The courtyard was quiet.
The children had already left, their carriage wheels fading down the path toward Deimos.
A figure stepped from the shadow of a collapsed wall.
They crouched where Ryn had stood monts before, fingers brushing the ground. Frost crackled under their touch.
The Hellhound’s remains were gone now, but the cold still clung stubbornly to stone.
"...unexpected. The trap failed," the figure whispered, voice neither male nor female.
Their gloved fingers brushed the blackened ground.
"Alia Grandal. Target priority."
Then they stood up, examining the scene again.
"Ryn Arctis," they whispered. "He interfered once...and he may do so again."
A small pebble shifted under their heel.
Then nothing.
"Watch him," the figure decided softly. "But kill her."
Then, they retreated back into the shadows.
***
The road to Deimos wound gently down the hillside, the trees thinning until rows of farmland stretched out beneath the afternoon sun. The air grew warr the farther they traveled, carrying the earthy scent of soil and fresh grain.
The Arctis territory was too cold for real agriculture; the frost line never fully retreated, and whatever hardy crops did survive ca out stunted. So Deimos carried the weight of feeding both lands, its sprawling fields the reason Arctis never starved during harsh seasons.
Ryn had visited only a handful of tis, but even he couldn’t help noticing how the rich, dark soil contrasted with the snow lines lingering far up the mountains behind them.
Alia sat beside him this ti, fingers still curled lightly around the seat edge. She didn’t say much. Neither did he.
Ardan rode ahead, signaling for the gates to open.
Deimos wasn’t large—just a fortified agricultural hub built around its fertile plain—but today it felt smaller. The usual bustle was muted. Farrs who should’ve been out in the fields had gathered near the road instead, their faces wary as the carriage rolled past.
Murmurs erupted from the crowd, loud enough so that even Ryn could hear.
"They only sent a few knights and the middle child?"
"How’s that going to do anything?"
"Has Lord Arctis forsaken us?"
Alia shifted beside him, holding onto his arm.
"Don’t listen," she murmured under her breath.
Ryn nodded.
Ardan raised a hand, and the gates of the Baron’s estate yawned open.
The estate stood on a gentle rise overlooking the plains—modest in size, but well-built. It wasn’t extravagant, but it wasn’t missing necessities either.
The carriage halted in front of the entrance door, its stone steps filled with servants waiting.
Alia climbed down. Anyone watching would’ve assud she was completely composed.
But Ryn knew her too well.
She had a habit of concealing her hands whenever she was pressed. Still, Alia moved forward with confidence, offering the steward a polite nod as he bowed.
"Lady Alia. Sir Ryn. The Baron awaits."
"Lead us in," Alia replied, her voice steady and controlled.
Ryn followed beside her, matching her pace.
"You’re slouching a bit, you know?" he whispered into her ear.
"Very funny, Ryn."
The joke didn’t land that great, but it did seem to lift her mood a bit.
Inside, the foyer’s warmth wrapped around them, the lamplight catching on carved wheat motifs and polished stone. Deimos’ agricultural wealth was everywhere — its pride and lifeline.
The Baron of Deimos, Hayes Deimos, appeared at the top of the short stairway leading into the audience hall — a man in his early forties, dressed not in armor but in formal silks lined with wheat-colored embroidery.
His gaze swept the room before landing on Alia and Ryn.
Then, to the steward’s horror, Baron Hayes imdiately stepped down the stairs and bowed.
Deeply.
"Lady Alia. Sir Ryn," he greeted, voice warm and formal. "Deimos is honored to host you. I was not inford you would risk yourselves at the front."
Alia answered with equal formality,
"We did only what was required, Baron Hayes," she said. "Thank you for receiving us."
"Thank you," the Baron replied. "Please, both of you, make yourselves at ho."
They were escorted into his personal office, which was strange because most, if not all, nobles usually receive guests in a dedicated eting room. So being received in a personal office was either a huge show of respect—or he didn’t have ti to prepare.
The Baron gestured them toward two velvet-lined chairs across from his desk.
