Third Person POV
The hall was silent, thick with unease. One by one, every person of influence in the Bihu tribe had been summoned unexpectedly, and none knew why. Braska stood at the head of the room, expression unreadable, his voice calm but heavy with authority.
> "I called you all here to discuss something important," he began. "And I ask—no, I expect—that you let me speak first. Once I've said what needs to be said, you are welcome to voice your thoughts. Until then, I want silence."
His eyes swept the room. A few nodded. Others stiffened. But no one spoke.
Braska's hands remained clasped behind his back as he began again—measured, direct.
> "The outsider who came with us two days ago… He saved the vice leader's life."
His words dropped like a stone into still water. A few people gasped. Others exchanged wary glances.
> "You all know what her survival means to us. Her death would have been catastrophic, not just for this tribe but for our future.
I considered that… and made a decision. I entered into an agreement with him. He helped us without hesitation. Now, it's our turn."
He looked each of them in the eye, unwavering.
> "In return, I promised him our support. And… I offered him the hand of a girl from our clan in marriage."
The moment those words were spoken, murmurs swelled into whispers—sharp, fragmented, indignant.
Some looked stunned. Some skeptical. And others… angry.
Then a man stepped forward—broad-shouldered, eyes cold with barely concealed fury.
> "Leader, are you serious?" the man asked, voice laced with contempt. "You want us to give one of our daughters to him? He's from the Empire! Have you forgotten the years of shame they forced upon us? The insults, the chains?"
His name was Hyde. And unlike the others, his anger wasn't just emotional—it was calculated. Inside, Hyde was panicking.
> If I had known this man would save the Vice Leader, I'd have killed him already. My partners… they'll kill me if they learn I let him live.
Desperate to sway the room, Hyde pressed on.
> "You're a good man, Leader. Too good. That outsider? He's clever—too clever. How did he even know the Vice Leader was ill? That was a closely guarded secret. Open your eyes. That man didn't help us. He caused this!"
A few others began to murmur in support. The memory of humiliation by the Empire was still fresh in many hearts. Rage simmered beneath the surface.
Hyde said no more—he knew when to stop. Stir the pot, but don't be the one who spills it.
But Braska did not falter. He raised a hand, commanding silence.
> "That man is not the conspirator," Braska said sharply. "But he knows who is. I took him to our sacred place. I made him swear an oath on the Stone of Truth.
If he were lying, he would've died then and there."
The weight of that statement crashed through the room like a wave. No one dared to question the Stone. Not without insulting their ancestors. Not without inviting shame.
Hyde fell silent, jaw clenched. He couldn't say another word without turning the crowd against himself.
Braska, seeing the change in the room, struck once more—precisely, powerfully.
> "At first, even I doubted him. I interrogated him. Questioned him. Accused him. And still… he gave us the cure. Before any agreement. Because he trusted us, trusted that we the Bihu tribe know to honor our word."
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
> "Tell me—how many outsiders would have done that? How many people from the empire would help a forgotten tribe like ours without demanding anything first? And tell me—do we not know how to repay such trust?
Or have we become so lost in our hate that we forget who we are?"
No one answered.
They didn't have to.
Braska's voice had reached them—not just their ears, but their pride, their code, their spirit.
The murmurs faded.
Heads lowered in acknowledgment.
And somewhere in the room, Hyde clenched his fists in quiet rage… defeated—for now.
Understanding the weight behind their leader's words, the council members slowly began to nod in agreement. One by one, their voices rose in firm resolution:
> "We will keep our promise."
"We'll help him."
"It's the right thing to do."
The unity in their chants reverberated through the hall—until one woman raised her hand, her voice carrying the weight of tradition.
> "Leader, how can a woman of our tribe marry an outsider? The Empire follows entirely different customs, rules, even values."
Another followed quickly, more practical than traditional:
> "How will the bride be chosen? We have many girls—fierce and proud—but do you truly believe they'll agree to marry a man from the Empire?"
A scoff escaped another woman.
