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“We will do whatever you recommend,” assured the monarch, overjoyed at the wonderful news. His face, which was typically sullen, was beaming. “This is incredible! Just hours ago I had nearly given up my only son’s life for lost,” he remarked, hugging Aliana affectionately—a rare gesture for the monarch whose sternness and surliness were well known in the court. “I know this is an imposition, but would it be possible to count on your presence for a few more days, just until the Prince has completely recovered? I would be much more at ease if you were to personally supervise his recovery.”

“Aliana will stay and make sure His Highness recuperates completely. The Gift of my outstanding pupil is now more powerful than my own. If any complication should arise—which could happen—it is better that she be the one who attends to him.”

The King nodded. “So be it. We will prepare a room in this wing of the palace so that you can rest and regain your strength, young Healer. I must share this wondrous news with the Queen immediately—she will be overjoyed!” He hurried from the room.

Sorundi approached Aliana. “It is best that you rest now. You look so very pale, as if you are about to collapse. Your ministrations went on too long. For a moment I was afraid for your life, my daughter.”

“The poison was terribly aggressive. It took a great effort to heal some of his organs. Several times I thought all was lost. I fought with all my power, and pushed my body to the limit.”

“Let them take you to your room now. You are about to pass out. Rest now, my dear child. You’ve done very well—extremely well. Another life saved thanks to the Gift. A life of great importance for the future of our nation and the stability of this complex continent of ours... our Tremia.

A week later, Gerart finally opened his eyes. An intense light, a painful brightness, assaulted him from all directions, blinding him and increasing the stabbing pain inside his head. He did not know where he was and felt completely disoriented. In spite of the intense pain, he tried again to open his eyes... and instantly thought he must be in the middle of dream or having a vision; appearing before him was a woman so beautiful she could only be a celestial being, a goddess. She had golden hair and brilliant blue eyes, as deep as the sea. A feeling of well-being and harmony instantly enveloped him, like a fresh sea breeze, calming his soul and easing his pain.

“Are you... are you from the heavens? A goddess, perhaps?” he asked, still terribly disoriented.

The question caught the woman by surprise. After looking at him strangely for a moment she burst into a peal of sweet-sounding laughter.

“No, nothing like that!”

“Might you be Asra... Goddess of Beauty?

“Nothing could be farther from the truth, Your Highness. My name is Aliana and I am nothing more than a Healer from the Temple of Tirsar, not a goddess of antiquity,” explained the young woman with a smile as she bowed her head slightly. “You have been very sick, at the brink of death, but the worst is over. You need to rest now. Everything will be fine, I assure you. There is nothing to worry about. Soon you will have recuperated completely.”

The Prince looked at the beautiful young woman and tried—unsuccessfully—to make sense of the situation.

“Thank you... A Healer, eh? I have heard talk about your Order but I have never met one of you...” he responded, somewhat indistinctly.

Aliana helped him to sit up then took a potion from the bedside table that she had prepared for him and gave him a drink of it.

As Gerart drank, he looked around and recognized his royal bedchamber.

“Thank you. This concoction tastes like hell.”

Aliana laughed. “Exactly, but it will help you regain some strength.”

Gerart looked at her with uncommon interest. “My mother, Queen Eleuna, has spoken to me about your Order and about how miraculous your Gift is. She says that you do incredible work throughout the kingdom, voluntarily healing the sick and wounded and receiving nothing in exchange.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. We have a responsibility towards healing; it is our duty.”

“Was it you who healed me, who attended to me?”

Aliana tilted her head slightly and nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. You shall be under my care until your recovery is complete.”

“Tell me, Aliana... the arrow was empoisoned, was it not?”

“It was. Fortunately we got here in time to be able to stop the poison and heal the damaged organs. But a few hours more and—”

“And...  I would have died. I understand...”

Gerart took a deep breath then tried with every ounce of stamina he had to get out of bed, but he could not. His muscles simply were not responding. They were far too weak. And his head was about to explode.

He looked at the Healer; the afternoon light flooding the room washed over the young beauty. Her hair shone with an almost surreal brilliance, the long locks reflecting the golden essence of life. Her lovely face radiated purity and tranquility.

Gerart was speechless.

Irreversibly enchanted.

An embarrassing silence hung between them. But neither of the two spoke a single word.

Gerart finally reacted. “Oh my, where are my manners? How clumsy of me... Pardon me for not thinking clearly. I owe you my life; you’ve saved me, and I have not even thanked you.”

“That is not necessary, Your Highne—”

“Of course it is!” he hurried to interrupt her. “I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I am indebted to you. I owe you and your Order unending thanks. I will never forget this, I can assure you of that. You shall be generously compensated—my father will see to that.”

