Rehena panted heavily, her chest heaving from the relentless sprint. Beside her, the man who had snatched her into his arms only moments ago slowed, equally winded. They had stopped at the base of an enormous tree, its sprawling canopy casting shadows over the tall, wild grass around them. The afternoon sun hung low, its light spilling across the distant fields, far from the prying eyes of the townsfolk.
Despite the momentary respite, Rehena's mind raced. A sliver of worry pricked at her — had Barron been searching for her? She felt a small measure of safety now, yet the need to find him tugged at her insistently. Standing upright, she surveyed the scene: the vast grasslands stretched endlessly, the giant tree looming beside them like a silent sentinel. When her gaze shifted to the man who had carried her here, she noticed the labored rise and fall of his chest, the way exhaustion painted his sharp features.
"Who… who are you? Why have you brought me here?" she asked, curiosity threading through her voice.
The man's hand brushed her hair back in a strangely gentle gesture. He regarded her carefully. She took in his attire: a simple, rustic linen shirt, loose and light against his frame, topped with a brown leather vest adorned with rivets. His trousers were dark and smudged from travel, cinched with a sturdy leather belt. But it was his eyes that captured her attention — a striking red that met her own deep brown. Something about him felt… otherworldly, not quite the type of man who belonged to these slums.
"Is that how you thank someone who's saved your life?" His voice was cold, edged with a hardness that made Rehena's mind snark silently: Blunt man.
"I'm hardly a lady for someone who suddenly grabs my waist using Moonshards to lure the hungry," she retorted, her voice laced with cautious defiance. Yet as she spoke, a softer tone threaded through her words. "But… thank you, truly, for saving me."
The man's gaze flickered. "You are not from here, are you?"
"Can you tell?" she replied, surprised that he could discern her origins. It was a dangerous revelation, but somehow, she felt compelled to answer.
"In the Eastern Empire, we do not hand out coins in the streets… it leads to incidents like the one that just befell you." His tone remained frosty as he began walking back toward the narrow streets, the hood of his cloak pulled over his head. Rehena, curiosity prickling her, fell into step behind him, already tugging her own hood closer around her head
"Why are the commoners in the slum like that?" she asked softly.
"The Emperor neglects them," he said, voice cutting like steel. "They live by a cruel game of survival." His hatred seeped into every word. As they weaved through narrow alleys, avoiding crowded streets, Rehena followed instinctively, though she could not explain why. There was a strange pull compelling her to stay close to this enigmatic man.
"And you… where are you from? Who are you?" she asked, careful to step lightly through the mud and filth of the alley, trying not to disturb the foul water pooling along the uneven path.
"I should be the one asking you that," he said coolly, stopping abruptly. Rehena stumbled into his broad back with a soft thud.
Bump!
"Ouch!" she exclaimed, pressing against him in surprise. His back was impressively wide, almost knightly in its strength, and she found herself standing a moment longer than necessary, considering the man's presence.
"I'm from a small village, a few miles from the Eastern Empire," she said, pride threading her voice, hoping he would accept the story.
"Tsk… lying," he smirked, and her cheek burned with embarrassment — her lie laid bare by the simple curl of his lips, yet he made no move to challenge it further.
"Why are you here, then?" he pressed, stepping closer. Rehena blinked, startled by the intensity of his gaze, his crimson eyes boring into hers. "What brings you to the Eastern Empire? Are you… from another kingdom?"
Shock froze her for a moment, her pulse quickening under the weight of his suspicion.
"Step back!" she commanded, closing her eyes as she shoved him with all her strength. The man staggered, his balance teetering dangerously toward a puddle of mud.
"Oh—woah!" he exclaimed, one hand instinctively reaching out to steady himself. Rehena, reacting faster than she thought possible, grabbed his collar and pulled him upright just in time.
"Ack…" he gasped, and suddenly their faces were mere inches apart as the hoods of their cloaks slipped aside. His sharp red eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually calm, unreadable expression. The faint tension in his shoulders and the quickened pace of his breath betrayed how unexpected the contact had been for him as well.
Rehena's brown eyes were wide, reflecting her own shock, while his gaze met hers, briefly measuring, calculating, assessing. Neither spoke; the air was thick with startled awareness. Their hair brushed lightly across the small space between them, and both flinched almost imperceptibly at the closeness.
The world seemed to pause, fragile and charged, until a familiar voice shattered it — Barron. "My lady!" he called, and the strange man's composure snapped back instantly, his red eyes sharpening as he took a step back, distancing himself from the sudden chaos. Rehena stumbled back behind Barron, still recovering from the surprise, while the man's expression shifted to one of controlled calm, hiding whatever fleeting unease had just crossed his face.
"Are you all right, my lady?" Barron's worry shone through his gaze, sharp and protective. Rehena blinked, cheeks burning at the closeness she had shared with the unknown man just moments before.
"Ye-yes…" she stammered, pressing close behind Barron.
"Thank the gods you're safe… he would kill me if anything happened to you under my watch," Barron said, his voice easing as he guided her away.
"Sir Barron?" The stranger's voice was filled with shock, his red eyes widening as he realized Barron recognized him. Both men's gazes locked, astonishment mirrored in each other's eyes.
"M-my lord?" Barron stuttered, utterly taken aback by the revelation unfolding before him.
