Kael stood in the cold, silent hall of the royal palace, hands clasped behind his back, every muscle taut. The torchlight flickered along the marble walls, casting long shadows that seemed to twist with every flicker of the flames. This hall was meant to impress, to remind every visitor of the queen's power and the kingdom's grandeur, but Kael saw only duty. Duty and danger.
He didn't flinch as the doors swung open, announcing the presence of the queen herself. Even from across the hall, her aura of authority was impossible to ignore. Kael's gaze remained steady, unwavering. He had been summoned, not for ceremony, but for a mission—a mission that carried the weight of lives, cities, and perhaps even the fate of the entire kingdom.
"Kael," the queen's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, yet tinged with concern. "I've called upon my most capable warriors. Reports indicate that invaders are appearing on our borders, moving faster than anticipated. Villages vanish overnight. People flee in terror. This… is no ordinary threat."
Kael's expression remained calm, betraying nothing. He inclined his head once, acknowledging her words. "Understood, Your Majesty. Where do you need us?"
The queen's eyes swept over the room. "I'm assigning you to investigate the northern territories. The invaders there are particularly brutal. I will send you with companions. Two warriors you know and trust."
Two warriors. Kael's lips pressed into a thin line, but he did not flinch. He already knew who they were. The first, Soren—lively, brash, and sometimes reckless, but deadly with a bow and quick with a grin. The second, Tahlia—calm, calculating, a master of defensive tactics. Together, they balanced Kael's stoicism perfectly.
"You'll leave at dawn," the queen continued. "Do not fail us. The kingdom depends on your skill." She paused, her eyes lingering on Kael. "And… take care of each other. I trust that even in battle, you will watch your allies' backs."
Kael nodded once, silent, though her words lingered longer than he would admit. The queen turned, her royal cloak swishing behind her, and left the hall as silently as she had entered.
Kael exhaled, a quiet, controlled sound, and turned to the two warriors waiting near the doorway.
"Soren," he said, voice low but firm. "Tahlia."
Soren's grin was effortless. "You look tense as ever, Kael. Relax, will you? We're in this together. Besides…" He smirked, tilting his head toward Kael. "It's not like the queen is sending us anywhere boring."
Kael didn't respond. His hands tightened briefly behind his back. He already knew this mission would be anything but boring.
Tahlia's expression was unreadable, as always. "We leave at first light. Make sure your equipment is ready." Her calmness contrasted sharply with Soren's exuberance, and Kael felt a slight ease at having them at his side. They were reliable, predictable, and that mattered.
The next morning, the three warriors rode out under the pale light of dawn, their horses' hooves striking the stone of the palace courtyard in synchronized rhythm. Kael's dark hair was tied neatly, armor polished, sword sheathed at his side. He didn't glance back at the palace; there was nothing left for him there but orders.
The northern road stretched endlessly, bordered by forests whose leaves whispered under the morning wind. Kael's eyes were alert, scanning every shadow, every movement. Even the birds seemed quieter than usual, and the air carried the faint metallic tang of fear—or maybe it was just his own anticipation.
Soren broke the silence, a low chuckle. "You know, Kael, you really should smile more. People might think you're alive if you did."
Kael's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm alive," he said flatly.
"And apparently highly entertaining," Soren replied with a shrug, clearly ignoring the sharp edge in Kael's tone. Tahlia gave a subtle shake of her head, her hand resting lightly on her sword. "Focus. The invaders won't wait for jokes."
Kael's gaze swept forward again. "I know."
They rode in silence for hours, the sun climbing higher. The first village they encountered was eerily quiet. Smoke curled from a distant chimney, but there were no people in sight. Doors hung open, carts abandoned. Kael dismounted silently, scanning the perimeter.
"They're here," he muttered. Not a question.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the far side of the village. Figures darted between buildings, shadows moving with unnatural speed. Kael's hand went instinctively to his sword, and Soren nocked an arrow. Tahlia moved to flank him, her stance protective.
And then Kael saw him.
A figure stumbled, tripped over a broken fence, and rolled into a pile of hay—coughing, red-faced, and utterly exposed. Short red hair stuck out like a signal flag. Kael's eyes narrowed instantly.
It was Rory.
The memory struck like a blade. Rory—the clumsy boy who had been Kael's constant annoyance in childhood. Always tripping, always spilling something, always earning Kael's irritation. Every flash of his past awkwardness came rushing back: the time he broke Kael's bow during training, the time he tripped Kael into the mud… and now, in the middle of a village under attack, Rory was exactly the same—helpless, flailing, and hopelessly in the way.
"Stay back!" Kael barked. His voice was cold, but there was an edge of disbelief. Rory froze, looking up at him with wide eyes. His mouth opened, but no words came. The invaders were closing in—tall, dark shapes with glinting weapons.
Kael didn't hesitate. In a fluid motion, he drew his sword, slicing through the air with precision. Soren's arrow flew, Tahlia's stance shifted defensively, and the invaders faltered as Kael cut a swath through their line. Rory stumbled backward again, tripping over debris, and Kael found himself yanking the boy out of harm's way with more force than necessary.
"Watch yourself," Kael snapped, shoving Rory behind a partially collapsed wall. Rory coughed, blinking rapidly, trying to straighten himself. "I… I can fight!" he protested, voice small and breathless.
Kael's lips pressed into a thin line. "You almost just got yourself killed."
Rory's cheeks flushed, but he didn't step back this time. "I… I want to help. My mother…" His voice broke slightly. Kael caught the pain beneath his clumsy words, the raw grief he hadn't expected.
Kael stiffened. He didn't care for sentimental displays, not usually, but this… Rory's fear was real, his determination genuine despite all odds. The boy had always been clumsy, yes, but there was courage in him now that Kael hadn't noticed before.
The invaders regrouped, circling toward Rory again. Without thinking, Kael stepped in front of him, sword flashing. Rory froze, staring.
By the time the skirmish ended, the invaders had fled, their retreat as sudden as their attack. Dust hung in the air, the smell of smoke and metal heavy around them. Kael sheathed his sword slowly, every motion deliberate. Rory was breathing hard, cheeks flushed, hands trembling—but alive.
"You're impossible," Kael muttered, more to himself than to Rory.
Rory blinked at him, a weak, sheepish smile forming. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… get in the way."
Kael's gaze softened slightly, though he would never admit it aloud. "You nearly died."
"I know," Rory said quietly. "And… thank you. I… I want to help. I can't just run from this anymore."
Kael stared at him, weighing the truth in his words. Something in Rory had changed—something beyond clumsiness, beyond awkwardness. The boy had grown, quietly, under his own fear and grief.
Soren clapped a hand on Kael's shoulder, breaking the tense silence. "Looks like he's tagging along now," he said with a smirk.
Tahlia's eyes met Kael's, calm but questioning. "Do you approve?"
Kael exhaled slowly, gaze flicking back to Rory. "He can come," he said finally, voice low. "But if he gets in my way again…" His threat hung in the air, sharp and certain.
Rory's eyes widened, but he nodded. "I… I won't. I promise."
Kael didn't answer. He mounted his horse, eyes forward, already scanning the horizon for the next threat. But he felt Rory's gaze on him, quiet and unwavering.
For the first time in years, Kael felt the weight of something unexpected—an obligation beyond duty. Protection. Responsibility. Perhaps… something else.
And as they rode toward the northern borders, Kael couldn't help but notice, reluctantly, that having Rory around… wasn't entirely unbearable.
Not yet, at least.