Part I: Awaited Arrival
At the gates of Lumen, everyone was welcomed. There was no fear of strict security in the city that housed the legendary High Knights.
The only thing the gate guards ever checked was merchandise — and even then, just to calculate the tax owed based on what you were bringing in or out.
People? No one asked questions. No one stopped you, even if you looked suspicious.
And suspicious was exactly what Tazan and Actaeon looked like — cloaked in ragged robes, faces half-hidden, feet dragging as if they'd collapse with one more step. One of them cradled a bundled infant in his arms, rocking slightly, weakly, beneath the weight of exhaustion and silence.
They stood before the guards, expecting to be questioned — about who they were, what they were carrying, and why they'd come to Lumen.
But the guard didn't even glance their way.
Instead, he turned his head slightly and called out:
"Next."
With a wary voice, Actaeon asked, "Could you tell us where we can find the High Knights' commander, ser?"
The guard barely turned his head. "Look for the banner that carries no sigil—only the color green. That's the High Knights' banner. Ask around there, if they'll let you in."
"Thank you, ser," Actaeon replied, nodding slightly as he stepped away from the gate and into the broad, busy streets of Lumen.
"We need to find an inn," Tazan muttered, barely managing to stay upright. "The kid hasn't eaten in almost a full day. She won't last much longer."
"Look—there's a sign. Let's try that place," Actaeon said, pointing down a side street.
Tazan squinted. "Actaeon… that's not an inn. That's a whorehouse. What the hell would we feed a baby in a whorehouse?"
Actaeon didn't slow down. "What the fuck are we supposed to feed her in an inn? And with what gold or silver will we pay for the inn's services—or even buy goats' milk from the market? At least in a whorehouse, someone's bound to have had a child. One of them might still be nursing. They could breastfeed her—and if we ask nicely, maybe even let us rest while they do."
"Are all of your ideas this strange, Actaeon?" Tazan asked, shifting the sleeping infant in his arms.
"No—only the ones that need to be," Actaeon replied without missing a step. "Now less talking, more walking, giant."
As they made their way down the streets of Lumen, the two drew no small amount of attention—not because of their ragged clothes or the bundle of cloth hiding a baby, but because of Tazan himself. He towered nearly twice the height of a grown man, with shoulders broad enough to rival two knights standing side by side. Even beneath his cloak, his size was impossible to ignore.
Merchants paused mid-sale to gawk. Children whispered and pointed from behind market stalls.
Still, they pressed on toward the painted sign swinging above their destination—a chipped carving of a red apple that meant something very different in this part of town.
Back at the gate, the guard kept his eyes on them. He wasn't watching out of curiosity—he was waiting.
As soon as a patrol passed through the far end of the street, the guard gave a slight nod and pointed toward the hulking man and his cloaked companion.
The patrol leader caught the signal, returned it, and adjusted course. Quietly, they began to follow.
Just as they stepped into the narrow street beneath the crooked sign swaying overhead, a wave of noise washed over them—muffled laughter, slurred singing, the chatter of women echoing off the stone walls. But it was the smell that hit hardest. Thick, sweet, and strangely bitter beneath it—a stench neither of them could name, but both instinctively recoiled from.
It was smoke. Not from fire, but from something burned and inhaled. Some kind of drug. It clung to the alley like fog, staining the air itself.
Actaeon's nose wrinkled. Tazan adjusted the infant in his arms, trying not to breathe too deeply.
"This was a bad idea," Actaeon muttered under his breath.
Tazan didn't answer, but the look he shot him was enough.
In theory, the plan made sense. Somewhere in a place like this, someone would've once been a mother. Someone who might still be able to nurse the child. But in reality, it felt wrong. This place reeked of sickness, of desperation.
They turned to leave.
Just then, a door creaked open beside them.
A woman stepped out. Tall, confident, wrapped in a velvet red robe that shimmered in the low light. Her dark brown hair fell in waves to her shoulders, and her green eyes locked onto them with an intensity that made both men straighten instinctively.
