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Back at the main gates of Atlon, the royal horse cart arrived at a wave of quiet, practiced motion. Hooves struck the dirt path with a steady rhythm, their echoes bouncing softly between the high stone walls. Behind the cart, armored soldiers followed in clean lines, each one mounted and upright, their cloaks lifting gently in the breeze.
The A-formation stood ready — a sharp corridor of spearmen, musketeers, and knights drawn into disciplined silence. At its apex, Commander Galen stepped forward, gaze firm, boots unwavering as he faced the cart.
As it rolled to a slow stop, he raised an arm and called out, voice clear and grounded, "Welcome back, Your Highnesses."
The door creaked open.
King Nalon emerged first, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. His jaw was set, eyes sweeping across the soldiers before resting briefly on Galen. Then came Queen Rhea, fingers tightening on the doorframe before she stepped down onto the earth.
Her eyes were scanning — soft in shape, but edged with tension. Hope flickered in them… chased by worry.
She looked toward the open gates, past the rows of soldiers.
"He's here, right?" she whispered.
King Nalon gave a short nod, his voice low, careful.
"I don't know what we'll find yet."
The silence that followed carried more weight than words. Whatever had happened while they were gone... it hadn't been simple.
Then came fast, uneven footsteps from beyond the lines.
Ellis ran in, breathing hard, boots leaving faint tracks as he reached the outer edge of the gates. The A-formation didn't flinch, but a few heads shifted. His arrival wasn't a disturbance — not yet — but there was urgency in the way he moved, ducking low, weaving through the formation like water flowing between stones.
He crouched, veering left, sliding into place near his squad's position. There, just behind the front lines, stood Tomas, Kellin, and Eren.
Eren turned first, feeling a tap on his shoulder. His brows lifted as Ellis gave a small, upward nod.
"You made it," Eren whispered.
"Barely," Ellis muttered, still catching his breath. "I came from the tents. Had to grab something."
Tomas glanced over his shoulder. "What's happening back there?"
"They're staying," Ellis answered quickly, eyes still scanning the central line. "Fred already told them to. I just passed the message when the horn sounded."
Kellin let out a breath. "Good. The last thing we need is someone wandering around while this is going down."
"Speaking of," Eren murmured, "look."
They all turned toward the cart, where King Nalon and Queen Rhea stood quietly speaking with Galen.
The tension was thick now. No one broke rank, but the stillness in the air felt heavy — the kind of silence packed with unspoken things. The kind that followed a storm… or came before another.
Ellis narrowed his eyes.
"…They're not smiling," he said under his breath.
Tomas nodded once. "Whatever happened in Aurelia... they brought it back with them."
The soft clatter of shifting armor passed down the line as musketeers adjusted their stance, still holding their formation. From above, a single, low bell chime rang from the watchtower — the all-clear.
But no one relaxed.
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The open courtyard outside the tall gates held its breath. Only the banners stirred in the breeze, their edges whispering against the air, while leather straps creaked faintly along the armored lines of men.
Commander Galen bowed, then rose, his tone measured yet direct.
"If I may, Your Highness… what happened in Aurelia? Word reached us it was urgent. Some say… it concerned their daughter."
The soldiers stiffened. No one lifted their heads, but every ear was listening.
Queen Rhea pressed her lips together before answering, her voice quiet but steady.
"Yes. King Icarus and Queen Ileria… they wished to speak of Irena. Their daughter is entangled in something greater than she realizes."
Her words barely carried a few steps before Nalon lifted his hand.
"That's enough." His voice cut clean through the air, firm and unyielding. "This is not the place to talk about it."
"But—" Rhea's eyes softened with a plea, though she let the words die before they left her tongue.
Galen leaned forward, careful, but unable to still his concern.
"Your Majesty… forgive me, but there is nothing here to interrupt us. If this matter concerns Aurelia's royal child, we should know—"
"No." Nalon's reply was sharper now, colder. His jaw set as his gaze swept over the rows of soldiers. Too many eyes. Too many mouths to carry whispers where they didn't belong.
"We'll speak of it only in the castle court."
The silence thickened. The musketeers at the rear stood stiller than before, as if the air itself was waiting.
Even Galen, though disciplined, felt the weight of it press against his chest. At last, he bowed his head.
"As you command."
Nalon's eyes flicked once toward the gates, then back to his men. For a heartbeat he seemed caught in thought, before his voice came again, low but unbending.
"Return to your businesses… for the evening."
Confusion rippled through the ranks. The sun still burned high overhead, midday clear and bright. Yet the king's words were final. Soldiers traded uneasy glances.
Tomas leaned slightly toward Eren. "Did he just say evening?"
Eren's jaw tightened as he nodded. "He did."
