The morning sun creeps through the window of our inn room, painting golden streaks across the wooden floor. I wake to the sound of roosters crowing and children laughing in the square below sounds so simple and peaceful they make my chest feel light. For the first time in months, I do not wake with my hand instinctively reaching for a weapon, sweating, with a heart racing from nightmares. I do not lie awake planning battles or plotting deceptions.
Cael is already up, sitting by the window with a piece of bread and cheese, watching the village come to life. He turns as I sit up, a small smile on his face.
"Good morning, Your Highness. Slept well?"
"Better than I have in years," I admit, stretching my arms above my head. The straw mattress is nothing like the feather beds in the palace, but somehow it feels far more comfortable. "What time is it?"
"Just past sunrise. Marta brought breakfast up a little while ago she said to let you sleep as long as you needed. She also mentioned that the healer, Tarrama, will be here by midday to check on you."
I nod, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "Good. And after that… I think we should spend the day getting to know the village. If we are going to stay here for a while, we need to fit in completely."
We make our way downstairs a short time later, where Marta is already busy behind the bar, pouring ale for a few early-morning patrons and wiping down tables. When she sees us, she lights up with a warm smile.
"Look who's feeling better!" she says, moving to pour us both cups of warm tea. "I was starting to worry when you slept straight through until sunrise. And look you have a little more color in your face today than you did yesterday. Here this is made from mint and chamomile we grow in the garden behind the inn. Good for settling the stomach and calming the nerves."
"Thank you, Marta," I say, taking the cup and letting its warmth seep into my hands. "This village is beautiful. How long have you lived here?"
"All my life," she replies, leaning against the bar as she talks. "My grandmother built this inn with her own two hands, right after the last great war. She always said that even in hard times, people need a place to rest their heads and share a meal. That belief kept us going through famine, through Custodian's taxes, through everything."
As we talk, a group of children bursts through the door laughing and chasing each other around the room before Marta shoos them playfully toward the entrance.
"Now, now, you rascals! No running in my inn you'll knock over every pitcher I own! Go play in the square like good children."
One of the kids a little girl with curly brown hair and dirt smudged across her cheeks stops when she sees me, tilting her head as she studies my face intently.
"Are you the sick man from yesterday? You look better now!"
I smile, setting down my cup. "I do feel better, thank you. What is your name?"
"Lila!" she says proudly, bouncing on her toes. "And this is my brother Tom, and my friend Anna. We were playing soldiers we are going to protect the village from monsters!"
Cael chuckles beside me. "Monsters, huh? That sounds scary."
"Very scary!" Lila declares seriously. "My daddy says there are real monsters out there men with red and black banners who take people's food and make them work too hard. We are going to stop them!"
My smile softens, and I reach into my pocket to pull out a small wooden bird I carved during the journey a habit I picked up in my past life as a soldier, something I did to keep my hands busy and my mind calm after long, brutal fights.
"I think soldiers need good luck charms. Would you like this?"
Lila's eyes go wide with delight as she takes the bird carefully in her small hands. "It's beautiful! Thank you, My Lord!" She turns to her friends, holding it up proudly. "See? Even the sick man knows we are good soldiers!"
Marta shakes her head with a fond smile. "Those children… they know more about what is happening in the world than most grown-ups give them credit for. Their families have all felt the pinch of Custodian's demands higher taxes every year, more grain taken for their armies. But still, they find ways to laugh and play."
After the children run back outside, we finish our tea and decide to explore the village. The square is busy now vendors setting up stalls with fresh vegetables, bread, and handmade goods. We stop at a stall selling woven baskets, where the merchant a man named Ben with kind eyes and calloused hands greets us warmly.
"New faces in town!" he says, wiping his hands on his apron. "You must be the travelers staying at Marta's inn. Heard you weren't feeling well glad to see you're up and about."
"Thank you," I say, looking over his baskets they are well-made, sturdy enough to last for years. "These are beautiful. Did you make them yourself?"
"Every one of them," Ben replies proudly. "Been weaving since I was a boy, learned from my father before me. Used to sell them in the cities, but Custodian's tolls on the roads make it impossible now. Can barely make enough to feed my family as it is."
Cael picks up a small basket, turning it over in his hands. "How much do you ask for this one?"
"Just a few coppers," Ben says, looking a little embarrassed. "I know it's not much, but… well, it's what I can afford to charge if I want anyone to buy them at all."
I exchange a look with Cael before speaking. "We'll take three one for us, two as gifts for friends back home. And we would like to place an order for more, if you are willing. We have contacts in other villages who would be happy to sell them for you, no tolls required."
Ben's eyes widen in surprise, then fill with tears he quickly wipes away. "You would do that? I… I don't know what to say. My wife has been worried sick about how we will make it through the winter."
"It is the least we can do," I say, handing him more than enough coins to cover the baskets and the order. "People who work hard should be able to feed their families. That is how it should be everywhere."
As we walk through the rest of the square, we stop to talk to more villagers farmers worried about their crops, a seamstress struggling to get enough cloth, an old man who tells us stories of what the land was like before Custodian rose to power. Each conversation teaches me something new, giving me another piece of the puzzle we are trying to solve.
