preparations for the perilous journey ahead.

  As Ubel returned to where Trevor was overseeing the final preparations for the army's departure, he called out, "Are we prepared to commence our march?"

  Trevor turned to him, his countenance resolute. "Aye, all is in readiness," he replied. "Did you have occasion to speak with Grom?"

  "Indeed, he has set sail towards England," Ubel replied. "And where is Freya?"

  "She is with the young ones," Trevor replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Pray, why do you ask?"

  "I would have you bring her with us," Ubel said firmly. "If Grom returns to find us absent, he may be tempted to reclaim his family and return to England. By bringing them with us, we can provide him with a reason to remain and await our return."

  Trevor hesitated, his expression one of bewilderment. "May I inquire as to the reason for this request?" he asked.

  "We require Grom's cooperation and the intelligence he can provide regarding the English," Ubel explained. "If he believes that his family is at risk, he will be more likely to accede to our demands."

  Trevor nodded, comprehension dawning on his face. "I shall fetch Freya and the young ones," he said. "We shall be ready to commence our march upon your signal."

  Despite his misgivings, Trevor dispatched two of his soldiers to bring Freya and the children with them, following Ubel's orders to the letter. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, that Ubel's plan was not as straightforward as it seemed. But he knew he had to trust in Ubel's leadership, even if his own instincts were telling him otherwise.