CHAPTER 108

  LETTING GO, THE FINAL PUSH

  Theodred was limping, but not slowly.

  Pain was irrelevant.

  The wounds from Adrian were patched—barely. A potion burned in his veins, stiching meat to bone, but no brew could numb the fury building in his chest.

  Eclipse

  Even hearing the name made his blood curdle.

  They had taken refuge in the Elven Federation— the council Clandor— and tracking or infiltrating that place became a challenge to even parvian forces that boasted expertise in the field.

  What in the god’s name are they doing here? Neftari? Why they are moving again?

  He kicked open the vault doors. Dust spiralled in the torchlight. Neftari was there— bloodied, burned, tied to a chair reinforced with mana chains. His lips were split. A few teeth missing.

  Still smiling.

  Hans grabbed him by the jaw, titling his head up. White eyes beneath the robe locked onto the man’s.

  “Eclipse. What did they want from you?”

  Neftari winced. “Your mother’s address—”

  Hans smashed the hilt of his sword into his temple.

  “Try again, you fucker.”

  “A royal insignia—did the queen send—” Neftari spat blood, coughed, and laughed. “They asked for a name. That’s all.”

  Hans pulled a knife from his belt—short, sharp, and lined with aura.

  “You are buying pain. I can go on all day.”

  Neftari paled. “Fuck this! I’m a dead man anyway. I might make this as chaotic as I can for these Eclipse bastards. Tell your queen— An item.” He blurted. “From Clandor—smuggled to Council node several years past. I didn’t know what it was, just that I was paid triple not to ask questions.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A container,” Neftari breathed. “All I know. It was supposed to be a sealed one. Metal. Mana-reinforced. Size of a barrel—no, bigger than carried in a cart. I thought it was a Parvian weapon, but…”

  “But what?”

  “That thing wasn’t sealed anymore. Not when it arrived. It was breathing.”

  Hans froze. “Who did it belong to?”

  “A Parvian Knight. Friend to their king.” Neftari said, trembling now. “Name was…Caesar Bukworth.”

  “That black and white bastard. I killed him. Where is that thing now?”

  Neftari hesitated.

  “Where?”

  “It escaped before it could reach Council node. Broke out from inside. Killed two dozen of escorts sent by the Node before vanishing. The scout tracked it to the centre of Deadlands. Then didn’t dare to follow.”

  “In the Deadlands.” Hans murmured, a prickly pain resurfacing.

  Come find me. The same eyes which have told these words re-emerge in his psyche. The incident he’d forgotten due to ancients’ arrival after the killed Caesar for final.

  “Goddamn it. So why did you kill so many in the capital?” Hans cursed, asking.

  “One of them was my partner in smuggling—”

  “So you killed many to cover up.”

  Neftari didn’t say anything and Hans didn’t care. Not involving the innocent was his unbreakable rule. He burned the whole place down and walked out.

  Eclipse has been collecting powerful artefacts—forging a ring of chaos and now this creature. Just what the fuck are they after?

  He looked at the medallion. “Maybe this will shed some light.”

  Hiding it deep inside his clothes, he sent another signal for nearby knights to come, and he waited. There was a lot of him to process.

  It has been a day since he came from his little mission. Reina didn’t ask how he tracked the notorious gangs, only read reports and let him rest.

  She didn’t bother.

  But someone else did knock.

  Theodred opened the door half expecting a summons. Instead, Allynna stood in the corridor, arms crossed, clearly trying to look casual.

  “Can I come?”

  Theodred stood, jolted.

  “Uh…Yes. Please.”

  She stepped inside, looked around like she was scanning the room for hidden things, then locked eyes on him.

  “Are you sick or something?”

  Theodred tilted his head.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “What?”

  “You’d normally be in the training yard, looking for things to swing at.”

  “I’m recovering.”

  “From what?”

  “A mountain.”

  She frowned. “You want a monologue?”

  That earned a grin.

  But she didn’t stop. The words spilled from her mouth before he could settle back in.

  “Seriously, though—how’d you track those robbers? The report was vague. Even Captain Nym couldn’t figure it out. Was it some human trick? A spell? Did Mother teach you something she didn’t show the rest of us?”

  Hans sighed as she literally dragged him out of his room. “Where are you taking me?” He asked when the corridors became unfamiliar.

  Eventually, the gilded corridors gave way to a quieter wing of the palace. Fewer guards. Dimmer lights. Runes etched into the marble.

  “This isn’t the way to the dining halls,” he muttered.

  “Nope.”

  “...Where are we?”

  She stopped and pointed.

  A small tower stood ahead. Less imposing than the mage’s but brimming with presence. The air vibrated with runes. Wards hummed beneath their feet.

  “The treasure vault?” Theodred asked. “That’s what this is?”

  Allynna nodded. “Royal family's vault.”

  “And you’re just casually bringing an outsider to one of the most secure locations in the kingdom?”

  She smirked. “That’s impenetrable. Even the Parvians couldn’t breach it. No one can enter without my mother or father present.”

  “Still. Maybe learn caution, Princess.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “And you sound like a teenager trying to get stabbed.”