Mear falls under Custodian's domain, though it is quite far from their main border. This is because Rudeus City, the capital of the Holy Kingdom of Berius to which Mear belongs is now firmly under Custodian's control.
By midday, we make our way back to the inn, where a woman is waiting for us at a table near the fire. She is tall and slender, with gray streaked through her dark hair and eyes that hold the wisdom of years spent healing. When she sees us, she stands and bows her head slightly.
"Prince Vernom," she says quietly, though her voice carries clearly. "I am Tarrama, the healer Marta spoke of. We have been expecting you."
Cael tenses beside me, but I place a hand on his arm to calm him.
"Please, sit," I say, gesturing to the chairs around the table. "I know you are part of our network thank you for coming."
Tarrama sits, pulling a small leather bag from beside her chair.
"I have already spoken to Marta she has made sure no one will ask unwanted questions about you. As for your 'illness'… we will say you are recovering from a fever brought on by travel and exhaustion. I will leave some herbs with you to make it look convincing, and I will check on you regularly so the story holds up."
She pauses, looking at me seriously. "I also have news from the border. Custodian's armies have moved closer to Meodes they are setting up camps less than twenty miles from their eastern border. Prince Aldric has sent word that they are ready to defend their lands, but they need those supplies from Callibean soon."
"I know," I say, leaning forward. "Vonce is overseeing the delivery they should be on their way already. What about the resistance cells inside Custodian? Have you heard anything from them?"
"Some news," Tarrama replies, pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "They are growing stronger more people are joining every day, tired of living in fear. But they need weapons, training… hope. They have heard rumors about you about the prince of Callibean who is fighting for change, who believes people should not have to choose between loyalty and their conscience."
She looks directly at me. "They are asking if this change is real."
I take a deep breath, thinking of all the villagers we met today of Lila and her wooden bird, of Ben and his baskets, of Marta and her warm tea.
"Tell them it is real," I say firmly. "And tell them that they will not be fighting alone. We will all stand together when the time comes."
As the afternoon sun begins to sink low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the village square, I look out the window at the children playing in the street. They are chasing each other again, their laughter floating through the air like music. This is what we are fighting for not just kingdoms and borders, but for days like this. For peaceful villages where children can play without fear, where families can work hard and thrive, where people can live their lives with dignity and hope.
And I will do whatever it takes to make sure this peace spreads far beyond Mear village to every corner of the continent, to every kingdom under the sun.
It has been several days since we settled in Mear village, and already I feel like I have found a piece of peace I had long thought lost. Yesterday morning, I sent a letter by trusted messenger to Prince Aldric of Meodes detailing Custodian's planned ambush, the exact number of soldiers they had assigned, and the precise location where they intended to strike. I remember it all too clearly; back in my past life, I was one of the soldiers assigned to that very mission, tasked with clearing the way for Custodian's main army to conquer their kingdom. Now, that knowledge might be what saves Meodes from falling before Custodian can even make its first move.
Cael has taken to helping Marta around the inn like he was born to it carrying barrels of ale, mending torn tablecloths, even helping her bake bread in the early mornings. Earlier today, I found him laughing as he kneaded dough while Marta showed him how to shape loaves just right. When I asked him why he had thrown himself so fully into the work, he looked down at his hands and said quietly, "She reminds me of my mother. She had the same way of making hard work feel like home." I let him be after that some moments are meant to be cherished alone.
With Cael busy at the inn, I decided to take a walk along the path that leads to the village's outer fields, where farmers tend to their crops of wheat and vegetables. The sun was warm on my skin, and the smell of damp earth and growing things filled my lungs as I walked. I had just reached a small bridge over a trickling stream when I heard shouting coming from around the bend.
I quickened my pace, moving quietly through the tall grass until I could see what was happening. A group of five men rough-looking, with worn leather armor and weapons hanging at their hips had surrounded a family of three: a man, his wife, and their young son, who could not have been more than eight years old. The family's cart was tipped over in the dirt, their sacks of grain and vegetables scattered across the road. The sight reminded me painfully of my own parents.
"Look what we have got here," one of the bandits said, stepping forward and grabbing the man by his tunic. "More farmers trying to hide their harvest from us. You know the rules everything going through this road belongs to us now."
"Please," the farmer pleaded, his voice shaking but his eyes fierce as he kept his body firmly between the bandits and his family. "We have already paid Custodian's taxes we have nothing left but this. It is all we have to feed our children through the winter."
The bandit laughed a harsh, cruel sound that made my blood boil. "Custodian's taxes are for Custodian. Our taxes are for keeping this road safe. You want to pass through here, you pay twice. That is just how it is."
His hand moved to the hilt of his sword, and that is when I saw the young boy hiding behind his mother's skirts, his small face pale with fear.
Something inside me snapped. All the training I had received as a soldier, all the years I had spent following orders to hurt people, rose up in me like a wave of fire. I could feel my hand twitching, my muscles coiling as if reaching for a sword that was not there. The urge to draw my blade and slit those bandits' throats was so strong I could almost taste it clean, sharp, final. It was a feeling I had never once felt while I was in Callibean, never even considered when I was playing the part of a prince. But here, seeing innocent people being hurt, the violent side of me that I had worked so hard to bury came roaring to the surface.
