The royal messenger did not announce himself.
He did not need to.
The seal alone was enough.
People stopped talking when they saw the black crest.
Not the gold of mercy.
Not the silver of compromise.
Black.
Judgment.
Severin stood in the open square when the man dismounted.
No guards flanking him.
No banners raised.
Just a disgraced prince
waiting to be reminded of his place.
The messenger unrolled the decree with deliberate slowness.
"By order of His Majesty, King Aldric of the Unified Crown,"
the man read,
"Prince Severin Kaelros is hereby stripped of all administrative authority."
A murmur spread.
Severin remained still.
"For unauthorized use of coercive force.
For destabilizing regional trade.
For inciting civil unrest."
Each charge landed cleanly.
Professionally.
Designed to leave no room for defense.
"Effective immediately," the messenger continued,
"Prince Severin is exiled beyond the inner borders."
The word echoed.
Exiled.
Not imprisoned.
Not executed.
Discarded.
"You will be granted," the messenger said,
"a border allotment.
Unregistered.
Unprotected.
Unrecognized by the crown."
Harlan clenched his fists.
Severin did not move.
"And the people?" Severin asked calmly.
The messenger looked up for the first time.
"The crown will appoint a provisional governor.
Order will be restored."
Order.
The same word used for starvation.
For silence.
For forgetting.
Severin nodded once.
"I accept."
The crowd gasped.
Harlan turned sharply.
"You don't have to—"
"I do," Severin said quietly.
He looked around.
At the burned stalls.
The repaired well.
The faces watching him not as a prince—
but as a question.
"If I resist," Severin continued,
"they send soldiers.
People die.
This settlement becomes an example."
He turned back to the messenger.
"When do I leave?"
"At sundown."
Efficient.
The messenger rolled the decree back up.
"One more thing," he added.
Severin waited.
"The woman," the messenger said.
"Selyne Rowan.
Lowborn.
Unaffiliated."
Severin's jaw tightened.
"She is not named in the decree.
She may remain.
Or leave.
Her fate is not your concern."
That—
that was deliberate.
Severin inclined his head.
"As you say."
The messenger mounted his horse.
"Your Highness," he added, almost politely.
"Do not build where the crown has decided to erase."
Then he was gone.
The square slowly emptied.
People did not shout.
Did not protest.
They simply… stepped back.
Distance was safety.
Harlan stayed.
"You're walking into nothing," he said hoarsely.
"Yes."
"You'll have no supplies.
No legitimacy.
No protection."
Severin almost smiled.
"That's usually where real foundations start."
Harlan laughed once.
Bitter.
"Damn you," he muttered.
"You always talk like you're already dead."
Severin did not answer.
He turned—
and found Selyne standing near the well.
She had heard everything.
Her face was unreadable.
"So," she said softly.
"They're throwing you away."
"Yes."
She waited.
"And you're… relieved?"
Severin considered the question.
"A little," he admitted.
"They won't look too closely at what I do next."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You're still planning."
"Always."
She exhaled sharply.
"They didn't order me to go with you."
"No."
"They didn't order me to stay either."
"No."
Silence stretched.
Then she spoke again.
"If I stay," she said,
"I become a symbol.
A reminder.
Something they can use."
"Yes."
"If I go," she continued,
"I walk into uncertainty.
With you."
"Yes."
She laughed quietly.
"You really don't make this easy."
Severin met her gaze.
"I won't ask," he said.
"And I won't stop you."
That surprised her.
"You won't?"
"No."
She studied him—
as if searching for manipulation.
Found none.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
Severin pointed toward the horizon.
"Beyond maps.
Beyond trade routes.
Beyond interest."
She followed his gaze.
"Nothing survives there."
He looked back at her.
"Then we'll start small."
The system stirred.
[ Exile State Confirmed. ]
[ Status: Independent Entity. ]
[ Crown Protection: Revoked. ]
[ Empire Tycoon System: FULL ACCESS CONDITIONALLY ENABLED. ]
[ Note: Survival Mode Activated. ]
Selyne felt it.
Not the system—
but the shift.
The weight of watching a man
step out of everything that defined him.
"You're insane," she said quietly.
"Yes."
She hesitated.
Then—
took one step forward.
Not toward him.
Toward the road.
"I'm not following you," she said.
"I'm choosing uncertainty over being used."
Severin closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
At sundown,
two figures left the settlement.
No banners.
No witnesses.
Only a broken prince
and a woman who still did not trust him—
walking toward a land
where no one cared who they used to be.
And that,
for the first time,
felt like the beginning.
Night swallowed the road faster than Severin expected.
Beyond the settlement's last torch, the land lost its shape.
No markers.
No fences.
No promise of shelter.
Only wind.
Selyne walked a few steps ahead, her pace steady, deliberate.
Not hurried.
Not hesitant.
That bothered Severin more than anger would have.
"You don't know what's out here," he said quietly.
"I know what's back there," she replied without turning.
"That's enough."
They walked in silence.
The ground changed underfoot—
soft soil giving way to stone, then cracked earth that smelled faintly of iron.
No farms.
No smoke.
No life.
Severin slowed.
"Rest," he said.
"Before your leg—"
"It's fine."
"It's not."
She stopped.
Turned.
Her eyes were tired.
Not weak.
"You don't get to decide what I can endure," she said.
"Not anymore."
He nodded once.
"You're right."
That answer startled her.
They sat beneath a dead tree, its branches clawing at the sky.
Severin removed his cloak and folded it, placing it beside her.
Not around her.
Not touching.
A choice.
She watched him carefully.
"You didn't argue," she said.
"I'm done forcing outcomes," he replied.
"It costs too much."
She looked away.
The system flickered faintly.
[ Environmental Threat Detected. ]
[ Resource Availability: Near Zero. ]
[ Survival Priority: Food, Water, Shelter. ]
[ Emotional Stability: Volatile (Both Parties). ]
No reward.
No comfort.
Just reality.
Selyne broke the silence.
"When you used that power," she said softly,
"in the granary… I thought you'd lost yourself."
Severin stared at the dark horizon.
"So did I."
She hesitated.
"But you stopped," she continued.
"You didn't chase control.
You let it burn."
"That's because I've seen what happens when I don't," he said.
She turned to him.
"You speak like a man who's already buried someone."
He met her gaze.
"I have."
The wind howled through the dead branches.
For a moment—
just a moment—
she almost asked more.
Instead, she said,
"If we die out here…"
She swallowed.
"…will it at least be honest?"
Severin answered without pause.
"Yes."
That seemed to settle something.
She leaned back against the tree.
Closed her eyes.
Not asleep.
Just… resting.
Severin stayed awake.
Watching.
Listening.
Protecting without touching.
When dawn finally bled into the sky,
it revealed the truth of where they were headed.
A barren stretch of land,
scarred by old foundations and collapsed stone.
A place abandoned
because it refused to sustain life.
The system spoke one last time as the sun rose.
[ Destination Identified. ]
[ Name (Historic): Greyfall Outlands. ]
[ Status: Failed Territory. ]
[ Recommendation: Retreat (Impossible). ]
Severin exhaled slowly.
"Then this is where we begin," he murmured.
Selyne opened her eyes.
Looked at the ruins.
Then at him.
"Don't make me regret choosing uncertainty," she said.
He met her gaze, steady.
"I won't ask you to believe in me," he replied.
"I'll build something you can walk away from."
That—
more than any promise—
made her stay.