Back in the chaos of the Western Empire's meeting hall, before Leon suddenly burst through the doors where Celistine was nearly held captive by Harold's scheme, he sat restlessly in the carriage, impatience gnawing at him. His eyes darted to the window, scanning the hall, anxious to see if Celistine had emerged from the meeting on time, knowing how easily she could be delayed.
"Is something wrong with her?" Leon muttered, fidgeting his left foot, longing to rush outside. He knew the guards would recognize him if he went out, but what was the point of hiding like a rat if the girl he sought to protect was in danger? The reason he had joined Celistine on this journey was not merely curiosity about the discussions, but a need to ensure her safety. Even the king of the Blackthreads, impatient as he was for Leon to kill Medeya immediately, could not sway him — Leon could not bring himself to risk Celistine, no matter the power he commanded.
"Nahr'sul."~Shadow.~
Leon called one of his shadows. In an instant, it appeared at the carriage window, clad in a black mask and dark, desert-worn attire.
"Varin, saar."~Yes, my lord.~
The shadow bowed its head before him.
"Rak venar tal'gorin ashtar?"~Are there any guards around outside?~
Leon leaned toward the window, his sharp gaze sweeping the corners outside.
"Tal'gorin venar ashtar narin, My Lord, var shi'ren na arin sha'khar."~There aren't many guards outside, My Lord, but I don't think it's safe to go out.~
Satisfied, Leon waved the shadow away. Yet the carriage was quiet, the air tense, and he remained seated, thinking it wiser to avoid exposing himself. Suddenly, another shadow appeared urgently, commanding Leon to spy on the meeting hall while guarding Celistine.
"My Lord, var'esh talen!"~My Lord, urgent news!~
The shadow's voice snapped Leon to attention.
"Zhal ti'rehn varath."~The lady is in trouble.~
Without hesitation, Leon threw open the carriage door, drawing his sword as if preparing for battle.
"Varen sha'thol. Ian ven tor'das en velik'ran, zharen Havan tor'dakar ven thar'koran zaer'thal nuhr Western Vharan. Sharen ti'kor ven xal'nor zi Havan—vahr tas nira vel'thar en varath sha'rehn zhel mehn."~Report to the others. If we cannot get out within one hour, inform Havan to attack the entire military base of the Western Empire. Tell him he must not hesitate to invade the Western Empire if something happens to me.~
Leon's command was instant, and the shadow nodded sharply. Together with five of his guards, they stormed toward the mansion's main door, moving with lethal precision.
"Vahr tal'esh vhar. Vahrn tor'kai ven xor'maen—tal ven sha'la drayen vahr tal'esh vharath en zhal'reh."~Do not spill blood. Just render them unconscious, as the lady does not want any bloodshed in this event.~
Despite the restraint, Leon's fury simmered beneath his calm. He would gladly tear apart anyone standing in Celistine's way, yet he feared provoking her wrath if she saw bloodshed.
"Stop them!" shouted the western guards, attempting to block his path. Leon's men were unrelenting, forcing a passage as he surged forward. Reaching the meeting hall door, he found two guards aiming arrows at him. In a blur, Leon dodged, his fierce golden eyes glinting with controlled fury. He could have killed them outright, but instead, he struck them down with a precise, unstoppable punch.
"Leon!"
Celistine's voice rang out from inside the meeting hall, sharp and urgent, revealing she was close to the window. Leon smirked, his eyes flashing with controlled fury, as he seized one of the fallen guards and hurled him against the meeting hall door.
THUD!
The door burst open. Leon's eyes darkened as they landed on the ever-foolish Emperor of the Western Empire, who gripped Celistine's chin while two guards held her shoulders. In a single, fluid motion, Leon swept forward, snatching her from their grasp. The hall erupted in shock, Celistine herself frozen in stunned silence. But Leon didn't falter; he wrapped his arms securely around her, his grin a mixture of triumph and relief.
"I believe my lady called my name," Leon announced, pride lacing his voice. Celistine's wide eyes met his, the tension of the moment softening just enough that a spark of their unspoken connection lingered between them — the unshakeable bond of protector and the one he vowed to keep safe.
"What are you doing here? You! You are the Blackthreads leader!" Harold shouted furiously, his finger stabbing toward Leon, who stood defiantly before him, while Celistine remained cradled in his arms.
"And you!" Harold bellowed again, pointing directly at Celistine. She blinked rapidly, stunned, unsure of what to do as shock held her motionless.
"You traitor! You were already in communication with these bastards before you even arrived here?!" Harold's voice was venomous. Celistine gently pushed Leon away, regaining her composure, while Criston rose to his feet with the assistance of Leon's men.
"Yes… but that does not mean I am colluding with the Blackthreads," Celistine explained, refusing to deny anything, her voice calm but firm.
"LIAR! You have betrayed the entire empire! You have betrayed us all!" Harold accused, his rage deafening. Celistine's expression flickered with disbelief—how dare he accuse her when, in truth, Harold himself bore much of the fault.
"GUARDS! SEIZE THEM!" Harold roared, and more guards surged into the meeting hall. Meanwhile, the kings of the Eastern and Southern realms had already fled the chaos, avoiding the risk of being caught in the fray. Maxon, hidden in the shadows, simply observed, watching the entire scene unfold.