> "Men are too weak. They rely on blades and strategy, but when it comes to a real fight, most would fall within seconds. Why should we burden one of our own with such a man?"
Then came a bold suggestion:
> "Let's test him."
The room stilled.
> "We need to know his strength. Let him fight our girls. If he can't even hold his ground in battle, how could he be worthy of a wife from our tribe?"
Another nodded, firm in her stance.
> "It's only fair. We don't need him to win. We just need him to face us without breaking."
They hadn't asked his name. Not once. His title, his status, his wealth—none of it mattered. In the desert, strength and spirit mattered more than any birthright.
Braska, listening to their heated words, sighed inwardly.
> These women… They act like he'll need to protect her, when we all know the women of this tribe are the ones who do the protecting. Do they want to test him—or humiliate him?
But still… the idea intrigued him. There concerns though unrealistic gave him a legitimate way to test prince's strength and Braska wasn't one let it slip away.
> "Very well," Braska declared, raising his voice. "There will be a competition—but among the women first. The strongest among you will earn the right to face him. If he defeats her, he earns the right to choose his bride. If he fails, the choice will be ours—and he will marry whom we deem fit."
Cheers erupted.
Hidden in the crowd, Hyde narrowed his eyes.
> Still no name… They keep calling him 'that man'. Not even a hint about his identity. Clever, Braska. Very clever.
And these muscle-headed women—so caught up in strength, none of them even asked. Fools. But I'll find out. I'll find out everything. Especially if he knows about the one who helped me.
He was about to ask the question when Braska's voice cut in once again—serious, somber, cold.
> "There's something else you all need to hear."
The hall quieted instantly.
> "You may think the Vice Leader fell ill suddenly… but the truth is, someone made her sick—deliberately. Someone is trying to weaken us from the inside, and one of us helped them. I don't yet know who the traitor is. But he does."
Gasps followed. Every eye flickered toward each other in distrust.
> "This is why," Braska continued, "this marriage must go through. Once our ties are secure, that man will reveal the truth. That is my condition. That is his promise. So take this bond seriously. It is not only about trust… it is now a matter of survival."
Hyde's breath caught in his throat.
> He knows. He really knows. If he opens his mouth, I'm finished. No, worse… I'm dead.
Panic coiled in his gut.
> There's only one way out.
---
That night, the desert fell into eerie silence. Stars shimmered overhead, but inside the hearts of the people, unrest brewed like a storm.
Inside one of the far chambers, Hyde sharpened a curved blade by candlelight. The steel scraped quietly, rhythmically—his hands trembling, sweat dripping down his brow.
> I have to end this. Before he speaks. Before anyone else finds out.
He waited until most had gone to sleep, cloaked himself in a dark shawl, and slipped out, staying to the shadows. His heart pounded louder with each step.
Soon, he reached the foreigner's room.
He paused at the door—listened. Not a sound. No guards. No watchers. Perfect.
He slipped in.
The room was dimly lit by a dying lantern. A figure lay beneath thick blankets, body relaxed in deep slumber.
Hyde stood there for a moment, blade clenched tight in his palm, rage boiling beneath his skin.
> Look at him. Sleeping like a child. While my life falls apart.
He stepped closer.
> "You're the reason for all this," he whispered coldly. "I should've killed you earlier. But don't worry…I'll be quick. No one will even hear you die."
His grip tightened. His heart thundered.
And then—he stabbed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A fourth.
No cry. No blood. No resistance.
Just… silence.
Hyde blinked. Confused. Something wasn't right.
He drew back his sword and turned it in the faint light.
Nothing.
No blood. Not even a scratch.
He looked again at the bed.
Still, no movement. No reaction.
His stomach sank. Something was wrong.
Before he could move—
A voice spoke behind him.
Low. Calm. Sharp as a dagger in the dark.
> "What are you looking for, Hyde?"
Hyde spun around—heart stopping.
And there, standing in the corner of the room like a ghost in flesh, was the man he thought he had just killed.
His face half-shadowed, voice quiet but lethal.
> "No blood?"