Arthur didn't even get one night of peace after surviving the ruin's meltdown. Not ONE. He barely slept an hour before someone was banging on his bedroom door like a hammer possessed by evil spirits.
He rolled out of bed, got tangled in the blanket, fell on the floor, hit his nose on a shoe, and lay there groaning until Leon burst in.
"My lord, you need to wake up right now."
Arthur groaned into the floorboards, "I AM awake. I'm living in agony."
Leon knelt beside him and tried lifting him. "We have a problem."
Arthur's voice came out muffled. "Which problem? The glowing death cave? Giant wolf monster things? Or the chaos beam we accidentally shot at god?"
"None of those," Leon said.
Arthur lifted his face off the floor. "Oh. Then that's great—"
"It's Craymore."
Arthur immediately faceplanted again.
Leon didn't even try to pretend this wasn't awful. "A scout says a group carrying Craymore colors crossed the ridge at dawn. Not soldiers—mercenaries."
Arthur slowly slid his palms across the floor and whispered, "I hate this. I hate this so much."
Leon hauled him upright anyway. "You need to get dressed. And eat something. And stop shaking."
"I'm not shaking because of fear," Arthur said. "I'm shaking because my soul is trying to escape my body."
Leon sighed. "That's still fear."
Arthur groaned again and let himself be dragged down the hall.
Downstairs, the entire manor was in motion. Soldiers rushing in and out, villagers gathering supplies, Evelynn standing in the kitchen giving instructions with the grace of someone who refused to collapse even though she definitely wanted to.
Aeloria stood near the doorway like a marble statue, arms crossed, eyes sharp. She looked like she hadn't slept at all. Her white braid was perfectly in place though, because apparently elves weren't allowed to look disheveled like humans.
She turned her head slightly when she noticed Arthur limping into the room. "Good. You're alive."
Arthur blinked. "Why do people keep saying that like it's a surprise?!
"It is," Aeloria said calmly.
Seraphine sat at the table drinking tea like the world wasn't ending. "You almost died three times in the last two days," she said. "We're all surprised every morning."
Arthur flopped into a chair. "That's mean."
"It's honest."
Ella hurried over with a bowl of warm porridge. "My lord, please eat. You—um—you look very pale."
Arthur stared into the bowl. "That's because all the blood left my body to go stress-cry in a corner."
Ella giggled softly. Seraphine frowned like she didn't approve of giggling. Aeloria looked like she was silently evaluating Arthur's survival chances and updating them to something depressing.
Garran entered last, boots muddy and expression thunderous. "Craymore's mercenaries will reach the west field in two hours, maybe less."
Arthur choked on a spoonful of porridge. "TWO HOURS?! Why is everything always NOW?!"
Garran gave him a dry look. "Because fate hates you."
Arthur wanted to argue but honestly? He agreed.
Leon grabbed a map off the wall and spread it across the table. "We need to fortify the ridge. If we hold that choke point, they won't reach the village."
Arthur squinted at the map. "Wait—doesn't the choke point lead near the ruin entrance?"
Leon paused. "…Yes."
Aeloria raised an eyebrow. "Which means if they push too far, they will find the shrine."
Seraphine slammed her teacup down. "We cannot let Craymore get that relic. If he gets his hands on it—"
Ella gasped quietly. "Will… will something bad happen?"
Aeloria nodded gravely. "Yes. Something very bad."
Arthur thumped his head on the table. "Why do we live next to a magical doomsday hole?! Why couldn't my father leave me something normal like… a pantry? A barn? A chicken farm?!"
Garran gave him a pity pat on the back. "We don't choose our legacies."
Arthur lifted his face, eyes watery. "Then can I return mine?"
"No," Garran said.
Arthur groaned again.
Leon pointed to the map. "My lord. We need you at the ridge. Even if you just stand there and yell. Men fight harder when the baron shows courage."
Arthur stared at him in disbelief. "Leon. I have zero courage. Sub-zero courage. I am courage-negative."
Leon smiled faintly. "But you're still going."
Arthur paused.
Leon was right.
He hated that Leon was right.
But he was right.
Arthur stood up, legs shaky. "Fine. But if I die I'll haunt all of you. Especially Craymore."
Aeloria's lips twitched like she almost smiled. "I'd like to see that."
Ella whispered, "Please don't die…"
Arthur straightened—or tried to—and cleared his throat. "Everyone… gear up. Let's… go get bullied by mercenaries."
Seraphine sighed. "I'll come too. Someone has to stop you from embarrassing your title."
Arthur pointed at her. "Rude! But valid."
They reached the ridge before the mercenaries did. The morning sun filtered through the trees in pale gold streaks, but the air felt tense—waiting, listening.
The ridge path was narrow. Steep drop on one side, forest on the other. Perfect bottleneck. Arthur remembered this place from the wolf attack, except now there were actual war humans coming instead of glowing demon wolves.