Even Galen's brow drew faintly before he buried it in another bow. Rhea's furrowed brows lingered longer, though her eyes seemed to catch something deeper beneath her husband's strange command — something urgent, unspoken.
Nalon strode past Galen, cloak brushing the dirt, and stepped through the gates. Rhea followed, her steps light but her face marked by quiet worry.
On the driver's perch, reins still in hand, sat Zenshin. His posture was calm — too calm — his gaze hidden beneath the tilt of his helm. To anyone else, he was nothing more than another royal escort.
Most of the soldiers didn't know his name. Few had seen him more than once.
But for those who lingered too long, there it was — that faint, unnatural chill that clung to him. The daylight itself seemed to bend around his figure, thinning the air where he sat.
And when the Highnesses passed beyond the gates, that same heavy silence clung stubbornly to the courtyard.
Commander Galen straightened, shoulders square, and raised his voice to carry down the lines.
"Back to your posts! Resume your work!"
The order cracked the stillness like a snapped branch. Soldiers shifted into motion, musketeers resetting their stance while spearmen lifted shields back into place. The corridor of A-formation dissolved into movement, men peeling away toward their stations.
By the left flank, Kellin muttered, "Evening, he said. And it's barely midday."
Eren adjusted his musket, gaze lingering on the gates. "Don't dwell on it. If the King says evening, then it's evening."
Kellin frowned. "Still doesn't make sense."
Ellis glanced at the gates, his voice low. "Still strange, though. He's never spoken like that."
Tomas shook his head slowly. "Strange or not… it wasn't meant for us. Orders are orders."
The group fell quiet. Around them, squads dispersed — some toward the barracks, others to the wall posts. Yet the unease lingered like smoke, a question none dared voice too loud.
Galen lingered last, eyes fixed on the gate where the royal cart had vanished. His jaw tightened before he turned sharply on his heel, cloak snapping in the breeze.
The courtyard filled with life again, yet the echo of what had just passed hung in the air. A weight that training could not carry. A silence orders could not erase.
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Inside and outside the large tent, the camp was alive with movement. Smoke from cooking fires curled slowly into the air as a few women stirred pots, preparing lunch for midday. Children ran in circles near the open ground, their laughter mixing with the rhythmic sound of men lifting crates and tying down supplies. Everyone worked together — hands busy, voices steady, hearts trying to stay brave.
But inside the main tent, Nathan sat quietly, still lost in thought. Something lingered in his chest, an unease he couldn't shake.
Mira, who had been sitting nearby, finally broke the silence.
"I want to step out for a moment… there's something I want to see."
Nathan looked up and gave her a small nod. "Alright."
Before she could leave, Aerois piped up. Instead of asking Mira directly, he turned toward Nathan.
"Can I go with her?"
Nathan gave a faint smile and nodded again. "... Go on."
The two of them stepped out. From inside, Nathan could just barely see Mira's figure pause to ask permission from her grandfather, the old merchant, who was busy arranging goods at a cooking stand outside. He waved her along distractedly, too focused on his work.
That left Nathan with Grey.
Grey shifted closer, dragging the half-bitten bread with him. He chewed once, then set it down, watching Nathan carefully.
"You've been quiet," Grey said finally, his voice low but not accusing. "More than usual, I mean."
Nathan blinked, pulling his gaze up. "Just thinking."
"About what?" Grey tilted his head, ears flicking. "Don't say 'nothing.' You've got that look — the one where you're holding too much in."
Nathan gave a small, dry laugh. "You sound like Mira."
Grey smirked faintly. "Maybe. But I'm older than I look. I've seen things. Felt things. Even if I don't remember them all."
Nathan turned his eyes toward him, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
Grey leaned back against the folded blanket pile, his expression darkening. "I wasn't always… this." He gestured at himself with one paw. "A rabbit that talks, runs around, cracks jokes. Before this, I was someone else. Maybe more than one person."
Nathan stayed quiet, waiting.
Grey rubs the back of his neck, he continues. "What you're feeling now… it's not just yours. I know that weight. Because I've carried one too. For a long time."
His words carried something deeper, and Nathan tilted his head, listening closely.
Grey's gaze darkened slightly. "I don't remember everything. My past lives… they're broken pieces. Like a mirror someone shattered and left in the dirt. I think, I was cursed. But I don't know who… or why."
Nathan frowned. "You're cursed?"
Grey nodded once. "All I can clearly remember is waking up in the small woods of Atlon. And Aerois was there. He told me he was my old friend… but even he doesn't remember what happened before that."
He paused, his expression shifting from sadness to something sharper, more resolved.
"That's why I need help, Nathan. Your help. To find the truth of it… and to break it."
Nathan hesitated, confusion flickering in his eyes. "But… why me? Why not someone else?"
