As Vivan stepped towards the carriage that was prepared to take him back to the inn, king Arathen stopped him with an earnest request to stay by the castle for his safety.
"Honored adventurer, these castle walls are strong enough to offer you a safer night sleep than the Starlit Hearth."
Queen agreed to that with a smile of request. Vivan looked at Samuel as he nodded to king's proposal but his wrinkled eye brows reminded Vivan to watch his back.
The chamber they gave him was lavish and far too rich for someone who used to sleep under open sky or damp caves. Velvet curtains, a bed big enough for three people, candles burning through the golden holders hummed of sophistication.
But his mind was restless.
The assassin's word kept ringing in his head. The princess's kiss was warm but it felt rushed and sudden.
"Was it genuine? Or was it a veil laid over the cracks Samuel hinted at?" he muttered.
Then a soft knock by the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Three gentle taps, followed by a hum subtly audible.
Vivan opened the door.
Elara stood there in front of the door in a silk robe that clung to her shape under the candlelight. Her silver spilled loose, eyes were bright as if they carried the moon itself.
"I couldn't sleep." - her voice was soft yet trembling, but her gaze burnt steady into his.
The scent of roses was trailing with her as she stepped past him inside the chamber. As she sat by the edge of his bed her robe slipped just enough at her shoulder to reveal pale skin, catching the flicker of the candle.
Her fingers grazed the sheets as she looked up at him with the same smile tha had left him shaken earlier.
"First you saved Kaelric, then me. That makes you more than a guest in this castle GhostWalker."
Her hand reached for his wrist, light but deliberate, tracing the edge of his skin. Her touch lingered too long to be simple gratitude.
Vivan's breath tightened to his chest, "Princess-"
"Elara," she corrected as he leaned closer while her gaze never left his.
"With me, you don't need to be so formal."
The moment hung heavy as the heat swirled between them. Her intent was clear, desperation almost raw, whether it was desire, gratitude or a deeper motive to keep him tied to Novarim.
As the young spring was about to bloom in the eastern chamber of the castle a corrupt fire burnt by the western wing at king's study.
The firelight flickered against the shelves of ledgers and scrolls.
King Arathen sat rigid at his desk; jaw tight, as his eyes were shadowed by exhaustion and grief. His voice carried the weight of iron.
"An assassin breaching castle wall? And worse, my own blood revealed in this treachery. Five years gone and she dares strike against us now."
Veldrick Hollowart bowed his head, though his lips curved carrying the faintest trace of smile hidden in the firelight.
"Your majesty, it pains me to say this, but the people whisper that the crown cannot protect even its own children. Every rumors cuts deeper than blades."
Arathen's fist slammed on the table. "Rumors! Lies spread by the Dark guild vermin who wants to destroy our world."
Veldrick's tone softened, laced with subtle poison.
"And yet, lies that are left unchecked become truth in the hearts of people. We cannot allow another hero to slip through our fingers and rally to their side. "
The king's gaze flickered toward the golden brooch lying on the desk that he had awarded to GhostWalker. His voice lowered.
"You believe the adventurer can be turned into an anchor for Novarim?"
"Not merely an anchor, majesty." – Veldrick replied smoothly as his eyes were gleaming in dim light.
"A shield, bound by either gratitude or affection. The second princess already looks to him."
Arathen looked him in his eyes as Veldrick continued.
"From childhood, I have taught her the value of bonds forged not only in truth but in advantage. She believes she acts by the heart yet every step follows the lesson I placed before her."
He allowed himself a thin smile.
"If that bond is secured, then GhostWalker is ours by his body and soul. And with him, the people's faith."
Arathen's eyes narrowed.
"You would have me sell my daughter's hand like cattle?"
"Sell?" Veldrick tilted his head, feigning offense. "No, your majesty. To secure. It will be better to bind the adventurer with the silk now than to see him in shackles later."
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I have seen him fighting the first princess in the flower garden. And the skills I saw of him…" – Veldrick smirked faintly.
"I can assure you – He is one of the Otherworlders."
The word hung in the air like a curse. The king's breath grew heavier, the weight of it pressing against his shoulders.
Veldrick straightened, hands folded behind his back.
"And that, your majesty, is why we cannot afford to let him slip away neither to the guild nor to anyone. Keep him here."
The fire crackled and shadows were swallowing half of the king's face as silence stretched into the night leaving only two whispers alive by the eastern chamber.
