The forest had finally fallen silent.
Not the peaceful silence Soma remembered from the journey toward Haven Port. That had been filled with birdsong, rustling leaves, and the gentle rhythm of carriage wheels against the road.
This silence was different.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
The sort of quiet that arrived when everyone was waiting for something terrible to happen next.
Soma sat inside the damaged carriage, staring at his hands.
The blood had begun to dry.
Some of it was red.
Some of it was gold.
And the difference between the two was considerably more disturbing than he wanted to admit.
Samantha sat beside him, pressing a folded cloth against his wounded side. Her own leg was stretched awkwardly across the opposite seat, the arrow still protruding from her thigh beneath a hastily secured bandage.
She had refused to let anyone tend to her until Soma's wound was covered.
He found that infuriating.
"Sam."
"Hold still."
"You're bleeding."
"So are you."
"Yes, but mine apparently comes with premium decorative features."
Samantha paused.
Despite everything, a reluctant smile touched her lips.
"Soma..."
"I'm serious. Does this make me worth more at the market? Because I feel like that's the sort of thing Father should include in the family accounts."
"Please stop talking."
"That's an unreasonable request."
Her smile disappeared as she adjusted the bandage.
Soma winced.
"Ow."
"Sorry."
"It's fine."
"No, it isn't."
Her voice cracked.
Soma looked up.
Samantha was staring at the bloodstained cloth, her expression tight with an emotion he couldn't quite identify.
Fear.
Anger.
Perhaps both.
"You should never have been outside that carriage," she whispered.
He looked away.
"I know."
"You could have died."
"I know."
"I told you to stay inside."
"And the man with the sword was about to kill you."
She froze.
Soma swallowed.
His hands began trembling again.
"I saw him coming, Sam. You were hurt, and he was right behind you. There wasn't time to think."
Samantha's fingers tightened around the cloth.
"Then you should have shouted."
"I did."
"You should have called for help."
"I did that too."
"Soma—"
"What was I supposed to do?"
The question came out sharper than he'd intended.
He immediately regretted it.
Samantha stared at him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then she reached across the seat and gently took his hand.
"I don't know," she admitted.
That frightened him more than another lecture would have.
Samantha always seemed to know what to do.
She knew how to calm him when he was frustrated, how to talk him out of dangerous ideas, and precisely how many pastries it took to make Igor stop complaining.
But now she looked as lost as he felt.
Soma lowered his gaze.
"I killed him."
The words seemed to change the air between them.
Samantha didn't pretend not to understand.
"I know."
"I felt it."
His throat tightened.
"When the sword went in, I felt... everything. And then he just stopped moving."
He stared at his hands.
"I've practiced that thrust hundreds of times. Igor corrected my grip, my stance, the angle of the blade. I knew exactly what I was supposed to do."
His voice grew quieter.
"I didn't know what it would feel like."
Samantha moved closer, carefully avoiding her injured leg.
"Soma, look at me."
He hesitated.
"Please."
He raised his eyes.
"That man was trying to kill us," she said. "You didn't go looking for him. You didn't hurt him because you wanted to. You acted because you believed I was going to die."
"Does that make it easier?"
"No."
The honesty caught him off guard.
Samantha brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead.
"Not always."
He leaned against her shoulder.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Outside, the wounded bandit began screaming again.
"MY ARSE! SOMEONE HELP MY BLOODY ARSE!"
Soma closed his eyes.
Then, despite himself, let out a weak laugh.
"Well, at least somebody's having a worse afternoon."
Samantha covered her mouth.
A strangled sound escaped her.
"That is a terrible thing to say."
"I know."
They both started laughing.
Quietly at first.
Then helplessly.
And for a few precious seconds, the horror outside the carriage loosened its grip.
Kara had taken command of the surviving escort.
The dwarf moved between the carriages with her enormous hammer resting against one shoulder, directing the knights as they searched the roadside and recovered their equipment.
The five Vanguard soldiers had survived, though two bore minor wounds from arrows and glancing blows.
Their discipline had made the difference.
The bandits had attacked with numbers and surprise.
The Vanguard had answered with shields, steel, and years of experience.