No.
I forced the thought down, took a deep breath, and stepped out from behind the trees. I cannot be the same monster I was before. I promised myself to live as Vernom.
"Leave them be," I said, my voice steady despite the rage burning in my chest. "They have got nothing worth taking. Let them pass."
The bandits turned to look at me, and the leader a big man with a scar across his cheek smirked.
"And who are you to tell us what to do? Another farmer trying to play hero?"
"I am just someone who knows when enough is enough," I replied, keeping my hands at my sides where everyone could see them no weapons, no threats. "These people have already lost enough to Custodian. You do not need to take more."
The leader let go of the farmer and took a step toward me. "You are brave for a little nobody. I will give you that. But bravery does not pay for food and shelter. Either you walk away right now, or you will end up just like their cart broken and in the dirt."
I took another step forward, moving deliberately between the bandits and the family. "I am not walking away. But I am not going to fight you either. If you need food, we can talk Marta's inn has work for men who are willing to earn their keep. There is a better way than this."
The bandit's face twisted with anger, and he swung a fist at me before I could react. I ducked, but not fast enough his knuckles caught me on the jaw, sending me stumbling backward. Another one of them kicked me hard in the ribs, and I fell to the ground, biting back a cry of pain. They did not stop there kicking and punching until I could taste blood in my mouth and feel bruises forming across my body.
Fight back. Fight back. Kill them, a voice inside my head whispered.
Through the haze of pain, I could hear the farmer trying to intervene, his wife crying, the boy screaming. But I kept my hands up only to protect my face. I did not fight back. I did not let myself give in to the urge to hurt them. Innocent eyes were watching eyes that needed to see there was another way to solve problems, that violence did not have to be the answer.
"Enough!"
The shout cut through the chaos, and the bandits stopped their assault. I looked up to see Tarrama standing at the edge of the road, her hands on her hips, with half a dozen villagers behind her Ben the basket weaver, Marta carrying a heavy wooden rolling pin, even some of the farmers from the fields. Thank goodness Cael was not with them.
"Get out of here," Tarrama said, her voice cold and firm. "We know who you are, and we know you have been preying on travelers for too long. One more step in this village, and you will answer to all of us."
The bandits looked from the angry villagers to me on the ground, then back again. After a moment of hesitation, the leader spat on the dirt beside me.
"This is not over," he growled. "We will be back."
They gathered their things and disappeared into the woods, leaving the road quiet except for the sound of the farmer's wife comforting her son. The villagers rushed forward to help me up, their hands gentle as they checked my injuries.
"Are you alright?" Marta asked, her face pale with worry as she wiped blood from my lip with the hem of her apron. "What were you thinking, taking on five bandits by yourself?"
I managed a weak smile, wincing as one of the farmers helped me to my feet. "I was thinking that no one should have to be afraid to travel their own roads. That is all."
As they helped me back toward the village, supporting me on either side, I could feel the rage still simmering just below the surface. The urge to hunt those bandits down and make them pay was strong stronger than I had ever felt before. But I pushed it down, focusing on the faces of the villagers around me kind, worried, determined to protect their own.
I could not let them see the violent side of me. I could not let them know what I had done in my past, what I was capable of when pushed too far. For now, I would have to be content with the bruises covering my body and the knowledge that I had kept that family safe.
Once we reached the inn, the villagers helped me to my room and left Tarrama to tend to my injuries. As she cleaned the cuts on my face and wrapped bandages around my ribs, I spoke quietly, my voice low so no one else could overhear.
"Tarrama I need you to find out where those bandits are hiding. Their camp, their supply lines everything you can learn."
She paused in her work, her hands stilling on my shoulder as she looked at me. "I can do that. But… will you be calling for your men from Callibean to eliminate them? We could have them here within days if you send word."
I shook my head slowly, and when I looked up at her, my eyes had gone cold hard and sharp as steel, the way they had been back when I was a soldier in Custodian's army.
"No. I will do the job myself."
The words were barely a murmur, but Tarrama flinched as if I had shouted them. A sudden chill surged through the room, and she stepped back slightly, her face pale as she met my gaze. She had seen the coldness in my eyes the kind of stare that comes before a storm so powerful no one can escape its fury. It was the look of a man who had been trained to kill, who knew exactly how to plan and execute a strike without leaving a trace.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then Tarrama nodded slowly, her voice quiet but steady.
"I understand. I will have word for you by tomorrow night. But… please, Your Highness be careful what you do. These villagers they have come to trust you. They see you as someone who brings hope, not fear."
I looked away, staring out the window at the village square where children were now playing again, their laughter carrying up to us on the evening breeze.
"I know," I said softly, the coldness in my eyes fading slightly. "That is exactly why I have to do this myself. I will not let violence touch this place again not if I can help it. But make no mistake those bandits will not be coming back to Mear village. I will make sure of it."