Elara's hand did not leave his wrist. Instead, she slid even closer, her knee brushing against his leg. The faint tremor in her breath betrayed nerves, yet her eyes glowed with an intent that did not waver.
"You belong here, GhostWalker."
Her voice was steady now, the silk robe shifting with her movement, revealing more of her neckline in the dim candle light.
"Novarim needs men like you. I … need you."
Vivan's pulse quickened as the warmth of her closeness, the soft perfume clinging to her hair, the way her lips lingered on his cheek earlier felt real for a fleeting second.
But then Samuel's eyes flashed in his mind and the assassin's word echoed in head.
"The one you tried to protect left you to save herself."
So was this genuine affection? Or a leash of silk, meant to tie him down?
The thought stopped cold as Elara leaned in closer, her words slipping out in a hush, her lips pausing on the edge of a kiss.
"Stay here GhostWalker. Not as a guest … but as mine."
Her lips were about graze his as the system chimed.
[System Notice]
Morality Implication detected Subject: Elara Sylven Novarim Spoken intent does not align with true motive
The words stabbed through the haze like a cold knife.
Vivan's eyes widened but he did not move away.
Her lips brushed his, carrying the faint trace of roses. The kiss should have been gentle, but something in it coiled tight, more trap than tenderness.
The system's hum left him uncertain whether the heat rising in the chamber was passion or politics.
Vivan slowly pulled back so that his unwillingness remains hidden.
"Elara! We need to take it slow. We barely met today and for this kind of situations it is always better to leave it to time."
A firm yet gentle voice pulled the reins on the horses of rapidly blooming heat.
Elara looked at Vivan with dreamy eyes.
"Yeah! You should rest. Want to have a walk together in the gardens by the first light tomorrow?"
Vivan smiled.
"Sure!"
And with that Elara moved towards the door as her body swayed in dreamy harmony. Vivan rested his head by the soft pillow as her silhouette vanished in to the shadows of the corridor.
A restless spiral of morality churned in his mind. He had a girlfriend back in reality, yet here he was - locked inside a world where his memories of her grew fainter by the day.
And now this: a kiss, a connection that might be nothing more than politics wrapped in silk.
The weight of it hammered at him. In this strange new world, making an enemy of someone powerful because of one rushed decision could cost far more than his pride.
The cold breeze was blowing in its own rhythm as Vivan fell asleep due to tiredness and mental pressure but the town of passion was not tired enough to end its day.
The fire of the forge was burning dim inside the Scorch Forge as a feminine silhouette under a black hooded robe entered the smithery.
The silent footsteps made the focused black smith turned his gaze back to the door from the anvil.
The silhouette became clearer as the guest moved closer to the burning forge. Her silver hair reflected the dim red light of the tired forge as her emerald eyes were burning with curiosity.
"OHH! What an honor to see your highness in this damp hole."
Borin bent his knees.
The guest indicated him to rise up.
"I have left that name far behind me Borin. You know what my alias is."
The old dwarf smiled.
"Aye. What can I do for you silver feather?"
"Well I met an interesting wall in my pursuit tonight by the castle."
She pulled out her daggers and laid them on the table. Multiple small nicks and dents on the daggers could be seen even in the dim light of the smithery as the proof of hard battle.
"OOO!! Someone strong enough to scar your blades?"
"Yeah! He was interesting told you."
"He? You mean a boy of your age with black hair?"
Her gaze sharpened.
"You know the guy?"
Borin let out a soft grin.
"I think I do. A rare gem, unshaped and still blind to world politics."
A gasp of worry came out of her voice.
"I have shown him the first glimpse of truth. I just hope he does not succumb to manipulation."
"Well! The boy has spirit. I can tell ya that much."
Borin replied while observing the damages on the dagger.
"Well I will be in Novarim for one week. I will keep an eye on him."
She responded with a firm tone and then handed over some ingredients to Borin.
"Oye! Oye! You have brought the materials also to upgrade your blades? Hahaha. Give me four days and it will be ready."
Borin laughed hard reflecting his smith's spirit.
"Fine. You take your time."
And with that the hooded assassin turned toward the exit.
As her aesthetic body came under the peaceful starry sky of the town of passion she looked at the tall castle far away and a silver stream of tear glistened on her cheek remembering the past.
She pulled her hood tighter as her eyes reflected a strong determination.
"I will not allow this town to succumb to darkness as long as I breathe this air."
The hooded figure walked towards the market square casting long shadow behind and the heart of the town pulsed in dim light to welcome her long lost child.
…. To be continued.