"Becoming a rchant isn’t such a terrible fate," said Orion, his weathered voice laced with calm practicality. The middle-aged ntor sat beneath the eaves of the herb shed, his eyes sharp under furrowed brows. "But you might not have the luxury of choosing. You’re the only heir left to Duke Caspian."
Kasri stood stiffly, fists clenched, his gaze fixed on the dirt path. "My hands are soaked in blood, Orion," he muttered bitterly. His voice was low, taut with guilt. "I never wanted the title. I loathe everything the nobility stands for."
Kasri and Alaric had one thing in common: They had the sa master. Though they were just his apprentices, Orion forbade them from calling him master. Instead, he insisted that they be called by his na.
Orion’s eyes narrowed. "And which noble’s hands are clean?" he asked, dryly. "I know what burdens you carry—and your hatred of the aristocracy—but a good man in power can change lives, Kasri. You could lead differently." He studied the young man with a asured glance. "You don’t have to resort to robbery and kidnappings just to raise money." He heaved a long sigh. "You have a good heart, and you wanted to help so many, but no matter how good the intent is, the end does not justify the ans."
A pause. Then a quiet, thoughtful hum.
Another hum followed it, awkward and almost theatrical.
Alaric stepped forward and cleared his throat. He lowered his hood, revealing a face that made Kasri’s blood run cold.
Alaric cleared his throat. He removed his hood and revealed his face to Kasri.
"You—"
Cough. Cough. That ca from Orion.
"What is the aning of this?" Kasri growled, his eyes narrowing. He found himself staring at his own face—nearly identical—including the scar that he ca to dread which the man before him carried like a trophy.
Alaric offered a casual shrug. "I t your lookalike on the road to Calma. We spoke. He said he had no interest in going to the capital and preferred to head to Calma instead. So we traded places. He ntioned sothing about getting a face mask from Master Orion, and here I am."
"You idiot!" Kasri snapped. "Are you causing trouble for ?" He continued, throwing a punch in fury. Alaric slipped aside easily, dodging the blow with practiced grace.
"I’m getting business for you," Alaric said with a grin. "You’re the one causing trouble. You impersonated and tried to assassinate the king, rember?"
"Brats, Enough!" Orion barked, stepping between them with a stern glare. "Another word, and I’ll have you both holding a horse stance until the sun rises again!"
"Sorry, Master," both young n muttered in unison, shoulders slumping like guilty schoolboys.
By the ti the morning light filtered through the clouds, Nasser ca running into Orion’s garden, breathless and anxious. Orion, hunched over his herbs, barely looked up.
"Uncle Orion, I cannot find Kasri." Nasser said with a troubled face. He was worried that sothing had happened to him. "He disappeared last night."
From inside the cottage, the door creaked open—and two identical figures stepped out. Nasser and Kasri erged, and Nasser’s jaw dropped. He was facing two Kasri with similar faces, heights, and builds, though one looked more handso than the other.
Nasser stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief. "Wh-what? There are two Kasris?! When did you have a twin brother? Wait... are there three of you now?"
Orion groaned, rolling his eyes so hard it looked painful. "This is why I refused to take you as my disciple. How have you beco stupid? And how co you not recognize a person that you grew up with more than two decades?" Orion chided him.
Agilus blinked, wide-eyed, and then tried his best to look offended. "Kari, how could you leave alone at the inn? Why did you not wake up?" Nasser asked, looking aggrieved.
"Drop the act, Agilus!" Orion interrupted with a scowl. "The original Kasri is already here; you still continue to pretend." Orion sneered as he regarded the poor Agilus. He was shaking his head. "Besides, there are no outsiders here."
Kasri folded his arms and stared Agilus down. "If the true Nasser realised that you are nagging a lot, he might vomit blood. Nasser is a man of few words."
Agilus flushed red. His embarrassnt quickly turned to anger. "Only Alaric is allowed to talk to like that," he muttered under his breath.
"Let us go back," Alaric who was still wearing a mask that looked like Kasri said. "I need to freshen up before going back to the Norse Manor."
"Your Highness," Kasri hesitated, "I haven’t thanked you for pleading for my life last night." Kasri said hastily. He was treading on thin ice. While the first prince had convinced the king not to kill him, there were still others who would want his life, especially if it was revealed that he had caused the deaths of six people, plus two bystanders.
Alaric paused. "I told you, you saved my life before. Now we are even, Cousin." He turned around and looked Kasri in the eyes before adding, "I’ll return your identity to you when I leave the capital."
Kasri trembled. He did not know that Alaric’s calling him cousin would be a blessing or a curse.
...
anwhile, the rest of the capital was in turmoil. There were two more deaths related to fire, and the seventh death was that of Duke Caspian, who was reported to have been poisoned. The bla was placed on the group of Prince Alaraic who turned rebel.
However, before the sun reached its zenith, another explosive news ca out. The Civil Rites ministry announced that the rebel group "The Vengefuls" claid responsibility, and it wasn’t Prince Alaric. They were chased out of the capital, and they escaped after taking responsibility.
...
Elsewhere, the capital was in chaos. Two more deaths had been reported, both caused by fire. The seventh death shocked even the nobles: Duke Caspian, poisoned in his own estate.
Suspicion quickly fell upon Prince Alaric, who had recently been branded a traitor.
But before the sun reached its peak, a new proclamation swept through the streets like wildfire. The Civil Rites Ministry declared that a rebel faction known as The Vengefuls had claid responsibility for the assassinations—and that Prince Alaric’s group had been wrongly accused. The rebels had already fled the capital under cover of darkness.
In the crown prince’s chamber, tension reached a breaking point.
A teacup shattered across the stone floor, shards flying as blood stread from the kneeling man’s forehead. The porcelain had struck true.
"You assured everything was under control!" Prince Reuben thundered, eyes blazing. "Now explain to —how could this happen?!"
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