That night, two young men sat playing chess inside a secluded mansion in the Inner City.

On the left was Anders, who had visited the Ballard estate earlier. Across from him sat Matthias, a broad-shouldered man dressed in richly adorned robes.

The game was intense, with fast moves followed by moments of deep thought. About ten minutes later, Anders finally conceded defeat.

"Anders, you've really improved since we last played. You almost had me there," Matthias said, stroking his beard in mild surprise.

"You flatter me, Your Highness. My chess skills are nothing compared to yours. If you hadn't gone easy on me, I wouldn't have lasted half as long," Anders replied with a modest smile.

"You're as smooth with words as ever." Matthias let out a hearty laugh with a look of smug satisfaction. Winning was in his nature—whether in war or on the chessboard, defeat was not an option.

"Well, we've eaten, and we've played. Let's get to business." With a wave of his hand, he signaled his men t