That very evening, Tucker sent letters throughout the Everheart Kingdom. Each white envelope was sealed with crimson wax and firmly pressed in place with the engraving of the Thirty-First. There was no telling if they would answer, but that didn’t matter. It was the mere act of writing each one with care and tailoring it to the individuals that concerned him the most. The letter wasn’t supposed to bring his men back. It was supposed to paint the reality of the situation before them. A situation that they would most likely not come back from.

  “Is this really the right choice?” Tucker muttered to himself, leaning back against the wooden chair.

  He gazed out the window, wondering if there was another way. A choice or option that he hadn’t thought of yet. It didn’t sit well with him to ask those he trusted to follow him, especially if the chances of them dying were a lot greater than their success.

  A tired sigh escaped him in the dead of night. Tucker glanced around the towering old books in Charles’s office, noting the worn parchment from the loose pages that occasionally slipped out from between the leather covers. He had told himself countless times that it was for the greater good. That the sacrifices they made in the upcoming months would pave the way for future generations.

  But deep down, Tucker knew all of it was lies. Lies he told himself to feel better about the dark days approaching them. A bitter chuckle hammered in his chest. He had the audacity to ask the Administrators to carry out the mission, using the excuse that the watchmen of the Order were far more capable than a ragtag team. But in reality, maybe it was because a part of him still idolized them.

  They were his heroes, but not every hero made it out alive.

  A price had to be paid for the bloodshed they endured. And Dale knew this very well. He was accustomed to it, and that was why he didn’t stop the other Administrators from tearing into him. Tucker needed to hear it from someone other than himself.

  Tucker sat there in silence. At moments like this, he wished he could pray to a God, but none would answer him. He lived in constant regret over his actions, believing that one day he would be strong enough to stand proud beneath the sunlight. Yet, no matter how much he endured, the burden only increased.

  He didn’t want salvation for himself.

  Only for those who would answer his call.

  They were the ones who deserved it because they had hearts of gold, accepting a burden that would be far too great for any mortal man. If he could trade his life just to save theirs, then Tucker would. However, fate was a cruel mistress, and the chances of him ever receiving such an opportunity were close to oblivion.

  Before Tucker could drown in his thoughts, the sound of the door slowly creaking open stole his attention. He turned to the side, watching as Charles slipped into the room. In one hand was a silver tray, and in the other was a small woven basket of freshly baked biscuits. The old man wore a smile that reached his eyes. He stepped closer to the stone table and carefully set down the tray.

  “Tucker, my boy, it’ll do you no good to stay up so late,” Charles said with a gentle grin. “You’ll worry little Adira if you don’t take care of your health.”

  Tucker glanced at the old birch grandfather clock ticking softly against the wall. “It’s one in the morning. She should be asleep by now.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Charles held onto the white porcelain teapot with one hand. “Tea?” he asked, glancing at Tucker.

  “No thanks, I’m good. Never been much of a tea guy.”

  “Huh, that’s a surprise.” Charles held the lid in place as he poured himself a cup. “You’re a lot like Alex in that regard. He always said he preferred coffee.”

  “Well, to each their own.” Tucker forced a faint smile, then looked back at Charles. “But I take it you didn’t come here just to bring me tea, did you?”

  Charles stared softly at the thin swirls of steam that curled into the air. He thought about what to say next for a moment before opening his mouth. “I heard about what happened from Ray.”

  Tucker sat there quietly before gazing out the window. “Did he tell you everything?”

  “Indeed, though I don’t suppose it’s much of a secret,” Charles replied, gently blowing on the warm amber liquid. “Besides the children, Daniella and I both know.”

  “That’s for the best,” Tucker said quietly. “I would prefer it if Adira and Violet were kept in the dark.”

  Charles nodded with his expression softening. “I understand. Those children have been through a lot, and I don’t mean to pry, but… do you have a plan?”

  Tucker shook his head. “We’re still figuring that part out.”

  Charles took a small sip of his tea, cherishing the warmth. He offered some of the treats in the basket, but didn’t push the matter any further once he saw Tucker decline.

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  “Tucker, could I ask you for something?” Charles stared at the man before him, watching as he fell deep into thought.

  “That depends on what it is,” Tucker replied.

  “Could you promise me you’ll overcome this ordeal alive?”

  The young man before the scholar didn’t say a word. He sat there while lightly tapping the stone table with his fingertips, drumming away at the seconds that slipped away.

  Finally, he spoke. “Charles, you know I can’t make that promise.”

  “Then is there anything I could do to be of assistance?” Charles asked.

  “I really wish I knew, but I haven’t even had time to think of a proper plan,” Tucker replied, staring at the world map sprawled out on the table. He glanced at the candles. One had completely burned out, while the other was barely holding on. “If we’re assuming our information is correct, then we would have to head to Ironmarch County.”

  “The region by the dwarves?”

