We were almost to the stables, just a few more turns and we’d be there. Rederick suddenly stopped. I walked right into him, confused. ‘What is it?’ I asked, but Rederick interrupted me before I could finish.

  ’Go ahead, kid. There’s one more thing I need to do.’ Rederick rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. With a smooth motion, he drew ribbons from the blade’s handle. As he pulled them, the sword’s once dull surface transformed, revealing a pristine white metal that gleamed like polished ivory, reminiscent of the sacred tree. Rederick wrapped the ribbons around his hand as if it were a ritual he did every morning.

  I looked at Rederick, the question forming in my mind but stalling on my lips. Something about his posture was different. The weakness was gone. He stood as if at his prime, his hand resting near his sword. His focus was fixed ahead, braced for something unseen.

  Whatever it was, it told me all I needed to know: now wasn’t the time to ask.

  Swallowing my words, I stepped forward, letting instinct guide me toward the stable. Without a backward glance, I moved on, leaving him alone in the street.

  Rederick turned, his discipline taking over as his eyes swept the gaps between buildings and rooftops, searching for any sign of movement. There was nothing, except for a beggar slumped against a wall, a wooden cane in his lone hand, the other arm long gone. No threat.

  ’You can stop hiding now.’ Rederick’s voice was distant, as though speaking to a ghost. He drew his sword, pointing it at the alleys and rooftops, as if he’d been expecting them. ’I know you were watching us back at the shop.’

  From the shadows of the alley, a man stepped forward, his body draped in tattered rags. ’I’m alone.’ the man said, both hands in the air, his voice low and gravelly.

  ’I’ll take you at your word.’ Rederick replied, though his gaze continued darting to the other alleys, ever watchful.

  The man’s hand drifted to his dagger, his movements slow but deliberate. His eyes locked onto Rederick’s, but the knight didn’t flinch.

  Suddenly, the man winced, a sharp pain jolting through his body as he tried to remove his dagger from his hidden sheath. His focus faltered, his gaze flicking downward in confusion.

  A sword caught his eye, embedded in his lower abdomen. He staggered forward in disbelief, his eyes locking back onto Rederick, eyes full of rage.

  Before the man could do anything else, Rederick gave a sharp tug on a ribbon in his hand that was connected to his sword, yanking it out of the man, making sure he fell face-first to the ground.

  The man lay squirming on the ground. Rederick calmly pulled the sword back into his grasp and wiped it clean with the ribbon, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows for any remaining threats.

  With a simple walk, Rederick closed the distance, his shadow falling over the man. Blood trickled from the man’s mouth as he struggled to lift himself onto his knees, trembling but determined.

  ’Please... don’t, we had orders.’ the man whispered, his voice desperate.

  Rederick’s face remained emotionless, a cold void of mercy. Without a word, he heaft his sword back, the blade catching the faint light, and drove it cleanly into the man’s skull.

  The man crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Rederick withdrew his blade, wiped it on his cloak, and straightened, surveying his surroundings.

  Two men emerged from the alleys, one to the left, one to the right, both with daggers drawn. ’So, who’s next?’ Rederick said, his sword shifting between them. His voice dripping with a mix of mockery and challenge.

  The two men advanced on him, closing in without a word.

  ’Impressive trap.’ Rederick tried to sound like Albaras. ’Let me kill your friend so you can flank me. Clever. But will it be enough?’ He dared them, challenged them, and readied himself for the fight.

  The men exchanged glances, nodded simultaneously, and continued closing in on Rederick.

  What am I going to do? I’m not ready for this. Rederick looked for an opening to flee. One man down, two to go. He tried to step back, eyes darting between them, but they moved in sync, always keeping one hidden behind Rederick.

  Then let’s take out at least one, he thought. With no other choice, he lunged forward without warning. In the blink of an eye, he was upon the man in front of him. His sword sliced through the air, landing with a swift stab to the man’s neck.