Now the attackers lay scattered across the forest road.
Kara surveyed the bodies with a grim expression.
"Search them. Weapons, coins, insignias, correspondence. If one of these bastards wrote his mother's birthday down, I want to know about it."
One knight nodded.
"Yes, Master Kara."
"And don't wander off into the trees alone. If they've got friends hiding nearby, I don't intend to lose somebody because he got curious."
Her gaze moved toward the damaged middle carriage.
The door remained shut.
Good.
The less anyone saw of Soma, the better.
She turned toward the captive bandit lying facedown beside a wagon.
An arrow protruded from his backside.
The man was sobbing.
"Please! Somebody take it out!"
The Vanguard archer stood over him.
"Keep screaming and you'll attract Saber-Kin."
"I DON'T CARE!"
"You will when one starts chewing on your other cheek."
Kara rubbed her forehead.
"Gods preserve me."
She crouched beside the prisoner.
"Listen carefully, you miserable little shit. You're alive because the captain may want answers. Keep making noise and I'll gag you until we reach Highmere."
The bandit whimpered.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good."
She stood.
Then paused.
"Also, for the record, that's the funniest damned place I've ever seen an arrow land."
The archer snorted.
The prisoner began crying harder.
Nearly half an hour passed before the forest stirred.
The Vanguard immediately abandoned their work.
"Movement!" one knight called.
Shields rose.
Swords came free of their scabbards.
Kara stepped forward, gripping her hammer with both hands.
Branches snapped somewhere beyond the road.
A heavy dragging sound followed.
Then an irritated voice erupted from the trees.
"WOULD ONE OF YOU USELESS BASTARDS COME GIVE ME A HAND?"
Kara exhaled.
"Jaspar."
The captain emerged from the undergrowth, his cloak torn and his armor streaked with mud.
Behind him dragged the enormous body of the bandit leader.
The man's boots carved two long grooves through the dirt.
Jaspar stopped at the roadside.
"For fuck's sake. He must've been eating whole cows."
Two knights rushed forward to help.
Together, they hauled the corpse into the clearing.
The leader's chest bore a deep wound, and his neck rested at an unnatural angle.
He would never tell anyone what he'd seen.
Jaspar released the body and straightened slowly.
His breathing was controlled, but the strain around his damaged eye was unmistakable.
Kara approached.
"Well?"
"He's dead."
"I gathered that."
"He made it farther than I expected. Bastard knew the forest."
"Did he speak?"
Jaspar glanced toward the carriages.
"Enough."
Kara's expression darkened.
"How much did he know?"
"He knew what he saw."
"That's not what I asked."
"It's all I'm willing to discuss out here."
The two veterans exchanged a look.
Then Jaspar turned toward the knights.
"Pack everything. Strip the dead of anything useful, document what you find, and prepare the bodies for burning."
One soldier hesitated.
"Captain, shouldn't we leave the corpses for the city investigators?"
"We've recorded the scene, and we have a prisoner. I'm not leaving fresh bodies for scavengers or some necromancer to find."
His voice hardened.
"We're abandoning the expedition."
Kara nodded.
"Back to Highmere?"
"Immediately."
Soma heard the commotion and pushed open the carriage door.
Jaspar turned.
His expression tightened when he saw the boy standing there.
"Get back inside."
Soma hesitated.
"Captain—"
"That wasn't a suggestion."
Soma remained beside the doorway.
"Did you catch him?"
Jaspar looked toward the corpse.
"Yes."
"Did he tell you anything?"
"Not enough."
Soma studied the captain's face.
Jaspar looked exhausted.
Not physically—although dragging a large corpse through half a mile of forest couldn't have been pleasant—but in a way Soma recognized from certain soldiers who visited his father's office.
The exhaustion of someone confronting consequences he couldn't entirely control.
"Are we still going to Haven Port?" Soma asked.
Jaspar stared at him.
"Boy, are you out of your damned mind?"
"It was a reasonable question."
"We've been ambushed, you've been stabbed, your maid's got an arrow in her leg, and half the road smells like a slaughterhouse. What part of that sounds like a good day for sightseeing?"
Soma considered the argument.
"Admittedly, the itinerary has experienced some setbacks."