“It really is not necessary, Your Highness. I am only fulfilling my duty. No recompense is necessary. I have a responsibility towards my Order.”

“You don’t want a reward? What an odd attitude. I respect you for it, but it is quite unusual. In any case, I am sure my father will find some way to thank you. And, one last favor, if I may; would you mind addressing me informally? We are the same age, and I owe you my life. I think that would be quite appropriate.”

“As you wish, Your High—, excuse me, as you wish, Sire... No... as you wish,” Aliana clumsily corrected herself. If you would excuse me, I am going to look for your parents. They are waiting for good news on your recuperation, so this will be a godsend. They have been having a very difficult time through all this.”

Aliana left the room, softly closing the door behind her. Gerart raised his hand to the pit of his stomach. He had an odd feeling; it was as if something was boring straight through him. At the exact moment, noticing the absence of the lovely young woman and the sensation he was experiencing, he realized something new and exciting was happening to him. He felt a mix of excitement and fear that he could not comprehend. She was so exquisite, so pure, so lovely... and she had captivated him.

His head began to throb again, but even in the midst of the pounding and the pain, he was happy... and longing to see that heavenly being again.

The messenger entered the great audience hall of the fortress after being escorted through the complex palace of the beautiful border city of Alaband, capital and residence of the vast and powerful Nocean Empire’s Grand Regent of the North. The entire city was a renowned work of architecture; the immense, golden central cupola of the Regent’s palace sparkled under the region’s harsh sun. Its brilliance was visible from leagues away, as was the gleam of the four slender, dazzlingly golden twin towers that guarded it with their oval pinnacles. The grand cupola and the four twin towers conferred an almost celestial air on the city. A five-day journey on foot from the border with the kingdom of Rogdon, the walled city marked the beginning of the extensive territories of the great Nocean Empire.

The Empire of the battle-hardened People of the Deserts.

Mulko, the powerful Regent of the North, looked for a moment at the dusty messenger kneeling before him who was offering him the missive with both arms extended. He recognized the messenger—an expert, ruthless, soldier; chosen to carry out missions of a...
delicate
nature. He had a dark complexion and black eyes and was dressed in a short, well-worn blue tunic over black linen pants. A dirty, discolored blue cape was draped over his shoulders. Over his long, curly hair he wore the typical Nocean helmet: round, and crowned with a sharp point that was a full palm high. His chest and forearms were protected by intricate leather armor with flexible, reinforced metal rectangles—special gear for light assault forces. On his waist he wore a wide leather swordbelt with a steel buckle to one side that held three throwing daggers. On his right side hung a scimitar and, on the left, a long, curved dagger.

The Regent trusted in the ability of that son of the desert; he knew he would be capable of surviving the worst of plagues and would carry out the mission entrusted to him. It was with men like this they had created an empire. A vast empire forged by conquests, blood, and subjugation. The Empire of the inclement sun. As much as the lands of the North and the East benefitted from the blessings of the rains—albeit in modest quantities—the West and, especially, the South, were characterized by their vast, arid deserts where a merciless, blazing sun scorched everything it touched. The Nocean people, from the desert lands of the deep South, had conquered large stretches of territory to the east and north of their native land. Fueled by their unquenchable thirst for expansion, they had vanquished neighboring tribes by the power of their scimitars, forming a great empire through conquest and bloodshed. The stronghold city of Alaband controlled the border crossing toward the kingdom of Rogdon. Its strategic value was incalculable.

Mulko made a gesture with his hand.

“Give it to me and go. You have succeeded in your mission.”

The messenger did as he was told.

Mulko read the missive slowly as he paced across the smooth black marble. The bright morning light filled the great room, penetrating the arched window covered with intricate mosaics. Ornate curtains fashioned from the best silk in the Empire decorated the great room, coordinating with beautiful, exquisitely crafted rugs. Adorning the walls were rich ceramic pieces from kingdoms they had conquered. They were painted with gold and crimson motifs. On an enormous round table were several silver platters overflowing with exotic fruits.

Mulko shook his head, swore under his breath and called for his two personal Counselors.

“Bad news from our neighbors to the north!” he exclaimed as they rushed in. “The Prince of Rogdon, that gutless good-for-nothing, has been struck down by an arrow that is
assumed
to be Nocean. King Solin is blaming us for the assassination attempt and now is out for blood. That rotten old maggot has thrown out our ambassador who, as you know, is our people’s religious leader in his kingdom, as well as several highly influential merchants. He is closing the border!”