"I'll feed it," she said plainly, her voice steady.
No questions. No judgment. Just a decision.
And still, her eyes pierced through them—quietly accusing, without saying a word.
They suddenly felt ashamed—not for carrying the child, but for bringing her here
She turned without another word and gestured for them to follow.
Actaeon hesitated, but Tazan, cradling the child, nodded once and moved after her. They ducked into the building she'd emerged from—a quiet place that, unlike the rest of the street, didn't reek of smoke or echo with laughter. Inside, it looked more like an ordinary home. Sparse. Clean. Empty.
She didn't linger. With practiced ease, she led them through a narrow hallway, past shuttered windows and closed doors, and opened another door at the far end.
The moment it creaked open, a new world unfolded.
They stepped out—not back into the drug-stained alley, but onto a narrow passageway tucked between tall stone buildings. It was quieter here. The air was clearer. No perfume of burnt narcotics. No pleasure-house noise. Just the faint sounds of carts rolling over cobblestones and distant market chatter.
This was a service alley, a shortcut used by locals, merchants, and off-duty whores to navigate between Lumen's crowded veins. It wasn't on any city map—but it pulsed with quiet life.
The woman didn't stop. She led them briskly down the tight path, glancing over her shoulder from time to time. Not at them—past them.
When she made eye contact with a small cluster of women leaning against a shaded wall, something unsaid passed between them. The women nodded and casually drifted into the path behind Tazan and Actaeon, cutting off any line of sight from the street behind.
The guards—watching from a distance—would now find their trail swallowed by the maze of Lumen's alleys and cloaked by the presence of the city's invisible gatekeepers: its women.
Only then did Actaeon fully understand—they hadn't wandered into a whorehouse. They'd stumbled into a network. And this woman was no ordinary hostess.
She led them into a narrow, quiet home nestled deep in the maze of alleys. The walls were stone but warm, lived-in. Sparse furniture. A single flickering lantern. No signs of opulence—only practicality.
Mia gestured for them to sit, then gently took the infant from Tazan's arms. Her touch was confident, practiced.
"I'll feed her," she said again, softer this time, but without asking permission.
She disappeared briefly into the back room—though she never closed the door behind her. Instead, she stood just inside its frame, keeping herself in full view. Her robe shifted slightly as she settled into a wooden chair, turning her back enough to grant herself privacy, but not enough to cause suspicion.
It was a silent agreement: she didn't want to be alone in a closed room with someone else's child, and Actaeon clearly had no intention of letting her be, either.
The infant whimpered, then quieted—comforted at last.
"My name is Mia," she said after a moment, her voice level. "Now tell me something."
She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Actaeon.
Why is a giant and the prodigy archer of the Empire wandering into Lumen with a baby that is neither of yours?"
"We're here in hopes of meeting our friend who went ahead of us. Small child, eleven winters old—smart, knows how to make a joke… His name is Nex," Actaeon said, watching Mia for a reaction.
She met his eyes, and as she did, Actaeon quickly looked down at the floor.
"The Imperial's youngest prince lives?" she asked, voice quiet but sharp.
"Yes, he does," Tazan added. "And he's in need of our help to return to the palace safely."
Mia looked as if she was about to say something—
But before she could, the door burst open, kicked wide by none other than Sao himself. His sword was drawn, his stance defensive, ready to act.
Mia shot to her feet, quickly covering herself and shielding the infant.
Tazan and Actaeon, despite their exhaustion, rose with weapons drawn—battle-ready.
Sao's eyes scanned the room. He pointed his sword toward the giant.
"I take it you're Tazan," he said. Then, shifting to Actaeon, "And you're Actaeon. Your friend is waiting for you. He asked me to bring you to him."
He lowered his sword a bit, tone softening.
"I was planning to tail you with my guards, let you rest a day before bringing you in. But you slipped the tail with her help—and I thought you were in danger. I acted. Apologies for the intrusion."