  The man crumpled to the ground faster than Rederick had expected.

  Turning around to face the last assailant, Rederick saw nothing at first. Then his gaze fell to the body of the man, an arrow lodged in his skull. Rederick’s eyes widened in surprise as he scanned for the shooter. A fleeting shadow moved through the dimness, a small form he instinctively recognized as me.

  I emerged from the shadows, gripping my bow tightly. My breath felt ragged, matching the rhythm of my pulse. My eyes locked on the man’s body, and it felt like time slowed. My body moved with each breath, steady and sure.

  Rederick hurried over, placing a hand on my shoulder and guiding me away from the unsettling scene. He knelt beside me. My hands were shaking; I couldn’t tell if it was from pride or shame over the life I had just taken.

  “Slowly now,” Rederick soothed, his voice calm. “Breathe in deeply... hold it... now exhale slowly... and repeat.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  I followed Rederick’s steady instructions, my breath gradually slowing but still tinged with anxiety. Rederick gently took my hand, placing his other hand on my head, and I could feel the tension slowly ebbing away.

  ’You’re okay, kid.’ Rederick said, offering a faint smile while saying that at least his eyes had life in them again. This was how I remembered him from when he woke me from my nightmare. ’Let’s head to the stables.’ He tried to let my mind focus on something else. It did help. He led the way, still holding my hand, we walked toward the stables.

  Albaras strode down a hall lined with intricate wooden carvings, each depicting ancient battles fought atop the walls, The village the bridges. The artwork depicted fierce clashes, soldiers clashing with swords beneath banners torn by the winds of war.

  On either side of him, towering guards marched with an air of indomitable strength. They were clad in heavy armor and armed with a halberd, a pavise shield emblazoned with the emblem of a mighty castle and a mace crowned with a likeness of a tower’s battlement. Each one moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine, their presence as indestructible as the castle they resembled.

  Between the woodcarvings that lined the walls, weapons hung in silent vigil, bastard swords, crossbows, and other instruments of war, each a reminder of battles fought long ago. Their presence added to the solemn air, the weight of history hanging in the hall as Albaras made his way toward his destination. The quiet seemed to press in around him, and with every step, the corridor felt like a living thing, breathing the legacy of strength and conflict into the very stone beneath his feet.

  Approaching the end of the hall, Albaras paused before an ornate door, engraved with the ancient runes of the Draki, rumored descendants of half-dragons. He studied the intricate carvings as the guards beside him pushed the door open. Entering, Albaras couldn’t help but continue his inspection. ’Still magnificent,’ he said aloud, his voice carrying through the room.

  His eyes swept over the space. Eight individuals gathered within, four guards stationed like sentinels in each corner. At the head of the table sat a man, flanked by two others at its corners. Another stood nearby. As Albaras entered, all eyes turned to him.

  I come here often,’ he said with enthusiasm. ’But it’s still every time just magnificent to be here.’

  The others, recognizing him, moved aside, clearing the space. Only the men at the head of the table and the guards remained, a silent reminder of the formality of the gathering.

  ’I always admire your hall.’ Albaras remarked respectfully with a lowered voice to the seated man.

  The man nodded briefly and commanded. ‘You can leave now,’ his gaze shifting toward the guards. With solemn nods, they began to clear out, closing the heavy door behind them. Albaras followed their movements, watching as the room emptied.

  Alone, Albaras and the man exchanged a steady gaze. The man slowly rose from his intricately carved wooden chair, its surface adorned with a vertical pattern that bordered a castle motif. Below, the emblem of the castle was sharply divided, a symbol of authority earned not through lineage, but by democratic consensus among the region’s nobles, a mark of revered legitimacy.

  ’Did you take care of it, or do I need to intervene?’ The man’s words were drawn out, each word, each syllable deliberate and measured, casting an intimidating shadow over the room as he sharply inquired.

  Albaras hesitated for a moment before responding, his tone gleeful. ’Well, I... buried them, well most of them. Managed to secure an oath from one of the twins, so that’s that.’