"Please," he said, voice steady but with an undercurrent of urgency he probably didn’t intend to reveal. "Sit. You’ve both endured far more than any young noble should."
Ryn lowered himself into the chair. It was softer than it looked, the cushion sinking just enough to catch him off guard. Alia sat beside him with perfect posture, her composure fully restored on the surface.
The Baron took his own seat last, folding his hands atop his desk.
"Lady Alia," he said, "if you would—"
She lifted a hand politely, stopping him.
"Ryn can explain better than I can," she said.
Ryn’s heart froze faster than the Hellhound had.
Wait—what?
He nudged her shoulder, whispering, "I thought I was decoration?"
She gave him a sly smile before facing back towards the Baron. He had been played.
Ryn cleared his throat.
"As you might’ve heard, a Hellhound had completely destroyed a nearby town. Its pattern was strange, coordinated in a way no beast should be able to.
Baron Hayes leaned forward in his chair, fingers clasped together.
"We...dispatched the monster. But its patterns are definitely strange."
As soon as he said that, Alia looked at him but said nothing.
The Baron sighed, leaning back once more. "Another one..."
Ryn exchanged a glance with Alia.
He continued.
"The Hellhound attack wasn’t an isolated incident."
Ryn straightened. "There were others?"
"Not just one or two," Baron Hayes replied.
"Beasts all across Deimos have been acting strangely. Crossing boundaries they normally avoid. Moving in groups. Pushing toward the central plains."
Alia’s fingers tightened against her lap—barely, but Ryn saw it.
"What are you implying...?" she asked.
The Baron didn’t answer imdiately. Instead, he rose from his chair and walked to a large wall map. Colored pins marked various farmsteads, forests, and old watch routes.
Then he gestured to nearly a dozen points—each marked with red.
"These sightings happened in the last forty-eight hours. The pattern is unmistakable."
Ryn stepped closer.
The dots weren’t random. They were converging.
"...That’s a—"
The baron nodded grimly, finishing Ryn’s sentence.
"A monster wave."
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Monster waves weren’t rare in Arctis territory — the frigid climate pushed beasts into migration patterns. But Deimos? With its calm plains and fertile fields? A wave here would have catastrophic outcos.
Alia recovered first.
"What’s the current estimation?" she asked, voice steadying despite the tremor Ryn knew she was hiding.
The Baron swallowed.
"A few days, maybe even less."
"Did you ever find out the cause?" Ryn asked.
The noble shook his head, pinching his temples, "Every scouting party we sent to investigate never ca back."
"That Hellhound wasn’t the threat," he said. "It was the first warning."
Alia’s eyes hardened. "What do you need us to do?"
She turned to the Baron, ready to continue, but Ryn’s mind had already drifted elsewhere.
A mory flickered.
Reports of the ’hero party’ stated that the Basilisk had suddenly beco wildly territorial, to the point that it would dare to chase out stronger predators.
It was a small tidbit of information everyone glossed over, but Ryn was surprised it would be helpful here.
However, that was five years into the future. Why would it happen now?
Ryn forced his expression neutral, he breathed out slowly and spoke instead:
"...Baron Hayes. In my experience"—a half-truth—"beasts only start acting like this when sothing stronger is pushing them. Sothing that’s... territorial."
"...Territorial? That narrows it down to very few creatures. None of which should be anywhere near Deimos."
Ryn nodded once, heartbeat a steady drum in his ears.
"I don’t know what it is," he lied smoothly, "but if sothing in the mountains is driving beasts outward... it won’t stop at a Hellhound."
Alia pinched his leg slightly and gave him the "what are you saying??" eyes.
She wasn’t scared, but she was definitely worried he’d say sothing he shouldn’t.
Pain flared up his skin, but Ryn resisted the urge to yelp.
The Baron exhaled, long and slow.
"Then we must confirm what lies in that forest," he said.
Right, the objective was clear as day. As for whatever surprises might await, Ryn could only hope it was sothing he could handle.
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