The sun dipped below the horizon.
Crimson light blanketed the earth, dyeing the lush green grasslands in a vivid scarlet hue. The warm, moist scent of soil and fresh grass wafted through the air, clearing one's mind considerably. Blake tore his gaze away from the scenery and glanced at Ophelia, who sat opposite him, engrossed in a book. He couldn't help but smile. It was clear that the former princess was still unaccustomed to traveling in such harsh conditions. Though her physical form was not truly flesh and blood, the constant jolting and fatigue of the journey had left her looking somewhat weary.
"My lord, we will be arriving at our destination shortly," Kaster's voice called from outside the carriage. Blake paused for a moment, then nodded.
"I understand."
"Very good, my lord."
At that, Kaster immediately slowed the carriage to a crawl. Blake looked up, his eyes falling on a weathered wooden sign by the side of the road. The triangular directional marker bore the two large black characters for *Roya*, faded by years of wind and rain to the point where they were barely legible if one didn't look closely.
As the central city of the domain, Roya's prosperity was far beyond that of any mere border town. As they drew closer, the once-desolate road gradually grew bustling with activity. Among the crowds were farmers hurrying back to their villages in horse-drawn carts, armed adventurers, and merchants whose goods were being inspected at the city gate. It was already dusk, and there was no shortage of people either entering or leaving the city—after all, if they delayed too long and the gates closed for the night, they would be stuck until morning.
Seeing the approaching carriage, the guards stationed at the city gate quickly waved it to a halt. Although the vehicle's exterior marked it as belonging to nobility, the coat of arms emblazoned on it was unfamiliar to them. Thus, they were not overly intimidated—this was House Zachary's territory, and as the saying went, even a mighty dragon could not crush a local snake. No matter who these travelers were, they ought to show some deference while on House Zachary's land.
"Who might you be, and what brings you to Roya?" they asked, maintaining a veneer of respect despite their suspicions.
"We hail from Twilight Forest," Kaster replied promptly, reciting the prearranged line at Blake's silent signal.
"We are merely passing through your domain and wish to find lodging for the night. I trust this will not cause any trouble for you gentlemen?"
"Of course not... absolutely not," the guard answered, hesitating slightly as he discreetly accepted a few gold coins slipped into his palm by Kaster. The man's demeanor was neither obsequious nor arrogant—clearly, he was not someone to be trifled with. Moreover, they had not mentioned any noble house affiliation, only stating that they came from Twilight Forest. *Twilight Forest?* Wasn't that part of House Byrd's territory? Could these men be agents of House Byrd?
The guard's heart sank at the thought. While House Byrd and House Zachary were not outright enemies, their relations were far from cordial. Both families held significant stakes in the Golden Trade Route, but House Byrd controlled the most lucrative sections, leaving House Zachary with the scraps. As a result, the two houses maintained an uneasy truce, avoiding major conflicts but never truly cooperating. Now, why would men from House Byrd venture into House Zachary's domain?
Suspicions swirled in his mind, but he kept them carefully hidden. With so many people watching at the city gate, losing his composure would only bring shame to House Zachary. On any ordinary day, the guards would have relished the chance to give these House Byrd men a hard time and remind them of their place. But these were not ordinary times—there was unrest brewing within House Zachary. The guards didn't know the specifics of the trouble, being low-ranking as they were, but the frequent troop movements and heightened tensions had made it clear that something was amiss in the family. And in such times, their priority was to avoid becoming pawns in a larger game.
"You may enter," the guards said, exchanging a meaningful glance before stepping aside to let the carriage pass. Just as the last carriage rolled past them, the curtain at the window suddenly lifted, and a young boy's innocent face peered out at the guards.
"Huh?"
The guards froze in surprise, but before they could react, the carriage had already vanished down the street, disappearing from sight.
"What do we do, Captain?" one of the guards asked, staring anxiously in the direction the carriage had gone. The captain wasted no time in making a decision.
"I will ride back to report this to our superiors at once. You men, follow that carriage and find out where they're staying. Return to me immediately with your findings."
"Yes, Captain!"
The remaining guards saluted, but made no move to leave immediately.
"Wait a minute... I could've sworn I saw the young master in that carriage," one of them whispered hesitantly.
"Say nothing of this to anyone," the captain snapped, his expression darkening.
"I will handle the report. Now go carry out your orders—and make sure you are not seen, understand?"
Seeing the captain's stern expression, the guards realized the gravity of the situation. They nodded silently, then turned and slipped away to follow the carriage. Once his men had dispersed, the captain took a deep, shaky breath, ordered a horse to be saddled, and galloped off toward the Zachary estate, urgency driving him onward.
This matter had to be reported immediately!
Thanks to Blake's deliberate low profile upon entering the city and the captain's urgent report, word of his arrival spread like wildfire through Roya's noble circles within hours. This came as no surprise—many of these nobles maintained extensive spy networks throughout the domain, and news of a High Swordsman and a royal noble entering House Zachary's territory had reached them shortly after Blake's display of power in the border town.