Kara barked a laugh.
Jaspar closed his eyes.
"Gods help me."
Soma's expression sobered.
"Captain, I understand we're returning. But why the urgency?"
Jaspar opened his eyes.
For a moment, he seemed to consider dismissing the question.
Then he stepped closer.
"Because something happened today that could put your entire family in danger."
Soma felt a chill.
"My blood."
Jaspar said nothing.
That was answer enough.
The surviving bandit was bound and loaded into the rear carriage, where two knights were assigned to watch him.
He protested the arrangement loudly.
"YOU CAN'T MAKE ME SIT DOWN!"
The archer looked at him.
"Would you prefer to stand for the next three hours?"
"YES!"
"Then perhaps you should've considered that before trying to rob an archduke's convoy."
Kara passed them carrying a bundle of confiscated weapons.
"Stop tormenting the prisoner."
The archer straightened.
"Yes, ma'am."
She glanced at the bandit.
"He's already got enough problems behind him."
The archer nearly collapsed laughing.
Even one of the shieldmen snorted.
Jaspar heard the commotion and looked toward the sky.
"I am surrounded by idiots."
Soma, being helped into the middle carriage by Samantha, smiled faintly.
"At least you fit in."
Jaspar pointed at him.
"One more word, boy."
Soma mimed fastening his lips shut.
It lasted approximately eight seconds.
"Captain?"
Jaspar groaned.
"What?"
"Can Samantha see a healer before we leave?"
That silenced him.
The veteran looked at Samantha's injured leg.
Her face had grown pale, though she was clearly doing her best to conceal the pain.
Jaspar's expression shifted.
"You're right."
He turned toward Kara.
"Medical supplies. Now."
They could not remove the arrow safely in the field.
Kara examined the wound, checked circulation and movement below it, and replaced the soaked dressing with a more secure bandage.
One of the knights had training in battlefield first aid, and together they stabilized Samantha's leg for travel.
Soma watched every movement.
"Will she be all right?"
"Probably," Kara replied.
"Probably?"
"It's a leg wound, not a prophecy. We need a healer to examine it properly."
Soma frowned.
"That's not particularly reassuring."
"Would you prefer I lie?"
"No."
"Then there's your answer."
She checked the bandage around his side next.
The cloth was stained gold.
Kara's expression tightened.
She immediately covered it with a darker dressing.
"Do not remove this unless a trusted healer tells you to."
Soma looked at her.
"Because of the blood?"
"Because of the blood."
He nodded.
The dwarf lowered her voice.
"Listen, lad. Whatever this means, it's bigger than anything you or I can settle on the side of a road."
Soma glanced toward Samantha.
"Then we'll settle it when we get home."
Kara gave him a small smile.
"That's the idea."
The return journey was miserable.
The carriages traveled faster than before, bouncing over ruts and uneven stones as the drivers pushed their horses toward Highmere.
Jaspar rode with Soma and Samantha, accompanied by a heavily armored shieldman.
No one seemed interested in conversation.
At first, Soma tried watching the forest through the window.
But every unusual shadow made his stomach tighten.
Every sudden noise brought back the sound of the carriage door being torn open.
Eventually, he stopped looking outside.
He stared at his hands instead.
Samantha noticed.
She reached over and gently covered them with hers.
Soma looked up.
"You should be resting."
"So should you."
"I'm not tired."
"That's a lie."
He managed a small smile.
"You're getting very good at identifying those."
"I've had ten years of practice."
Jaspar watched them from across the carriage.
For a while, he said nothing.
Then he spoke.
"Soma."
The boy turned.
"Yes, Captain?"
"How many men did you kill today?"
The question struck him like a blow.
Samantha stiffened.
"Captain—"
"One," Soma answered quietly.
Jaspar nodded.
"And why?"
Soma swallowed.
"He was trying to kill Samantha."
"Did you have another option?"
"I don't know."
"Good."
Soma looked up sharply.
"Good?"
"Good that you don't know."
Jaspar leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
"Men who start convincing themselves every kill was necessary can become dangerous. Sometimes there really isn't another choice. Sometimes there is, and you don't see it until afterward."