Grey tried to lighten it with a grin, his tone teasing for just a moment.
"Well, because you're here. Isn't that common sense?"
Nathan let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "That's not an answer."
The humor faded quickly from Grey's face. His voice grew serious again, steady and certain.
"No. The real reason… is because you carry something. Something different. Something special. You don't even realize it yet, but I can feel it. Whatever it is… it's greater than anything I could find elsewhere. And maybe… too important for you to even know right now."
Nathan's smile faded. His chest tightened, though he couldn't explain why.
Grey's eyes locked onto his, filled with an almost desperate honesty.
"The world is already breaking. The demons… they've begun to rise. You don't see it all yet, but you will. If we don't understand what you carry — if you don't learn how to use it — none of us will stand a chance."
"The Tenaria itself feels sick. And I think… you're the one who's supposed to face it."
Nathan stared at him, stunned. "Me?"
"You," Grey said firmly. His paws clenched in the blanket beneath him. "Don't ask me how I know. I just do. You're carrying something none of us can. Maybe it's too important for you to even understand yet."
Nathan looked down, fingers brushing the medallion beneath his shirt. For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
Grey's voice softened. "I don't remember anything. But I do know this — I can't break free without you. And maybe… you can't survive what's coming without me."
Nathan swallowed, the words pressing heavy in his chest.
Grey's eyes didn't leave him. "So when I ask for your help… I don't just mean mine. I mean everyone."
The weight of his words hung heavy between them. Nathan's throat worked, but no answer came.
The words sank deep, heavy and urgent, leaving Nathan momentarily speechless.
For a long moment, the tent was quiet except for the muffled laughter of children outside and the clatter of cooking pots.
Then, cutting through it all, came a sharp, distant voice. A man shouting from outside:
"Everyone! The Highnesses of Atlon are back!"
The tent shifted with sudden noise. Footsteps hurried, voices rose, and the sound of chairs scraping against the floor filled the air.
Nathan blinked, Grey's words still pressing on his mind, even as the world outside surged into motion.
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The evacuation grounds stirred with motion. People trickled out from the tents, drawn by murmurs drifting through the air. Mothers held their children close, older men leaned on walking sticks, and boys tried to run ahead only to be yanked back by anxious hands.
Nathan lingered at the flap of the main tent, peeking out. The crowd moved like a slow current, everyone flowing toward the great stage in front of Atlon Castle. Voices tangled together — low, broken scraps carried on the breeze.
"…the Highnesses…"
"…saw the royal cart myself…"
"…after all that happened last night—"
"…the prince, will he…?"
Nathan's chest tightened at the sound.
Grey padded up beside him, nose twitching. His ears tilted, catching the tones around them. "Guess they're carrying more than blankets and bread," he muttered. "Word spreads faster than fire."
Nathan gave a small nod. "Let's go."
They slipped into the stream of bodies. Nathan walked slowly, weaving between cloaks and broad shoulders, his thoughts heavy with one pull. Mother. He wanted to see her face, to know she was safe.
The closer they drew to the castle, the denser the crowd became. Families pressed close, whispering over one another — worry, hope, fear, all knotted together.
"…saw smoke still rising past the ridge…"
"…but if Their Highnesses are here, then maybe—"
"…don't let the little ones hear, not about the dead…"
Grey snorted softly, his whiskers twitching. "People say everything louder when they're trying to whisper."
Nathan glanced down at him, but didn't reply.
When they reached the square before the main royal stage, he could hardly see past the wall of backs. Dozens of heads, shoulders packed tight, all craning toward the platform at the castle's front.
He frowned, eyes darting. Then he spotted an old wooden crate near the edge of the crowd. Without a word, he dragged it close, set it down, and climbed up, steadying himself.
From below, Grey stretched his ears lazily. "Not bad, kid. But you're forgetting something."
Nathan tilted his head down at him. "What?"
Grey smirked, then gave a little hop. "A boost."
Nathan exhaled through his nose, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. He bent slightly and tapped the top of his head. "Come."
Grey leapt lightly onto him, settling between his hair with the ease of someone who'd done it a hundred times. His ears flicked, giving him the best view in the square.
Nathan straightened, eyes locked on the stage. "Alright. Let's see them."
And together, from the back of the crowd, the boy and rabbit waited — whispers swelling all around them, the air thick with anxious expectations.
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The square outside the main tent was filled with life — the murmur of people shifting, the clatter of pots from the cooking stands, and the restless shuffle of soldiers at their posts. Families gathered in clusters, children clinging to their mothers' skirts, while men spoke in low tones about supplies and rebuilding.
At the raised stage near the core of the crowd, Commander Galen stepped forward, boots heavy against the royal tiles. His hand lifted for silence.