  ’You were meant to kill them,’ the man stated flatly. His voice as cold as ice, drawing out his words with deliberate emphasis. “This is unsatisfactory.” Leaning forward, elbows resting on the smooth oak surface, his hand was raised before his face in a thoughtful pose, as if deep in contemplation. A palpable air of disappointment and concern hung about him, casting a solemn aura over the room. ’What will their father think of this?’ he mused aloud, before swiftly adding, “There is only one way to fix this. Make sure he stays low, and I’ll tell the court they died protecting the border against a fiend.”

  ’You do as you wish,’ replied Albaras with a nod.

  The man extended his hand toward the door, his gesture calm yet final. ’You can go.’

  ’And Albie.’ He added, his tone unchanging. ’You will owe me.’

  Albaras met his gaze steadily. ’I will remember,’ he said, his voice sharp and unwavering, leaving no room for debate.

  With that, Albaras opened the door, revealing the two guards who had escorted him. They fell in step behind him as he exited, leaving the other members of the room to their deliberations.

  Meanwhile, the man in the chair shifted his attention to a wooden carving on the ceiling, his gaze lingering on it as if lost in thought.

  ’Hopefully, there’s more room to mark our victories.’ He murmured, almost to himself. His fingers traced the armrests of his chair before he stood, walking toward the window to peer out into the distance. What will the future bring? Will it be one of triumph or would it all end swiftly like so many lives.

  Albaras had intended to head towards the village but spotted Rederick and Kian already making their way towards the castle.

  ‘Well, that looks fantastic, boy,’ Albaras greeted, eyeing the new cloak.’You can always trust the rainbow, huh?’

  Smiling beneath the rags. ’Yeah, he really made something special out of it.’

  Rederick looked up, his expression thoughtful as he recounted, “We were attacked by three men. Kian took down one with his bow, and I dealt with the other two.”

  Albaras gave a small chuckle, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Did they have anything on them?”

  ’Not much.’ Rederick replied, holding out a dagger with a swirling pattern on its blade. ’Just this piece I picked up from one of them. Looks like it could be valuable, or at least interesting.’

  As they traveled across the bridge, a plume of smoke rose in the distance, drawing Albaras′ attention. “That looks promising,” he said enthusiastically, his curiosity piqued.

  Rederick followed Albaras′ gaze, his brow furrowing. ’No, no,’ he said firmly, shaking his head. ’We are going now.’

  Albaras opened his mouth to argue but then caught the quiet scrutiny in Kian’s eyes from the corner of his vision. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked between the two of them, their resolve clear. With a reluctant nod. ’Alright. We’ll head back home.’

  On their way home, they traveled through Drech, a land renowned for its sprawling mines nestled alongside small villages. The air was thick with the sharp scent of metal, something raw and undeniable. The smell seemed to coat everything, from the rusted tools in the market to the very earth beneath their feet.

  Curious, I turned to Albaras and asked, “Why does it smell like this everywhere?”

  He glanced around, his eyes scanning the iron-laden landscape. ’They make armor for the hunters and the Empirium here. In other regions, they call it the ‘Land of Iron’ because of it.

  After a long journey, they saw the border from Drech to the hunters’ territory. The change was immediate and striking, where the land had once been scorched and barren, it now bloomed with vibrant green fields and towering trees, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze. The absence of towers and buildings made the scene feel even more open and untouched, as if nature itself had reclaimed this space.

  As they passed, a few border guards from Drech approached, inquiring about their mission and offering provisions.

  The guards, long accustomed to the hunters’ dangerous excursions and the toll they took, had made it a tradition to offer food or wine as a gesture of respect. They had seen countless wounded hunters return. Their comrades were honored in solemn memorials, a quiet tribute to the lives lost and the burden carried.

  The trio thanked the guards, exchanging brief words of gratitude before riding across the border and heading home.