He slid Widow, his famed blade, back into its sheath and turned to Mia with a wry smile, giving a respectful nod.
"Hello, lost one."
"Fuck you, Sao," Mia shot back without hesitation.
"That's harsh, don't you think, darling?"
"I prayed you'd end up on a stake somewhere in the West."
"You mean my head on a stake?"
"No, Sao. I meant the whole of you. I wanted it to go up your—"
"—We needed food for the baby," Actaeon interrupted quickly. "She was helping us… dismiss your guards. We'll come find you once we've rested."
"Very well. You'll rest here… and so will I. You've been traveling on foot for gods know how long, and I was just in a battle a few days ago. Last night wasn't kind to me either—so I'll be taking a nap here until you're ready."
"Im going to feed the child now. If you interrupt me, so help me God, I'll make sure you never have children of your own, Sao."
She shut the door firmly behind her.
Sao stared at the door for a moment, then chuckled under his breath. Turning back to Tazan and Actaeon, he lowered his voice and said,
"Get some rest. When you're ready, I'll take you to him."
He didn't say Nex's name—careful not to let it slip in front of Mia.
Several hours later, Actaeon's eyes fluttered open.
He hadn't slept on a soft bed in weeks—maybe even months—and his body had melted into the warmth of the mattress far too easily.
Then it hit him.
The baby.
Panic gripped his chest as he jolted upright, heart racing.
He had forgotten—forgotten the infant entirely. What kind of fool rests while a child they barely saved could be crying or worse?
He rushed across the quiet house, barely bothering to knock as he pushed open the door to Mia's room.
Inside, bathed in the amber light of the setting sun, Mia slept soundly on her side—her arm curled protectively around the infant who now slept just as deeply beside her.
Actaeon froze.
There was no danger here.
No noise.
No stink of the outer city.
Just calm breathing and the quiet rhythm of two people who had, somehow, found peace for the night.
He quietly pulled the door shut and leaned back against the wall, exhaling the breath he didn't know he was holding.
He crossed the room in a few quick strides and grabbed Tazan by the shoulder, shaking him.
"Wake up, you giant… come on, wake up, Tazan."
The hulking man stirred, wiping the trail of drool from his mouth and blinking groggily.
"Wha—what do you want, Actaeon?"
Then it hit him.
His eyes widened. "Actaeon—the baby? Where's the baby?!"
"It's all right," Actaeon reassured him, his voice low and steady. "She's sleeping. In Mia's room. You can check if you want, but we need to move."
Tazan nodded, rubbing his face as he stood.
Actaeon stepped back and slung on his gear.
"It's time," he said. "We've kept Nex waiting long enough. And time isn't exactly our friend these days."
"Okay, Actae, but… shouldn't we wake him up too?"
Tazan pointed toward Sao, who lay on the floor, his armor set neatly beside him, sword still sheathed—but held tightly in his arms like a child's toy.
Actaeon raised a brow. "Yeah… probably. But hold on. What did you just call me?"
"What? I… I didn't want to say Actaeon all the time. Felt too formal. After everything we've been through, Actae just felt right. But if you don't like it, I'll stop."
"No, no—I like it. It's just… it's just that no one's ever done that for me."
"Shortened your name?"
"Spoken to me like a friend."
"Well, I'm sure no one's done it for Nex either," Tazan said, grinning. "So let's wake this knight up and go show him that we still stand by him—as friends."
But before either of them moved, Sao's voice came from the floor.
"No need. I heard everything," he said, sitting up and stretching with a lazy smirk. "Seems I beat you to it—I'm already his first official friend… but hey, nothing wrong with being second."
Tazan and Actaeon looked at eachother with raised brows and confusion.
"What do you mean." Tazan asked but Sao had no intention to answer.
Instead he stood, reaching for his armor. "Let's not keep the boy waiting. Grab the infant—and let's go see our friend Nex."