Chapter 66: Troublesome
Waiting was a special kind of hell. The City Lord's order was a cage, and every tick of the countdown was the rattle of the bars. 31:42:18... 17... 16... Freya was behind that door, and my life was tied to hers. Standing idle in a hallway while my fate was being discussed felt like a form of slow-motion suicide.
I drifted away from the center of the hall, pretending to examine a tapestry depicting some long-forgotten battle. The guards at the study door were vigilant, but their focus was on obvious threats, not a man seemingly lost in historical appreciation. I positioned myself just around a corner, near a suit of armor, where the acoustics were better and the stone walls carried sound like a reluctant whisper.
At first, it was just a murmur of voices. Then, I caught fragments, sharp and clear.
"...confirmed the identity... Beast Tamer Moti..." the City Lord's rumble was low, but distinct. "...not acting alone. Hired. Rumors point to a powerful noble in the capital..."
My blood ran cold. Hired. This wasn't just some random monster attack. The invasion that nearly wiped out the city, the one I'd technically started by killing the goblin chief, was a paid hit. The guilt, which I'd been stuffing down, twisted in my gut like a knife.
Then, a new voice, girlish and excited Neralia. "The Princess! She's really coming? Here?"
"With Guild Master Valerius in three, maybe four days," the City Lord confirmed, his tone grim. "The King's negotiations in the capital are being stalled. Facing opposition from an... unknown entity. He's sent her to negotiate from here, away from prying eyes."
A softer, yet unmistakably eager voice joined Neralia's, Freya's. "Gods, we haven't seen her in years! Do you remember the summer I spent in the capital, Father? We trained together every morning."
It was jarring to hear Freya sound so... unguarded. So human. The image of her and Neralia giggling like schoolgirls over a royal visit was a universe away from the blood-soaked warrior I'd fought beside.
"Enough," the City Lord cut in, his voice re-establishing order. "This is not a social call. If word gets out the Princess is here on the King's business, the same force opposing him will surely intervene. For all public purposes, she is simply the Duchess of Korka, fulfilling her ducal duties. There will be no mention of her status as Princess of Rostalio. Is that understood?"
A chorus of assents, slightly chastened, followed.
Lashley's voice, sharper, more perceptive, cut through. "Father, there's more. I can sense it. What aren't you telling us?"
A heavy pause. "There is more," the City Lord admitted, the words laden with unspoken weight. "But nothing more can be revealed until the Guild Master arrives with the... Duchess. However, you should know that Captain Alaric has been assigned as her personal escort for the journey."
"Alaric?" Lashley's voice was filled with a sudden, fervent respect. "The 'Crimson Lion'? He's a legend! One of the finest warriors the kingdom has ever produced!"
That was my cue. I'd heard enough.
I pushed off from the wall, the brief chill of the political revelation replaced by the familiar, cold focus of my own reality. A hired assassin. A princess in disguise. Court intrigue in the capital. It was a web of shit I wanted no part of.
My focus wasn't on kingdoms or conspiracies. It was on the timer burning in my vision. 31:37:12... 11... 10... 9...
I only had to worry about Freya for a little over a day. That was the only mission that mattered. The last thing I needed was to get tangled in some royal mess. The System's missions could be anything; becoming the enemy of a state felt like a very real, very likely possibility. Getting involved now would be like volunteering for my own execution.
Let them have their princess and their politics. I just had to keep one woman alive for thirty-one more hours. Everything else was background noise. Deadly, world-changing background noise, but noise nonetheless.
I turned my back on the door and the secrets it held, retreating to my assigned spot in the hall. I was a shadow again, waiting for my charge to emerge, determined to stay in the darkness and out of the light of a coming royal storm.
The study door opened a few minutes later, spilling the occupants back into the hall. Their moods were a study in contrasts. The City Lord looked like a man carrying a mountain on his shoulders, his expression grim and preoccupied. Erik wore a similar look of deep concern. In stark relief, Neralia and Lashley practically vibrated with a mix of self-importance and excitement, the secret they now carried making them stand taller. Freya fell somewhere in between, her professional mask back in place, but a faint light in her eyes betrayed her anticipation at seeing her old friend.
Their gazes immediately found me, still leaning against the wall where I'd been left.
"Still here?" Lashley remarked, his lip curling. "I'd have thought you'd found a gutter to crawl back into by now."
"And miss the captivating conversation?" I pushed off the wall. "I was just reflecting on how some people are born on… nevermind. You're not worth it."
Neralia sniffed, looping her arm through Freya's. "Pay him no mind, Freya. He's just jealous. Commoners often are."
"You're right," I said, nodding seriously. "I'm deeply jealous of people who get to have important meetings about how to look important while other people do the actual work. It's a heavy burden, I'm sure."
Freya extracted her arm from Neralia's grip, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. "That's enough, Kaizen."
"Is it?" Lashley stepped forward, his hand resting on his sword hilt again. "You overstep your station, 'adventurer'. You may have fought on the wall, but that doesn't grant you the right to insult your betters."
"My 'betters'?" I let out a short, humorless laugh. "The only thing you're better at is being born. I'm better at staying alive. I know which skill I'd rather have when the next house-sized lion shows up."
"Lashley. Kaizen." The City Lord's voice cut through the rising tension like a blade. He didn't raise his voice, but the command in it was absolute. "We do not have the time or the energy for this petty squabbling. The city is in ruins. Save your fire for our actual enemies."
Erik moved to my side, placing a firm, fatherly hand on my shoulder. It was both a comfort and a restraint. "He's right, my boy. Let it go. You've done your part. Don't undo it with foolish pride."
Lashley, suitably chastised by his father, shot me one last venomous look but backed down. Neralia simply turned her nose up, dismissing my existence entirely.
The City Lord's gaze swept over us all, finally settling on Freya. "The tasks we discussed. See them begun. I will have the preliminary reports ready by nightfall."
Freya gave a sharp, professional nod. "Understood, my lord."
With that, the City Lord turned and strode away, his mind already leagues away on problems of state. Lashley and Neralia followed, the latter casting a final, excited glance back at Freya.
Erik gave my shoulder a final squeeze. "Behave," he murmured, before hurrying after the City Lord.
That left the two of us alone in the hall again. The silence was thick with unspoken words.
Freya looked at me, her expression unreadable. "Satisfied?"
"Thrilled," I deadpanned. "Nothing I love more than being scolded like a child by a man who gets his authority from his daddy."
She shook her head, a gesture of pure exhaustion. "Just… stay out of trouble for the next few hours. I have work to do."
She turned and walked away, not checking to see if I followed. I did, of course. My own personal countdown was a more relentless master than any city lord.
31:33:01… 00…
30:59:59… 58… 57…
The politics, the princess, the disdainful twins, it was all just static. My world had narrowed to the back of Freya's head and the glowing numbers that dictated how long I had to keep it attached to her shoulders. Everything else was a distraction I couldn't afford
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