The villagers insisted on giving them food.
Kael tried to refuse at first, but their eyes were filled with sincere gratitude. In the end, he accepted—not for himself, but for them. Letting them give something made them feel less helpless.
Ryn noticed it.
"You think about things most fighters don't," he said as they walked away with a small bundle of bread and dried meat.
Kael didn't respond right away.
"I don't want people to feel like they owe me," he said. "I want them to feel safe."
Ryn smirked. "That's more dangerous than fear."
They followed the dirt road toward the hills. The sky slowly darkened, clouds rolling in. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.
"Those men earlier," Ryn said. "They weren't real soldiers."
"I know," Kael replied. "But they wore the kingdom's armor."
"That means something worse," Ryn continued. "People will start blaming the crown."
Kael's jaw tightened.
"So my father's shadow is already chasing me."
They stopped near an abandoned watchtower to rest. Kael sat on a fallen stone, staring at the horizon.
"For years, I thought the throne was everything," he said quietly. "But after leaving… I realized something."
Ryn listened.
"The crown doesn't make a king," Kael continued. "The people do."
A memory of the villagers bowing flashed in his mind.
"They didn't kneel because they were afraid," he said. "They knelt because they were thankful."
Ryn folded his arms. "And that scared you."
"Yes."
Ryn laughed softly. "Good. Leaders who aren't afraid of responsibility shouldn't lead."
Kael looked at him.
"I don't want people to follow me just because I'm strong," Kael said. "I want them to stay even when I'm weak."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Ryn spoke, serious now.
"Then you need more than fists. You need a place. A name. Something people can gather around."
Kael closed his eyes.
A base.
A group.
A future.
"Then we start with something small," Kael said. "One place where people like us can stand."
Ryn smiled. "A beginning."
Far away, deep inside the royal capital, reports were beginning to pile on a king's desk.
A boy.
A fighter.
A leader.
The road Kael walked was no longer empty.
And the storm that would decide the fate of the kingdom had begun to form.
(To be continued)