  She didn’t answer that. Just yanked his hand again and took a sharp turn—toward an old door tucked in the side wall.

  “Alright,” Theodred said, pulling his hand free. “Seriously. Where are we going?”

  “Once in a while,” she said over her shoulder, “we sneak out.”

  “What.”

  “Not literally,” she added quickly. “Father lets it slide. The shadows follow us—guards, trackers, that kind of thing—but we pretend. It's sort of our thing.”

  “You and who?”

  “Deli. Chris. Riftal. Me.”

  “You out of your mind—That is a dangerous thing to do.”

  He paused recalling he had casually teased her for sneaking out so often. So it was true all along. He stopped thinking when they soon reached the end of the backyard—an old side exit, lined with dust but very much still used.

  And waiting there, arms crossed, wearing an expression that could curdle wine, was Delimira.

  “What took you so long,” she said, then noticed him. “And what is he doing here?”

  “More the merrier,” Allynna answered sweetly.

  “This is a terrible idea.” Frowned Delimira.

  “Why?” Chris said, appearing from behind a statue, half a pie already in his hand. “I want to see what our new elven friend’s like when he’s not pretending to be a knight.”

  Theodred raised an eyebrow. “I will beat you soon, Chris.”

  “See?” Chris grinned. “Fun.”

  Riftal was already there, leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting for hours. He gave a short nod, clearly in on the plan.

  “See. Sis. Chris and Riftal have no problem.”

  But before Delimira could lace something with her poisonous tongue, Theodred interrupted.

  “This is hypocrisy. If you all know the guards are watching, and your parents are watching the guards, why not just use the front gate?”

  “Because,” Allynna said, “pretending we’re sneaking out is part of the fun, Theo.”

  Delimira interrupted, sharper this time. “And stop calling him ‘Theo.’ It’s… irritating.”

  Theodred exhaled.

  “Lady Winters,” he said, turning to face her directly, “have I personally offended you, or is your default setting just disdain?”

  “It’s not you,” Chris said quickly, stepping in before Delimira could do more damage. “She’s just grumpy because she’s not with—”

  However, Delimira’s sharp stare shut him up.

  Chris smirked and took another bite of his pie.

  “Fine, fine. Not saying anything. Don’t look at me like that, Deli. I need my face for the ladies.”

  “You’re delusional,” she snapped.

  Allynna clapped once. “Alright. Enough.” She continued with the poise of a schemer, “We’re heading to Silverleaf. Best food in the capital. And we are going to enjoy ourselves.”

  Chris offered a mock bow. “Shall we?”

  Theodred looked around at the group—two royals, a pissed-off girl who clearly hated everything, and a guy with more charm than sense.

  This was about to be a disaster.

  And he still followed them out the door.

  Meanwhile, within the quiet heart of the palace, Bernard moved through the administrative wing with silent authority. His presence carried weight—more than any banner or uniform. The guards stepped aside without a word.

  He carried no sword, but everyone knew: when the children played, he was the one who cleared the field.

  Another "outing" had been planned. This time it was Allynna’s idea again. Predictable.

  His job was to ensure no one got in their way—not guards, not intelligence operatives, not overeager nobles trying to impress the heirs.

  But today, he wasn’t heading to the shadows.

  He walked straight into the Queen’s office.

  But Reina didn’t look up.

  Her desk was buried in parchment and glowing mana-sealed documents. She was muttering under her breath, fingers pressing into her temples like they were holding her skull together.

  On top of the pile was a single scroll, bearing the golden griffin seal.

  That made Bernard pause.

  “What now?”

  Reina’s lips curled in disgust. She slammed the scroll onto the desk hard enough to shift the papers beneath it.

  “That crazy old man…”

  “Arat again?” Bernard guessed.

  “Who else,” she hissed. “The most unpredictable bastard I’ve met in my entire life. It clearly benefits him to hold onto this, yet here he is—handing it off again. What is he scheming now?”

  Bernard stepped closer.

  “What did he give you?”

  It wasn’t Reina who answered.

  “Martys approached Parvians,” Eleanor said as he entered, a storm behind his calm voice. He walked straight past Bernard and stood beside his wife. “He’s asking for support.”

  “Support?” Bernard narrowed his eyes. “For what?”

  “His old fantasy,” Reina growled. “The throne.”

  Bernard fell silent.

  Eleanor sighed, as if the weight of their entire bloodline rested between his shoulders.

  “He wants to be king. He’s never let it go.”

  “So… another civil war?” Bernard asked, voice flat. And when Reina’s eyes met his. Cold. Icy. No hesitation left.

  “No,” she said. “There will be no civil war.”

  That send an unusual chill in the room.

  She pushed the scroll aside. Eleanor looked away and Bernard said nothing.

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  Only the wind outside the palace, stirring through the distant courtyards, broke the silence.

  Then Reina stood. Her eyes were cold. She had finally let go of her family ties. It was barely hanging by a thread, and her brother approaching Parvians finally snapped it.

  “I don’t have much time. I wanted to wait a bit more.” Her eyes longed for something that’s she supposed to hold but has to let go. “I must align my chess pieces now.”