The High Priest's Shadow
Valdemar’s robe hem whipped through the corridor like a blade. The apprentice priests cleaning the infirmary pressed themselves flat against the walls or slipped backward, vanishing into the shadows to escape his bloodthirsty aura. As the trainees slowly regained consciousness after swallowing the antidote, the chaos settled, but the thought of such a disaster unfolding in front of the royals during a training competition sent Valdemar’s professional pride into freefall. The flames of fury still burned in his eyes.
Crossing the hallway in a single stride, Valdemar headed straight for the last infirmary room. Just as he reached the door and was about to step inside, Titus collided with him head-on.
“Y-Your Holiness, the last trainee has… he’s awake.”
Titus stammered, the medicine bottle trembling violently in his grip.
Valdemar stared at him in silence. The priest who had worn the gentlest smile at the opening ceremony now radiated icy menace from every inch of his body.
“Go and tell Seneca.”
Valdemar’s voice slithered like poison.
“Titus, Tilly, Seneca. Gather in my office after dinner.”
“Yes, we understand.”
“Has his violence subsided?”
“Yes… it has calmed.”
Valdemar shoved the terrified Titus aside and approached the infirmary door.
“I will handle Prince Draconis separately. The rest of you—return to the dining hall. Make sure none of the trainees vomit after their meal.”
“Understood.”
The moment Valdemar’s orders were issued, Titus fled like a man escaping hell.
Valdemar stood motionless for a long moment, then waited until the corridor was completely empty before stepping inside. The instant the last priest had vanished into the distance, he gripped the doorknob, exhaled a short breath, closed his eyes tightly, and clenched his fists.
Over and over he forced his face into grotesque, twisted expressions—eyes bulging wide, mouth stretched in a silent scream—until the muscles finally relaxed. The moment passed. He stepped into the room with the humble, crestfallen posture of a subordinate who had no idea what to do except apologize profusely.
“P-Prince?”
“You idiots!”
Just as Valdemar had expected. Draconis sat on the bed, eyes blazing with murderous intent.
“Explain yourself. What is the meaning of this?”
“It is my fault, Your Highness.”
Valdemar clasped his hands respectfully and lowered his eyes. His priestly gaze flicked briefly over the dried blood smeared across Draconis’s fist. It was the blood of some lowly servant the prince had beaten earlier.
“Fortunately, we had no intention of harming any of the trainees or, rather, the honorable guests. It was merely a mistake by a subordinate.”
“A mistake?”
Draconis gave a mocking laugh. His eyes, fixed on the priest, burned with cold sharpness.
“A mistake, you say? Do you think I’m a fool?”
“How could I possibly plot such a thing? Above all, it would be unthinkable while we are cooperating with Igninof. Your Highness, please calm your anger. I will hold Seneca accountable with utmost severity.”
Valdemar kept bowing his head repeatedly, yet Draconis remained unconvinced.
“Let us say…”
The prince simply extended his right foot and pressed it down onto the bowed priest’s shoulder.
“You intended to use me as a hostage to commit some crime.”
“Your Highness, please! What could I possibly gain by provoking Igninof’s wrath?”
Valdemar’s eyes darted frantically. He swept his red tongue over his parched lips. The arrogant prince before him was his only lifeline; he dropped to his knees and begged with both hands outstretched.
“There is already an agreement between Igninof and me. I have no intention of doing anything foolish.”
Valdemar delivered the lines with a performance so convincing even he was surprised.
After all, Igninof could not achieve its goals on Credo Island without the High Priest. There was no need to panic.
Watching Valdemar’s pitiful, fawning performance, Draconis’s expression gradually softened. He shoved the priest’s shoulder off his foot and let out a cold snort.
“I’ll believe you… for now. No more mistakes.”
He changed the subject in a calmer tone.
“Any news from my kingdom?”
“Yes… even though I didn’t want to trouble Your Highness while you were ill, I thought I should at least let you know what this means and what preparations we must make.”
Valdemar still stared at the scroll as he spoke.
“What preparations?”