  “That’s right, but traveling there with several hundred men isn’t easy.” Tucker lifted a pencil and circled the region where the Emerald Tower’s spire was located. “I thought that maybe if it was the Administrators, they would have some way I didn’t know about moving all the men at once. But from the looks of things, that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

  Charles held the white porcelain teacup in his hand and took a small sip. “I suppose that makes sense. The original purpose of those teleportation platforms was to send small teams at a time behind enemy lines. That’s why it takes so long to gather mana.”

  “Right. This way, it’ll also be harder for mages to detect since the fluctuations of mana would be minimal.”

  “I see… in that case you would need a fast and reliable way to transport, but how many soldiers did you have in mind?” Charles asked.

  Tucker scratched the back of his head and sighed. “If we’re lucky, maybe two or three hundred.”

  “And these are all knights or soldiers with equivalent strength?”

  “They aren’t.”

  Charles’s gaze slightly fell before quietly setting the lukewarm teacup on the table. The ceramic cup made a soft click against the stone. “Tucker… you should know that this is far too risky with how few soldiers you have.”

  “I know… but what choice do we have?” Tucker asked softly. “If you had seen what we saw, then you would understand why we’re so torn about this.”

  “It’s hard to imagine that the Empire would have such a weapon,” Charles replied while slowly exhaling. He stroked his gray beard and adjusted his circular glasses. “Then in that case, I take it you both have made up your minds.”

  Tucker gave a firm nod. “We have. Now that I’ve finished writing the letters, I plan to send them out. Our meeting point will be in the capital, so odds are once we leave it’ll be the last time you’ll see us.”

  He saw the disheartened expression on Charles’s face. “It’ll take some time, but I already know how we’re going to get there. I never thought a day like this would come, but after years of not talking to my brother—he sent a letter.”

  “You always seemed distant when your family came up.”

  “We don’t get along, but seeing as how he wrote to me, I figured I might as well pay him a visit,” Tucker said. “The family I’m in happens to hold a fair bit of influence within the military, so maybe he could arrange some sort of transportation for us.”

  A long silence followed. Charles was at a loss for words, and despite how much he wished to help. There was nothing he could do. He was only a scholar, a record keeper, and his relations with those currently in the Order didn’t stretch beyond simple courtesies. Maybe if he were still active in the field like in his younger days, then he would’ve been able to muster some sort of assistance.

  But that wasn’t possible.

  And the only one who could have left on an expedition with Owl, Mark, and May to Elarindor.

  Charles lifted the sugar cube between his fingers before dropping it into the tea with a soft plink. The surface broke as ripples traveled outwards beneath the steam. He looked into the drink as the pale threads bloomed within the amber. It had been decades since he had felt like this. This bitter feeling of uselessness as he watched those he cared about march to their deaths in the field. Tucker had his flaws, but that didn’t make him any less of a watchman compared to others.

  “If… if something happens to you,” Charles said softly. “Adira would be sad.”

  Tucker held onto the stacks of letters with a lingering warmth in his heart. “But you’ll still look after her, right?”

  Charles held onto his cup with both hands. He gave a weak nod before gazing at Tucker. “I didn’t agree to take care of her so you could throw your life away.”

  “Throw my life away…?” Tucker muttered with a weak smile. “Do you think it’s a waste for me to give my life for a cause I believe in?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “But it’s what you implied,” Tucker countered. He stared at Charles, with eyes filled with resolve. “I saw what I can only describe as a bomb go off in a second. One that was so powerful it erased forests and mountains in the blink of an eye.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t a ploy? It could have been an illusion or some sort of tomfoolery that confuses the mind.”

  “No, Pyron isn’t the kind of man to play these games,” Tucker said. “He’s a cunning bastard who would sell his own soul to the devil if it meant he got what he wanted.”

  Tucker rose from his seat and carried the letters in his hands. “This is bigger than anything we could possibly imagine, and if there’s one mistake I made… it’s that I didn’t prepare better for the Administrators to see my point.”

  “There has to be some other way—!” Charles shot up from his seat in frustration, nearly knocking over the tea set on the silver tray. Yet the moment he locked eyes with Tucker, he realized it was too late. No matter how much he begged or pleaded, Tucker wouldn’t change his mind.

  “I have nothing but the utmost respect for you, Charles.” Tucker walked over to the scholar and placed his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “You’ve done a lot for me, but if I were to do nothing after seeing the Emerald Tower test their weapon, then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I might not be the most perfect person in the world. However, I would at least like to live a life that I can be proud of.”

  Charles couldn’t bring himself to speak. No jolly words of encouragement or triumphant speech to raise the young watchman’s spirit. All he could do was fall back into his old leather chair in silence as a small white envelope slid to a stop before him.

  “I’ll see you around.” Tucker gave one last pat on his shoulder before heading to the wooden door.

  All Charles heard from then on was the slow groan of the metallic hinges and a quiet thud, marking when Tucker had embarked on his final journey as a watchman.

  The old man wondered how much impact he would have had if he had decided to become an Administrator. But before that thought could go anywhere, his eyes fell on the white envelope Tucker had left behind. The will that had been carefully prepared by Tucker in case he never returned.