Dawn had barely broken, the sun still hidden beneath the horizon, casting the forest in a dim, gray light. A cold breeze whispered through the trees, chilling the air as if nature itself mourned.
The forest stirred to life, though hesitantly. Squirrels cautiously emerged from their nests, butterflies fluttered weakly, and the first birds of the day let out tentative songs. But this fragile serenity was shattered by the thunderous gallop of a lone horse, a beast driven beyond its limits.
The rider, a man cloaked in dirt and blood, clung to the reins with a white-knuckled grip. His breath came in ragged gasps, the pain in his left leg nearly unbearable where an arrow was lodged deep. Blood trickled steadily down to his boot, leaving a dark trail behind him.
God, grant me strength... I beg you... His thoughts were frantic, desperate, as he pushed the exhausted animal forward.
There was no path ahead, only an endless maze of trees and undergrowth, but the man had no choice. He had to keep going. A quick, fearful glance over his shoulder revealed nothing but darkness—no pursuers in sight. Yet the fear gnawed at him, relentless, refusing to let him rest.
They're dead... All of them... But I must go on. I have to. Their sacrifice cannot be in vain...
After what felt like an eternity, the horse faltered, its strength spent. The man dismounted, his leg screaming in protest, but he forced himself onward. The horse, loyal to the end, collapsed behind him, its breath coming in wet, choking gasps before it fell silent. He didn't look back.
Each step was a battle, his vision blurring, the world around him twisting in and out of focus. The trees loomed over him, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching down, as if the forest itself sought to claim him.
The silence was oppressive, suffocating, broken only by his labored breaths and the sickening thud of his heart.
I can't stop... I can't... The thought of giving up flitted through his mind, seductive in its promise of peace. But he shoved it aside, gritting his teeth against the pain, against the exhaustion that weighed him down like a leaden cloak.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he stumbled onto a dirt road. Relief flooded him, weak and hollow, as he saw the distant outline of the city's crops. Thank you, God... Just a little further... But even as hope flickered within him, he heard it—the unmistakable sound of pursuit, of death closing in from the forest behind.
Terror reignited in his chest, and he forced his battered body into a run, the arrow in his leg forgotten in his desperation. "No, no, no, no... Please, God, no!" The footsteps grew closer, each one hammering the reality of his situation into his mind. His only chance was to reach the city, to reach safety, before they caught him.
The fields were alive with workers, all pausing to watch as he limped toward them, confusion and fear etched on their faces. Farther off, guards patrolling the outskirts of Tredember noticed the commotion, their eyes narrowing as they spotted the figure running toward them, clearly injured, clearly desperate.
"W-what's happening, sir?!" A young guard sprinted ahead of his companions, concern and dread warring in his eyes. As they neared, they saw the truth—the man was one of their own, a scout, bleeding and exhausted.
"Heeelp!" he screamed, his voice raw, hope a fragile thing as he saw the guards begin to run toward him. "THEY... Huuffhh... THEY ARE—"
They were almost to him, just meters away, when he suddenly collapsed, a choked scream escaping his lips as he fell to the ground.
When they reached him, an arrow jutted from his back, the cruel finality of it freezing them in place. "Fuck..." One of the soldiers whispered, voicing the despair they all felt. The youngest guard turned toward the forest, his eyes scanning for the unseen enemy.
"Enemies!" he shouted, pointing to two shadowy figures at the forest's edge. "Go warn the baron and the commander!" The young guard nodded, sprinting back to the city, while the others grabbed the dead scout's body.
They retreated quickly, fear driving them back as the figures disappeared into the forest, leaving only the ominous rustle of leaves in their wake.
The next day, Rafael woke up in his comfortable bed. He got up and stretched. "Man... How I miss my own bathroom with all its conveniences." As he spoke, he noticed his bad breath and the unpleasant feeling in his mouth from the lack of brushing and cleaning.
This can't go on. I'll create the first toothbrush and dental floss!
Of course, it wouldn't really be the first-ever toothbrush, but he didn't know that. He opened his window and saw the sun casting its light upon everything. It should be around 7 a.m., I think. Instead of going to see Frederic, he left his room and began searching the mansion for Ella.
"Good morning, have you seen Lady Ella?" Rafael asked a male servant who was passing by. "If I'm not mistaken, she's in her manners class right now and can't be disturbed," the man replied in a deadpan tone without even looking at him before turning to walk away.
"When will she be free?" Rafael put his hand in front of the servant, stopping him.
"An hour before lunch. Now excuse me, I have things to do." The servant spoke with a hint of annoyance before leaving.
What's wrong with him? Or better yet, what's wrong with everyone? Rafael had noticed how, since the other day, everyone had been casting strange looks at him. He could sense the anger, disgust, fear, and other emotions that the servants, guards, soldiers, and clerics expressed through their gazes.
I understand why the church people hate me, but I don't get it from the rest... Hmmm... Didn't that soldier... commander or whatever want me dead? Did he spread rumors about my crimes to the others? Wait, it would make more sense if it were the clerics and priests. Yes, it was definitely them.
His stomach growled. It's been some time since I spoke with Brandyc. Rafael headed to the kitchen.
Let me know if there's anything you'd like to adjust!