Part II: Broken Trails
The cold bit at Alexander's cheeks as his boots crushed through the damp underbrush.
Suddenly, marauders sprang from the shadows, but Alexander's guards were already in motion — swift and deadly as night itself. Within moments, groans and silence marked the fallen.
Kneeling beside a coughing bandit, Alexander's voice was a blade.
"Has anyone passed this way recently?"
The man's eyes darted, terror-stricken. "No one. Not for days, I swear."
A bitter smile curled Alexander's lips. The trail had gone cold — they'd been chasing ghosts into enemy lands.
"They fled south," he growled. "To Lumen — where the High Knights hold court, and where we wanted Nex sold."
His jaw tightened. The hunt had become a trap.
"Prepare to move," he ordered his guards. "We must find Servus before the governor does."
A dark chuckle escaped him. "Send word to Abigail. Tell her… we were both chasing wild pigs."
The laughter was sharp, bitter — but beneath it, a seed of truth: alone, they were doomed. Together, they might yet survive.
Further east, where Loa led the bounty hunters north on Princess Abigail's orders—against his own instincts as a seasoned hunter—a carrier pigeon swooped down and landed gracefully on Abigail's shoulder, trained to find her no matter the distance.
She unrolled the tiny parchment and read the message from Alexander.
At first, she sighed in frustration, muttering, "How could such a fool be born from the same womb as me?" But then, she reined in her horse, halting its stride, her brow furrowing deeper.
Could Nex have really outwitted me again?
He had bested her once during the duel—and again at the lake. Sure, she had underestimated him then. But at the camp, she had him cornered, contained. She stripped him of hope, drove his allies far from him, isolating him so he couldn't plot. Yet he still escaped.
"What if he's right?" she whispered, her voice low. What if I underestimated him again? What if Nex laid a false trail to the north—counting on me to follow it like a dog chasing a bone?"
"You." She turned to her Imperial Guard. "What's your name?"
"Bastion, Your Majesty. Awaiting your orders." She had spent twenty days and more with this guard yet never asked his name. Something in her was changing
"Ride ahead and find Loa. Tell him to cease the search—for now. And make haste back to me."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
Abigail returned to biting her nails, lost in thought. If Nex really makes it to Lumen, she mused, she and Alexander might be doomed. Forget the succession war—they could very well lose their heads, just as Alexander had once warned.
A sudden breeze swept down the back of her neck, sending an involuntary shiver through her. She straightened, collecting herself, and waited in tense silence for Loa to arrive.
Abigail let the silence settle around her, though her mind refused to follow.
If Nex reaches Lumen...
The sound of approaching hooves broke her trance.
She looked up as Bastion rode in with Loa close behind. The hunter's eyes found hers instantly—sharp, assessing.
Without ceremony, he dismounted.
"You called, Your Majesty."
"Tell me," Abigail said, her tone cutting through the dark like a blade. "With your years of tracking—of hunting people for coin—are we following a dead trail?"
Loa didn't answer right away.
He could have. A lie would be easy. If they kept heading north, she'd tire of the chase eventually, and his pay would come all the same.
But a lie wouldn't sit right. Not with the weight of his name behind it. His reputation wasn't built on charm or diplomacy—it was built on results. On never missing.
And now, with her eyes locked on him, waiting, he knew the answer had to be the truth.
His silence said enough.
Abigail understood immediately. Without missing a beat, she asked, "Where did they head, hunter?"
Loa looked to the southeast.
"That way, Your Majesty," he said. "If we ride hard, we'll reach a village to the southeast. From there, the trail curves south. It's close to Lumen. I'd wager they plan to take a carriage out of the city."
Loa said nothing more. He didn't need to.
He had seen the heel-scrape earlier, the shifted bark on a tree—instincts screaming east, not north. But back then, it wasn't his hunt. It was Abigail's. Orders were easy to follow when they weren't yours to question.
But now she had asked him.
Now, the burden of being right—or wrong—was his.
Still, something gnawed at him. If he found or the boy or not, he'd get paid. But if the boy outplayed him?
There'd be no name left to protect.
Far to the southeast, the forest thinned, giving way to a quiet village nestled in a cradle of hills.
Tazan staggered out of the trees, his muscles burning, the infant pressed close to his chest. His feet found the edge of the village path just as the last lanterns flickered into view.
And then—movement.
A figure leaned against the well at the center of the square, arms crossed, eyes sharp beneath a hood.
Actaeon.
He stepped forward, no words needed. The relief in his eyes was buried under exhaustion and tension—but it was there.
Actaeon handed Tazan a pouch of water as they made their way toward a small shelter—offered earlier by one of the village elders.
Without a word, Actaeon gently lifted the infant from Tazan's chest to let him breathe and walk unburdened.
"We can't stay long," he said as he led the way toward the cabin. "We can't gamble on Loa blindly following the princess's orders. We eat, we drink, then we ride for Lumen."
Thud.
Actaeon spun around—just in time to see Tazan collapse, face-first into the dirt.
The axe clattered beside him. His limbs didn't move.
Actaeon's gaze dropped to Tazan's feet—raw and bloody, skin peeled away from the soles. The man had run from the camp without pause, carrying an axe, the infant, and even a pouch of goat's milk.
No rest. No break. Just purpose.
Actaeon knelt beside him, brushing dirt from Tazan's face.
"You idiot," he muttered, voice low. Then, more softly,
"You should've taken a break."
Tazan didn't respond. He was breathing—slow, heavy—but completely unconscious.
Actaeon looked down at him, really looked. The man was massive—easily the size of three grown soldiers. His muscles, usually taut with control, were now slack with exhaustion. And Actaeon, lean and wiry, barely stood taller than Tazan's chest.
He glanced at the swaddled infant still tucked in his arms. Priorities.
He turned, strode to the cabin, and gently laid the child on a folded blanket near the hearth. The fire cracked softly, casting long shadows on the walls.
Then he returned outside.
He tried—truly tried—to lift Tazan.
He got one arm around his shoulder, braced his legs, and heaved.
Nothing.
Tazan didn't budge.
Actaeon grunted, breath catching in frustration. He tried again, shifting his stance, but the man's sheer weight and dead stillness made it impossible.
Finally, Actaeon dropped to a crouch beside him and sighed.
"Fine," he muttered. "Sleep under the stars, mountain."
He grabbed a thick wool cloak from the cabin, draped it over Tazan's back, and sat beside him, watching the treetops sway in the night wind.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then, under his breath:
"You carried all of us. Let the world carry you—for once."
The night air settled heavy over the forest, the flicker of stars barely piercing the dark canopy. Actaeon sat silently beside the sleeping giant, the weight of unspoken fears pressing between them like the shadows around.
Far from the quiet woods, in the heart of Lumen, the city's pulse beat steady beneath flickering lantern light.
Nex paused at the edge of a quiet street, his eyes settling on the modest manor ahead.
Unlike the grand estates lining the upper district, this home was humble—wooden beams weathered by time, a small garden patch struggling against the cobblestones.
It looked less like a seat of power and more like the residence of a minor noble, or perhaps a retired knight.
Sao noticed Nex's gaze lingering on the modest facade and smirked. "I know what you're thinking—looks like a fallen noble's house, doesn't it? But this is the home of the strongest noble in the empire."
As Nex was escorted inside, the Dark Knights returned silently to their posts outside the small manor, their armor gleaming faintly in the fading light.
The heavy wooden door creaked shut behind them, sealing Nex within the quiet, shadowed halls of power.
What happens next within these walls will decide whether Nex claims his rightful place—or vanishes into the shadows forever.