The hunters had retreated before sunrise.
Their bodies lay scattered in the mud outside the tower, proof that Kael was no longer alone.
Inside, the villagers sat quietly, staring at the blood on Kael's hands. Their faces were pale, their hands trembling.
"I… I didn't know it would be like this," the woman whispered.
Kael knelt in front of her, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face.
"This is what following me means," he said quietly. "Danger. Fear. death. Every step we take, every choice we make… it could cost us everything."
She swallowed hard, looking down at the floor.
"But you protected us."
Ryn leaned against the wall, wiping rain and mud from his sword.
"And he will again. But you have to understand, there's no safety here. Only choice."
Kael stood, gazing at the three villagers who had chosen to stay. They were simple people, not fighters, not soldiers—but they had risked their lives for him.
"If you want to leave, now is the time," Kael said. His voice was calm but firm.
No one moved.
The man with the scraped arm stepped forward, jaw set.
"We've lost everything already. If we die, at least we die standing. If you are leading us, then we follow."
The woman nodded.
Lyra, the youngest, lifted her chin.
"We will stay," she said, voice steady.
One by one, each of them met Kael's eyes. Their choice was clear.
Kael felt something tighten in his chest.
Loyalty.
Not forced. Not out of fear. Not because of money or power.
Real. Hard-earned. Honest.
That night, Kael sat alone on the highest stone step, looking out over the hills. The storm had passed, leaving only the scent of wet earth and the distant cries of birds.
He realized something terrifying.
These people were no longer just survivors.
They were his people.
And people die for kings.
Kael clenched his fists, staring at the dark horizon.
If loyalty was the foundation of leadership, then it came with a price.
And he would pay it.
(To be continued)