“That can only mean that he is preparing for war,” deduced Ukbi, his Military Advisor, a corpulent general with a long road behind him who had faithfully served the Empire for more than forty years. Mulko approached him and looked straight into his eyes—eyes that exuded a great deal of courage and intelligence. Ukbi had always demonstrated a brilliant talent for military arts and strategies. Due to his First General’s intellect, Mulko had managed to secure for the general the position of influence he now held within the Empire. This man’s victories on the battlefield had gained him land, recognition, and power.

“Yes, I believe so as well,” replied Mulko, clearly concerned.

“An arrow is not sufficient proof to launch a grand scale war against the Empire, Sir. King Solin is not that foolish. He will look for more evidence of treachery before declaring all-out war,” reasoned Zecly, his Prime Counselor. The aged though extremely intelligent Counselor was as frail as he was wise. He had spent his entire life serving Milko’s family and had known him since he was a child. Zecly had always been there, serving and providing essential council. There was no one Mulko trusted more. That fragile old man with striking eyes as blue as the sky, long snow-white hair and exceptional mind was rarely wrong. But, above all else, Mulko depended on this unique and greatly feared man for his immense Arcane Power. Zecly was the most powerful Sorcerer in the entire Empire. One simple incantation from him and men were stricken with excruciating suffering and dropped dead at his feet. Mulko had witnessed this old man’s terrifying power on many occasions.

“And if he finds this proof? Where there is once piece of evidence, there will be others, pointing them in the direction indicated. Whoever attacked their son is looking to start a war that will cost both our Empire and the kingdom of Rogdon thousands of lives,” speculated Mulko.

“I wonder... ,” began the old man, “are we truly sure it was not we?” posited Zecly, raising an eyebrow. The Empire is vast... the insatiable ambitions of certain powerful people...”

Mulko thought quietly for a moment and then shook his head. “The order was not given by me, I can assure you of that. This is not the time for such impactful action. If it had come from the Great Emperor Malota, His Excellency would have made me aware so I could prepare. The Emperor is cautious and shrewd; he would have taken his time to plan his strategy and would have communicated to me—in detail—the orders. No, this is the work of some other force, a hidden hand, acting in the shadows to destabilize the fragile balance that exists between our Empire and our arrogant neighbors to the north.”

Zecly took a few steps forward, looking pensively at the dome of the room. “What about your rivals? The Empire is large; its power and riches unequaled, but only four men govern it—four men that serve an Emperor, four men that share all the power and the riches. Could this be an internal political maneuver to take control and overthrow the Great Emperor?”

“Is that what you think, wise Advisor? Who would dare such a bold and risky betrayal?” Mulko pondered aloud. “Perhaps Omod, the Grand Regent of the West? I doubt that; he has been at war for five years with those nightmarish Tulinese. He has had to invest a massive fortune in building a navy to defend his three main port cities from incursions by the incredibly swift Tulinese fleet. No; it cannot be Omod.”

“And what about your rival from the East, Sir?” asked Ukbi.

“That rabid dog from Elmesh, the Grand Regent of the East? I don’t think so. He already has enough problems these days fending off rebellions and uprisings that threaten his territory—some of which, as you well know, are financed by our coffers. I doubt that it would be Elmesh. We keep him quite occupied. Besides, he doesn’t have the brains to come up with something like that. That treacherous snake Salmag, however—the Grand Regent of the South—could very well be behind this clandestine movement. He does have the brains, and the means. His lands are well controlled and well protected, and being the Great Emperor Malota’s cousin he might attempt a coup. After all, he is of the royal bloodline...”

“I don’t know, Sir. It is too soon to jump to conclusions. One thing, though, is certain: you would be hurt most in the event of war with the North. Since your territory borders theirs, the war would come first to you and would greatly weaken your position,” Ukbi pointed out as he stroked his three-forked beard.

“Yes, damn it! That is unfortunately all too true,” barked Mulko as he approached his First General. If the enemy is not internal, who can it be? Who would dare to attack the Nocean Empire?”

“The only kingdoms with armies capable of taking on the Empire are Rogdon... and Norghana, to the northeast, but we have signed peace treaties with both of them and we have noticed no evidence of movement on the part of their armies,” replied Ukbi.

“Ready the troops, Ukbi. Put them on alert and reinforce the garrison of the fortress. War could break out at any moment. We must be prepared,” ordered Mulko nervously.

“It is time to exercise the utmost diplomacy, proceeding with caution and tact,” suggested Zecly. “We must speak with Rogdon and Norghana and examine the options of war and alliance with both kingdoms.”

“Are your spies prepared and ready for action, Zecly?”

“Yes, Sir. My network of spies and assassins have been in position for years. They are only awaiting orders so they can begin their work.”

“Excellent. It is time to awaken your sleepers.”