“If the new master arrives, we must welcome and entertain the ten guests. I don’t know when that will happen…”
Valdemar crumpled the scroll tightly between his fingers and bit his lip. The ten guests. Among them… was there a new master of Credo Island?
If they were the ten guests, then without a doubt they were the ten kingdoms of the World Alliance. Would all of them gather here?
“Valdemar… now that I think about it, ten guests are coming to Credo Island during the next training competition. The numbers have been fluctuating lately.”
Roman’s words suddenly snapped Valdemar’s attention.
A competition held every five years, with strict age limits. In some royal houses, children were simply excluded. That was why the gathering of princes and princesses from all ten kingdoms was so special…
“The princess from Kepet who skipped last time, and the prince from Solinar… they will be here as well.”
Roman muttered, lost in thought.
***
The god spoke directly to the priest’s mouth. Even the words delivered during the offering ceremony were not spoken by a priest. The prophecy had simply… appeared.
Suddenly.
That morning, Valdemar and his fellow priest Roman were in the temple. After the morning sacrifice, Valdemar was polishing the altar while Roman cleared the offerings from the platform. The two men worked in silence, each doing their assigned task.
Valdemar rubbed the bowl and occasionally glanced at Roman. They had been colleagues since his trainee days and through every step of his rise to Chief Priest—the only one who had shared every stage with him—yet their relationship was never close. At the very least, Valdemar did not consider him a close friend.
As always, the hours dragged. As Chief Priest, he could have left the menial tasks to the lower-ranked priests! Roman, the one the High Priest favored, always stepped forward and took care of the after-sacrificial duties, forcing Valdemar to shoulder unwanted responsibilities.
Moreover, the only two people in the Chief Priest’s office were Roman and himself—Roman, who was always compared unfavorably to. There was no other way to make the High Priest look anywhere but at his precious favorite.
Then the strange phenomenon began. A flame in the sacred fire bowl flared up without warning, shooting into the air in a brilliant blue burst.
What was that?
Valdemar and Roman’s eyes locked on the same spot. The unnatural flame twisted and shrank again and again, like a living thing.
“Wh-what…?”
The holy fire trembled once more, then from within it shot a small scrap of paper that landed on the floor with a soft thud.
“This… what is this?”
Roman, who had been standing closest to the bowl, suddenly went silent. He approached cautiously, picked up the paper, and carefully unfolded the charred scroll. His hands shook as he read.
“Something is written here…”
Valdemar was still dazed when Roman froze solid, as if turned to stone.
“V-Valdemar, this… this is…”
“What is it?”
Valdemar set down the bowl and stepped forward. With every step closer, an ominous feeling gripped him.
A chill raced down his spine, his stomach churning. Roman stared at the paper and the fire as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes, then handed it to Valdemar.
What was written…?
The instant he took the charred scrap, Valdemar felt as though an axe had been swung into the back of his skull.
“What… what does this mean?”
The hands clutching the paper shook uncontrollably.
The day the ten guests arrive—
The wheel of fate, long stopped, begins to turn again.
The new master of Credo Island is among them.
“I must report this to Your Holiness immediately.”
Valdemar gave no reply. His eyes were locked on the blackened letters, scanning them over and over.
“Although His Holiness is currently ill, I did not want to worry him… but at the very least, he must understand the meaning of this and what preparations we should make.”
“What preparations?” Valdemar asked, still staring at the scroll.
“If the new master comes, we must welcome and entertain the ten guests. I don’t know when that will be…”
Valdemar crushed the scroll so tightly his knuckles turned white and bit his lip. The ten guests. Among them… was there a new master of Credo Island?
If they were the ten guests, then without a doubt they were the ten kingdoms of the World Alliance. Would all of them gather here?
“Valdemar… now that I think about it, ten guests are coming to Credo Island during the next training competition. The numbers have been fluctuating lately.”
Roman’s words suddenly snapped Valdemar’s attention.
A competition held every five years, with strict age limits. In some royal houses, children were simply excluded. That was why the gathering of princes and princesses from all ten kingdoms was so special…
“The princess from Kepet who skipped last time, and the prince from Solinar… they will be here as well.”
Roman muttered, lost in thought.