Valetar was a dead city… but that day, it seemed to breathe.
Its twisted alleys, broken temples, dry fountains, and the shadows between colonnades… all seemed part of one vast, living labyrinth designed to test the will of its challengers.
And Aurelian Var Chesen had neither time to waste nor room for error.
He had only twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours to decide the fate of his house.
He walked quickly, without hesitation, his eyes scanning every corner of the grey streets as if they were living maps.
He wasn't here to play. Not to chase illusions, nor to revel in the thrill of the hunt like the others.
He had a plan. And he had sworn it to his father.
"Never capture one who hates you.
Never trust one who fears you."
Those words, spoken by the old Kaelis Var Chesen on his deathbed, still burned in Aurelian's chest.
And that's why he knew exactly who to look for.
Three names. Three houses.
The first: House Yngvadr, from Arhon.
Descendants of the Kings of the North, forged in ice and battle.
Their banners were silver and blue, bearing the two-tailed wolf, symbol of fierce loyalty and eternal war.
Aurelian knew that an alliance with them wasn't impossible—if he could prove strength and honor.
The second: House Shilan-Yue, from Xianth.
An ancient house, elegant and deadly, tied to imperial dynasties and martial orders.
Their women were trained from childhood in the art of poetry… and poison.
Their sigil: a golden phoenix on a crimson field, wings spread, eyes closed.
A capture here had to be handled with intelligence and respect.
The third: House Neferzhat, from Zubarra.
Descendants of the Sun Priests, rich in gold, mystery, and secrets.
They wore black linen turbans and temple-carved jewels.
Their emblem was a golden eye set in an obsidian pyramid.
To ally with them meant gaining immense wealth—but one wrong step, and he'd wake disemboweled in the sands of the black river.
"He who captures just any prey, loses.
He who captures the right one… is reborn."
That was the other teaching his father left him.
And for Aurelian, that day, there was only one path: find one of the three.
The garment he wore was simple yet elegant, dyed matte grey and deep black, cut with vertical seams that elongated his silhouette.
On his chest, stitched in worn silver filigree, the emblem of his house: a two-headed serpent biting its own tail—an ancient symbol of the fallen Empire.
The sigil made people turn their heads, shut their doors, whisper insults.
But he would not hide it. Not today.
He turned between two half-destroyed arches, into a quarter that must once have been noble.
The columns were decorated with shattered mosaics, and rotting doors opened onto homes long since stripped.
That's when he heard it.
A whisper. A foot brushing against wood. The soft sound of a held breath.
Aurelian stopped before an abandoned house, its door half-open, like an inviting trap.
He entered with calm steps, hand on his dagger.
Light filtered through the cracks in the ceiling.
And there, hidden behind an overturned ancient throne, a young woman tried not to tremble.
Her dress was simple, mauve-colored, with faded embroidery and the barely visible crest of a minor house: a twig entwined with an unlit lantern, the symbol of a lineage perhaps honest, but poor and powerless.
Her face, pale and streaked with dust. Her eyes, wide and staring.
When she saw his emblem—the two-headed serpent on Aurelian's dark robe—she flinched as if stabbed.
Her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees, covering her face with trembling hands.
"No, please… no… I don't want… I don't want to become yours…"
Tears ran down her cheeks, unashamed.
"Please… my family has nothing… and you… you are of the cursed house…"
Aurelian stopped a few steps away, unmoving.
He looked at her in silence for a few seconds, then tilted his head slightly.
His voice was calm, deep, and heavy with ancient solemnity.
"You are not the one I seek."
The girl looked up, surprised.
"And I don't say it out of pity. But because I won't build my future on the fear of someone who sees me as a monster."
He gave her a brief nod. No smile. No promise.
Just silent respect.
Then he turned and vanished into the shadows of Valetar, leaving her there, trembling… but free.
The sun stood high in the sky, relentless above the broken rooftops.
Time was running.
And the hunt had only just begun.
Valetar boiled like a storm-filled cauldron. Its wide, broken streets seemed like arteries pulsing with ambition and desire.
Aurelian moved through alleys and squares like a solitary shadow, while all around him the ancient ritual of the Harem Game played out.
He passed by a young man with blond hair, his cloak fluttering with the crimson sigil of House Eldharsen, a noble line of Arhon. At his side, two women with elegant posture and dresses already adorned with rings on their left ring fingers. Aurelian gave them a brief glance, without slowing his pace. None of the three sigils he was seeking.
Other men crossed his path. Some ignored him like dust, others shot him a sharp glance or a mocking grin. One recognized him, and murmured to his companion:
"That's the heir… of the Serpent House."
"I thought they were extinct."
"Apparently, too stubborn to die."
They laughed. Aurelian passed them in silence.
No one approached him. No one dared, or thought it worth the effort.
Who would ever ally with a man who didn't even have the right to hope?
Beneath his robe, hidden in a worn leather pouch, he carried the only ring left from his house. A small gold seal, handmade, with the two-headed serpent biting its tail engraved upon it.
It had belonged to his father. And before him, to his father's father. Every generation had only one.
One at a time.
Only one.
Because House Chesen, for centuries, had not had the luxury of loving more than one woman at a time.
That single ring, today, was all he had left.
And only one woman could wear it.