The nobles quickly uncovered the "truth" about Blake's background—and their reactions were exactly as he had anticipated. No one believed that House Byrd would dare cheat a High Swordsman out of his rightful lands and fob him off with a worthless fief like Twilight Forest. That was preposterous!
At the same time, however, they remained utterly clueless about Blake's true motives. But regardless of his intentions, he was a High Swordsman traveling with a member of the royal family—cultivating good relations with such a figure could only be beneficial. Furthermore, reliable intelligence indicated that Blake was the scion of a fallen noble house, with no blood ties to House Byrd whatsoever. This revelation was like a ray of hope for the other noble families. Without any familial loyalty binding him to House Byrd, this young High Swordsman could potentially be swayed to their side. If they succeeded in winning his allegiance, it would be a tremendous boon for their houses.
Twilight Forest was a desolate, worthless backwater—who in their right mind would want it? With their vast domains, they had plenty of fertile lands to offer. If Blake was willing to ally with them, they would gladly carve out a substantial fief for him, no questions asked. It would be well worth the cost!
While the nobles plotted and schemed, Blake and his entourage had already settled into a modest inn on the outskirts of the city. Called *The Moon's Whisper*, the establishment's decor was passable, but its location—on the border between the noble district and the commoners' quarter—left much to be desired. Unsurprisingly, an inn in such a neighborhood attracted a rather unsavory clientele.
"My lord, we have no need to stay in such a place," Kaster protested uneasily as he pushed open the door, taking in the rowdy atmosphere and the scantily clad dancers gyrating on the tables. As a seasoned soldier, he knew all too well that areas like this were hotbeds of crime and vice. The boundary between the noble and common districts was always the most dangerous part of any city, requiring constant patrols by the city watch.
Blake and Ophelia's arrival had immediately drawn every eye in the inn. The sight of a well-dressed nobleman and a stunningly beautiful young woman had sparked a flurry of lewd glances and malicious whispers among the patrons.
"Shall we find another inn instead?" Kaster suggested, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready for trouble.
"No need. This place will do just fine," Blake replied calmly. Before Kaster could argue further, the innkeeper scurried over, his face wreathed in ingratiating smiles, clearly thrilled by the arrival of such distinguished guests.
"Honored guests! Welcome, welcome! How may I assist you this evening?" he gushed.
"We require lodging," Blake cut him off, tossing a pouch of gold coins onto the counter with a clink.
"I want the entire top floor—your finest rooms, all to ourselves. You have one hour to clean them thoroughly and clear the floor of all other guests. I trust this will not be a problem?"
"No problem at all! No problem whatsoever!" the innkeeper exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the gold. He snatched the pouch off the counter, quickly grabbed a nearby waiter, and barked a string of orders at him before dismissing him with a wave of his hand. Turning back to Blake, he beamed and gestured toward the back of the inn.
"The common room is a bit rowdy for guests of your stature, I'm afraid. Please follow me to the private parlor while we prepare your rooms. I shall have everything ready for you in no time!"
"I trust this will be sufficient to cover the costs?" Blake asked suddenly as he brushed past the innkeeper, his tone casual but laced with an unspoken threat. The innkeeper blinked in surprise at the odd question, but quickly recovered his composure, masking his confusion with a smooth smile.
"More than sufficient, honored sir! More than enough to cover the entire top floor, and then some! And I shall personally see to it that you are served our finest supper this evening—complimentary, of course!" he replied obsequiously. Internally, he sneered—their most expensive meal cost a mere single gold coin, and the pouch Blake had tossed him contained at least fifty. That was more than enough to rent the entire inn for a week, let alone just the top floor.
"Good," Blake said, giving him a cryptic smile before turning and heading toward the parlor without another word. The innkeeper watched his retreating back, a flicker of unease stirring in his gut. There was something about the nobleman's tone that had sent a chill down his spine. But he quickly shook off the feeling, his greed overriding any misgivings. Turning on his heel, he hurried upstairs to personally oversee the preparations for his esteemed guests.
As soon as Blake and his companions had disappeared into the back of the inn, the common room erupted into a cacophony of noise and speculation.
"Hmph! Think he's so great just because he's got money? Look at the way he carries himself!"
"That girl of his is a real looker, though. Wonder what she's like in bed?"
"Ha! With skin that soft and delicate? Bet she couldn't last half the night!"
"You never know! Look at that scrawny noble—probably wears himself out on her every night!"
"Hahaha! Pathetic! Give me that girl and ten others just like her, and I'd have 'em begging for mercy by dawn!"