Arthur swallowed. "Leon. How many mercenaries did you say?"
Leon scanned the tree line. "Twenty. Maybe more. Well-armed. Paid well, too."
Arthur made a small dying noise.
Garran stood at the front, shield strapped to his arm. "I'll hold the center. Leon takes the right. Your job, baron, is to stay alive behind us."
Arthur nodded rapidly. "Yes. Fantastic plan. Excellent plan."
Aeloria climbed onto a high boulder with the grace of someone climbing stairs. "I will watch for any who try to flank."
Seraphine stood beside Arthur, arms crossed. "If a spear flies at your head, I will push you. Expect bruises."
"That's… kind of you?"
"No, it's for my investment."
Right.
The forest rustled.
Leon tensed. "They're here."
Arthur felt his stomach churn.
Then he saw them—figures emerging between the trees, wearing mismatched armor, wielding axes, swords, and crossbows.
Craymore's mercenaries.
The leader stepped forward, a man with a scar across his chin and a bored look in his eyes. "Lord Grayfall," he drawled. "The Viscount requests your cooperation."
Arthur yelled, voice cracking, "HE CAN REQUEST THESE—" he flailed, "—NUTS!!"
The mercenaries blinked.
Leon stared at Arthur like he had just ascended into madness.
Seraphine pinched the bridge of her nose. "Why…"
The mercenary leader smirked. "So it's like that. Fine."
He raised his arm.
"Take them."
Everything happened at once.
Leon rushed forward, spear flashing. Garran blocked two incoming strikes, pushing back a man twice his size. Aeloria loosed an arrow so fast it looked like she simply willed it into existence. Seraphine surprisingly ducked behind a tree before someone shot at her. Ella screamed when an arrow hit the ground near her boots.
Arthur froze.
He absolutely froze.
Until he saw Leon stumble.
A mercenary swung a huge blade down at Leon, and Leon blocked it, but the force knocked him to one knee.
Arthur yelled, "NO—LEON!!" and without thinking—without planning—without even liking the idea—Arthur sprinted forward.
He grabbed the first thing he could find.
A rock.
Not even a good rock. A terrible rock. A rock that looked like it didn't want to be helpful today.
He ran at the mercenary swinging it like a drunk toddler swinging a hammer.
The mercenary turned—
And Arthur, screaming like a wounded goose, smashed the rock into the guy's helmet.
The man staggered, swore, and Leon instantly seized the moment—plunging his spear into his thigh.
The mercenary collapsed.
Arthur stood there panting, rock in hand, looking like he might cry or throw up or both.
Leon grabbed him by the coat and pulled him back. "My lord! That was insane!"
Arthur shrieked, "I KNOW!!!"
Then an arrow zipped toward them.
Leon shoved Arthur aside—but the arrow clipped Leon's shoulder.
Leon grunted, stumbling backward.
Arthur's heart nearly stopped. "LEON?!"
Aeloria's voice rang out, sharp and furious. "LEFT FLANK!"
She leapt from her rock and slashed through two mercenaries with terrifying precision. Garran knocked another off the ridge entirely.
The fighting dragged on—longer than Arthur thought he could endure.
He threw rocks.
He swung sticks.
At one point he threw a shoe.
He screamed constantly.
He got dirt in his mouth.
He tripped twice.
He hid behind Seraphine when someone aimed at him.
Pure chaos.
But slowly… they pushed the mercenaries back.
One by one.
Until the last man retreated, limping, disappearing into the trees.
Arthur collapsed to his knees, chest heaving.
Leon sat down heavily, gripping his bleeding shoulder.
Ella rushed over with bandages. "Leon! Oh no—oh no—"
Leon smiled weakly. "It's not deep."
Aeloria wiped her blade clean and approached Arthur. "You fought. Poorly. Terribly. Recklessly."
Arthur sniffled. "Thanks…"
"But you fought."
Arthur blinked.
Seraphine added, "You were screaming the whole time."
"I KNOW."
"But you didn't run."
Arthur hiccuped. "I… didn't?"
Leon, wincing in pain, smiled at him. "My lord… you were actually brave."
Arthur felt tears prick his eyes. "I don't want to be brave. I want to be asleep."
Garran approached, patting his shoulder. "You did well, lad. Better than you think."
Arthur covered his face with his hands and groaned.
Then the ground trembled.
The ruin pulsed again—this time with a deeper, darker sound.
Aeloria snapped her head toward it. "Something's changed."
Arthur whimpered, "NO. NO MORE CHANGES. I JUST FOUGHT WITH A ROCK."
Aeloria's expression grew serious. "The relic is calling again."
Arthur fell backwards onto the dirt. "I hate this world…"
Leon laughed quietly. "We know."
The ruin pulsed again.
And Arthur knew—
Tonight wasn't over.
Not even close.