Chapter Thirty
The two men stopped as if struck by lightning, then bowed in unison, dropping to their knees before him. Hesitation shadowed their faces, but one of them spoke in a low voice that nevertheless carried a firmness:
"Your Highness the Prince… this is far too dangerous. You will not be safe leaving the kingdom's borders without an escort. Please—let us accompany you and keep you protected."
Niral did not answer at once. He drew a quiet sigh that slid through the air like a warm summer breeze, then reached for the top button of his shirt. With a slow, deliberate motion he undid it. As the fabric fell back from his chest, his appearance shifted. It was not a simple change: his features altered as if plucked from a different page of another book. He stopped being Niral the mercenary and became a man who belonged to a different life entirely. His eyes were different, his jawline sharpened, even his skin seemed to take on another hue.
"I have decided," he said, his voice sharp but calm. "I want to live a little of my freedom… before I am forced to be a king. And didn't I tell you both before? Those who travel with me now will notice your presence in this wide desert. I don't want to hear this again."
One of the men stepped forward carefully and produced a stack of tightly bound documents from his coat. He offered them to Niral with respect.
"These are all the files we have on the people in your group," he said.
Before Niral's hand took them, the second man spoke, his tone strained with reluctance, "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but… His Majesty the King has been informed. He requests an audience with you."
Niral's hand hovered in midair for a long moment as if time itself had frozen. His fingers trembled for a beat before he recovered his composure and took the papers without a word.
Silence settled, broken only by the whisper of sand edging at his cloak. Then, in a quiet voice that shifted the subject, he asked, "Tell me… what do you know about them?"
The first man spoke without hesitation. "First: Malik. He is forty-five years old. He joined the mercenaries years ago. There is no criminal record on him in our files and no adverse reports."
He paused and continued, "Second: Risha. She is common-born, twenty-five years old. She graduated from Astern Academy two years ago; her record is clean so far."
The two men exchanged furtive looks, then added, "As for the other two youths… their story is more complicated. They arrived in this world only a month ago, during the last transfer. They were kidnapped by a band of known abductors and were then sold to that Madman, before being freed thanks to the Knights of the Order."
He drew a deep breath and added, "Their outward pasts appear plausible, but… all of this rests on their own statements — there are no records to corroborate them yet."
A short silence followed. Then his voice dropped further: "And finally… the old man."
He stopped as if the mention of that name thickened the air. The wind cut his words: "He is the true unknown among you. He arrived here three years ago and nothing is known of him. There are no entries on him in any archive — neither here nor in neighboring kingdoms. No friends, no family, no past we can reach."
He raised his head slowly, his tone steady but edged with unease: "For that very reason, I say you should remove this old man from the group. At least… until we can verify his identity."
Niral gave him no chance to finish. He interrupted in a composed but cutting voice, "Enough. Do you think someone ordinary, with only three mana circles, could defeat me?"
He did not wait for their answer. He stepped forward two confident paces; the sound of sand under his foot seemed louder than any words. When he had moved a couple of meters away, he stopped as if remembering something, turned slowly and fixed them with a look that brooked no argument:
"There are two mercenaries — they are said to have criminal records. I want you to follow them."
He raised a cautioning finger. "Do not seize them outright. Test them first… observe their actions closely and confirm for yourselves whether they are truly criminals."
He tore a small slip from his pocket, scribbled the two men's descriptions on it, and handed it to them.
They bowed together and answered in one voice, free of doubt, "At your command, Your Highness."
Niral began to walk on, then paused after the first step, turned his head back, and said in a low voice whose meaning was not immediately clear, "Put in the description that their smell… is foul."
He strode off quickly. The two men exchanged strange looks, silent for a moment as if a thousand questions crowded between them. Finally they repeated the word in bewilderment: "Their smell… is foul?"
···
Three days of rest and recovery passed. Daniel and Lucas had expended the new hearts they'd collected from the beasts, and slow improvements began to show in their bodies and magic. Daniel's first mana circle rose to 17%, while Lucas's hovered around 8%.
They left their lodgings for the mercenary guildhall, but Daniel suggested they stop first at Sanjay's restaurant for a meal worthy of a fresh start. The two ate quietly and traded small talk when a voice from the next table snapped their attention.
A man was speaking plainly, recounting the details of a public execution scheduled for that day. He described the condemned men's features without knowing he was planting a shock at a nearby table.
Daniel and Lucas exchanged a glance, then both turned toward Sanjay, who had frozen as he listened. No words were needed; all three rose at once.
They hurried through the alleys and made straight for the execution square. The crowd swelled as they approached, and their hearts quickened with it.
The rest of the group stood there ahead of them. It was clear they had expected Daniel and Lucas; neither man could ignore what was coming.
In the center of the square a grim wooden scaffold stood, covered with straw, a large cutting device gleaming above it. The scene might have been borrowed from some grim European tableau where justice met brutality.
The two condemned men stood in the square, hands bound and their mouths gagged with thick cloth. One was thin; when Daniel's eyes fell on the other, there was no doubt left.
(They are them…)
The party approached slowly. Risha hung back a little, walking behind the others with her gaze down. She disliked such spectacles and could not hide her unease; in a voice barely audible she asked, "Why stage executions publicly like this? Wouldn't it be better to carry them out within a closed facility, away from the public eye?"
Malik answered beside her, voice calm but firm, "On the contrary — this is better. When people see punishment with their own eyes, they think twice before breaking the law. Listening is one thing; seeing is another. And some men fear a ruined reputation more than the punishment itself. Public shame makes many hesitate."
Daniel stepped forward then, speaking quietly but with weight: "Sometimes harsh acts hide a greater mercy. You shouldn't judge from the surface alone."
He stood at the nearest permitted point to the platform, his eyes fixed on the two men. At that moment a guard read the charges aloud — a list of crimes — and then came to the one that made the group freeze.
The final crime was directed against Daniel, Lucas, and Sanjay.
They exchanged silent looks. Daniel, however, seemed not to hear it. He ignored it and, staring at the condemned, said with a cold smile, "Perhaps the kingdom will know peace at last… from your smell."
The two men glared despite their gags, trying to scream curses, but only muffled noises came out — thin things laden with hatred.
Then the rope slipped.
The iron blade fell like unseen lightning and cut both heads clean in one motion, without sound or hesitation.
The first head rolled into the left basket; the second into the right. A hush fell over the square as if time itself had stopped.
Risha covered her eyes quickly, unable to bear the sight. Though she was hardened in the field, this raw cruelty was harder than she had expected.
Noticing her distress, Niral left the group quietly and returned with a small cup of warm brew sweetened with honey and fruit. He handed it to her without a word and offered only a silent smile.
On the walk back to the guildhall Lucas broke the silence, his tone edged with a question that had not been digested: "Why did they list our case among those two's crimes? We never went to file a complaint against them!"
Daniel nodded; he had been thinking the same thing. They all slowed their pace, waiting for an answer.
Niral spoke after a moment's pause, "Didn't Risha say one of those mercenaries saw you with the others when you fled? Maybe one of those captured mercenaries spilled the truth after they were caught."
Malik nodded in agreement. "Yes… that's plausible."
Daniel looked up at the sky. "It's also possible they confessed under torture… but who captured them in the first place?"
Niral sighed softly, watching their faces as if weighing answers in his heart. "Yes… that is possible too."