"Joel!" Viana shouted, lunging forward. She tackled the traitor, her dagger slashing his arm.
He roared, swinging at her, but Joel was already there. His blade blocked the blow, forcing the man down, his knee pinning him against the ground.
"Talk," Joel growled. "Who’s pulling the strings?"
The man spat, blood flecking his lips. "You’re dead already. The clan knows her face, Viana, the crown princess. Arin’s got plans for you."
Viana’s blood ran cold, but Joel pressed the dagger harder. "What plans?"
The man laughed, then choked as Torren’s bolt silenced him. Joel cursed under his breath, standing as the overseer rallied the remaining guards. Swords clashed against Joel’s rcenaries, the battlefield turning chaotic.
"We’re out of ti," Joel said, grabbing Viana’s hand. "Torren’s got the captives, his n will get them to safety. We go for the overseer now or we lose him."
Viana nodded, her resolve hardening despite the fear gnawing at her. "Lead the way, rcenary King."
They plunged back into the fight, dodging blades and weaving through the wreckage of the caravan. The overseer stood near the lead wagon, his ring glinting in the firelight as he barked orders.
Joel’s n kept the guards occupied, their crossbows and swords pushing the enemy back. Viana and Joel flanked the overseer, closing in as his gaze locked onto her.
"You," he snarled, recognizing her. "The princess who thinks she’s a spy."
Joel stepped forward with his dagger ready. "She’s more than you’ll ever handle. Talk, where’s Arin? What is the Clan planning?"
The overseer smirked, unfazed. "You’re too late. The north is already moving. Arin’s building an army and your little spy gas won’t stop it."
He lunged, his sword aid at Joel, but Joel was faster, knocking the blade aside.
In seconds, Joel disard the overseer, pinning him against a wagon, but before they could get answers, a distant horn sounded—Shadow Clan reinforcents were closing in.
"We have to go," Viana said urgently. "He’s not worth it."
Joel hesitated, then nodded, shoving the overseer down. "This isn’t over," he muttered, grabbing Viana’s hand as they ran for the trees.
Torren and his n covered their retreat, guiding the freed captives deeper into the forest. Behind them, flas engulfed the wagons, burning away any chance of pursuit.
Viana’s chest heaved, the traitor’s words haunting her. Arin had plans for her.
In the clearing, Joel pulled her close, his hands framing her face.
"You’re alright," he said, voice rough with relief. "I thought I’d lost you back there."
Viana clutched his hands, her eyes searching his. "You didn’t. But Joel... they know who I am. Arin’s hunting ."
His jaw tightened, but his gaze was steady. "Let him try. I’m not letting anyone take you, Princess."
He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers, their breath mingling. "You’re my fight now, Viana. Always will be."
Her heart pounded, the weight of his words pressing into her. She wanted to kiss him, seal the promise between them, but suddenly, the Love Percentage bar flickered above Joel’s head.
[Love Percentage: 32%]
Startled by the system’s bar, she whispered, "We’re not safe yet."
Joel nodded, his hand lingering on hers. "Then we keep moving. Together."
***
They led the captives deeper into the night. The air was sharp with pine and thick with the smoke trailing from the burning caravan, now just a faint glow on the horizon.
The freed captives, ten weary souls, followed closely. Torren led the way, flanked by four of Joel’s rcenaries.
Torren raised a hand, stopping the group near a crumbling hunter’s lodge, its ivy-covered walls barely visible in the moonlight.
"Safehouse," he muttered, his scarred face unreadable. "Scouted it last week. We rest until dawn, then move the captives to a village."
Joel nodded, lowering his voice. "Set watches, Torren. Double the periter. The Clan won’t let this go."
He turned to Viana, his expression softer. "You’re holding up, Princess. Most would’ve cracked by now."
She smirked, their banter keeping her grounded. "Flattery won’t help us, rcenary King. Save it for the Shadow Clan."
But his concern steadied her more than she expected. She needed Joel’s percentage higher, his loyalty unwavering, yet the spark in his eyes and her hamring heartbeat made her doubt the system’s calculation.
They stepped inside the lodge. The air was damp with the scent of old wood and dust. Torren’s n lit a small fire, its glow flickering across the captives’ exhausted faces as they huddled on worn benches.
Viana knelt beside Cooper, the young boy, offering him a waterskin. "Rest now," she said gently. "You’re safe."
Cooper’s wide, trusting eyes t hers. "Will you stop them? The n with the eagle?"
Viana swallowed hard. "I will," she said firmly, the weight of her past—her kingdom’s fall, the Count’s grip—fueling her resolve.
She stood, moving to Joel, who watched the forest through a cracked window.
"They’re scared," she murmured. "But the old woman overheard sothing about Arin’s stronghold—Blackford Mountains, a fortress. If we find it, we cut off his army."
Blackford Mountains was located in Elysia’s Kingdom, near the northern border, far from Valendale Empire.
Joel’s expression darkened. "Then we go north. But the Clan is tracking us and they know who you are. My n aren’t enough to take down that stronghold."
Viana nodded. "We’ll return to the palace and I will persuade the council to send troops to the fortress."
A soft creak at the lodge’s rear door snapped her focus. Joel and the rcenaries stood ready, weapons in hand.
The door swung open, and a man stepped inside, his fra lean beneath dark leather. He had sharp features, short brown hair, and striking brown eyes.
"Joel, you careless dog," the man said, clasping Joel’s arm. "Heard you burned a caravan. Subtle as ever."
Joel’s grin was wary but warm. "Reyes, you bastard. What are you doing here?"
"I should be the one asking you," the man, who turned out to be Reyes, Viana’s official Royal Guard, said.
His sharp gaze flicked to Viana, a hint of frustration in his expression. "Why are you the only one guarding the princess?"
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