Soma listened.
"That doesn't mean you freeze the next time someone threatens your life. It means you learn from what happened."
The captain's expression remained stern.
"Ask yourself what you missed. What you could've done earlier. Whether you could've escaped. Whether you could've protected someone without getting close enough to use a blade."
Soma looked down.
He remembered the bandit emerging from the trees.
Samantha injured.
His own reckless movement.
The sword cutting his side.
"I should've noticed him sooner," Soma whispered.
"Maybe."
"I should've stayed in the carriage."
"Maybe."
"I should've—"
"Stop."
Jaspar's voice cut through his thoughts.
"You can spend the rest of your life inventing perfect decisions for a battle that's already over. Won't change what happened."
Soma looked toward him.
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"Learn. Train. Get stronger. But don't confuse getting stronger with becoming invincible."
He nodded toward Samantha.
"She fought to protect you. The knights did their jobs. Kara held the line. I handled the leader. You acted when someone you cared about was in danger."
Jaspar paused.
"That's how people survive. Not because one person can do everything."
Soma stared at the floor.
The words were uncomfortable.
He wanted to be strong enough that Samantha would never have to risk her life for him again.
But he couldn't deny what had happened.
He had survived because other people were willing to fight.
And some of those people had nearly died.
For him.
They reached Highmere shortly before sunset.
The great white walls rose beneath the orange sky, their towers casting long shadows across the fields.
As the convoy approached, the gate guards recognized the Locke crest and hurried to clear the road.
Jaspar leaned toward the window.
"Straight to the estate. No stops."
The driver acknowledged him.
The carriages thundered through the capital.
Soma glimpsed the familiar streets, but they no longer looked quite the same.
He remembered the laborers and children he'd seen that morning.
The rough roads.
The narrow homes.
The people struggling to survive only a short distance from the wealthiest neighborhoods in the kingdom.
That had been yesterday's lesson.
Today's was considerably harder.
It was one thing to understand that people risked their lives.
Another to feel a blade enter someone's throat.
He closed his eyes.
The memory remained.
The estate gates opened before the convoy.
Jaspar didn't wait for the carriages to stop completely.
He jumped from the moving vehicle, hit the cobblestones at a run, and sprinted toward the main residence.
Soma watched him disappear.
"Where's he going?"
Kara appeared beside the carriage.
"To report to your father."
"Shouldn't I come?"
"Not yet."
She helped Samantha down, carefully supporting her injured leg.
"Both of you are going straight to the medical wing."
Nearby, the captive bandit was being dragged from the rear carriage.
He landed on his backside.
His scream echoed across the courtyard.
"YOU SADISTIC BASTARDS!"
The Vanguard archer winced.
"Should've lowered him more gently."
Kara looked at the prisoner.
"At this point, I think his arse has filed a complaint with the crown."
Soma laughed despite himself.
Then immediately regretted it when the movement pulled at his wounded side.
"Ow."
Kara pointed toward the medical wing.
"That's what you get. Move."
The Locke medical ward smelled of clean linen, antiseptic herbs, and faint alchemical vapor.
Soma had visited before for minor injuries, but never under circumstances that required three healers and a locked door.
The head physician examined his wound carefully.
The moment the stained bandage came free, the healer froze.
Golden blood glimmered beneath the enchanted lights.
"By the Pantheons..."
Kara stepped closer.
"Not a word."
The physician looked at her.
"Master Kara, this is—"
"I know what it is."
Soma watched them.
"Well, that makes one of us."
The physician swallowed.
Then continued his examination.
Fortunately, the wound had missed anything vital. It required cleaning, several stitches, and a healing treatment to prevent infection.
Soma endured the procedure with clenched teeth.
Samantha, meanwhile, required more extensive care.
The arrow was removed under the physician's supervision, and the healers carefully examined the surrounding tissue before closing the wound.
Soma insisted on waiting nearby.
No one managed to convince him otherwise.
When Samantha finally emerged from treatment, pale but smiling, he nearly collapsed with relief.
"You're all right."
"Of course."
"That's not what Kara said."
"Kara is a blacksmith. Her bedside manner could use some polishing."
Soma laughed softly.
