Losing people?
In villages near the border of Sheol, such losses were not uncommon. The beasts often preyed on the unwary or those who strayed too far. But if, as she said, the beasts had become less frequent—and yet people were disappearing simultaneously—then something far more sinister was at work.
Keiser clicked his tongue sharply. Lenko flinched.
"Your Highness?" he asked, confused by the sudden, irritated expression on his lord's face—a look he had never seen before. After all, his lord was usually quiet and timid. He had never shown anger, never raised his voice, never rushed anywhere. He always remained by the side, reserved and composed.
So it had shocked Lenko to find his lord in the stables, restless in sleep—rolling, cursing under his breath, expending too much mana, pushing himself far beyond his limits.
"Is it… my fault?" Lenko frowned at the tone in his lord's voice—an uneasy mixture of frustration and reluctant understanding. He stepped forward, placing a firm hand on his lord's shoulder to catch his attention.
"How can you say it's your fault? Maybe it started when we arrived, but that… that could be mere coincidence."
Yet Muzio's gaze remained fixed on the princess, distant and unreadable. Lenko silently feared that his counsel no longer mattered to his lord, who was consumed with the desire to return to that dreadful court.
Keiser understood what Lenko was trying to convey—or at least what Muzio was trying to accept. Keiser himself knew it wasn't truly his fault, but perhaps it was Muzio and his sigils. The magic meant to hide and keep beasts at bay might have inadvertently pushed some of them away from the open fields, forcing them to wander into places they shouldn't be.
Still, Keiser's eyes remained fixed on the princess. There was something she wasn't saying—something vital was missing.
If it was only a matter of missing villagers and fewer beasts near the protective barriers, Keiser wondered, "then why is the princess here personally involved in this matter?"
The princess narrowed her eyes and glanced away from Keiser, striding toward the door.
"I don't know either," she said sharply.
"Ask your older brother. He's the one who sent me—ordered me to investigate the disappearances. Including his younger brother and the younger brother of the princess' knight." Her gaze sharpened as it fell on Lenko, who flinched and instinctively stepped closer to Muzio.
The princess, who had been about to leave, paused just before the door. Her demeanor shifted in an instant—still and alert, like a blade being drawn in silence. Her eyes narrowed, scanning something unseen beyond the threshold, and one hand slipped beneath her cloak, no doubt reaching for the twin blades strapped to her back.
Keiser didn't need to ask—he knew that look too well.
Danger was near.
Without a word, he turned to Lenko, who jumped slightly at the sudden movement. Keiser grabbed the bag from the boy's hands.
"My lord?" Lenko asked, wide-eyed.
Keiser rummaged quickly, searching through the contents until his fingers closed around what he needed. He shoved the rest of the bag back at Lenko without explanation.
"Wha—your Highness, what is—?"
"Stay behind me," Keiser muttered, already stepping forward.
There was no time. Whoever was outside had triggered the instincts of a warrior long-trained in ambushes and borderland warfare. And if the princess was readying her blades, then this wasn't just a minor threat.
It was a message.
"my lord—?"
As soon as Lenko's bewildered voice rang out, the door exploded inward with a deafening boom, scattering splinters and smoke through the air. Keiser instinctively threw an arm over his eyes, not flinching—only shielding his vision from the flying debris. Behind him, he heard Lenko shout in alarm.
There was no pause. No moment to breathe.
From within the smoke, a sharp clang rang out—steel meeting steel. Keiser didn't need to look to know: the princess was already fighting. She must have drawn her twin blades the moment the blast hit, cutting down whoever dared cross the threshold.
But Keiser didn't waste a second.
He knew exactly what these people were after.
His hand shot to the blanket and his fingers brushed over the runes and sigils seared beneath the fabric.
He didn't wait for the smoke to clear.
A startled cry rang out, followed by a heavy thud—something, or someone, had been thrown down. Through the smoke curling from the door, Keiser could just make out the shape of a blanket—no, a person wrapped in it. The fabric had coiled tight, as if alive, responding to thrashing movement. Whoever was trapped inside had struggled too much, triggering the runes seared into the weave—runes shaped by Keiser's will and fueled by Muzio's mana.
Voices shouted, sharp and urgent.
"Take it off! Take it off!"
"What was that?"
"Shit, these kids got mana!"
"No point arguing—we've got more than enough. Go get them!"
Keiser narrowed his eyes.
He had recognized them the moment they appeared—their stares, the way they moved, the subtle flickers of curiosity masked beneath hollow greetings. He'd seen how they watched him and Lenko walking through the outskirts. He'd heard their voices when they bartered. Lenko had spoken to them—traded livestock, sold crops from the garden.
Villagers.
And now, Keiser understood. The way their gazes lingered. The way some tried to peer beneath his cloak. Someone had seen it.
Muzio's Aurex Red Eyes.
A King's kin.
Keiser clenched his jaw as a decision solidified in his mind. The princess had called this a problem.
She was wrong.
This was far worse.
Without hesitation, Keiser pulled what he had taken from the bag and pressed it over his eyes. The heat flared instantly—searing. He hissed through his teeth but didn't open his eyes. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
If they couldn't see the eyes—if no one could prove it—they had no claim, no certainty, no evidence.
He just needed more time.
But...
He felt hands grabbing him—rough, hurried. He heard Lenko shouting, frantic. The princess cursing under her breath as steel rang out again.
Keiser's thoughts burned alongside the pain.
Fifteen minutes.
That was all he had before the damage became permanent. Before the farce collapsed, before he lost his vision entirely.
But if that was the price...
He would pay it.