Chapter 40 - Aqaire 3

Mazuka stirred awake to the familiar sound of the maid's soft footsteps.

"Good morning, Sir Mazuka," she greeted as she entered, her voice even and polite.

He responded with a nod, feeling the weight of routine settle on his shoulders again. The castle halls stretched out before him as she led him to the breakfast chamber, where Mayra and Aya were already waiting. It felt like a repeat of yesterday, the same atmosphere, the same sense of impending urgency beneath the calm.

Aya smiled slightly, though her usual quiet demeanor remained. Mayra gave him a half-smile, clearly enjoying the more relaxed pace of their days before everything shifted into battle mode.

"Up for a stroll around the capital?" Mazuka asked feeling they needed a bit of fun before the war. " No walking today though."

"Good," Mayra replied.

"Obviously," Mazuka replied, pushing his plate aside.

In the blink of an eye, the three of them vanished from the castle and reappeared in the bustling capital of Aqaire. The transition was so smooth that it felt as if they had always been standing on the cobbled streets, surrounded by merchants and shoppers going about their day.

The capital's energy hit them immediately. Crowds of people wandered the streets, stalls overflowed with goods, and the scent of fresh bread, meat, and spices filled the air. There was life here, despite the looming threat of war.

Mazuka glanced around, taking in the city's vibrancy. They started walking, weaving through the crowded streets, window shopping and taking in the sights. Aqaire was known for its grandeur—ornate buildings with spires stretching toward the sky, intricate fountains scattered throughout the market, and rows of vendors selling everything from rare gems to enchanted artifacts.

They passed by a weapons shop where Mayra stopped to inspect a display of swords. Aya lingered at a booth selling magical items, her fingers brushing over a small crystal that pulsed with faint light. Mazuka stood nearby, letting the moment of calm wash over him.

But as they moved deeper into the market, something caught Mazuka's eye—a large wanted poster nailed to a wooden board on the side of a shop. He stopped, drawing the attention of Mayra and Aya.

The sketch of the girl on the poster was young, maybe seventeen, with long blondish hair and a look of defiance in her eyes. Beneath her image was the stark list of accusations: Wanted for the murder of 11 people, including Lord Kael, father of the daughter-in-law of the prince. Her sentence was clear: Death. Reward: 1,000 gold coins.

"She killed 11 people?" Mayra muttered, stepping closer to examine the poster. "That's brutal."

Aya's voice was quiet but curious. "Lord Kael was one of them?"

"Yeah," Mazuka said, his eyes scanning the poster. The reward of 1,000 gold coins was enough to set a family up for two or three years, a tempting prize for any bounty hunter or desperate civilian. It wasn't surprising to see a girl like her on the run with that kind of price on her head.

Mayra crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful. "That's a lot for someone so young."

"She must have," Mazuka replied, feeling an odd weight in his chest. The girl's face haunted him in a way he couldn't explain. She was just a child, really, but the crimes listed against her were the kind that turned kingdoms upside down.

Aya stepped back, her expression troubled. "Do you think she's really guilty?"

"Hard to say," Mazuka answered. "But if she's accused of murdering someone as important as Lord Kael, the kingdom's not going to wait around to hear her side of the story. They'll want her dead, no matter the truth."

They continued their stroll, though the image of the girl and the details of her crime lingered in the back of Mazuka's mind. It wasn't the first time they had come across wanted posters, but this one felt different. There was something unsettling about the idea of someone so young being hunted down for a crime so severe, and the political implications of Lord Kael's death made it all the more dangerous.

"Think we'll run into her?" Mayra asked after a while, her eyes scanning the crowds with newfound interest.

Mazuka shrugged. "If she's smart, she's long gone by now. With that reward on her head."

...

..

.

Charlotte limped forward, her breath ragged as each step sent jolts of pain through her body. She glanced behind her, seeing the distant outline of Nefaria's walls shrinking on the horizon. It was the last human kingdom she would see for a while, maybe ever. Her fingers brushed against her lips, smearing the blood she wiped away as she remembered the chaos from moments ago. Three bounty hunters had come after her, relentless in their pursuit of the runway of the murderer. They were dead now, lifeless forms lying among the scrub and dirt.

Her right leg throbbed, still bleeding despite the tight knot of cloth she'd torn from her tunic. The makeshift bandage had slowed the blood loss, but it hadn't stopped entirely. She could feel the damp warmth of her blood soaking through the cloth, pooling around her thigh, then trickling down to her boots. It wouldn't be long before the injury overwhelmed her, and her body, already weak from days without proper food, finally gave out.

She cast her gaze ahead, her focus sharpening on the vast barren land that stretched before her. The ground was cracked and dry, stretching on endlessly under the hot sun, like a wasteland. In the distance, far beyond the scorched earth, the jagged black peaks of the demon kingdom's mountains were visible. A place she had once feared, a place humans whispered about in hushed tones of terror and hate. But now, it was her only hope. The thought of crossing over into demon lands was like an unspoken surrender, a choice made not out of desire but necessity. At least there, she might find refuge—or death.

Her strength was waning, and her steps grew more labored with each passing moment. Her limbs ached, her vision blurred, but she couldn't stop.

Ahead, at the edge of the barren landscape, a dark line stood against the shimmering heat: a forest. It was distant, a small patch of wilderness amidst the dead land, but it was something. There might be animals in the forest—something to hunt, something to eat. She couldn't make it to the demon kingdom without rest, without food. It was a miracle she was even still on her feet, her mind running on pure instinct. If she reached the forest, she could at least slow the bleeding, find water, eat, and rest. It was a fragile hope, but it was all she had.

Her stomach growled, a hollow pain that gnawed at her insides. Hunger had become an ever-present companion on this journey, making her feel weaker by the minute. The ache of her wounded leg was bad enough, but the hunger, the emptiness—it was starting to make her delirious. Her mouth was dry, lips cracked and parched. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had water, and the more she thought about it, the more desperate she became. If there was no water in that forest, she wouldn't last.

Charlotte stumbled, catching herself just before hitting the ground. She took a shuddering breath, forcing herself upright again. It was hard to focus, hard to keep her mind on the task of survival when everything in her body screamed at her to lie down and give in. But she pushed through it, taking another step, then another, her vision swimming as the world around her tilted and spun.

She wondered, briefly, if this was it. Would she die here? Would they find her, days later, dried out and bled to death in the middle of nowhere? Would anyone even care?

No one cared. She had no one left. No family, no friends—no one. She had been a slave, that was her life. Her only purpose had been to serve, and when her village had been destroyed, she was sold off to Nefaria, stripped of what little dignity she had left.

She gripped the stolen short sword tightly, her knuckles white as she started forward again.

The weight of it in her hand was oddly comforting. A reminder that she wasn't completely helpless. But in truth, she had no idea how far she'd have to go to reach the forest. Hours? The better part of a day? Maybe even longer. There was no way to tell, and the sun was already well into the afternoon sky.