The lewd laughter died abruptly as a sharp warning cut through the noise. The men had not failed to notice Ophelia's distinctive violet hair—their earlier taunts had been born of petty jealousy, but when faced with the very real danger of being accused of defaming the royal family, they quickly thought better of it. Insulting a member of the royal bloodline was a serious crime, and none of them were foolish enough to risk imprisonment over a few idle words.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of the room, several figures watched Blake's party intently, their expressions cold and calculating. Unlike the rowdy patrons, they remained silent, huddled together in a dark corner.
"Well?" one of them whispered tersely.
"The boy they're with—it's almost certainly the young master," another replied in a low voice.
"What do we do now?"
"Return to the lord at once with this information. If we delay, it could be too late to act."
After their brief exchange, the shadowy figures melted into the crowd like ghosts, disappearing without a trace.
The innkeeper worked with remarkable efficiency. Before Blake and his companions had even finished their cups of tea, he was back to announce that their rooms were ready. Naturally, the two best suites on the top floor were reserved for Blake and Ophelia. The remaining rooms—still far superior to the inn's usual accommodations—were allocated to the Zachary guards, the young master, and Kaster's men, who were free to choose whichever they preferred.
No sooner had the rooms been assigned than the leader of the Zachary guards approached Blake, his face etched with anxiety and barely suppressed excitement.
"My lord! We have arrived in Roya! Why delay any longer? Let us return to House Zachary at once! Within the family estate, we will be afforded far better protection. This wretched inn is only putting us in unnecessary danger!" he pleaded earnestly.
"That is none of your concern," Blake replied flatly, his tone devoid of any warmth or patience. Dealing with a man of such limited intelligence was a waste of time—subtle hints would go right over his head, so Blake saw no point in beating around the bush.
"I have already promised to return you safely to House Zachary, and I intend to keep that promise. Your only duty is to obey my orders without question. That instruction has not changed. So I suggest you do as you're told."
The guard's face paled at Blake's icy words. He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could speak, a small, trembling voice piped up beside him.
"But big brother, I'm scared here... I want to go home. I want my sister," the young master whimpered, tugging at Blake's sleeve with his tiny hands, his eyes red and brimming with tears as he looked up at Blake.
"Can we go home now? I miss Father. I need to go save them—they've been captured by bad men!"
"We will go home soon," Blake assured him, smiling gently as he ruffled the boy's hair.
"Be patient, young master. Good things come to those who wait. And when the time is right, you will have your chance to set things right."
With that, Blake stepped back and waved a dismissive hand.
"Now, off to your rooms, all of you. This city is full of dangers, and the night grows late. If you wish to see your home again, you would do well to follow my instructions to the letter."
The guard clamped his mouth shut, the fight draining out of him. With a defeated sigh, he turned and led the young master to their assigned rooms. As the door clicked shut behind them, the gentle smile vanished from Blake's face, replaced by a cold, mocking sneer.
"Quite the little actor, isn't he?"
"One might say the boy is far too clever for his own good... or perhaps his guardians are just far too stupid," Ophelia murmured with a soft sigh, her tone laced with regret.
"Are you ready for what comes next, Lord Blake?"
"More than ready," Blake replied, a faint smile playing on his lips. He leaned in close to Ophelia, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper in her ear.
"So do not sleep too soundly tonight. We have a meeting with our prospective buyers to attend... and it would be best to have the terms of our deal drawn up beforehand."
"You may leave it to me," Ophelia said, her cheeks flushing slightly as she stepped back from him. Lifting her chin, she met his gaze with quiet determination.
"I will prepare everything you require."
"Excellent."
Blake nodded approvingly, then turned his attention to Kaster, who stood nearby, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
"I want you to double the guards posted around the Zachary party's rooms. Do not let any of them out of your sight for a single moment. Under no circumstances are they to escape. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, my lord," Kaster replied, bowing deeply.
"It shall be done."
Night had fallen completely.
The day's hustle and bustle had faded into silence, leaving the city shrouded in darkness. The flickering lights of the street lamps dwindled and died one by one, until only the quiet blackness of the night remained.
Shadows stirred.
A group of black-cloaked figures emerged silently from the narrow alleyways, gathering in the deep shadows across the street from the inn. They watched the building intently, their voices barely audible as they conferred in hushed tones.
"What is the situation?" their leader asked.
"The targets are in the eastern wing of the top floor. According to our intelligence, the young master is in the third room from the stairs. Our lord has issued a direct order—*the young master must die*," one of the men reported coldly.
"What of the other two? The nobleman and the woman?"
"As a precaution, we must engage them and prevent them from interfering. The woman's capabilities are unknown, but the man is said to possess the strength of a High Swordsman."
"Hmph! A mere boy's tale—rumors are always exaggerated. I shall deal with him personally," the leader scoffed, his eyes blazing with a fierce, competitive light. At his words, the other men fell silent, deferring to his authority. It was clear that he was their undisputed commander.
"Now! Move out at once! Remember—spare no expense, no lives! Failure is not an option! Bring glory to the name of the Shadow Assassins!"
The shadows surged forward, then dispersed once more, melting into the night like water, gone without a trace.