Xander approached the massive wooden gate and rapped his knuckles against it, his blows echoing like muted thunder across the stone walls.
"Who goes there?!" A voice rang out from the other side—firm, cautious, and authoritative.
"It's Alexander Gale from the Supplementary Military Corps," Xander replied, his voice carrying a tone of pride and irritation. "My squad and I have arrived with the suspect we spoke about with the chieftain earlier."
"Suspect?" Orion muttered under his breath, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Is he talking about me? Suspect of what exactly?"
A heavy clank sounded from the other side as metal bolts were drawn back. Then came the scraping drag of the gates parting open, their hinges protesting as if they hadn't been oiled in some time.
When the opening was wide enough, the guard stepped forward, his sharp eyes immediately falling on Orion. His expression darkened, his lips pressing into a firm line.
"The chieftain has been informed of your arrival," the guard said after a pause. "You may proceed to the meeting room. He'll join you shortly."
"Okie dokie," Xander replied with his usual infuriating calm, nodding as though this were a casual social call rather than an arrest. He motioned to his squad, and they began to move.
The group passed through the gate and into the chieftain's compound—a vast and well-kept property that stood in stark contrast to the modest dwellings scattered around the town. The structure loomed like a fortress, its intricate carvings and polished stonework a testament to both power and wealth.
As Orion walked through the courtyard, his gaze wandered. Servants and guards turned to stare, their expressions cold, judgmental, and unreadable. He felt the weight of their scrutiny settle on him like dust, suffocating and heavy.
He'd never cared much for people's opinions before—he'd always been easygoing, even reckless—but the uncertainty of the situation gnawed at him. The way they looked at him, as if they already knew something he didn't, made him uncomfortably self-aware.
Before long, they reached the large double doors of the chieftain's meeting hall. When the guards pushed them open, Orion found himself staring into a grand chamber so lavishly adorned that it felt almost sacred.
Massive beams crossed the ceiling, and banners bearing the town's sigil draped from the walls. The faint aroma of incense lingered in the air, blending with the scent of polished wood and room temperature leather.
To the left and right were six seats each—twelve in total—belonging to the Council of Elders, the chieftain's most trusted advisors. These were the men and women with whom he convened to decide the fate of the town. And at the far end of the room sat the chieftain's chair—a towering piece of craftsmanship, more throne than seat, carved from dark mahogany and inlaid with silver patterns that shimmered under the light.
But for now, the hall was empty. Silent. Waiting.
Xander led Orion to the center of the room, then turned to him with a cold smirk.
"Wait right here," he said flatly.
Orion grimaced, his patience thinning. "I'm finally here. So are you going to tell me what this is all about? Why am I here?"
Xander didn't answer right away. Instead, he signaled Marcel and Samuel, and the three of them casually made their way toward the elders' seats—Marcel and Xander taking the right side, Samuel moving to the left.
"I haven't been around this part of town for over a week," Orion began, speaking almost to himself. "Not since I found the—" He stopped abruptly, as though he'd said too much.
"Found what?" Xander asked, leaning back in his chair with a sigh, his legs crossing as his sharp eyes studied Orion's every movement.
Orion kept silent, his gaze fixed on the chieftain's chair at the far end of the room.
"Not going to say, huh?" Xander scoffed. "Tight-lipped little punk."
He shifted in his seat, turning his head slightly to the right while keeping his face angled toward the front. "Whatever. Keep your secrets for all I care. As for why you're here…" His lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Well, you're about to find out soon enough."
Just then, both Samuel and Orion flinched, their attention drawn to a faint sound—soft footsteps followed by the creak of a door handle. Their eyes darted to the smaller door at the right-hand side of the chieftain's chair.
A moment later, the handle turned, and the door opened slowly with a low click.
Immediately, the three supplementary corps members rose from their seats in a synchronized motion, standing at attention.
"Hmm," Samuel murmured under his breath, intrigued. He noticed that Orion, too, had sensed the chieftain's approach before the door even opened—a subtle detail that neither Xander nor Marcel had caught. It sparked a flicker of curiosity in him.
A deep, commanding voice filled the room. "I was informed by my guards that you've returned—with the suspect."
The chieftain emerged from the doorway, his presence alone commanding authority. His garments were a fine blend of woven gold and deep crimson, and his expression carried the weight of a man used to being obeyed.
"That's right, Chieftain," Xander said with a respectful bow of his head. He tilted his chin toward Orion, who stood out awkwardly among the neatly dressed officers.
The chieftain paused in front of his chair, studying Orion with narrowed eyes before lowering himself into his seat.
"So… he's the one," he said at last, his tone laced with suspicion and restrained contempt.
"That's right," Xander replied smoothly, as he, Marcel, and Samuel returned to where Orion stood. Once there, he placed a firm, almost possessive hand on Orion's shoulder.
The chieftain frowned, his expression hardening. "Have you ever been in my presence before, boy?" His voice dripped with authority and disdain.
"Umm… no, sir— I mean, Chieftain," Orion stammered, shaking his head quickly.
The chieftain's eyebrows lifted slightly, intrigued by the boy's mixture of fear and respect.
"That's surprising. You seem to show respect for those older than you," he mused. "Or perhaps that respect comes from my position as the chieftain of this town. Either way, you appear to have a certain level of regard for me."
Orion chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck.
"Of course, Chieftain. Though I haven't met you personally, the townsfolk who have always spoke highly of you and as an occupant of this town— your town, I can attest to how wonderful a job you've done. Due to those facts, it's only right I be as respectful as I can." He bowed his head slightly.
Beside him, Orion heard Xander click his tongue in annoyance and mutter in a low voice, "Ass-kissing rodent." Orion, however, ignored him.
"Hmm. Interesting," the chieftain said, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Respect like that can only be taught by very good parents. Tell me, child—who are your parents?"
"Parent, sir—uh, Chieftain," Orion corrected softly.
"What?" The chieftain's brow furrowed.
"I was orphaned at a young age," Orion explained, his voice quieter now, tinged with memory. "I was found and adopted by someone kind enough to take me in. Along with my adopted brother, we eventually settled here."
"So… your family isn't originally from this town?" the chieftain pressed.
"No, Chieftain," Orion said. "We used to travel from place to place, never staying too long anywhere. We finally settled here about ten—almost eleven—years ago."
The chieftain leaned back in his grand chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. His expression shifted from suspicion to faint curiosity, perhaps even nostalgia.