"People of Atlon," his voice rang out, firm but steady, "I stand here to bring you news and clarity on the matters that weigh upon us."
The murmurs softened.
"First, about the burned village…" His eyes swept across the rows of faces — tired, bruised, but listening. "Plans for rebuilding are already being drawn. Supplies will be divided. The farms nearby will be the first to lend their hands. Brick, wood, and iron will be brought in from the castle stores. No one will be left without shelter."
A faint sigh rippled through the crowd — relief, though thin.
Then Galen paused. He turned slightly as an older man stepped up behind him, a councilor with a bent back and sharp eyes. The man handed him a folded scroll.
Galen read it briefly, then lifted his gaze. His tone shifted — heavier, slower.
"There will be a gathering tonight. Here, in the main stage. An assembly called by the will of Aurelia's council."
The words hit the square like a stone tossed into still water.
"Tonight?" a woman muttered near the front.
"Why not now?" another man demanded.
"They expect us to wait until dark?" frustration cracked from somewhere in the middle.
The complaints rolled through the crowd. Whispers turned into sharp voices. Questions piled one after another — why delay? What reason? What are they hiding?
Nathan leaned down a little where he stood on a crate. Grey sat perched on his head, ears flicking at every rising voice.
Nathan frowned. "Why would they make us wait?"
Grey scratched lazily at his ear with a paw. "Because grown-ups like to keep secrets until it's dark and dramatic."
Nathan shot him a look. "That doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to," Grey smirked. "It just has to confuse you."
Nathan sighed, eyes drifting back to the stage.
From the side of the crowd, Mira wove her way carefully through the press of people. Aerois perched lightly on her shoulder, feathers ruffling whenever someone brushed too close. She lifted a hand to shield something she carried — a wrapped item Fred had given her just minutes before.
"Stay close," she whispered.
But then Mira leaned nearer, lowering her voice even more. "Can you fly up for a moment? Try to spot Nathan and Grey… in the crowd. I don't want them lost in this."
Aerois tilted his head, unimpressed.
Mira frowned at him, pouting. "Come on, don't act like you don't care. You're my friend, right?"
The bird gave a small chirp that could've meant 'okay'. Then, with a sharp beat of his wings, he lifted off, circling above the crowd.
"Be careful," Mira called softly after him, watching him rise. "And don't take too long…"
High above, Aerois scanned the square — rows of heads, the sharp line of soldiers guarding the edges, the faint gleam of torches lit early against the breeze. Then, near the back, he spotted them — Nathan standing tall on the crate, Grey balanced on his head like some strange crown.
Aerois swooped low, then darted back toward Mira, wings brushing the air as he hovered just above her.
"You found him?" she whispered.
The bird gave a sharp flap, then veered ahead, guiding her through the crowd.
Mira followed quickly, weaving between shoulders and ducking through narrow gaps. Her heart lifted when she finally caught sight of Nathan and Grey.
Nathan was still focused on Galen, standing firm on the crate. Grey muttered something, ears twitching at the noise. Mira slowed her pace, catching her breath, a smile tugging at her lips.
She didn't call out yet. Instead, she crept closer, holding back a small giggle, already planning to spook Nathan just to see his reaction.
On the stage, Commander Galen lifted his hand once more. The restless voices hushed. His tone deepened, sharp.
"And now… one last announcement."
Nathan leaned slightly forward, whispering under his breath. "Here it comes…"
Grey smirked. "Bet it's something ridiculous."
But it wasn't.
Galen's voice cut the air.
"In the coming weeks, Atlon will host a grand tournament. An event not seen in decades. It will be called…" He let the pause hang, drawing the crowd tighter. "…'The Two Hundred Warriors.'"
Gasps and murmurs rippled instantly.
"A tournament?" someone barked.
"Why now?" another voice shouted.
"Two hundred?" disbelief echoed.
The old councilor stepped forward, clearing his throat before speaking. His voice was rough with age, yet steady.
"This event will bring forth the strongest. Two hundred chosen from across the land will compete. The rules and ranks will be revealed in due course. But know this — it will decide much more than glory."
The words struck deep — stirring awe, unease, and fear alike.
Nathan's brows furrowed, voice low. "Two hundred… for what?"
Grey's eyes narrowed faintly. "Doesn't sound like just a game."
At that moment, Mira slipped closer, Aerois gliding down to perch neatly on her shoulder again. She stood just behind Nathan, clutching the wrapped item, eyes flicking between the stage and the boy on the crate.
Nathan didn't notice her yet. His gaze was still locked on Galen, the weight of the words sinking in.
Beside him, Grey muttered, "This is going to get messy."
Nathan nodded faintly, his jaw tight, though fear flickered behind his eyes. And beneath it — something deeper.
Something that told him this was only the beginning.
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To be continued