Footsteps echoed down the stone corridors of the royal palace, while the youngest prince, sixteen summers old, wove in and out of the halls with the urgency of a man being pursued. Dark boots struck sharply against the sheen of marble beneath his feet. His breathing came in rapid, short bursts, and while his well-fitted tunic and cloak should have lent him an air of nobility, just now, he did not look very dignified.
He was late.
Fenix sprinted past servants, narrowly avoiding catastrophe with each step. A chamberlain carrying a pile of parchment sprang out of his path with a startled yelp. A maid holding a tray of fresh-baked bread pressed herself against the wall in time to avoid destruction. "Apologies!" Fenix called over his shoulder, not daring to waste speed.
Fate, however, had other plans.
Turning the corner, he ran full-velocity into something-or rather, someone. The shock sent him backward, spinning his world as his back hit cold stone. A few moments later, there was an explosion of fabric around where he lay. A shriek sounded from above him. "Young Master!"
Fenix groaned. Dazed, he blinked up at the ceiling before realizing what had happened. He had been so careless with his charge that he fell upon a maid carrying a big basket of linens unwashed; now, the basket had been overturned and the heir of the castle lay beneath a pile of dirty garments.
There was a long pause. Then, a slow and impassive voice resounded across the scene.
"Tell me, my lord, is there a reason you feel compelled to wage war upon the castle staff?"
Fenix froze. Even before he turned his head, he knew exactly to whom that voice belonged.
Cassius Valeria.
Still half-buried under the heap of laundry, he ventured a glance upwards. A tall form loomed before him, his arms crossed across his chest. Cassius was a vision, as always, of unbreakable poise. His shoulder-length, bright red hair cascaded in sophisticated waves around his sharp, aristocratic features. While his hazel eyes held the faintest spark of his amusement, his expression was otherwise unreadable, his gaze expectant.
Fenix gave an embarrassed grin. "Ah… oops?"
Cassius let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That is hardly an explanation."
With a very dramatic groan, Fenix shoved the last of the linens off himself and clambered to his feet. The maid—blushing furiously—bowed several times in quick succession, flustered beyond words.
"My deepest apologies, my lord!" she stammered.
Fenix waved her off. "No, no! That was entirely my fault! I—"
"You are late," Cassius interjected smoothly.
Fenix winced. "Yes, I am aware."
"Then let us not tarry anymore." Cassius said, extending a gloved hand. "Come."
Mumbling to himself, Fenix took the proffered hand and hauled himself to his feet with Cassius' leverage. Together, they gathered up the scattered laundry for the maid, then resumed their course. This time, Fenix made a deliberate effort to match his gait more properly.
"Is my brother inside already?" he asked finally.
Cassius merely inclined his head. "Arrived precisely when expected. Unlike some," he added, pointedly.
Fenix turned a scowl on him. "Must you always be so insufferably punctual?"
Cassius hummed in return, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
Silence fell between them now, one that felt neither strained nor uncomfortable. It was a silence that came only with years of familiarity.
Though Cassius held the title of bodyguard to the Crown Prince, he was far more than a simple sword-for-hire. A man of discipline and restraint, he was a warrior whose very presence commanded respect. Yet to Fenix, he was something more—a guardian, a mentor, a second elder brother.
Nine years past, Cassius had been found as a boy of twelve, fleeing from a band of drunken brutes. At the time, King Lauren Meliora and his eldest son, Solis, had been overseeing the troubles of a distant province, where children had vanished without a trace. The men who had pursued Cassius had been seized, but the boy—ragged, half-starved, yet unbroken—had been given a choice: a cell or a new life in service to the royal family.
He had chosen the latter.
And now, he was one of the most fearsome warriors in the kingdom.
Fenix had admired him for as long as he could remember, though he would sooner fling himself from the tallest tower than admit as much aloud.
Lost in thought, he barely noticed when Cassius came to a halt.
Before them was a huge oaken door, its dark surface carved with the sigil of the royal house: an elegant phoenix rising from the ashes, the symbol of House Meliora.
Fenix swallowed as weight settled upon his shoulders.
Beyond that threshold, his fate awaited.