The air smelled of wet ash and the sharp tang of blood. For a long moment no one spoke. The marble floor was scarred, and the ruined throne hall felt smaller now—its grandeur broken by smoke and red crystal dust.
Sir Garrick was the first to break the silence. He rubbed his arm as if waking from a dream and looked around, brow furrowed. "Where are we? How did we come to be here? One moment I was on that marble, and the next—" He shook his head, confused.
Lady Seraphine steadied herself and pushed off from the wall. Her hair hung in damp strands, and her armor was nicked from battle. "It felt like a pull. As if something tore the air and we were caught inside," she said, voice low. "Whatever it was—someone saved us."
Sir Roland spat into his palm and laughed once, rough and short. "Saved, then dropped into a ruin. That is not the worst fate." He looked at Kael with a soft, tired smile. "Boy, are you wounded worse?"
Kael, still breathless and shaken, met their eyes. He had never felt so small and so hollow at the same time. He found his voice and forced it steady. "You saved me," he said simply. "Thank you. I—"
Garrick stepped closer and placed a heavy hand on Kael's shoulder. "No need for thanks yet. We are alive because we stood together. And because your blood lit that circle." He met Kael's gaze hard. "Your father was our friend. He has helped us many times in the past. We do not want to lose you—nor your family's name."
Kael's throat tightened. "But why? Why would the king attack us? And who were those robed men?"
Seraphine's jaw tightened, and she looked toward the darkened windows as if the answer might still be out there. "Why indeed. The king gave the order. He moved quickly and with purpose. As for the robed men… their weapons were not Valdorian. They fought like soldiers trained in different arts—strange shapes, strange strikes. Someone brought them in, and the king welcomed them."
Roland shook his head slowly. "This smells of betrayal. The king used those strangers as his blade. But why turn that blade on the Draven house? That I cannot say."
Kael: "Do you… do you know where my father is? Has he returned? Why hasn't he come?"
For a moment, no one spoke. Then General Aurelius (the strategist, one of the trio) shook his head.
garrick: "…No one knows, Kael. Except the king himself. Your father was sent to lead a campaign far away from the empire. But no news has returned. We don't even know if he is alive… or if he has already fallen."
Kael's eyes widened, his lips trembling slightly as the words sank in. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palm.
Kael (whispering): "Alive… or dead…?"
Maverick, standing nearby, studied him quietly, saying nothing.
Seraphine broke the silence, her tone sharp.
Garrick straightened, and in his heavy voice he said the thing they all felt. "We cannot stand here and puzzle forever. The palace will sound alarms. Soldiers will flood the streets. If the king orders men to hunt us, they will come hard and fast."
Seraphine's eyes were sharp. "We must scatter. Any delay gives the crown time to cut us off. We must move now." Her voice held steel.
Roland nodded. "True. We have strength, but not enough to face the full might of the capital while hunted. The wisest path is to spread out. Draw their attention apart."
Garrick crouched and looked straight at Kael, the weight of his hand returning to the boy's shoulder. "You must go somewhere far. Somewhere outside the king's hold." He thought for a moment and then spoke, naming a place with authority. "Go to Briarford. It's a small village behind the Greystone Hills—far enough that the crown's authority thins. No patrols linger there. Tell them you are Kael Draven and that Sir Garrick sent you. They will hide you, and wait for a messenger."
Kael's eyes widened. "Briarford? Will it be safe? What about you?"
"We will not run forever." Seraphine replied. "We will scatter now, regroup later. You will have a chance to grow stronger. Learn. Plan. Do not bring the king's soldiers to their door."
Garrick's voice softened a fraction. "If the king truly betrayed Duke Lucien, then the only hope is to survive and find the truth. Bide your time. Train. Make allies."
Kael felt a cold knot of fear and determination twist inside him. He swallowed and nodded. "I will go. I will be careful." He looked to Maverick; the cat sat alert, tail curled around his feet, golden eyes reading the men.
Maverick's whiskers twitched. He gave a small, dry chuckle. "Good choice. Briarford is a slow place. People there like their own business and not royal politics."
Kael hurried to his chambers. He moved quickly, fingers fumbling as he packed his few things—his training blade, his mother's small keepsake, a change of clothes, and some of the dried food from the manor stores. His hands shook as he folded the fabric. He pulled the small pendant from around his neck and tucked it into his pocket.
When he returned to the courtyard, the generals were already moving. Garrick adjusted his shield. Seraphine checked her blade. Roland wrapped a cloth around his wrist. They looked every part the warriors Kael had admired in other days.
"Go now," Garrick urged. "Do not linger. The longer you stay, the greater the danger for all of us."
Kael swung his satchel over his shoulder and turned to Maverick. "Let's go," he said.
Maverick jumped nimbly onto his shoulder, tail flicking once. "Ohk," the cat answered in his usual clipped way, though the sound had an edge of steel. The two of them moved toward the gate.
Outside, the night pressed in—crimson from the fires, cooling now under the soft rain that had started. The city behind them began to stir like a living thing waking, torches still burning, the distant sound of soldiers closing in—not for Kael yet, perhaps, but for those who fled. The path to Briarford lay beyond the Greystone Hills, and the road would be long and dangerous, but for now it was their only hope.
The group at the courtyard watched as Kael rode away: a battered boy with a dangerous spark in his eyes, and a small cat folded like a shadow on his shoulder. The generals melted into the night, each slipping away in different directions to scatter the king's search.
Kael looked back once, toward the ruined keep where his mother lay beneath the plum tree. He whispered a promise that the wind swallowed: "I will come back. I will make things right."