Then hugged her.
Carefully.
Very carefully.
She wrapped her arms around him.
And held on.
They had barely finished changing into clean clothes when the ward doors opened.
A tall man entered wearing a tailored charcoal suit, his silver-streaked hair combed neatly back. A polished monocle rested over one eye.
Butler Gerald.
Soma straightened.
"Gerald."
"Young master."
The butler bowed.
His movements were as precise as ever, though Soma noticed an unusual tension in his shoulders.
"Your father requests your presence in the situation room immediately."
Soma glanced toward Samantha.
"Both of us?"
"Yes."
Gerald hesitated.
"Captain Jaspar has already briefed the Supreme Archduke and His Majesty. Several additional officials have been summoned."
Soma felt his stomach tighten.
"Officials?"
"From the military and royal administration."
Gerald's expression remained professionally neutral.
"Young master, I must ask that you recount everything you remember with complete accuracy."
Soma nodded.
"I will."
The butler turned toward the door.
"Then please follow me."
The situation room occupied a secluded section of Locke Manor reserved for emergencies and sensitive affairs of state.
Soma had entered it only a handful of times.
Usually, he accompanied Preston during discussions concerning trade agreements or administrative matters.
Tonight was different.
The enormous mahogany doors stood open, guarded by two armored Vanguard knights.
Inside, a long polished table dominated the room.
At its head sat the king.
Preston occupied the chair beside him.
Jaspar stood near the windows with Kara, while several officials and high-ranking military officers studied documents spread across the table.
The atmosphere was grim.
When Soma entered, his father's expression changed.
For the briefest instant, the Supreme Archduke disappeared.
Only a frightened father remained.
He rose immediately.
"Soma."
Soma approached.
Preston knelt and carefully pulled him into an embrace, avoiding his bandaged side.
"Thank the gods."
Soma wrapped his arms around his father.
"I'm all right."
"I know."
Preston held him a moment longer.
Then released him and straightened.
The Archduke returned.
"Samantha, I'm grateful you're safe as well."
She bowed.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
The king gestured toward two chairs.
"Please sit."
Soma obeyed.
His gaze traveled around the room.
Several officers looked concerned.
One appeared angry.
Jaspar stood with his arms folded, watching everyone in silence.
The king leaned forward.
"Soma, we need you to tell us exactly what happened on the road to Haven Port."
Soma swallowed.
Then began.
He described the forest.
The first arrows.
Jaspar's orders.
Samantha's defense.
The bandit who attacked her.
His own injury.
He paused when he reached the moment he'd killed the man.
Preston noticed.
"You can take your time, son."
Soma nodded.
Then continued.
He described the leader vaulting over the shield wall and Jaspar's intervention.
Finally, he reached the moment he'd noticed his golden blood.
The room grew silent.
When he finished, the king folded his hands.
"Thank you, Soma."
Soma looked toward his father.
"What's happening?"
Preston exchanged a glance with Jaspar.
Then he turned back.
"The attack was not random."
Soma's stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?"
Jaspar stepped forward and placed a bloodstained piece of parchment on the table.
"I found this on the leader."
The king's expression hardened.
"It contains details concerning your departure from Highmere."
Soma stared at the parchment.
"That doesn't make sense."
"No," Preston replied. "It doesn't."
He rested both hands against the polished table.
"Only a handful of people knew the exact arrangements for your journey."
Soma looked from his father to the king.
Then toward Samantha.
Her face had grown pale.
Preston took a slow breath.
"Someone provided information to the people who attacked your convoy."
For a moment, Soma heard nothing but the faint crackling of the fireplace.
The bandits.
The arrows.
The dead man.
Samantha's injury.
His golden blood.
And now this.
Someone had known where they were going.
Someone had known when they would leave.
Someone close enough to House Locke to learn those details.
Soma looked at his father.
"You're saying someone helped them?"
Preston's voice was quiet.
"Yes."
The king leaned forward.
"And until we know who that person is, we must assume the danger hasn't passed."
Soma stared at the parchment.
For the first time that day, the memory of the man he'd killed was displaced by another, colder fear.
The enemy might not be hiding in the forest.
The enemy might already be inside his home.